After thirteen years in our little home and many years procrastinating, we finally took the plunge and decided to move. And after fifteen or so viewings spread over four months and a total process lasting ten months, it actually happened. My husband and I bought our first home many moons ago, moving from a rented flat. This was when we both had jobs and no small person i.e. we were young, had money, were care and wrinkle free. The whole procedure, whilst annoying at times, was easy. I genuinely only recall crying once, which speaks volumes as my nickname is, ‘Tiny Tears’. However this time round, it’s been a different kettle (Pond? Vat?) of fish. There have been many ups and many downs. Lots of things I hadn’t considered. Everyone tells you that moving is one of the most stressful things to do, but until you are well and truly immersed in it, you just don’t know what it will be like. This is what I learnt along the way.Continue reading
I have spoken on here before about cutting back on or trying not to drink alcohol. My husband and I did Dry January in 2015, after feeling like we needed a reboot of sorts when I had my first chemical pregnancy. Cutting out the booze made us both feel really good, but we reverted back to our weekend drinking once this finished. I didn’t have alcohol during any fertility treatment that we did and I managed a milestone 11 weeks drink free when we did our final IVF round. But when that failed, I drowned my sorrows in wine. And I mean seriously drowned my sorrows. However, cutting back on or certainly not enjoying drinking, has been on my radar for a few years now. The reality is that it just isn’t as fun anymore.
OK, let me be straight with you. My original plan had been to write an, ‘Isolation Diary’ and do various updates throughout lockdown. But that was for the first lockdown, remember that one? And now we find ourselves in yet another and here I am with this post that I started writing in May. What happened was I wrote and came back to this as and when, and then just left it because LIFE WAS WEIRD! And let’s face it, life is still weird. However now words have begun tumbling around my head and I think they need to get out before there is a possible brain combustion (which might happen anyway what with having the kid and husband at home full time)
I wrote a post earlier this year about wanting to make changes within our family to benefit the environment and most important of all, to try and reduce the insane thing that is plastic waste. Whilst it isn’t something way at the top of my everyday life, because, well, life, I really think about every plastic item I throw in the bin now because I know it’s heading straight to landfill. When I throw something away, I wonder whether I actually needed it at all or whether I could find a more earth-friendly replacement for it. I’ve been feeling like I could and should do more. I started following a great Instagram account recently, @small_sustainable_steps who is Amanda. She uses her account to cover the topic of ethical living and gives regular updates with examples of things she is going to help reduce plastic, live more sustainably, reduce her footprint etc . Her account has given me some great ideas and quite frankly, motivation. Thinking about what else I could do, got me thinking about the positive things I am doing already. Small changes that I should be happy with. Here is what I have done so far.
Alcohol has always been a big part of my life for as long as I can (hazily) remember. It’s always been there, lurking in the background, at every family event, every BBQ, every nightclub, every wedding. A night out wouldn’t be complete without a drink in my hand. I can remember various booze related things growing up. I remember having sips of my dad’s beer when I was little, and sips of wine on holidays, I remember one Xmas Eve with family friends when I was about fourteen or fifteen, my siblings and friends children got me rather drunk, my dad had to help me walk home and I had my first hangover the next day – it was horrific, but clearly didn’t put me off. I remember my mum picking me up from a pub where I’d been with older friends and had promised not to drink. My wobbly bambi legs gave me away, that and the fact that I fell through the open front door. My teenage years meant underage drinking – always cider round the friends house whose parents would let us drink. Then there was drinking in the pubs we got served in and there was the raiding of drinks cabinets to take concoctions out in plastic bottles. Then there was university and my twenties, boxes of punch, shots, wrestling – but that’s another story altogether. It’s all been a rather wonderful, boozy cycle.