Honey and The Moon

Wandered off

2011-06-24T05:27:00.001-07:00

but I am still here. I had a much needed vacation, spending time with my family, well rounded from all the lovely food cooked for me. Boy did I make the most of it or what.

Isaac can say lots of little phrases in English. He's picked up so many words during the week he spent with his cousins it's astonishing really.

Remember the oil pastel workshop I mentioned earlier in the month? Well, it was great! Just sitting amongst a group of 15 students around a huge table, drawing with such concentration. There were so many differences in confidence, some were very comfortable, others were petrified, but in the end everybody let loose there creative voice and Im so proud to have been a part of that.

The exercise itself wasn't exactly a lesson on oil pastel skills. They had to work in pairs, with one half of each pair describing a famous painting in order for the other pair to draw it, swapping roles half way through the class. In the end they got a chance to see the painting and compare with their interpretation. Many chuckles throughout.
I am after all, an English teacher, and this exercise seemed to be the best way to get them practicing their language skills, whilst doing something fun and relaxing at the same time.

Makes me wish I could start a creative workshop studio someday, but with the economy in such a dire state, Portugals not the ideal place to start such an idea.

One can only dream.

A charmed life

2011-06-01T00:45:00.000-07:00

There are so many things I am grateful for. My family, my home, my friends, the food in my fridge, my health. So many things that so many people would love to have and don't. I've always felt over the last few years, that something beyond my control, lent itself towards helping me along, what it is, I dont know. Luck? A guardian angel? whatever it is, it has always had to come up against my worries and fears-and we're talking fear of gigantic proportions (even if I didn't have anything to fear, my internal bully would think up a reason for me to be scared witless anyway)

The voice of Mr Fear tends to be at its loudest in the following situations.

1. Painting. There are people way better than you at doing it
2. Blogging. Nobody wants to read what you have to say. Stop being so selfish.
3. Expressing an opinion. Stop thinking you know everything. Nobody wants to hear it.
4. Being a mother. You can't do it alone. You're weak. Quit complaining.
5. Dreaming of being an artist. Don't even get me started on this one.

There you have it. That is the voice of Mr Fear and I have had to listen to its vitriol for years. and I mean years. It reached its peak during my first year of motherhood. That was a really tough time for me, because it distorted my own strengths, my perception of the world around me. It covered my real needs and the ability to articulate those needs, with a thick layer of vile neediness. No amount of tea and heart to hearts could have got me out of that. I ran to others with the mess of my emotions, followed by the mess of trying to fix myself better again, fix relationships that I knew deep down could never be fixed again. All the while Mr Fear chuckles at my feeble attempts to rise above it all. For the 6809845th time. It did it's job of creating an almighty mess. It did it's job very well.
Hey, Fear, Are you done with me now???

Deep breath. That was not easy to write. But I wrote it.
Hey I actually wrote it.
Was that Miss Long-Haired Book Reading Goddess whispering to me just then??
I wish her voice could be louder, stronger. Kick Mr Fear in the balls!

I think she wants to tell me something. I can't hear her very well. What was that?

Paint.
Blog.
Express those opinions.
Be the best mother.
Dream.

Don't stop. Don't be afraid. Do it.

Mr fear has outstayed its welcome in this little charmed life of mine.

Oil Pastel therapy

2011-05-30T05:15:00.000-07:00

to get myself back in the creative groove again.
I'm planning a mixed media workshop event at the school where I teach. It's the first time I'm doing it, which is shocking really since I've been working there for almost 7 years now. But I've finally plucked up the courage to do it. I'm a little nervous but I'm going to see it as a valuable learning experience. Will let you know how I get on!

xxx
Khairun

crocheted stone

2011-05-19T01:14:00.000-07:00

I have been wanting to try this for so long, in addition to a zillion other things. I haven't been crocheting for a while after attempting to construct a blanket out of several granny squares. Never doing that again. It took far too long to finish and I made the wrong choice of colours too. But having a look at the truly amazing work of this lady I got bitten once again, with the crochet bug.

So this was my first attempt. Really bad stitches here and there but overall I'm quite pleased with it. Definately going to do more.

life update

2011-05-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

That boy of mine just won't stop growing. 20 months old and counting... He knows how to hold a spoon, dances to the tune of Thomas the Tank Engine, does a fake laugh when he sees us laughing, and is devoted to strawberries.

I'll be solo parenting next week because hubby is off on a business trip to China. Yikes!!!

Still going strong with the pilates. Wanna kill the instructor when doing it, but end up forgiving her afterwards.

One of my younger students said to me 'I don't know what it is about you Khairun, but people fall in love with you'.

Wowza. Speechless. To think that a young person, feels that way when I teach them. Just makes me feel like everything I do, the effort involved, the hesitation and self doubt, it's so worth continuing. Because its way more than an ego massage. Perhaps there was a time when it would have been just that, and It would have lifted me up when nothing else was would. Its more than that. I feel as though Im living from bottom to top, internal to external. And having a 15 year old girl with all the insecurities of the world on her shoulders, look at me with a huge smile on her face, is both product and reward of this.

Passiflora

2011-05-03T02:43:00.000-07:00

A cherry blossom for a friend.

2011-04-22T04:42:00.000-07:00

The long-haired book-reading goddess

2011-04-20T01:20:00.000-07:00

Last year it was crochet, papier mache, dolls and wanting to meet more mamas. The year before that it was writing, poetry, and learning to be more sociable.

This year it's all about instilling healthier habits into my life. Habits that make sense for me. Ideas that don't make me feel crap, instead, they make me feel like I'm fulfilling a more authentic version of me.
Introducing the long haired book reading goddess! Well,my new name is open to modification. But for now, this fits me just fine.

So this year, I have managed to stick to a fewer number of projects, let go of some unhealthy thoughts and feelings, and learnt to really enjoy what's RIGHT for me because the real failure for me is holding on to things without doing anything to make it better. More constructive to let another person do a better job of it.
What I've stuck to
Pilates. I am feeling the burn and the burn feels goooood.
Blogging. Just have to tell myself to keep at it.
Reading. Exchanging books with friends, and ordered a few from Amazon.
Painting. Just completed a small watercolour as a gift for a friend.
Self work. I know it sounds cheesy, but through one of my closest friends, I've done a lot of soul searching and worked my way to a better understanding of how I relate to others.
Waking up Early. The ONLY way I can do most of the above. Or I sleep and do none of it. I think I made the right choice.

And heres what I've said farewell to
Crochet. Lost that cozy feeling. It went as soon as I realised how insanely old it made me feel.
Short hair. I had this sudden urge earlier in the year to go for the chop. I thought it would somehow bring out a more refined sophisticated, up to date version of me. But now I know,that would have been a version of somebody else. Not me. I was born to be a completely unsophisticated goddess with crazy long hair.
Being so damn introverted. I love this side of myself because I think my quiet natured self allows me to be more thoughtful, creative, and sensitive to beauty, love, happy things. But I've also realised that there is a side to it that just doesn't help me at all. And I don't want to identify with that anymore. It has made me make very bad decisions, lose friendships, and increase self loathing. The worst thing about it though is that it's prevented me from having more love for myself and for others. Not a good thing, no matter who you are.

There you go. lots of deep and meaningful stuff here. But that's who I am.
I'm a deep and meaningful goddess.
Long haired to boot.

Tough geeks rule

2011-04-14T01:12:00.000-07:00

About three weeks ago I decided to do a pilates workout three times a week at home. I have no idea what inspired me to do it, and equally disturbing to me (in a good way) how I'm still keeping it up. All I do know is that its made me feel pretty superduper. I am naturally slim, and I say this in a totally unsmug way because I've been likened to an Eritrean long distance runner coming last in the Olympics, rather than Giselle Bunchen not a sultry slim, a very awkward geeky slim, so there is absolutely nothing to be smug about here. I never felt I needed to exercise because i didn't want to lose more weight, and because I didn't think i had an molecule of muscle power to do it anyway. But holy moses, how wrong I was. I had no idea just how much good it would do me in terms of building my toughness, well not building it, since I had zero toughness to begin with, but introducing me to a tough centred stronger me.
-Hello tougher centred stronger Khairun.
-Hello who the hell are you?
. I may be slim, but I am weak. I'm weak in so many areas of my life. The worst being in taking initiatives, standing up for myself, having a firm voice. My voice is not a voice. It's a squeak. When i get into any lengthy conversation, i jump from one idea to the next, I can never get the right word to express something, even when that very word is on the tip of my tongue. I have no sense of centre. Add all this to my Eritrean roots, and what do you have? a long distance runner who doesn't believe her skinny legs can take her anywhere. I've noticed something in myself that needs to be fixed, and it makes total sense to fix it. and all the strange pilates positions and stretches, have given my weakness a proper thrashing. I have no idea whats happening, but I feel like the geek in me doesn't slouch anymore, her back's straight and she can look at the world directly.
She's still a geek. But shes a tough geek!

A little piece of lemon..

2011-04-11T00:27:00.000-07:00

I'm in awe of how easy it was to make this and how yummy it turned out.
This will be on the list of things to bake for my husbands birthday next month.

Lemon Meringue Tart

Base

A packet of rich tea biscuits (or Donna Maria if you're in Portugal)
125g unsalted butter

Filling

A tin of condensed milk
125ml lemon juice (about 3 lemons)
3 egg yolks

Meringue topping

3 egg whites
125g caster sugar

Preheat oven to 180 degrees

1.Crush the biscuits. You can wrap them in a tea towel and release your new found passion for baking with a rolling pin.
2. Add melted butter and mix. Press into a pre greased tart tin or dish.
3. Put it in the fridge so that it can set.
4. Mix the condensed milk, lemon juice and egg yolks in a bowl.
5. With the remaining egg whites, beat and gradually add the sugar until white satin peaks form. You can also add a spoon of cornstarch to thicken it.
6. Start assembling! Take the base out of the fridge. Spread the filling first and spoon the meringue on top. You can use a pipe bag if you happen to have one. It would certainly make it look a lot prettier than mine.
7. Pop it in the oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the meringue is browned lightly.
8. Once done, allow to cool and eat it on the same day or pop it in the fridge and eat it the following day. But trust me, you won't wait that long.

Is it really possible?

2011-04-10T12:14:00.000-07:00

Could anything be more divine, more beautiful, more heavenly, than this baby of ours?

He is the reason why I do what I do, why I keep wanting my life to be better. Because he's in it. He came into my unprepared, naive, hesitant life, making the mess that was me suddenly feel beautiful and joyful and full of possibilities.

Sunny day

2011-04-07T00:16:00.000-07:00

It would be a shame to waste it!

Blossom

2011-04-06T00:55:00.000-07:00

This is a watercolour drawing for a friend. Not quite finished though. I'd like to add some white lines to the leaves but I need to get a better brush.

Homemade play dough

2011-04-05T00:14:00.000-07:00

To make it you need

1 cup of water
1 cup of salt
2 tablespoons of vegetable oil
flour
cornstarch
food colouring or tempera paint

Mix the water, salt oil and paint together. Use as much paint or food colouring as you think you'll need in order to get the right vibrancy in colour. Then all you need to do is add flour and cornstarch to the paste until it gets nice and thick. Knead it like you would with dough until most of the moisture has been absorbed.

To store it, keep in any airtight container. If it gets a little sweaty, just add flour to it.

He loved it. Until he realised it didn't taste very good. Then he just poked at it with a crayon like it was some kind of hideous washed up jelly fish.

There comes a time to start

2011-04-03T23:36:00.001-07:00

Starting things is what I do best. Knowing the best time to start is what I do worst. Like getting enthusiastic about Pilates a week before discovering I was pregnant, buying art materials whilst moving into and renovating a house, painting a mural in Isaacs old bedroom, only to move out and painting over it, six months later.
The bad timing worked in our favour when we moved out. It looked terrible; me returning to my full time schedule at work, all three of us sleeping on a mattress, on the floor of Antonios old bedroom whilst waiting for our house to be ready. We ended up staying six weeks rather than the very optimistic five days.
But in the end, we couldn't have done it at a better time. And we are happier for taking that risk, of not waiting for the right time, as so many people often do.
I've learnt that there is a time, and there just isn't a time, there are things that need careful planning and things that don't, and it's taken me a while to discover what goes in what.

The Go Slowly List

1. Pilates.
I've started doing pilates three times a week. It's not to lose weight in mind, as I am already skinny. I just want to work on my strength and general well being.

2. Portuguese
I came up with a great way to practice. I speak a little everyday with one of my colleagues at work. It is tricky getting some Portuguese in, considering I am an English teacher in a school where speaking Portuguese is severely restricted, but I try to keep it discreet. I'm also doing the same with my husband, speaking to him when Isaac isn't around as I want to make sure my son only hears me speaking in English.
I feel like an Portuguese secret agent!

3. Minimalist skin and haircare routine

I've gone back to the joys of growing my hair long and strong again. That means fewer times using shampoo, lots of coconut oil to keep it in good condition and waiting very patiently to get it looking like it used to, LONG! Ive been using coconut oil for my skin moisturiser too. No more Clinique products. My skin has been a lot better since doing this

4. No T.V

Now that the weathers getting better, I feel I'm less tempted to switch on the T.V to keep Isaac occupied for short periods at a time. Instead, I've been listening to podcasts with him or going out into the garden. I rarely watch the box these days which I'm really happy about. There is just nothing more frustrating to me than to sit in front of it whilst thinking about all the better things I could be doing.

5. Drawing

Last night I had a look at some art blogs from my favourites and the fire in my heart just lit up again. I got all my art materials out and began drawing again. No objectives, no pressure. Just enjoying the return of this feeling which I haven't had in a long time. Hurrahh!! I have finally started!

Sifting through past blog posts like old photos

2011-03-29T04:52:00.000-07:00

I forget how much I shared on this blog and how much of it is not as bad as I was telling myself.
I initially went into the archives to purge them of awful memories, bad writing, strange art work and odd Youtube videos. I was set on this mission but as I started reading my verbal attempts to understand the world around me and my feeble place in it, I started having a change of heart.
I actually don't think any of it is that bad. I don't know why I slam my efforts sometimes, maybe its just years of brainwashing myself into thinking I could not be very good at much. But there is a lot of good I did and a lot of good I would still love to continue doing. I know I just need to reestablish that personal drive again, to write here, because I do still want to keep writing. I guess i need to exorcise myself of the fear to return here because there is a fear. The fear of hurting somebody, the fear of looking like a know-it-all, the fear of being ridiculed, the fear of loneliness, because blogging, just like painting, is a very lonely experience for me and I've avoided these two activities because they embody moments and memories of loneliness at their peak.
But I'm pretty sure, in fact I'm positive, that all this fear I'm carrying around, is a figment of my rather wandering imagination. I'm afraid of myself. Maybe I'm afraid of what I can truly be capable of. Maybe I'm afraid of what I know I could lose by following my dreams.
This is a start though.

My favourite poem

2011-02-20T07:44:00.000-08:00

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver

So heres the thing...

2011-02-15T05:53:00.000-08:00

Given the fact that I don't come round here too often, I'm back to that age old question again 'To blog or not to blog?'
I can't say I've been rushed off my feet or anything. I've simply decided to get through my to do list for 2011, most of which focuses on a clear-up operation after Hurricane Beinganewmama. Thankfully, I've managed to rescue the most important person amongst all this, that is, me. I may have survived it, but man did I make a big mess of getting myself back together again or what. Like doing a jigsaw puzzle with the lights out. I've kinda ignored the way i look, ignored a lot of people in my life, gone on the defensive, given up on me in a way thats just totally unforgivable, and just been abit crap to the world really. Incase you were wondering. I had a close run in with those ghastly post natal depression goblins. They didn't quite suceed in taking up residence here, but they certainly left me with a hell of a lot to clear up. I kinda see them as the extended family of the last lot of goblins that came into my life when i was 17. Those ones stayed so long i was practically the landlord of a goblin B and B.

so, I'm still wondering..to blog or not to blog?
I hate being such a lame blogger.

How my love for teaching started by not teaching very well.

2011-01-23T09:03:00.000-08:00

I've been an English teacher for six years. Those six years have been more of a learning experience than a teaching one because there was so much about the profession that I wasn't aware of. I've lived abroad for those six years, so unsurprisingly,it was not only a lesson on teaching but a lesson on creating a new life for myself. As time passed, I realised several important points that have changed the way I approach teaching.

1.Being native doesn't make you a good teacher The first lesson in humility was that being a native speaker didn't mean I could teach. Being curious didn't help my credentials either. Nor did an impressive South London accent. Or great stories about my move from London to Lisbon. It certainly made class activities bearable to me. But what I realised was that I just had lots of students finding me pleasant without learning anything new. Plus I was running out of stories. Which leads me to the next point.

2.Talking about your pet Iguana, your travels to Nepal, and crazy members of your family will eventually tire you out.As it did with me. I don't disagree with sharing personal stories. It is a way of engaging students into relaxed conversation that don't focus on stiff grammar exercises. It increases the confidence of students not to mention making it fun. But here's the but, and it's a significant but. What happened to me over time was that some students forgot what their objectives were. They forgot to ask me questions about the language because I gave little opportunity for them to do so. Talking about my terrible morning at the post office was what did it. Some students asked for more guidance, more structure, more actual teaching, which, when given the cue, I was happy in having a go at being a 'proper teacher'.These were the students that were fully aware of what they needed to learn in the x number of months they had paid to study here. It was a reminder to me that I really had to be more considerate of this fact. That not all the students wanted to simply chat.

3.Lavishing too much praise.
I became aware that lavishing praise on students without them knowing why was not only insincere but disregarded the students particular weaknesses and strengths. Not only that but some students went on to have a distorted perception of their language skills. Some thought they were better than they actually were which I think is more damaging in the long run than those who think their language skills are worse than they are. I've since found that it's a lot easier to improve confidence in a student by helping them through difficult grammar points, than finding a sensitive way of explaining to advanced level students that they need to study the tenses again. It embarassed me when I knew that a number of my students from previous years went out into the world with questionable language skills. All because of me not having an honest teaching approach.

4.Teach with confidence.
I followed lesson plans to such precision, that I may as well have not been physically present. Other times I tried ignoring the lesson plans altogether, but that left me with nothing to guide me except a hesitant desire to do my best. Whatever that entailed. This created a haphazard teaching style, an inconsistent appoach that reflected my lack of confidence as a teacher.
I finally faced up to things once I returned from my maternity leave, that I had to be more accountable for my work, since it was after all where I was spending the majority of my time. I looked at ways to manage my time, so that I could read more, write more, and plan lessons of my own. This brings me to my final point.

5. Teach what you know, not what you don't.
By getting back to my old reading and writing habits, I understood what I needed to learn in order to improve my teaching skills. I also reminded myself of things I already knew too. I think it's essential for anybody, no matter what field you're in, to excell in it in whatever way you can. It puts you in control, makes you think about how much of an impact you can have on the lives of others despite the bad pay or lousy office space. it demonstrates resilience and most of all, getting involved makes the working day fly by. There is no 'making it through to the end of the day'. There's less resistence or struggle when you are willing to be good at what you do.

I love what I do now, because I started to try out new things, learn about them, rather than find new ways to make it through the day. I never saw myself as a teacher until I had no choice but to, given the language barrier and being an Art History graduate when arriving in Lisbon. Art History, if you don't know already, is the most useless degree ever. Enjoyed it, but completely useless. Six years later and I am still here, still not sure what my 'calling is' and I'm not sure I ever will. In the meantime, I'm helping a few individuals get a step up in life by providing them a valuable skill; learning a language. My parents moved to England in the late seventies. . I grew up in a home where three languages were used daily; Bangla,Arabic and English. It is what I know best and what I have to know better if other people are depending on it.

So I think I can assume, I've got a little soft spot for teaching. I never thought I'd say it, but there you go, I said it.

What counts and what doesn't.

2011-01-18T05:26:00.000-08:00

If it weren't for some of my wonderful students.
If it wasn't for my baby and his little hands tugging at my earlobes.
If it weren't for my husband's efforts to make me laugh.
If it weren't for my best friends efforts to make me laugh even harder.
If it wasn't for our cleaner who comes once a week and spends more time singing to my baby in Romanian than actually cleaning
If it weren't for all of these things.

I don't really think I could manage. No way.
Just goes to show. Not being a people person doesn't mean I don't need anyone. Everybody does. The difference between the few in the picture and the majority that aren't? The few know you better than the rest. Sometimes even more than you'd like. They'll be there for the long haul.
Live well.
Have fun.
Just don't lean on people who can't be there for you after the party's over. How do you figure that out? The ones who care are usually the ones helping you clear up long after everybody else have upped and left. That's when you know. That's when you also know, particularly in the case when nobody stays behind, which can happen,that you are your own closest ally too.
Which is why I shouldn't forget this very important point.
If it weren't for me, just plain old me, keeping pretty much true to myself, I really wouldn't be as happy as I am today.

Solitude

2011-01-10T05:17:00.000-08:00

I've always struggled with solitude. I've not known how to benefit from it without letting it overwhelm me. There are two sides to solitude. It isolates you and makes you difficult to reach. You keep to yourself for long periods of time and people start forgetting to call in once in a while. But it can also give you the environment needed to rest, to tend to things with care and attention, and to retreat from the daily demands of work and family. Since I'm a little on the quiet side, I've noticed that Im sensitive to solitude on both ends. It means that I can really enjoy solitude fully, but I tend to feel the isolation of it after long spells. I guess that explains the struggle really. I look for ways out when I've spent too much time in. But this all starts with me wanting time in, first and foremost.
Perhaps its not a struggle at all. It's just a case of knowing which side of me wants to be alone most. The reading writing thinking in me, or the sad and lonely in me. Solitude in small doses for the latter, and an abundance for the former.

Thats a view from outside our home. That's the best visual definition of solitude I could come up with.

2011.The year that is

2011-01-06T04:01:00.000-08:00

and this year will be a great one. It really will.

I wrote about my bookreading goal last week. I have two books winging their way from the land of Amazon and they should arrive at my doorstep next week. I'm looking forward to reading them. Writing down exactly what books i want to read left my mind free of the responsibility to grasp onto passing interests and desires. The amount of books that caught my eye, only to be forgotten again are countless. I've given my mind a bit of a vacation in that respect.
There are other specific things I would like to do too, and I'm going to stick to them no matter what it takes. It's interesting when a lot of people may consider the act of goal writing as lacking in spontaneity (for the carefree) or devoid of realist thinking (for the pessimists) I appreciate both spontaneity and realism. Its true that there is so much to enjoy in the world without needing to plan for it. Its also true that there are unexpected obstacles that we can never fully prepare for. I realise this. But the greatest feeling I've encountered eversince I started thinking about the future ahead of me, was the sense of clarity mentally and emotionally. Instead of restraining me to a set of rules I needed to abide by, its actually felt very freeing. I have energy to be spontaneous. But I had to organise random stuff in my head to feel that fully. Its also made me feel very humble too. I know there will be setbacks and unexpected events, but I always have a choice - and so many people around the world categorically don't. Unless something catastrophic happens in my life, I can recover from obstacles with a calmer more thoughtful perspective.
I have a baby boy sitting near me. He's my direction in life. If I get lost, I just need to keep him in sight to remember how privelaged my life is.

2010 the year that was

2011-01-04T05:51:00.001-08:00

There may have been so many things I could have done better, but there are also plenty I achieved. Heres what worked out well.

1. I struggled through a depression spurred by a complicated birth in a complicated country with complicated issues. But I got through it.
2. I have raised a wonderful child alongside my brilliant husband with very little dependancy on anyone to assist us. Not needing to ask for help gave me a real feeling of self-sufficiency.
3. There was so much I could do despite the biggest of obstacles. We renovated the house of our dreams and spent months living in chaos with an infant who was sick through much of the winter, in order to achieve that. We could have given up but we didn't.
4. I took my work into my own hands and became much better with my time management.
5. I spent more time thinking about the people I love, even when not being able to see them, it really helped me dwell less on feelings of loneliness or not being understood. I became a lot more accountable for the kinds of relationships I invite into my life.
6. I got back into reading again
7. I got back into blogging again.
8. I did things that felt right for me even if it wasn't the norm, like closing my Facebook account. It worked for me and I'm proud to stand by this fact.

What was your year like in 2010?

Book list for 2011

2010-12-31T07:22:00.000-08:00

Nothing will stop me from reading the following books this year. Nothing will stop me from doing this because some of these books have been living in my Amazon search history for so long that I'm surprised Amazon even bother, given the fact that I hardly buy online anyway.
I would really like this year to be about just enjoying little things, within time and financial reason of course, and just do them for Gods sake.It feels awful knowing how much putting off I do, just because of not having an envelope handy, a telephone number, or enough welll-managed time. I hate that about me. So enough hating and more lovin.
Leaving the World Douglas Kennedy
Garners Modern American Usage Bryan Garner
The Use and Abuse of the English Language Robert Graves
The Highly Sensitive Person Elaine.N.Aron
John:A Novel Niall Williams
The Continuum Concept Jean Leidloff
The Infinite Jest David Foster Wallace
The Element: How Finding Your Passion Changes Everything Sir Ken Robinson
Getting Things Done David Allen

This has been a resolution of mine since 1997. I'm looking forward to actually doing something about it in 2011.
There are more unfulfilled goals from previous years that I'd like to share with you here. For now though, just enjoy my book list and marvel at what goes on in my head with those cheesy titles. Don't be a self-help book hater. Unless you already are one in which case you won't like me very much. Oh well.
Next post: other musings on goals unfulfilled from the past and staring them in the face once more. I shall make 2011 the year of transformation!
At least a little.

Clinique mascara and Coffee...

2010-12-29T05:37:00.000-08:00

...are a girls best friend. Because those are the two things I have been abusing excessively before getting out to work each day-Isaac has been waking up in the middle of the night, every night over the last two weeks,at the kind of time most bars and clubs across Lisbon are closing. It takes almost two hours for him to settle, in between us, whilst I, semi-conscious but still retaining some use of my limbs, attempt to nurse him to sleep. To put it mildly, He's been a pain in the arse. Oh-and when I say pain in the arse, I actually mean it quite literally, because he's got some funky nappy rash due to a nasty combination of a food reaction with the wretched teething phase.

But other than this life is treating us well. Antonios on his third day of not smoking. I'm hugely proud of him. Despite him wanting to strangle me everytime I ask him if he's alright.
I've pretty much planned my year in terms of vacations and the days I'll need to take off work. Just knowing what I'll be doing in September makes the year itself seem so small. I don't think I've ever been this organised before. On top of my attempt at weekly menu planning (it's chicken soup today) I'm getting all this extra space in my head to think about things I like to think about,instead of having all these worries and that constant feeling of remembering something that I can't remember. I finally treated myself to a Moleskine diary, a new purse and got back into listening to my ipod again. It feels like bits of me are coming back to life again after having Isaac. I'm feeling things physically and mentally that were completely switched off over the last year. It's good to be back. And, in contrast to the warnings of how difficult Isaac would be once he started walking, I've actually found him much easier to manage. It's lovely seeing him walk around observing, picking up toys and just trying out new things. He's chatting a lot more too. I've found that I don't need to play with him so much, he's quite happy doing his own thing. It's great.
I just hope his sleeping pattern improves otherwise I'm going to end up looking like Dolly Partons make-up artist went psycho on me.

A quote to remember....

2010-12-28T05:09:00.000-08:00

On the occasion where things start getting a little quiet around here.

The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself - Friedrich Nietzsche

Reaching for the stars...particularly the vertiginious ones.

2010-12-27T05:08:00.000-08:00

Vertiginous (comparative more vertiginous, superlative most vertiginous)

1.Having an aspect of great depth, drawing the eye to look downwards.
2.Inducing a feeling of giddiness, vertigo, dizziness or of whirling.
3.Pertaining to vertigo (in all its meanings).
4.Revolving; rotating; rotatory.

I have a secret. I like reading dictionaries. It may seem boring to the vast majority, and granted, at times it is, but I've always had a fascination with new words and how many of them are out there, that I have never heard of and will probably never hear of in my lifetime. Instead of getting down about this fact, it only makes me more curious.The curious collector in me wants to write it all down somewhere in a notebook-preferably a pretty one with a ribbon for a bookmark-and feel that much stronger up there in my head-and a little below- in my heart and the pit of my stomach. Just from learning something new. Just from loosening the grip of being passive to what's beautiful out there.

2011 will be all about me. What I do best. What I want to do best. Over the last three years or so, I've constantly remained undecided about how to deal with hurt, loss, guilt and all that other stuff that life has a tendency to throw at you just when your'e thinking 'Hey, I think this year's gonna be great!' I've tried to toughen up, I've tried to be graceful, I had a go at the humility thing. All of it didn't work and I think I know why. I think I might anyway. There was always that underlying feeling that something about me needed fixing. A few tweaks here and there and hey presto. The new and improved super duper hot confident mama,teacher,wife,woman khairun. This meant having to ditch my little dictionary habit. And my nights in rather than going out and making lots of hot super duper friends. This would mean knowing how to converse and be funny and be memorable all at once. Aspiring to this actually made me feel bad about myself. It was like I was punishing the me that doesn't do any of that stuff, that doesn't like to do any of that stuff. I was punishing the me that was a pain in the arse for being so quiet and unsociable.
I think a useful exercise for anybody, particularly at the begining of another year-would be to ask themselves if anything they set out to do differently this time round is out of a kind of disappointment in themselves. I'm trying not to be happier out of a disappointment in myself for not being happier enough. Last year, and the year before that, and the year before that one too. I should just try stuff without fixing what was. I wish I had known this before. Self-improvement is a terrible word. Be curious, playful, interested-sure. That sounds like a far better idea than to improve something because you failed the last time.

Anyway, heres to 2011. Just enjoying stuff. Having a go.Vertiginiously difficult to reach or not. It doesn't matter. As long as I'm not letting the Mr Positive Thinker bully me into change.

Planning away.....

2010-12-08T06:15:00.000-08:00

What I'm currently doing

1. Menu planning. As boring as it sounds,it's not really that soul-destroying. I hope i still have friends after they read this. My working hours are from 3 to 9pm weekdays, which means our dinnertime is very late. It means I've had to seriously think about how I manage my time in the mornings. So here's what I do. I drop my baby off at the nanny around an hour earlier than I used to (I used to drop him off on my way to work which was a mad circus act that usually involved me running out with an apple in my mouth as a means of preventing hunger, and a baby who's hanging off my leg)On Sundays, I try to figure out what I'm going to cook for the week with what we have in our fridge. So far so good. I'll be really boring and write more about my menu planning parade in future posts.
2. Saving money. With my husbands imminent plans to quit smoking, we both decided to put €3.50-the price of a pack of Marlborough lights here in Portugal, in a jar, every single day. We hope to have around €500 by next summer.
3. Getting back into reading again. I have a colleague at work who lent me a book by Hugh Laurie-pre Dr House. One of the advantages of public transport is that you can actually read. You couldn't do that in a car. Especially if your driving. Obviously. Good job many people are aware of this. The book is hilarious by the way. Thoroughly recommend it.
4. Learning to respect my sensitivity. I can't change who I am. May as well take care of myself by not having to tolerate things that I can't tolerate. Like large crowds of strangers. Like loud music. Like chit chat. Like bright lights. Like shopping malls.Like being away from home for too long. Be around my element instead. Like tea. Like my closest friends. Like books. Like blogs. Like my family. Like the great outdoors.
5. Back in the pre-internet I used to write letters to my best friend all the time. It was this little ritual we had. It started at 13, back in 1993, when I lived in Bangladesh for a year. During that time I would regularly write letters to her. Like 8-page letters! I would decorate the envelope and include little drawings. What teenager does that these days! Noone! When I returned from Bangladesh to my hometown in London, we still kept on writing letters to each other. Even though we lived nearby. At that time, growing up in an asian community was tough. We didn't have the freedom that a lot of our English friends had. No jeans. No going out at all. And definately no boyfriends. Including boys as friends. So our letters and sleepovers (which was the only privelage given to us) was our way of feeling normal. I love Yasmine to bits. She's like a sister to me. And we speak on the phone to each other regularly despite living in different countries with very different lives. We rarely use email or Facebook to keep in touch, because we don't have a problem keeping in touch the old fashioned way. Everybody should know what its like to have a friendship pre-Facebook!

That's it for now. Hope some of these have given you something to think about.

Friends are your second family...

2010-11-21T02:24:00.000-08:00

well, that's the hope anyway. After years of supporting this ideal, I have discovered that the friends we gather to fill up our lives, in order to encapsulate the Sex and the City dream, have their own families too.Many of my friends are getting married. They have new jobs, live in different cities,in different countries raising children. I've realised from my experience,that to have a perfect idealistic notion of a second family, a 'family of friends' I've had to go back to that flawed dysfunctional first one. The one I forgoed to make way for more interesting social groups in my life. The one I fell out with practically every other day, the one I saw as a hindrance in my search for more adventure in my life. The one I reduced to a mere backdrop of who I am. In the late 90's i went on a mission to replace my family, my childhood friends, with an updated better version in the form of university intellectuals, colleagues, friends of friends, aquaintances at parties. I filled up my contact list with people I tried to find a connection with, and in turn tried to do the same with me but in the end, for whatever reason, the efforts to form a 'second family movement' fizzled out by the time we all graduated and left the all important university social scene.Then came Facebook. I facebooked my way into a world of socialising that I had never experienced before in my first family. It was great for a while. But not for the reasons I thought it was. Because with the hugely uncool inconvenience of being a mother, combined with my hugely uncool first family suddenly making me feel loved and less lonely, I've suddenly stopped trying so hard. Putting an end to my 'creating your own family Movement'
We all need special connections in our lives. I don't think having 260 Facebook friends does that. Not for me anyway. It leaves me feeling very drained. Like being in a room filled with people who don't really know my hopes and fears. If I was a social bee, Facebook would be an endless source of amusement. Sharing my happiness with people I keep in touch with facebook 'friending', but kept at a non-commited distance too. It's not just a second family. It's an endless number of families. Your family of friends, your family of colleagues, your family of classmates. It's a family of families. I'm not a social bee. I like to keep in touch. But I hate the idea of managing an ever expanding social circle. And so it is. That is who I am. I can count on one hand how many adult friends I have. My husband, my baby sister, my best friend, my mum and my dad. My other hand (I should include my toes too) is for future inclusion of my siblings who I rarely keep in close contact with,but I hope to one day,my son when he can string a few words of joy together, and other close friends who may come and stick around abit longer to share their hopes and fears with me. For now though, that one hand is my family. First, second, always.

Still here

2010-11-07T05:26:00.000-08:00

I know it's blogging suicide to not post for so long, but I've essentially been unplugged for the last month or so, due to the recent move. All the time offline has given me a valuable glimpse of how my life could be, how I would like to spend my time, and the simple changes in my day to day routines needed to keep my happy self fulfilled.
All of the offline pondering led me to cancel my Facebook account. I just had to do it; it took up more of my time than I had liked and I could never get my head round the 'Facebook way' of keeping in touch. Maybe I'm too old-fashioned for my own good, but it suits my way of living life and a person should always be true to that.
I'll be spending most of whats left of this year unpacking, and setting up a space for my artwork and teaching material. Isaac is growing up so fast I can't keep up with him. He inspires me to be joyful about everything I do. My love for him is endless, but of course, what mother wouldn't say that about their child?

Got to go now. I have no idea when I'll post again. I will. I miss blogging very much.

xxx
Khairun

I've got this new thing going on

2010-09-23T15:48:00.001-07:00

I'm not quite sure what it is, but it appears to be doing me the world of good. Whatever this feeling is, one that I can't explain, it's making me want to hug random people, smile incessantly, drop my guardedness and act a little silly. I am pretty sure it has alot to do with us moving, which is a huge positive in our life. But combine that with the running around like a chicken on coke, the sleeplessness, and you've got this kind of spinning wild positive rush of, well, positivity. Can't wait to find out what this rush will create once it has officially moved in with us in the new abode. I hope it manifests itself into more art work and a more settled feeling of creative domestic bliss.
All is good. We're taking Isaac to the zoo tomorrow, and then some old fashioned cake splatting to celebrate his first year on this earth, our first year of pure wild love. His gift will be the new house. Not many babies get a house for their first birthday do they? Well, its our way of looking at it. The reality is, his birthday happens to fall during a humungous time in our life right now. We're just trying to put a positive twist to the fact that we cannot go all out on a birthday party for him. Definately not now. He's not fussed anyway. He's too busy enjoying everything around to notice he's a year older. Us grown ups could learn a thing or two from babies. I certainly have.

Im tired. But Im not going to disappear on you dear blog.

2010-09-21T14:16:00.000-07:00

Should i keep going on? Yes I will. It's not an emphatic yes I will. More of an exhausted whispering yes I will. But a yes I will nonetheless! Because I know, and those of you, my dear friends who read this blog knows, things have been wilting ever so slightly over here in the last few months, save for a precious drop of a post whenever I can for my blog to survive on. I have been terrible at looking after things here, which in other words means, looking after me. And when I think of it in that way, I feel compelled enough to want to write about it. Because I'm drawn to doing so. It's me after all. And why wouldn't I want to take care of me?I know deep down, that the last two years of doing this has been a big deal for me, in a way that many non-blogging, folk might not get. That's okay by me of course. I'm just acknowledging this very real fact. There are people who get it, there are people who don't. All this self obsessed personal writing malarky. Jeez, get over yourself woman! I hear that phrase ringing over and over in my head sometimes when I read some of my posts. I feel like im indulging too much in the world of ME. But who else could do that but me? Why would i want anybody else to do this but me? It can only be me! I get this. Writing, and writing publically as a means to meet people who want to meet me, help people who can be helped by me, and deliver a kind of loyal support through regular posts, to those who return the loyalty by reading my blog, me. That's what sets blog writing apart from writing privately. Writing privately is a bit like wanting something to change in your life but keeping this desire forever locked away in your heart. Writing publically is a bit like allowing that change to roam free and actually get things changed. This has happened to me. My blog helped me set free my artistic wants and needs. It has helped me get more comfortable with who I am and the wants and needs that make up who I am. It has helped me create a narrative for my story and I think every story deserves to be expressed and read, and needed, by those who want to read it and feel the need for it.
Yes I will!

Dreaming of a more natural way of life

2010-09-12T14:12:00.000-07:00

Nothing involving chickens though. Or carving wooden spoons. Reusable sanitary towels (I'm not joking, they do exist) and smelling like someone who's not accustomed to soap.I don't want to treat my London roots like weeds that need pulling out. But there are days, many many days, and especially now that we are moving, that I long for a far simpler flow to my life. One that involves raising a family, getting creative, cultivating time for education and experience, without worrying about the wheres and the hows. How can we afford this? Where are we going today? What's for dinner? Why are we watching Americas Next Top Model? Why does my hair look like this? Questions questions questions, thrown into the void of Isaacs nap time. Sometimes it feels like, when we have a glorious opportunity to bathe in the art of simple, we spoil it by throwing in all these questions, and general fidgety mood as to how to spend the time constructively We end up looking at Isaacs baby photos and missing him. Even though five minutes prior he was sitting on the living room floor, post-bathtime, fiddling about with his peepee and laughing his head off at the absurdity of such a thing.
I see all these boxes around me and it feels like we've unburdened our apartment, our home over the last three years, of a huge weight. Like one big pile of box poop. What a relief!! We were living in a severely constipated home! We never truly took the time to enjoy our possessions. It was more a case of putting it in places so that Isaac couldnt reach them, or in a place where we'd figure out where to put it in the future ie. the guestroom with no guests aka the room with no purpose except to put things we couldn't decide what to do with. Long name for a room i know.

I can't wait to breathe a more simpler way of life. One where we don't question the hell out of the precious time we have to be together as a family. One where we can appreciate and enjoy and be proud of our home and our carefully filtered possessions.

A very fine house indeed...

2010-09-11T14:51:00.001-07:00

Well thats the idea anyway. Over the last few months we have finally succumbed to a yearlong fantasy of buying a home. I guess with a baby in the picture the notion of building a family nest suddenly pushed itself up further in the ranks of things we want and need.
As of now though, we've been living in a spacious apartment in a quiet area. It's just not very child-friendly. Carrying my heffalump of a baby, with bags of shopping up two flights of stairs is not a hugely enjoyable task these days. It's not a very child-friendly home either, with an attractive steel stair case leading up to our loft bedroom, and large ornaments dotted around the house like a diggeridoo and a wood carved African mask. All remnants of Mr Ts travelling days pre-heffalump, pre-easily impressed moi, pre-having no worries in the world except to prance about the world collecting stuff. What impresses me now is his magic ability to sing Incy Wincy Spider like a lullaby. Knocks Isaac out in 30 seconds flat. I can never do it.
So the image of a back garden instead of a balcony 30 feet up in the air with the constant threat of my undies raining down on innocent bystanders, home grown tomatoes and cucumbers instead of wilting basil and coriander in my 57th attempt to pot plant a herb garden, opening the door to my home without having to climb up stairs with sweaty baby in arm to get to it; It all finally took its toll. Somewhere in a land far far away,there was a rundown house in need of our love and attention. And an owner of course. We found that house. It's in a stable condition but with abit of planning we hope to move in and make it our home, by the beginning of October.
In the meantime, we have been packing boxes and moving random pieces of furniture every weeknight like two deluded individuals, shushing each other everytime we make a loud noise, even if that loud noise happens to be the result of having a box of Chinese teapots rest on your little toe. All because we don't want to wake up Isaac or our otherwise very understanding neighbours. Every night, we have sacrificed our guilt-free vegetative state in front of the T.V, for some much required elbow grease. Hard work, lots of angry shushing, broken finger nails and odd combination of clothes being worn due to not knowing where our clothes are these days since there are so many boxes it's blocking our mirrors.
Things just get done faster when you don't worry about how bad you're looking.

i want to be alone....so do I Greta, so do i.....

2010-09-01T06:14:00.000-07:00

FB update:Yesterday the lady at the pharmacy made the intelligent observation that by me holding my baby instead of keeping him strapped in his stroller screaming his eyeballs off, he would be spoilt. Theres a fine line between expressing an opinion and being a complete asshole. Welcome to motherhood Khairun.

I don't have the luxury to be quiet these days. Greta never had children of her own. Perhaps because she knew that a miniature version of Greta would have her screaming those famous words instead. Miss Pharmacy Lady saw to it that I never retreat to my cosy self made shell again. And she wouldn't have been on a mission to put my blossoming parenting skills down, without there being a baby in my arms.So it was Isaac who got to the job at hand, that of holding his podgy hands up to my face, to stop me from retreating back into the closet of Thinking everybody is Nice and Thinking everybody thinks I'm Nice-Land.
Before motherhood went and shoved my creative free time high up where the sun don't shine, I had the luxury of having my quiet moments uninterrupted, my boredom free to roam and wander and multiply. Me and Mr T secretly delighted in being occasionally ignored by the more talkative parent scene at random get togethers. Add to the bag the fact that I'm usually surrounded by non English speaking individuals, it was even more of a pure unashamed indulgence of mine to slip out of the conversation, which I didn't understand anyway,about various schools and the funny things my child says which I also didn't have much to add to accept a smile and and a reallllllyyyyy??,and instead would find myself jiggling someones baby on my hip or smile at random children whilst they imitate my mute condition by staring back at me, before running off to find someone slightly more entertaining. It didnt bother me in the sense that I didn't pressure myself as I did in my uni years, to get out of my shell and cure myself of this crippling

introvertigo

. It meant I never had too many kids wiping their noses on the back of my skirt and asking me lots of questions. I just figured, why fight the very essence of what makes you YOU? I was grateful for feeling confident enough to be quiet, to go with the flow, to not give a hoo haa what other people think. Us quiet folk are often misinterpreted as being rude, unsociable, selfish, insecure, cut off from what is supposed to be the basic human prereqhuisite: communication. Not to say that there aren't any quiet mean people out there. I just like to think I'm from the quiet and nice variety!
Try being quietly nice with a baby then Khairun. It worked for Greta because of 1.Being childless and 2. Being what you call, sassy.
Sassy Khairun is an oxymoron. Sassy Khairun sounds like swahili for wimpish. My wimpish temperament combined with motherhood, meant an inevitable facewipe from complete strangers who think they know how to be a better mother than me. This smiling mute condition doesn't hold up so well in the face of unsolicited advice and the very real changes that have to take place in order for me to take it on the chin. I cannot be chinless anymore. I created my own version of self confidence out of something that, for as long as it remained untested, which was my feelings and ideas, I was doing great. My own personal manifesto on how to survive a very loud opinionated world with a very quiet,chinless and totally unsassy soul. Smiling in the hope to win over peoples hearts with my ditsy ways doesnt work whilst jiggling a baby that is very much mine and will always be mine and nobody elses. I need to know how to take hurtful comments with a firm hand. I need to know that keeping myself to myself, isn't going to do much for me anymore. Im touching upon an issue i wrote about recently, about how I've spent too long defending a shyness that has now proven to not work in the real world. Being a mother has suddenly made the world very real to me.
There is a me somewhere in all of this. Its through the writing, the painting, the way i love my son, the things that make me laugh, the things that make me want to be a better version of the current version. I love all these things about me. i love that I want to know so much without ever feeling that I know it all. To see that I am still the same person to those who matter, whilst knowing that I need to change so much of that person. The acknowledgement of this has been a real joy for me.

It's good to give a voice to these things.

Getting back in the blogging groove.

2010-08-27T06:38:00.000-07:00

FB update: Last night I accused my son of destroying the universe because he refused to sleep like normal people usually do at 5am. But then i woke up with him sleeping on his tummy, face squooshed against my side, with his butt in the air. I forgave him.

I've been reading several mummy blogs over the last few days and feeling really inspired by the level of brutal honesty and overall fearlessness of these women. It brought home to me even more just how sad it would be for me to feel that blogging about my life, my thoughts, my feelings is a no go area. I think the key to writing honestly so publically is the intention behind it. If its to deliberately piss people off, like your mother in law, then its not cool. No matter how uncool your mother in law may be. But if the intention is to make people aware of something,consider a new perspective to a problem they might be going through, then blogging is really a cool thing. If it creates informed, thoughtful dialogue, if it touches a nerve without pushing a button, then it is more than cool! Theres so much that each and every one of us have inside ourselves, that could provide an abundance of inspiration for others. Why keep it to yourself? Why confine your thoughts within your heart? Its no use to anyone in there. Let it out. See what happens. It might not go down well with some. But then again, it might help someone going through very tough times.

No more Mrs Nice Girl

2010-08-26T09:20:00.000-07:00

Now that ive hit the big 3 0, ive decided to be painfully predictable and create a list of things that are in dire need of change. Ive stopped befriending my sensitivity, aiding its nonchalant attitude towards life, supporting its futile cause, wiping its tears for the last time. It doesnt do me any favours, it doesnt help anybody else. It just sits in a corner like a child who refuses to smile, wanting to leave the party. Theres nothing endearing about being sensitive. It doesnt make me a good person. It tires people, tests their patience. Im sick of it. I know there will always be a slight fragility to my personality: completely normal for an introverted soul like me, but im tired of having its back, when its never had mine. I have to speak my truth more, step on a few toes if thats the case, i have to accept that thats all a necessary part of being couragous, of being present in the world. Im tired of wanting to please, or worrying if i hurt another persons feelings by not pleasing enough. Im always questioning my motives. Thats it. No more! Everyday, im going to do something, no matter how small, that expresses my truth with courage and commitment. Im going to experience the exhilaration of not being nice. Of being judged. Because thats the only way i ll know how committed i am towards supporting myself.

Im 30. Gotta start acting like a lady

2010-07-19T05:40:00.000-07:00

I spent much of my twenties woofing down chicken burgers and chocolate cookies with a 'somebody smack me for getting away with eating junk and still being skinny' smile. Now that Im a mother of a hefty heffalump of a baby, my body aint all that forgiving anymore. Its in dire need of a change. And the change has to start from me. It pains me to say it, but I have got to start eating better. And whats even more excruciating, I have got to go to that faraway place called The Gym.
But before I start anything, i really have to get my hair looking like this.

Seeing life through art

2010-07-17T14:36:00.000-07:00

Pierre Bonnard. One of my absolute favourite artists.

Cyclamen

2010-07-15T05:37:00.000-07:00

The bottled up botanist in me.

2010-07-12T14:45:00.000-07:00

Moving on

2010-02-25T14:28:00.000-08:00

He's an extension of me. An extra chunk of Khairun.My love, my soul, embodied in his fat squishy legs and big sad eyes.
Leaving him for those few hours everyday makes me feel as though I've forgotten my doorkeys, my umbrella, my mobile phone. All these things at once (which incidentally, has happened.)
Something always feels missing.
We spent the whole morning talking. In between us in our bed,trying to master the art of conversation. I swear I thought he was telling me to not leave. But I think that must have been my imagination. He probably wants me to get a move on. Yeah yeah, you love me...GO TO WORK!I've already taken two sickies this week. But I'm going back today. I HAVE to go back today. Even though it's pouring with rain outside. Even though I still have the sniffles. Even though I'll always feel like somethings missing. Because I'm so busy missing him.
I have to move on.

This little blog of mine in a forest of much bigger blogs....

2010-02-24T05:00:00.000-08:00

I've always loved writing. Not being particularly good at it has never put me off either. I used to jot anything and everything down, in cheap notebooks, on blocks of A4 lined paper from Woolworths, the back pages of my school exercise books.I kept diaries religiously, writing into the wee hours of the night with exact and therefore incredibly boring details of who said what on the bus to school that morning.
Reading them now makes me want to sandpaper my eyeballs.
I was a closeted spotty muslim girl, whose life rotated around dreaming of being more popular, more beautiful, more free.

Nowadays, those dog eared notebooks have morphed into this blog, in the same way that Ive morphed into someone more happier about herself. Happy enough to let other people read abit about her, happy enough to feel comfortable in her own skin and go out into the world with it.
And when the passing blogestrian, the friend,the colleague or relative, reads the mental blurt-out of what amuses me, makes me ponder, makes me annoyed, Im always fighting the need to pack it all in and go back to keeping my thoughts in a shoebox under my bed, strictly for my sandpapered eyeballs only.
All I know is that my anonymous readership, those who leave comments and those who dont, those who acknowledge it, ignore it, forget about it, do whatever they want with it, it all makes me feel more present in the world. Despite the awkwardness, the worry that my presence lacks merit of some kind.That there are other bloggers who do it far better than me. Making my posts visible on Facebook for instance, whilst it does leave me feeling like I've just walked into a convention for Farmville enthusiasts in my pyjamas, It helps me fight my demons of unworthiness.

You know that age old question -If a tree falls in a forest and noone is there to hear it, does it make a sound?
I ask myself the same thing about my blog. If there is noone to read it, if what is better, more popular, more fun, continue to make me wonder What am I doing here?, is it still worth doing? Can my voice still be heard?

Ill always feel like running off into a corner and hiding under a blanket everytime I press the publish button. Ill always get that nagging feeling that my friends and family on Facebook may not want to have 'Khairun's feelings' thrown into their face,(image of me in pyjamas and saying 'I need a hug'in said Farmville convention springs to mind) But there is a stronger part of me that is doing a sort of grassroots appeal for more genuine, human, meaningful dialogue online, particularly on social networking sites.

But anyhow. Thats me.

Enough of the blogging. I have a baby nearby babbling away. He certainly knows how to make his voice heard. Perhaps I should take a few lifelessons from him.

Have a lovely day!

Back to Work

2010-02-23T06:11:00.000-08:00

After almost six months at home, I went back to work last night.
Five and a half hours of trying to not think about him.
It was not easy. But I know it could have been alot worse.

He wasn't particularly happy. We're trying to wean him off the milk by giving him solids during the time I'm out. It has worked. He loves the mushy stuff, and he wiggles with glee when he sees a spoon of orange gloop coming his way. So that has worked. But alas, he meltsdown at precisely an hour or so before I'm able to get home. By that time, Antonios with him and he has to put all 10kg of sleepy orange-stained fussiness into the Babybjorn.

It will get better.Thats what I'm saying to myself constantly.
And I will find the time for my creativity.

The Invisible Book

2010-02-17T11:27:00.000-08:00

It's invisible because it's in my head.
It's in my head because the dirty dishes and laundry folding are outside my head.
My invisible book has a lovely front cover, contents, bad photo of the author on the back. ISBN code. Even a couple of bad reviews about it online.
But you can't read it. Because it's invisible.
That's not the only thing invisible in my head. I also have an invisible etsy shop of all my papier mache bowls, pendants, art prints, crocheted brooches.
I have an invisible illustrated collection of my poetry.
I have an art exhibition of all my collages and mixed media pieces. But guess what? It's invisible.

I am on the verge of becoming invisible myself if I don't learn how to turn away from the very visible reality of chores, bills, worries, distractions, stressed out for not having time, then feeling guilty for having time,then feeling guilty again for not using that time constructively, and then waking up the next day with lots more guilt for whatever comes to mind. Fun fun fun.

It's more than just a kick up the rear end, I need. It's the fact that I have a book with bad reviews, a shop with things that perhaps three people might like, and all sorts of other wierd and wonderful things taking up residence in my body, and whether or not this is okay by me.

It clearly isn't.
I'm going to open that awful etsy shop and write a book that nobody wants to read.And make Isaac laugh by dancing to Blondie on VH1.
(I do the latter already)
After all, if I can write a blog for this long, then I know i can give it a shot.
I just have to stop convincing myself that my day to day life won't fall apart just because i have a pen and paper in front of me. And accept that I will never be able to get dressed nicely either.

Back to work next week. Eek.
But I have a feeling this will suddenly make that invisible book in my head feel alot heavier. Along with everything else up there.
I'll have no option but to get them out.

Will keep you posted on my very random burst of motivation.

Heres a picture of Mr Giant Cheeks.

Have a lovely day!

I-m still here

2010-02-12T02:39:00.000-08:00

My computer appears to have a language settings bug, so excuse the absence of punctuation. I-m determined to write a post before yet another reason not to. And a misbehaving computer isn-t the only reason. Theres the lack of inspiration to write, the mental space taken towards gearing up for work next week. Then there-s Isaac. Of course. He loves daylight. So much so that he doesn-t like napping much, except on the odd occasion. Like today. So my blogging has basically become dependant on the odd occasion that my baby puts his head down for a few minutes, and the odd occasion that i-m not thinking about handwashing carrot puree off my tops, calculating how much we-re gonna be paying our nanny, and Isaacs spectacular bowel movements.

But despite the lack of time spent here in cyberspace, I still feel productive, quietly working away in certain areas of my life, one at a time. Accepting that things can-t be fixed overnight.

Back in January i made alot of plans. I stared eagerly at the fresh blank pages of my newly aquired journals. I followed through for most of the month. February though, seems to have slipped through my fingers. I think its because its such a short month. And also for me, even shorter because I see its end coinciding with the last day of my maternity leave.

i need to see how I will incorporate my work schedule into last months enthusiasm to fulfill objectives, have more clarity, and create opportunities for myself and my little family.

Last month was also about stamping down old anxieties surrounding my life here in Portugal. The loneliness, the lack of confidence, the fear. I want to really focus on the positives of being here.

Thats as much as I can think of writing right now. Last months enthusiasm may show up in the coming months. I know it will.

He-s woken up.

Have a lovely weekend. A happy Carnival and Valentines day to all!

This is where I need to be

2010-02-03T06:17:00.000-08:00

That has been my personal mantra these days. This is where I need to be, this is where I need to be, this is where i need to be....

Sitting here, sleeping baby in my arms, typing with one hand,looking down at his face every now and then,thinking about my sister.She's coming over from London for three days. Reading a few blogs here and there.

Or, I could paint a different picture entirely.

I'm sitting here, my arse hurts from sitting on a cold hard chair, I've got pins and needles in my arms because of a baby that refuses to nap in his cot and is the size of a pygmy elephant. I should have eaten lunch by now so I'm starving, instead I'm just sitting here, waiting for the right moment, to get up and get on with stuff that i have to do before my sister comes.

I'm happy with the way the first picture turned out.

It is no fun being miserable, on a day that looks miserable. So I'm just going to accept things as they are.
Because this is exactly where I need to be. Even if it means resorting to eating the arms of this chair for lunch.
This is where I need to be. And when I think about things in this way,something inside me slows down.
That can't be a bad thing at all.

Papier mache bangle

2010-02-03T02:36:00.000-08:00

Wondering

2010-01-29T14:16:00.000-08:00

when I'm going to get into the swing of working, creating and taking care of Mr SlushyCheeks.
In all my gusto for planning I completely overlooked the dire state of my body, my hair, my wardrobe. To put it quite simply, me. I haven't thought about my eating and exercise habits. I don't want to get so immersed in my creative projects that I forget to look in the mirror.
I don't want to stay in my pyjamas all day as I have been for more weeks than I care to mention. To the point where, when Mr T asks me if I feel like going for a walk around the neighbourhood with Isaac, I panic at the thought of opening my wardrobe and actually getting dressed for the day
This week, I decided I needed to sit myself down for a serious talk. I realised that a part of my need to plan this year was in some inadvertant manner, trying to deny how much looking and feeling good means to me. I want to not care about it too much. But I also don't want to let myself go completely. The alarm bells rang when, a couple of days ago, I actually considered the idea of being a little overweight for a while, slobber around a little, quit brushing my hair. Some absurd notion of mine to let go to the point where I just didnt care what people thought.

But theres letting go and theres letting go. I was intensely self conscious of my physical appearance growing up. Absolutely tore myself to pieces with endless comparisons and self loathing. With time, I managed to be less negative and learned to appreciate myself better, but there was always that lingering anxiety underneath it all. The longer I inspected myself, my face, my clothes, my figure, the more things I saw that needed to be fixed.
So the near-conclusion I came to recently, was to stop looking altogether. It made sense at the time.
That's how my hair is in the state that it's in right now. From not looking.

I have to learn how to look at myself, without wanting to fix everything. And learn to not look, without letting myself go completely.

So now that we have a nanny, she's coming next week for a trial run to see how Isaac handles five hours without his boobmachine that sings 'Incy Wincy Spider' when requested. During this time, I'm going to have a much needed haircut, buy a pair of good fitting jeans and a decent skin concealer.

I just made the mistake of turning towards the direction of the television and seeing a news report on Haiti. i feel so shallow right now, Isaac could swim in me.

So whilst I sit in my warm apartment with all my basic needs tended for and my baby fast asleep, safe and sound in his cot, I better start thinking about how much I have in my life to be thankful for.

I might miss my family sometimes, I might have it tough being alone at home with a baby, with terrible hair and a flabby belly, but at least I have what I need. At least I don't feel cold, hungry, afraid, desperate. in my book, I'm doing okay. Alot of us are. We might not think we do, when theres so much planning and re planning and figuring out lifestuff. But when we see the utter hell that goes on in places far far away, we need to reassure ourselves. It's not all that bad. We're doing okay.

I have been thinking about giving away one of my papier mache pieces. I'm in the middle of finishing a bangle and another doll. Let's see if I can get the time to do this.

In the meantime, have a lovely peaceful weekend.

Beautiful things

2010-01-26T13:24:00.000-08:00

I have had a crazy old week, taking in every little amazing thing Isaac does. He's giving me the biggest lifelesson ever. Learning to be patient with him, with myself. Learning to balance the need to get things done and let things go, and trusting in myself and in this learning curve m on as a mother.

We've been rearranging things around the house, turning our guestroom/junkroom into a diningroom and taking my studio space into the bedroom. Everythings all over the place, but our objective is to create more of a family space in the main living area. More space for the pitter patter of baby feet, easier to clean and get around in general. I really need to learn to give things away more. I'm abit of a hoarder. This habit isn't very compatible with my liking for a more zen-like interior.

So with all that going on, I haven't had much time to be here on my blog. And when I do, which tends to be in the evening, I am too tired to think of anything interesting to write.

Well, heres something interesting. A few links that are truly beautiful.
Beautiful things. If you can't think of anything to say, just share something beautiful.

1.Sophie Blackall -Missed ConnectionsI am in love with her work. Touching, moving, and oh so gorgeous. Creating illustrations out of notes left by strangers on the subway.
2. Letters of Note. Fascinating collection of letters and postcards
3. Photographer Peter Funch spends weeks taking photos on Manhattan street corners and then pastes them together into single photographs. Mindblowing collage technique.

I'm off to do some serious babyfood research. Enough of the boobjuice paradise for my little buddy, instead it's going to be pear and mango mush heaven!

Before my very eyes

2010-01-18T08:28:00.000-08:00

He grew! I've had so many blah days, but one look at him is all it takes for me to feel much better. My star.
And when I think of the horror that's unfolding in Haiti now, I hold him that little bit closer.

Managed to make this as part of my on going commitment to do something creative each week. A papier mache doll.

Not much to say right now. I wanted to go out for a walk with Isaac but it looks like its going to rain. Says the lady with no car.
Got to sort that out at some point.

Hope you had a lovely weekend.

In spite of it all

2010-01-17T10:58:00.000-08:00

I like living here.The beauty of Lisbon didn't hit me at first. I had to search for it myself. It all depends on the time of day, the season, whether or not there's yet another monstrosity of a shopping centre being built within walking distance from it, how much dog poop I have to dodge to the point where I look like I'm walking on nails and of course with me, how much I let living away from London, my home, get to me.
And for a while, living away from London really did get to me. The Portuguese healthcare system made sure that I let it get to me. The lack of local services, the lack of community, the lack of neighbourly friendliness let it get to me.
But i'm responsible for all of this too.

I teach English, yet I am the worlds worst language student ever. I have not made any effort to learn Portuguese. A few half hearted attempts maybe, but I've never stuck with it. If I did, I wouldn't have felt so frustrated about being here. I can pin the blame on my job and my English speaking Portuguese husband and my English speaking Portuguese friends, but I shouldn't. It all came down to me, and me not wanting to do anything about it.

With abit of planning, I could have got out and about more, perhaps frequented my local coffee shop more often, said hello to the neighbours instead of avoiding eye contact. I could have built more bridges for better relationships with people in my community. But I didn't. Instead I just moaned about the dog poop outside our front door and the never ending circles round the block every weeknight to try and find a parking space.

I could have taken driving lessons. Period. Having a car would have helped me get around, felt more independent.

I sense I'm being hard on myself. Talk about writing to get things back ON my chest. A major detour from the positive here.
I'm going to make a sharp turn to my right. To what is RIGHT for me.

I'm letting go of the last few months and the heaviness of it, gently. Putting it away without destroying it. Because it's still important to me. Like a big chest of old letters from a previous life. It's still a part of me. I just can't keep lugging it around thats all. I want to feel light again.

So I'm giving myself a new pair of eyes. Look at things differently. To take the digital dust off these photos and discover a new reason for wanting to be here. To appreciate the Portuguese way of doing things. The language,the culture, the lifestyle, the habits. And just the fact that I have a lovely home here.

Im trying to be more of a planner this year. I want to have my ideas laid out in front of me so that I can not only see what I need to do clearly, but remember what they are (because I always have so many ideas in mind) and why I want to do them in the first place.

Perhaps, as part of my creative-making plans for the year, I could also incorporate learning Portuguese somewhere. Learning a language is a creative challenge isn't it?

Not quite sure how creative driving lessons are. Worth a try though!

I want to look and feel glowy again!.

2010-01-14T07:46:00.001-08:00

Like I did here.

Isaac's naps are a rarity these days. He prefers me to entertain him, no matter how many toys I put around him. I've devoted my time towards making those big cheeks of his, get even bigger with each beaming smile.

So I haven't started anything crafty. I've watched this week slip through my fingers. I worked and reworked the last papier mache piece which for me, was a telltale sign of my pesky need for perfectionism. I know that when I do this I stop enjoying the process. Like reading a bad book till the end in the hope it will get better. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn't. But regardless of the outcome, I come out feeling a little bit dejected by the process, to the point where I lose the inspiration and discipline to get back to a book or a new painting again.
So I let this week go. I made a mental note to do so. Normally I would be in a really foul mood for going off track yet again, as I've done many times before. But instead of being crabby about it, I'm seeing it as a 'creative vacation'. I'm learning to be comfortable with the idea of actually doing nothing for a little while. I have my 'maps' around me. My calendar, my post its, my journals. Once I come back from my vacation, all glowing and well rested, I can easily go back to where I left off. That's what I didn't do before. So when I did stop my artwork or writing for a while, going back to it felt like I had to undergo a creative lobotomy.
I can't do that any more. With a baby and work commitments coming up, I need my maps to stop me from feeling overwhelmed by so many needs, interests, wants, hopes....

My word for this year: RHYTHM.
I need a rhythm to my day. To help me settle down. To help me wake up. To stop me from feeling overwhelmed. To get whatever needs to be done without feeling like I HAVE to get it done.

We interviewed a nanny yesterday and it looks like we've found the right candidate for the job. I've been feeling alot more comfortable in the idea of going back to work now, after paying my colleagues a visit a couple of weeks ago. It felt like I was visiting an old friend again. The old me included. Reminded me of how much there is of me 'outthere' from the classes that I teach, to the people who value my time. A sign of my presence outside of my newly acquired mummy status. It felt validating.

Antonio took the morning off work to be with Isaac so I could go out for the first time without him. I had breakfast at our local coffeeshop. I went to the local supermarket to buy some apples. It was a dreary Wednesday morning. But feeling the wind against my face felt like a splash of cold water it worked wonders.

So we are going to ask our new nanny to stay with Isaac at somepoint next week, just for him to get used to a new face, and for us to go out and do something fun together. We really seriously need it!

I can hear my hips clanging. Not good.

2010-01-11T09:36:00.001-08:00

Heres what I've been doing this afternoon. Singing.

Up like a rocket!
Down like a plane!
Back and forth like a choo-choo train
I can fly here, I can fly there
I can fly everywhere!

With me lying down on the floor and Isaac resting on top of me, I sang this little song whilst lifting him up and lowering him down again.He loved it, but man oh man, he is one heavy bubba! Got myself working up a sweat.
Word of warning: Don't do this just after feeding your baby.
He almost threw up in my face. Hit my shoulder instead.
Classic first time mum mistake.

He had a longer nap than usual, which allowed me to finish this piece, as part of my January Papier Mache Project Extraodinaire.
I just came up with that title now. I might not have made it very obvious, but that means next month it will be a different creative project.
CROCHET!

I'm counting down the days before I go back to work. And start learning how to be away from the bubba. Which leads me to my confession: I haven't been apart from him since he was born. Nope. Not one second. I haven't stepped out of the house unless it was with him in tow. And I can count how many times I've done that without Mr T. I'm not going to tell you how many. It's embarassing. I'm turning my son into a hermit! Which is not good. At all.
Am I a bad mother for not going out with him more often? I'm just scared tis' all. The only car that I might be able to drive, would be this and my neighbourhood is not very 'stroller-friendly'.
But I need to go out with him. I don't know why I'm scared. I think I'm still getting over the whole experience of having a baby altogether. I feel like the hospital stole my body after the birth and loaned me this one whilst they repair it. I don't feel at home in my skin is what I'm trying to say. They haven't given back my body yet. So I'm stuck with this old clanger.

I wonder when I'm going to get back to being myself physically I mean.
A weekend spa should do it.
With bubba in tow of course! I can't live without him!

All in good time I suppose.

Look into my eyes, look into my eyes

2010-01-09T02:44:00.000-08:00

Three,two,one....Your'e back in the room.

It was twelve hours of 'Operation Diaper Rash Control'.The poor fella was not in a good mood at all whatsoever. It was one of my worst days alone with him.
Makes me wonder really. There will be more episodes like these in store for me, in a future inextricably tied to parenting. How do my personal objectives factor into this lifelong commitment? I felt so guilty whilst writing yesterday evening, after getting him to sleep finally. It just didn't feel right. Am I not supposed to be sitting in a rocking chair, in a white dressing gown, by his bed with a candle in a silver candle holder, flickering in the dark, watching over him?
Sorry, got carried away with the Victorian imagery there.
I just felt I had to be by his side. It was our fault for not being more scrupulent with the diaper cream. He was suffering from our laziness. I wasn't proud of myself for making my otherwise cheerful bubba, a not so cheerful Mr Magoo. Nothing consoled him, not even when I pulled out the box of flashing colours.
Television.
Thankfully today, as I'm writing this, he has happily settled himself to sleep with a fist in his mouth.

I've written 700 words! But I won't reveal about what just yet. It's still very very early days on my novel writing attempt.
Still at work with my papier mache. I've made a wonky turquoise coloured plate. Hopefully, I'll get it done tonight.

My positive attitude is tinted by anxiety because I'll be going back to work soon. I don't know how I'll be able to keep up with the creative work. I fear that I may get a big slap in the face by the reality of this.
I guess it's all about accepting certain things. Without giving up altogether.

Wishing you a lovely weekend.

btw, for the few lovely lovelies that stop by and leave a comment from time to time, I've had to start moderating my comments because of a recent onslaught of Chinese spam.
I know. It's ridiculous isn't it? There is a very tragic individual out there who goes out of their way to start a blog, just so they can spam me in another language.

Now you know why. I still like getting comments so do stop by everynow and then.

Have a lovely weekend!

The writeist in me.

2010-01-06T06:51:00.000-08:00

I like writing. I like art. Why not do both for the rest of my life? I might not be brilliant at it. But I can practice towards brilliance. And I am a geek who is eager to learn. Always have done.
For years I've felt inadequate for not having one sole interest, pursuit or dream in mind. You hear about kids wanting to be a ballerina or a doctor or a fireman. i wasn't one of those kids. I didn't know what I wanted to do. So I tried abit of everything really, hoping that maybe one of them would stand out and grab my attention. What I'm starting to realise now, is that I was pushing away the writeist in me because 1. I didn't think I qualified for it 2. I thought it was too geekified of me to want to be one 3. It didn't look great next to the doctors and scientists in my family, all of whom were showered with praise whilst I withered in the background 4. I thought I was not disciplined enough and 5. I was scared by the amount of solitude involved. I was an intense introvert growing up. Solitude was not what the doctor prescribed for me. This dream of mine had the very real possibility of making me depressed. I sure as hell didn't want that.
So I dabbled with the idea of being a teacher, a librarian, a social worker, a counsellor, a shop manager. Anything to curb the writeist dream. I guess looking back it was the healthy thing to do at the time. Dreams need to have a solid foundation. They need to have the back up of a confident driver. I wasn't confident. And I didn't know how to drive. I would have crumbled under the pressure to live the dream when I clearly wasn't ready for it. I made half hearted attempts to test the writeist in me once in a while but I often fell at the first hurdle. I wasn't passionate enough. I didn't have that magic spark that you need when you want to achieve something in life. And the more half hearted attempts I made, the further away I got to being ready for it.
So it's only now, at the age of 29, at home,with a baby babbling and cooing in the background, that I'm setting out some goals, towards a dream that FINALLY NOW,I feel ready for. To write, to paint, to make. To perhaps earn a few bob or two out of it. To be a proud geek.

Rainy Monday morning

2010-01-04T03:57:00.000-08:00

and cloudy too so it was abit difficult to take a good photo. The stairs leading up to our loft is the only decent spot.
I like painting leaves. I'll be doing more of them. I'm not very good at finishing things off perfectly because I get very impatient and I want to see the end result. I have to learn to be abit more patient, hold back abit, don't get too anxious because I want to make it look good for others to see. This bowl is far from perfect. But it's done. And that's more than I could ask for with a baby to take care of.

I'm working the dream

2010-01-03T14:10:00.000-08:00

I'm working the dream for 2010. That involves alot of todo lists, alot of sorting and shifting, all so I can carve out a chunk of time each day for my writing, my bowl making,my me-time basically. Might sound selfish, but if I don't do it, I won't be the kind of mother Isaac will be proud of. And I want him to be proud. Proud and inspired. I want to inspire him with my strengths, encourage him to be expressive and independant. I want him to see me happy.
Im on a mission to fight off the waves of passive t.v consumption and fear. My God, don't mention the fear. The fear to live the dream and to believe that I am good at something. The fear had me in its claws for years.
But I think I can safely say that I am out. With a few scratches perhaps, but I'm out.

Finished one bowl today. I had hoped to finish it in the morning, but with Isaacs random napping that has us in circles, I ended up finishing it tonight.
Finally found a positive prospective for a nanny. I was deliberatly avoiding having to think about it for a while now. I just didnt want to deal with the huge change of me going back to work whilst feeling so protective over him. I'm a foreigner here who doesn't know how to speak the language well. And when you have a baby in a country where you don't know how to speak the language well, it doesn't paint a very good picture. But lets not go there. I need to learn to trust again, without being a softly spoken, foreign pushover.

Mr T cooked turkey and roast potatoes for dinner. It's our eight year anniversary today. Eight years together. I can't believe it. And now we have this beautiful baby to make those eight years sparkle.

I can't quite believe it. This is my life. This family I've created for myself. It's the firm ground I need to get where I need to be.
I can't wait to get there.

2009. A year of procrastinating

2010-01-01T03:15:00.000-08:00

And not knowing how to be kind to myself.
Thought I'd share this with you. I wrote it before i found out I was pregnant.

Is it possible to write and paint, take pleasure and invest in both? It feels like I'm taking too much on board, like I'm indulging in too many hermit-type activities. Far too self absorbed in myself. But I love both of them you see. I'm not quite sure why I have wanted to write for so long because I don't have a book in me as such and the thought of writing one seems such a monumental task. I´m plagued by the lack of knowledge, intellect even. Punctuation and badly written sentences haunt me. Even though I've kept diaries since I was a kid, written poetry,albeit awful ones since then too,and an equally awful dissertation on Seamus Heaney for my degree. I have a love for reading and researching. I'm a geek. I'm coming out of the geek closet. But I'm not going to any geekpride parade because of it. That's my problem. I just don't like myself enough.
The same goes for my artwork. At most I can enjoy it on a personal level but to showcase my work more seriously seems to me a strange concept to grasp. I almost feel like I'd have to take on another persona entirely in order to be an 'artist' or a 'writer'. I don't know where the Khairun that i feel used to, would fit in. My question I guess is- How do you know you're not deluding yourself? I honestly don't want to pin my hopes onto a pursuit that in the end wastes both my energy and my time.

Wow. I sure know how to procrastinate the life out of living don't I? I wrote that during my intermittent craving for wanting to write a novel.
I'm sure I did mention my secret desire to be a writer didn't I? I guess my crocheting, doll-making and painting distracted me from that particular fantasy of mine.

2009 was a year where I wanted to be fully present in all the good things that were happening, particularly on being pregnant with our first child. But I didn't realise how much of a bully I could be towards myself. My quest towards being happy was a very unsucessful boxing match, with the part of me that wants to get everything right, fighting the part of me that wanted to cut myself some slack and take things easy. I was so disappointed for not being happy when Isaac was born. For waking up in the morning and watching the day slip away in a fog of tears. For not being more organised, for not just getting on with things. For being homesick. For wanting to just stay in bed and not shower.
Then there were days, where I was viciously protective of these tears. They were valid tears. It made sense to cry. I wasn't going to pretend. The quest to be happy was a quest to be truly, deeply, happy with the person I was and the person I was becoming. Not to put on a happy face, and get out of the house with make up slapped on. I didn't want to go out alone with Isaac, in the first month. Or the second month. And even now I find it hard to get out of the house. I haven't been away from him since he was born. But whereas before I felt abnormal for feeling like that, now, I'm okay with wanting to be at home with him. I go out at weekends with Mr T, and that is as much as I can do. The weather will get warmer. Isaac will get bigger. I'll get more comfortable in my role as a mother. And eventually, I will be out and about with him more often.
As 2009 drew to a close, I saw the true blessing that being at home has given me. I was able to take stock and really think about all the things I have wanted to do in my life without going into a goalmaking frenzy followed by my usual demise into a procrastinating mess. I took my time to do things, and in doing so, felt more of a sense of achievement than I have ever felt for a long time. I know where my strengths lie. it's in writing and drawing and learning about new things. The writing comes in so many forms, one of them being this blog. So the one thing I can be sure about, is that I love writing. 2010 will be my year to fully appreciate that.That is where my heart is. As for my drawing, again, I'm discovering what I like to do creatively and what I don't. I've stopped pressuring myself to do large scale oil paintings. They take too long, are too expensive to do, and bring out the perfectionist in me which I don't want. I'm making a series of papier mache bowls which are fun to make, whilst teasing out an ever evolving thought process of visual ideas.
I wouldn't have known this if I hadn't spent this time at home recovering, resting, and raising my child. I would have spent the entire year procrastinating again, getting stressed out by so much I want to do and ought to do, and striving to improve myself all the time.
2010 is all about doing it. Not too much. Not too little. Just enjoy it and experience the thrill of it.
Here are a few things I plan on starting the year with.
1. Complete a creative piece each week, whether that be a papier mache bowl,a watercolour sketch or doll.
2. Write everyday
3. Get up earlier. Having a three month old for an alarm clock helps immensely towards meeting this particular goal
4. Enjoy being a homebody and make my home a reflection of who I am and what I enjoy rather than who I want to be and what I ought to do.
5. Google Calendar GTD and Zen Habits are my new friends
5. Budget, budget budget. Less eating out. This was the first and the last expensive toy we are going to splash out on. He's more interested in sticking his fingers into his mouth.
6. Declutter. Around the home, my clothes, and more importantly, the contents of my head.
7. Get myself some king sized journals. One for a diary, one for my creative ideas, and one for my writing.
8. Less T.V. Do I need to explain why???
9. Less electronic baggage. Already made a headstart on that by cancelling my HI5 and Myspace accounts.
10. Revel in the love I feel for the two most important, most amazing people in my life.

That's my scary list for 2010. Scary because it's out there now, and it makes me feel like I need to be accountable. These are the things that I would most like to spend all my time doing.Except no.9 that is.
So I've got to do it. Isaac will grow and make some of those goals harder to do and I'll be going back to work but it's still doable and there are plenty of mums who are doing it. Following their dreams without any unrealistic expectations.
Now's the time to join them.

Wishing you a wonderful start to the new year.
Happy 2010!

My technology Sabbath

2009-12-30T04:31:00.001-08:00

No more Hi5. No more Myspace.
I've trimmed down my linklists. Stops me from wishing and wanting and hoping.
I'm sticking to a maximum of ten feeds on my Googlereader, so I'm not mindlessly blog-hopping everyday.
I've emptied my inbox. I had over 400 facebook,myspace and HI5 notification messages!

Facebook, Flickr, Etsy, my google applications and of course my blog, are my sneaky exceptions for 2010.

Now alls I gotta do is stick to it.
Despite not losing all the babyweight, I feel lighter already!

Another bowl

2009-12-27T07:18:00.000-08:00

done very quickly. With happy colours to brighten up my day.
Abit like a certain someone.

For those who celebrate

2009-12-25T00:40:00.000-08:00

this particular time of the year, I wish you a very merry Christmas filled with lots of happy thoughts, happy food and happy people.
I woke up this morning to a kitchen full of dirty dishes from last nights festive dinner with Antonios family. The healing powers of a dishwasher and a cup of coffee coming to the rescue! All whilst the little boy and the big boy sleep upstairs. The little boy slept through the entire shindig! Whilst the big boy did a grand job of cooking, with his brothers (grilled salted codfish with roast potatoes and turnip...)I didn't lift a finger. He got me some wonderful gifts too.I didn't get him anything. Do I deserve this man??? I hope so.

I had some terrible news a couple of days ago. My dear grandmother passed away. Ten years without seeing her. I very much regret that.
Stay close to the ones you love. Hug them, just a little tighter. Try not to let the years roll by. No matter how many times you've felt let down, or hurt, or hard done by. Families are never perfect. Keep in touch.It's all worth it in the end.

Happy Christmas.

Baby it's cold outside!

2009-12-19T12:13:00.001-08:00

Mr Hubster, don't you think he's abit too young for that cup of Joe??

I'm going to take an eensy weensy blogging break.
Have a lovely week with all the festivities. Thankyou for stopping by, for reading my thoughts, for making my ramblings feel like they're not just being thrown into the void, for spurring me on in my creative meanderings, and above all (there has to be an above all) thank you for getting me through it. You know what I mean.
Lots more to come next year (like my new obsession with papier mache sculpture, knitting and recycled art!)and my continued documentation of how humungous Isaac is getting.

cheerio!

My gut instincts are trying to tell me something

2009-12-15T08:04:00.001-08:00

I just don't know what.
It's about work. I am terrified of going back in February. I love my job, and the five years Ive been there but I have no idea how we are going to manage with me teaching every evening. Ive started this lovely daily rhythm with Isaac. He's like me. He loves the comfort of home and its warm layers of predictable fuzziness. He's sleeping like a trooper-up to ten hours a night from 7pm until 5am, which is when I feed him, put him straight back in his cot beside our bed, and he sleeps another two hours or so, or just lies there talking to his Winnie the Pooh mobile. Long enough to feel like he's letting us have a lovely snooze until 8am at least. Then, I lay him down on our bed, he plays with his dad, (who's still getting used to the early morning wake up call - not easy for a semi-imsomniac jazz piano player) whilst I get in the shower and get dressed for the day. After that my wonderful husband drags himself out of bed and goes down to make me breakfast whilst I spend the rest of the morning playing with Isaac until its time to feed him and put him down for his mini morning nap. He doesn't sleep again until midday for a couple of hours. That's when I can potter around the house, and get whatever I can remember done. By six, hes ready to say good night and me and the other half have the rest of the evening to chill out.
Its been lovely. Ever since my parents left, when he was six weeks old, he just tranformed into such an easy baby. I feel so fortunate. That's why going back to work is scaring me so much. The total change in rhythm for all of us and more so for Isaac. He's so happy being nursed too. So far he has absolutely refused to take any pacifiers or bottles which is going to be a huge problem. It just goes against every motherly bone in my body to be away from him, particularly in the evening and to force him into doing something for our convenience. The thought of leaving him with a nanny (something we can't afford anyway) or worse, leaving him at a nursery when hes still so little terrifies me. I know it can be done, and that mothers have to make these kinds of decisions all the time, but I always go back to that same sad thought. Here it comes.
If only I was back in London. If only my parents were here. They are the only people I would happily have him stay with, and the only people who would be willing to do the job. The week they came was just the best. Hearing them potter around the house in the morning, hearing the sound of the kettle and the clink of cups and spoons as tea was being made. I miss hearing that sound. The sound of home. Now all I hear is the telly, and my little boy squealing with laughter. Being his usual cheerful self.
Some very important decisions ahead.

Bowl me over!

2009-12-14T13:46:00.000-08:00

It's starting to get abit nippy out here after an unseasonal hot spell this winter. So I spent the weekend making this bowl with the help of youtube and some fond memories of my art classes at school. Bringing both inspiration and information of the present and the past. This, alongside some knitting tutorials too.
I just don't know when to stop do I? I think Isaac is the only work of art I patiently waited for without any other tempting distraction. And of course, the one I'm most proud of. He's definately not for sale.

This time round..

2009-12-12T13:22:00.000-08:00

Here I go again, talking about my baby.
But that's all I can do these days. Besides my crocheted balls, dolls and papier mache bowls that is.
I keep going back to it, to him, to how much of an impact it has made in my life.
I can't be all choosy about the way my its all happening. It just is. Theres no chance to try things on for size, give it back if I don't like it. I'm on board and doing what I have to do, to make things right for myself, and this time round, for my family. I don't even know if what I'm doing is right, but the point is, I have to do it anyway.
He's 10 weeks old, and he has grown before my very eyes into this human being that I would happily die for if I had to. How in the world he did this,made me feel like this for someone, when I started off crying pretty much every day for the first six weeks or so, I don't know. But he did it. And in doing it, he's teaching me how to do it too. To grow. To get on with things as best I can. And I guess that's what I'm doing now. Or at least trying to.
I'm saying all of this because my dearest dearest friend Yasmine, recently had a little baby girl. She lives in London, in my hometown. Her little one has the flu, poor thing, but luckily she has her mum on hand, and just up the road, my brother, who happens to be a doctor, popping round to check on the baby. If I had heard about this, lets say three to four weeks ago, I would have felt that much lonelier, that much hurt and a whole lot more depressed basically. I would have asked myself 'What if Isaac gets sick??? What can I do in this bloody Godforsaken country where I don't have a doctor for a brother up the road and I don't have my mum to help me out??' I did ask myself those questions without it having to be triggered off by Yasmins situation.
When he was three weeks old I came down with a fever brought on by not taking care of myself properly. I couldn't carry him or nurse him. It was like my body was giving up on me. I had put it in a corner and beaten the life out of it. My bitterness at myself, for ever wanting to come to Portugal in the first place, fuelling each blow. This time, and yes I can't quite believe it myself that there can be a this time, after all that, but this time, I feel so overwhelmingly grateful that Yasmine has her mum with her right now, and that she has the support of my brother too. Because I know, how as a mum, you want to feel that the people around you, have your baby's best interest at heart. And that you're not alone. Knowing this somehow makes me feel less alone. Of course, I know I have my husband, as does she, but it's at times like these, especially in those early days of parenting, that family and community help. I don't have my in-laws here or my parents, or a sense of community in my neighbourhood. I had a crap time at with the birth, and an even crappier time trying to put plaster over a wound that isnt ready to be covered up yet. I'm not saying that I have it harder than everybody else because I know I most certainly don't. But I'm not going to disappear into the universe of motherhood as one of millions of mothers who hide their true feelings behind the 'busy mum' parade. Busy busy busy. No time to feel sad, lonely or angry. What an inconvenience that would be. How does talking about your feelings help get the house clean and the kids fed? Nope. I'm not going down that road, I'll wear my sadness with pride, no matter how unattractive it may seem to some. That is what being present is all about.

And that's what having a baby has done to me.

Isaac has given me no other alternative but to turn the telly off, put the Doritos away, and get on with living. And to show to the world what it is that I care about deeply. What matters to me and what doesn't. Pronto. In other words, I can't hide from anything anymore. I can't have one of those days where I just want to switch off. I have to celebrate his presence,feel what a true blessing he is for me.
He's my multivitamin.He's good for me. He's my little comedian. He makes me laugh. Hes my litle warrior.He fights for me.

I'm starting to believe that I'm good for him too.

Saturday speaks to me

2009-12-12T09:52:00.000-08:00

in the form of some papier mache action and some quiet time spent crocheting whilst Isaac does what he knows best-eat!
I'm slowly starting to find some rhythm to my days spent at home. Can you tell? It's all still abit of a juggling act but I'm getting there. The weekend will always be alot more enjoyable than the week because I have the hubby with me, so sometimes, when I think Ive got it in the bag, this baby gig, I realise its because Mr T has been singing to him in the baby bjorn whilst simultaneously walking up and down the livingroom, giving me that extended bit of time to zone out abit. Whilst it is still hard at times, there is the major factor of missing my mum and dad and getting all teary eyed when I think about how much cuteness theyre missing out on (he's getting so big!) I focus on him and the immeasurable joy that he brings us, and just try to keep going. I've been reading this and keeping in touch with my blogging pals. It all helps a great deal. Thankyou!

Its a start

2009-12-09T05:03:00.001-08:00

A crocheted ball fashioned out of some old granny squares that had been lying around, waiting to be part of a blanket that would never be. I stuffed it with plastic bags (being the eco warrior that I am these days) so it makes a nice crinkly sound. Perfect for indoor football, minus the broken windows.

And a new doll. Sitting next to her much older, wiser sister.

He's not keen on the doll.

Or the ball!

He'll come round eventually.

Monkey sees!..when he has his goggles on that is.

2009-12-08T13:05:00.001-08:00

In between trying to get my monkey to poop and barely being alive at 7am on Sunday mornings, I haven't put alot of thought into this post. Most of it went into my last one for which I get a comment written in Chinese. Surprisingly enough, I don't speak Chinese. Surprisingly enough, I'm not going to start learning it anytime this century. So I will continue to do the glaringly obvious, and that is to post more sickenly cute pictures of my poor little constipated monkey. Even with the mayhem thats going on his belly, he still manages to entertain. Awww bless.

What 2010 holds in store for me.

2009-12-03T14:23:00.000-08:00

I stopped setting concrete goals for myself a couple of years ago after realising that the failure to meet those goals were just making me miserable. I think goals can only work if you feel that your life needs abit of a pick-me-up or renewed spirit. In my case, I had to learn to appreciate more of what I had around me and what I had accomplished so far in my life. Goals were just pulling me away from seeing this and instead, made me feel that I hadn't done enough. This might motivate somebody. It only depressed me even more.
So for 2010 its all about getting to know myself in the way things are for me now. That is, with a baby on board, with the prospect of major career changes as a result of that, and with a new perspective on how I make time for myself in between rigid daily routines. There are things Id like to do of course, but I want to be able to fit it into pockets of my life without overfilling them. And they are the kind of things Ive always known I'd do sooner or later, somewhere down the road. The things Id like to do more in 2010 are things that Ive been waiting to do, rather than hoping or wanting to do, or wondering what it would be like if I did them. Does that make any sense at all?
So here's what 2010 has in store for me
1. More creativity at home. I ordered this book recently and can't wait to get stuck into it. Its been a dream of mine to have a family that really enjoys making stuff and having a home that welcomes this.
2.Be more assertive. Motherhood has left me no option.
3.Be more giving. It's something that everyone should do, but it helps when you're doing it from a 'good place' in your life. In other words, when you're able to put what is in your own interests aside for a moment, in order to help somebody else. In the end, a magical thing happens: that is in your own interest.
4. Have little daily habits to avoid feeling lost. If there is any goal-setting going on in my life, this would be the closest thing to it. I'm trying to spread out basic housechores like washing dishes, to a specific time of day that doesn't get in the way of more enjoyable activities. I wash dishes, put dirty laundry in, and put away baby toys each night before I go to bed. It then avoids me from ever turning down an invitation to go out because I have to clean the house. Soulcrushing indeed.
5. Get to know myself abit more. Quit fiddling about with the way I am. Work on what I can do rather than what I can't do.

What are your resolutions, if any, for 2010?

I've seen the light!

2009-12-03T04:40:00.000-08:00

Taking advantage of Isaacs afternoon naps by painting rather than doing housechores. Because Ive discovered that doing housechores is soulcrushing. As long as I don't resort to using my bathtub for dirty dishes, burpcloths for napkins and diapercream for face moisturiser.
All of which have happened, because of my flurry to get things done whenever I get the chance. There's no point in me even trying. When I do, its all in a caffeine-fuelled haze of randomness. I never get anything done properly, and Id rather get one thing done properly and leave everything else for another day. Laundry can wait. Getting out of my pyjamas and dressed for the day maybe not. It's all a question of priority.

Do I have a story to tell?

2009-12-02T05:55:00.000-08:00

I do, as Im sure everyone does, even if they don't quite know how to tell it. Or who to tell it to.
My story is in the questions I constantly feel the need to ask because I cant help being curious.
It's in my unfinished projects
It's in the guilt I feel for not being giving enough.
It's in the daily efforts to try and not take a peek into the future and focus on the present. And the present is best when it involves generous servings of tea and biscuits, books ordered from Amazon, and a line up of artsy projects waiting, anticipating...
It's in my growing acceptance that I might not necessarily be liked or understood by every person I meet.
And that I might not necessarily like or understand every person I meet either.
Everyday for me is a draft of a chapter, of a story, of a book. Of my life. Out of the millions of books outthere, theres a little space on a shelf for me, perhaps in a sunny spot, next to a window overlooking a pretty garden with climbing roses and giant azaleas.
And it wouldnt matter if nobody read it.Or knew of its existence. Nobody goes to libraries these days anyway.
It would be dedicated to Isaac. Because ultimately, he is the story i have to tell.

Light! Colour! Action!

2009-11-27T05:40:00.000-08:00

With the right light I can look like I've slept really well. Plus it makes Isaacs head fuzz look like hair.

Last Sunday, we were invited by friends to go to Lisbon Contemporary Art fair. My first gut reaction was to pee in my pants with fear. Isaac did the peeing for me. On my pants. But thankfully the fear part was shortlived. Apart from this blog, it had been the first really interesting thing I had done since Isaac came into our lives.
There were allsorts of wierd and wonderful stuff on show and Im sure my babymaking antics have irreversibly changed the way I look at art. First off, I spent more time trying to find anything with lots of bright colours because that was what Isaac got a kick out of. Secondly I didnt find myself thinking about any of it in the way that I would have done before. My ability to think has been drastically reduced to the contents of my childs diaper and what time I last 'boobed' him (my new word for nursing) But as terrible as it may seem, I actually enjoyed my time more. We didnt get to see everything, which I would have exhausted myself into doing before. Instead I felt happy just knowing that I was there, regardless of not being able to process it all and regardless of how little I saw. The friends that came with us, brought their one year old son and it felt good to be able to share our interests with like minded people. It felt reassuring to me too, that going out doesn't necessarily have to be confined to Mcdonalds, parks with too much dog poop and family restaurants with screaming children.
In the end Isaac enjoyed looking at so many lovely bold colours. And we both enjoyed getting out of the house for a change too.

Papas got a brand new baby

2009-11-24T10:47:00.001-08:00

In all the hullabaloo of happy sad tears, exploding diapers at three in the morning (followed by leaking boobs that would make the fountains of Trafalgar Square look like a lame trickle), I may have lost sight of a certain husband of mine. Antonio (aka Mr T)did what could only be just about the most natural thing any new pappy in his situation would do; go to work each day whilst secretly hoping his insane wife with the insane hair and the mismatched socks would start to smile again. Not the deranged googly eyed please-somebody-help-me-I'm-going-insane smile, but the smile that made him fall in love with her seven years ago. And last week, he finally got it. And now I've finally started to notice him as the man I fell in love with seven years ago too. Even amongst the projectile puke/pyrotechnic show of a smiling baby, and the aforementioned exploding diapers (which I really didn't need to mention again but that's all my brain seems to want to think about these days)he never lets a day go by without telling me what a cracking looking bird I am. Maybe not in those words exactly seeing as he's Portuguese and not a fruitseller from South London, but I thought I'd be creative.In other words, he still thinks I'm beautiful. Which is something I feel every mama should hear from their partners, particularly when they feel like crap in those early post-partum days and let's face it, look abit crap too.
It hasn't just been this though that has helped me so much. And it hasn't just been the support of friends and family that I've mentioned previously. It's the realisation that Mr T and Isaac are also my rock, my backbone, my source of everlasting support too. I might not have my mum and dad nearby, but I have husband and I have my son, and now that my maternal instinct is starting to kick in, I'm starting to trust my own abilities too. It took about six weeks, but I made it. I'm not as clueless as I thought I was. But even if I was, I'm okay with it. And that just feels superduper.

Here's a song me and Antonio listened to alot back when we lived together in the U.K. We still listen to it in the car. i thought I'd share it with you. It's the kind of ditty that rocks our boat. And my little wonderboy doesn't think it's too bad either. Eventhough I do still worry about his sudden liking for Kate Bush (courtesy of VH1 during tummy time)

Enjoy.

The rock in the storm

2009-11-18T08:59:00.000-08:00

I got a phonecall from Natalie the other day. She told me after visiting my blog that she was starting to get worried. I told her that perhaps my posts were starting to veer towards the suicidal and we both laughed. She told me, I had to let it out one way or another. So true.
And that got me thinking. About letting things out. And about having friends who care. About finding a soft place to fall into when feeling like crap and and climb out of when you want to put up a fight and say "I've just about had enough of this depression malarky". I put myself out there, i admitted to my own weaknesses, because i wanted to know how much people care. And they do. They help in whatever small way they can. despite the distance,the busy schedule despite the uncertainty of not knowing how to. I didnt have to ask for it. But if i did it was welcomed as an invitation to get together rather than a quick exchange of "call me if you need anything" which usually means "I know shes not gonna call, but she cant say I didnt tell her, and at least I'll go to heaven for being such a lovely friend". What a load of pants. And thank God I dont have friends who do that. Anyway,I think all of this stems from the crash course in Motherhood for Dummies over the last seven weeks and how it has brought home a truth thats both beautiful and downright ugly as hell. The beautiful part is seeing my dysfunctional family becoming somewhat functional again, all because of Isaac. Its amazing how a baby can heal old wounds. After years and years of bitterness, I finally let my mum do what she has wanted to do for so long and that is to take care of me and guide me. That one precious week that they were here, was chicken soup for my frazzled soul. I let my mum be my mum and she did a grand job.It wasnt just my family though that came out of the woodworks to lift me out of the headfog. Having people who I wouldnt have considered as close friends, turning up at our door with bags of grocery shopping, and minestrone soup. Thats what did it for me. Thats what I call a beautiful thing. I didnt need to prove anything to them or to myself. That is where the ugly part lies.
Ive felt at times that, as a new mother, Ive had to prove that I can manage because its my bed and I have to lie in it. Its like somebody has awarded me with a badge of invisibility which Im supposed to wear with pride, when in reality i want to throw it back in their face and say " Who says that just because Ive had a baby I cant still be vulnerable and afraid and well...normal?" Those that have helped, the friends that have stood by me, that have called and emailed and commented on my blog, and my functional one of a kind family, theyve all allowed me to winge, moan , complain, get it all wrong without a condescending bone in their collective bodies. The ugly part is when I can't be normal in front of certain people.Particularly other mothers. Because of that bloody badge of invisibility stamped on my backside. The unspoken amendment that says all new mothers must endure being ignored, being judged and being spoken down to. They must accept that all kind offers for help without any intention whatsoever of actually helping, is all a completely normal part of being a new mum. Thats the ugly truth. And for me, its downright hideous because I dont even come from this country. And believe me, its one thing being a foreigner in a foreign land, but a mother? The invisibility badge is more like a brown paper bag over my head. Theres no honour in that.
Well. Im here to tell you, that I want to quit focusing on the ugly and start paying more attention to the beautiful. Where I can winge, moan, laugh, cry and be human, because there is nothing that has prepared me to be more human than when I brought this child into the world. I have to be myself ultimately. It would be a disservice to my son, to turn into a not so super, supermum. I'd rather just be Khairun.

Despite my insane lack of mummy skills

2009-11-13T08:12:00.000-08:00

for which my mum has given me hell for, he's coming along quite nicely. In fact, I think even he likes me.
And that feels great.
My parents have stayed with us for the last week. They're leaving tomorrow. That is pretty much why I haven't been blogging of late. That and just about managing to stumble through the day with a beautiful baby that I'm totally petrified of messing up. A major mental distraction to say the least. My mum has helped me hugely, with all the intuition of a woman who has raised five children. On top of that she looked after me too, letting me sleep that much needed extra hour or so, cooking and cleaning. Its been great.
I dont think theyll come back again though. The cultural differences make them feel really uncomfortable and out of place. Hopefully I'll visit them as soon as Isaac is big enough.
Theres alot more I want to write but I think I'll leave it for now. My mums watching the national geographic channel, dubbed over in Portuguese, so she keeps asking me what they're saying. My dad's having a siesta after a stroll around the town.
I'm gonna miss them. But I'm going to do all I can to hang in there.

Mums don't cry

2009-10-31T14:53:00.001-07:00

But this one did. Alot. So if you want to read something to put a spring in your step then I suggest you quit here, because I am having one of those days.
My crankiness starts to creep in as the evening approaches, when the sky turns a beautiful shade of grapefruit pink and the apartment cools down after four hours of penetrating sunrays beating down on our hardwood floors. At this time of the day, everyday, Isaac shows me what a mystery he is. He is the most angelic, beautiful, peaceful and charming little thing, with eyes that I want to swim about in and legs that I could bite off. But towards the end of the day, he cries so beautifully that I panic at how huge the responsibility is to be needed by something so small and so helpless. In all of my 29 years on this earth, nothing has prepared me for the magnitude of love that I feel for him. I'm drowning in it, in it's sheer immensity and unforgiving force. To the extent that I wish I didn't love him so much. My body doesn't feel designed for it, let alone prepared. I want to divide some of that love up, like a cake. For my mum, my dad, my sisters and brothers.For anyone who will willingly take him in their arms and have a taste of what this love is. Just so I can go out, take a deep breath, and get back to a more predictable, calm and solid place inside my head.A place inside my head where I know what love is and its a much easier love to understand. Just to take the weight of this force that drives me to tears. But I'm at home with him. Very much alone, yet trying to keep my chin up. Take it like a mum. At some point Im supposedly going to see the light of day when, by the miracle of the gods, im going to get used to it. Those magic words get used to it havent quite convinced me of their powers yet. Perhaps because, i dont want to get used to it. Or that I should have to get used to it. I dont want to get used to the loneliness part. Or to the part where I come down with the flu and I can't hold my baby because Im feeling so sick and I don't know who to ask for help or how, so Mr T ends up taking the afternoon off work just so I can sleep. Or the part where I feel guilty for not being a supermum. Or the part where I feel totally and utterly devestated by the notion that I can't get the help I need from family, or the part where I have to resign myself to a life where I cant follow my dreams because of that one fateful day when I played around with the idea of how nice it might be to have a baby and then before you know it, here I am, 2.30pm in the afternoon and wishing Isaac would wake up from his nap because I can't stand how silent the apartment is, and I can't stand not knowing what to do.
Tomorrow my mum and dad are coming from London to see their grandson for the first time. They'll only be staying for four days. Four days After not seeing them in over a year. I should quit complaining and try to enjoy the time that I'll have with them, right? This is what I'm supposed to get used to right?
Take it like a mum.

Tomorrow

2009-10-30T15:03:00.000-07:00

Clean out the fridge.

Vitamin C from the pharmacy.

Listen to Bob Marley with Isaac.

Croissants for breakfast.

Wash the dishes.

Cuddle up on the sofa.

Call Mum.

Make it a good day.

Its official.

2009-10-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

My son has a big bald head. Very buddha. Very right wing skinhead. Whichever way I look at it, its still disturbingly cute to me. As for the triple chin, the farts he makes like an old man who eats too many rich tea biscuits, and the rear end rumblings that reach 7.5 on the poop-richter scale, well, it just makes me smile.
And dry-heave all at the same glorious time.)

too tired to even think of a title for this post.

2009-10-27T09:38:00.000-07:00

My baby adventures have included: going to the post office, the bank, and a couple of shops

Oh bugger.

Isaac is crying, after about the 100th round of feeding, burping and rocking.

You know what? Im just going to post this. Just to post for postings sake.

A hard week

2009-10-14T05:00:00.000-07:00

I have been in a whirlwind of constant nappy changing, feeding and rocking to sleep that I don't know what planet I'm on, let alone what day it is. I have never watched so much daytime tv in my life. What's even more disturbing is that I have been watching Eastenders (a British soap incase some of you don't know) everyday, not realising that the same episode is repeated throughout the week. Let me reiterate what I've just said to you here- the SAME programme over and over again and NOT even realise it. That's sleep deprivation for you, messing with my brain. Even today, whilst I partially snapping out of this postpartum vegetation, I'm still watching repeats, not just of Eastenders but other programmes too! And what's more, i don't even mind it. Oh dear,maybe I shouldn't have confessed to that. Oh well, too late.
I should be trying to sleep, but I find the idea of sleeping during the day abit icky. Especially because it is 90 degrees in our apartment right now. Hot October weather driving me cuckoo. I want to go out with Isaac, I really really do, but the heat is not the inviting kind of sunny happiness. It is truly out of sync, in the same way that my hormones are. All I want to do, is take showers, one after the other. Nursing and all that it entails, has left me with the rather attractive scent of eau de spit-up which no amount of showering can take out. I have also been chained to the washing machine. Milk stained clothes, onesies, bedsheets, baby, mummy, soul. I am currently residing in a milk stained universe. As happy as I am to be able to exclusively breastfeed the little guy and see him thriving, it is still very hard work and I am still trying to master the art of whipping out the boob with abit more class and sophistication. Now though, I'm just 'boob-butting' my poor baby's head all the time whilst making sure I've got burp cloth, mobile phone, remote and water within hands reach.
As you can probably guess,there have been alot more to this mummy stint than I have been blessed in knowing, despite all that I have read and have been told about from other mothers. None of it has prepared me for just how hard it all is. Amidst all the conversations about how much it will change my life, how important it will be for me to sleep when the baby sleeps and to say goodbye to lie ins, none of it prepared me, for the heaviness that I would feel in my heart, because of the loneliness of it all. It doesn't help that I miss my family back in London, in Abu Dhabi and in Florida. They are everywhere but here where I could really do with their company and guidance. Back in the days when I was very much enjoying the independence and exhileration of moving out, living abroad, following my dreams despite the air of cultural animosity,I had no qualms about being so far from family and friends. In fact it actually improved my relationship with them. But now, I am the total antithesis of this independant woman. Being an independant mother is a whole different ball game, and one that i dont feel ready to play. Not in a foreign country. Not when I don't have a driving licence. Not when I can't speak the language very well. Not when I don't have my family for support. It's all abit too much responsibility for somebody who really didn't have a clue what responsibility was.
Sometimes, when I listen to a song on my ipod, or read back to pre baby blog entries, I get a little jolt of the energy and spirit of how I defined myself. It brings tears to my eyes, because as fast as it comes, it disappears back into the computer screen, into the lyrics, into the mirror, in lightening speed. The baby, and the marks that this has left me with physically and emotionally, have as of now, taken over in defining my thoughts, actions and feelings.
So that's where I am right now. Today, I got a phonecall from a friend, inviting me out to the park, in an attempt to get me out of the apartment with the baby. I am very grateful for the support that I have had from the friends I have here. I know that things will get better. Everytime I look at Isaac, I can't believe just how precious and beautiful he is, and that i am actually his mother. The love that I feel for him leaves me totally speechless. I hope that I can live up to taking care of this gift that I have been blessed with.

Life these days

2009-10-09T11:28:00.001-07:00

Lots of this.
Not enough of that

and its all because of this.

Everythings abit of a blur at the moment, the life that I have recognised as being uniquely mine has come to a very loud halt. What I believe in, what I feel, what I think has absolutely no relevance to the needs of our baby. I am at his beck and call when it comes to feeding him, rocking him to sleep, changing his diapers and simply staring at him. I feel I have been brought back down to the realities of life with every step he makes to survive. He depends on me and I have never known how huge a responsibility this would be until now. The knowledge that no matter how much I feel Im not mother material, Ive still got to step up and be his mother anyway.Because that is who I am. His mother. I cant wait to feel more comfortable in this new role. I see mothers carrying their babies with so much confidence and independance, and i hope I can start feeling like this soon.
One day at a time.

This took nine months to make

2009-09-28T11:41:00.000-07:00

On the 24th of September, at 6.35pm I gave birth to a healthy baby boy after a not so easy delivery.I'll be taking a break from my blogging for obvious reasons. Bringing this little one into the world has been the most challenging experience I have ever had, yet I know theres so much to be thankful. Anyway, before I start bawling my eyes out thanks to the hormonal hurricane Im being subjected to, Im trying now, with each step, to make my way into the world not just as Khairun, but as Isaacs mama.

Eid Mubarak

2009-09-20T03:31:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure if I have ever mentioned this before, but I was born and raised a muslim alongside my four siblings. I didn't have the easiest time with it, what with being born in London and seeing how different my family was to those of my friends. I grew up under alot of traditional rules of behaviour, a combination of cultural and religious practice. On top of it my mother was very keen to enforce a frugal way of life. So that is, as you can imagine, a hell of alot for a 14 year-old whose life existed around wanting to have friends and fit in. I never had birthday parties, never went to the cinema, never wore jeans, never went out at night. Saturdays were spent studying the Koranic scriptures, visiting random family relatives, staying at home with my siblings and reading books from the local library. I never brought friends round because at the time, the area where we were growing up, racism and zenophobia pervaded the air with nasty comments and anti-social behaviour by groups of teenagers in the area. So my parents stuck to socialising with people from within the asian community because it just felt more comfortable and welcoming, and in a way , they probably felt like it was better all round to stay on their own turf, so to speak. Obviously, I went to a school that didn't allow such selective segregation, which of course, was great, so I had friends from all sorts of backgrounds. But as soon as the school day ended, I was back into the world that my friends were not allowed to penetrate. Alot of it because of their parents conservative attitudes, but also because of my familys decision to not be more inclusive. I wasn't strong enough at the time to be truly proud of my upbringing and had no clue that perhaps my friends would have liked to have been included in this other part of my life. So, out of my own insecurities, I found myself literally leading a double life. By not merging one into the other, i thought I was avoiding potential disaster. It just seemed like the right thing to do, for my family to not know too much about who I hung out with, what I really wanted to do with my life (be an artist, travel, not have an arranged marriage) and for my friends to not know too much about how I was brought up (not wearing the traditional clothes when I was around them, not inviting them to my house etc). The day I moved out to go to university, I cooked a traditional meal, went to my tiny student hall bedroom and ate with my right hand, some rice with lentils and vegetables. I was 19 and didnt know how to use a knife and fork because every meal that I had eaten up until that day had always been with my right hand. But because I had lead this double life for so long, I just couldnt bring myself to show this.
Ten years on, I've gone back to that lonely image of myself sitting on my bed, eating alone and I think to myself now, NEVER AGAIN am I going to keep that side of me a secret. And so I didn't. I didnt have an arranged marriage, but I had a muslim wedding. I kept Antonio out of my parents life for several years. Now i make it a point to make sure they speak to each other over the phone, and let bygones be by gones. I cook traditional food alot more and share recipes with friends. And I plan on making sure that this baby has not only a loving upbringing but a colourful one too, filled with stories about his great grandmother who to this day has never taken one step outside her village in Bangladesh, about Antonios grandfather who was a professional basketball player in the mid forties, about summers spent on Portuguese beaches, and on the otherside of the world looking out at the endless paddy fields near my mothers village. I want my little man to experience two vastly different worlds, seemingly impossible to bring together, but brought together nonetheless, down to the simple act of love between two people. There will be Christmas presents shared between him and his Portuguese cousins, and the celebration of Eid with his Bengali cousins. This will be my gift to him.
It's Eid today. I'm not with my family as much as I would like to be, but I'm wishing them well as I write this. The difference between this year and last year is that for the first time, Im talking more about it with my friends, with Antonios family and to those who have made it to the end of this very long post!

On the day a baby is born, muslim parents say a special prayer, whispered into the ear of their newborn, which protects them from harm. I may not be the most religious person in the world, but I think this is such a beautiful gesture and I am very proud to have been brought up surrounded by these intricate, delicate gestures of faith.
So I wish you all a very Happy Eid, regardless of your background. I hope that you have a lovely peaceful day with your family and friends and more importantly, that you are being kind to yourself in the best way you know how. Share something about yourself that you haven't shared before. Let people get to know you better. That's the biggest lesson I am taking from today.

Here are a few photos of that muslim wedding I fought to have. Who was the person telling me not to do it? It was me. I was my own worst enemy at the time, listening to the voice that kept saying it wasn't the right thing to do because Antonio wouldn't be accepted and it would be too difficult to do such a thing. I'm glad I didn't listen because seeing my parents meet my husband for the first time, was the happiest day of my life.

My mum would never believe I made this :)

2009-09-18T09:20:00.000-07:00

With the most atrocious hand sewing skills that you could possibly imagine, I managed to come up with this lumpy but very squishable toy for my baby. It's called a grab ball.It's supposed to be good for developing the 'grabbing' instinct because of all the different segments that are small enough to hold on to, unlike a standard soft ball.I never once thought in a million years, that I would be able to do something like this. Despite my mother being an expert seamstress, whipping up dresses and skirts for me and my sisters as we were growing up, I just never picked up the sewing bug. We had a monster of a sewing machine at home, the big industrial kind. My mum must have used the constant whirring sounds to put me to sleep when I was a baby, and I remember being a little girl and getting totally peed off because I couldn't hear anything on the telly due to the sheer noise. I kinda feel bad now that I hadn't taken an interest in it back then, because I could have learnt so much. And not just sewing, but knitting and embroidery too. My mum did it all, whilst raising 5 kids!
Looking back and having this quiet time to think about all of this does make me feel closer to her and to my family in general. I think this is all part of the current hormonal rollercoaster ride that I'm on right now. I have been going through alot lately, in between the joyful moments of this pregnancy, Ive had my fairshare of frustration and sadness, which I probably don't let on too much as I like to hide behind my art work and general busybee self. I think I'll dedicate a future post to this subject, in the hope that it may be read by somebody else out there in the blogosphere,a new mummy or not, who may benefit from reading it. For now though, I'm off for a cheerful cup of tea and another doll making session.
Have a lovely weekend peeps!

It's oh so quiet..

2009-09-16T10:51:00.000-07:00

Because theres no baby yet!
Having all this time at home, all this free time to do whatever I please, is abit like having Disneyland to yourself but without any of your friends to share the fun and games with.I absolutely love the time that I'm having now, I really do. I haven't had this much time from work for ages,so it feels like I'm learning the skills of being at home. It sounds strange to say that there are skills involved but i really think there are. When you go from working day in day out, and only ever getting to see your couch, your T.V your bedroom at a certain time of the day, its a real joy in knowing that there is a light that floods the livingroom around late afternoonish, that my neighbour listens to Billie Holiday on a record player in his garden which I had never known before, and that I get to sit outside on my balcony whilst it's still light which I had never done before either. I also notice how tempting housework can be, just to feel more productive. For me to feel like this in particular is a highly disturbing revelation!
But theres a downside to all this. The house is so quiet, and as much as I enjoy my time, it's a time that spreads out into an unknown point which scares me a little. It's not as if I can't go out or meet people. I can and I do. (Well maybe not quite so much now because I am after all more than 9 months pregnant and carrying quite a hefty load!)I'm starting to learn alot of things about myself, like how I communicate with my friends and how truly important creativity plays its part in keeping me sane. I never knew it before, because working took me away from all that.
The house won't be quiet for very long though, I definately don't need anybody to tell me that! So, as an example of how I have made the most of this temporary quiet time at home all by myself, I've successfully diverted my nesting instincts to the creative side of me. I have finished my second doll! She was looking like she had a fake tan. Very orange in otherwords. So I rectified it, and finished off painting her arms and the back too.

Heres how I made her:
1.I used the ruby doll pattern from oneredrobin and changed the legs. But i used it strictly for the purpose of learning how to make a basic doll shape.
2. Once I had made the doll, I applied white gesso, and sanded it down.
3. I pencil sketched the face and floral design on to the doll. Sanding it down really made it easier to draw on the cloth. I didn't know that before.
4. I then got stuck in with my acrylic paints.
5. That's it. I wanted to blanket stitch a little pocket at the back to slip in a card or something cute but I don't know how to do it. I could have embellished it with sequins and such. The possibilities are endless really. I have a hard time putting a rein on 'prettifying' things!

I should really give her a varnish but I need to find out what kind. Any ideas on this?
She will be one of my first pieces for my future future etsy shop. :)

I'm off to watch this
Have a lovely Thursday!

A new friend

2009-09-15T00:53:00.000-07:00

waiting in the wings. She's coming along nicely, and look how lovely she looks in the morning sunlight.

And this is a little pencil drawing I made on a whim, last night. She has promptly been put on my inspiration board. There's no hiding in my studio! No more drawers of the long and forgotten!

I might be a mama today! I have an appointment with my OB later on so please forgive me if I don't blog for a few days.I may be in a very compromised position, holding a baby no less!!!
Wish me luck and a 'small hour' as they say here in Portugal.
They're a funny bunch, the Portuguese. Wonder what in the world they're talking about when they say that, eh??

Have a lovely Teusday!

It's really hard being pregnant

2009-09-12T03:27:00.001-07:00

Fluff, three day old quiche and a mission.

2009-09-12T03:01:00.000-07:00

Here's my mission. It's to stick to my lists. The important ones. Since I do so many of them to start off with.I tend to do them in the wee hours of the night, not able to sleep because of disturbing visions of Oprah in a lime green velour tracksuit telling me to get my life sorted out pronto in front of an audience who all look like my mother. I have notebooks in different parts of my home (in other words, I dont know where they are), each assigned with their own mission which is to sort out every possible idea in my brain before it mutates into pointless questions like 'Why do we have drawers filled with pens that don't work?' or a suggestion like "Why don't I inspect some fluff under my bed? It might be fun!"
Kills it there and then.
I might decide that the small pink book given to me by a family friend for Christmas, will be solely for notes related to my art vibes. But then, in the middle of it, I see a list of what I need to pack for the hospital.
The need to make lists seep into my psyche like Oprah does. Like a sudden urge to itch when nobodys looking or a momentary lapse in thinking when I decide that eating three day old quiche whilst 9 months pregnant might suddenly be a very pleasant thing to do.
But my latest list has actually worked. It has risen above the mindnumbing mental chit chat, stood tall in a potential minefield of thoughts that puts precedence on ironing underwear above making pretty stuff.
And now, I can say with conviction; Ive been making the pretty stuff and mentally hauling out the need to inspect fluff.

Heres a picture of my next doll. Can't wait to show you peeps the final result.

I'm tres tres excited about it!

Off to have breakfast now. Strictly no eggs for me. Wonder why eh??
Enjoy your Sunday!

09/09/09 at 9am

2009-09-09T02:34:00.000-07:00

Baby might not have popped out yet

2009-09-07T12:51:00.001-07:00

but I have given birth to the planner in me. Yes, that's right. Khairun is going start planning her creative routine and no amount of dirty dishes and an empty fridge is going to distract her from this mission. Perhaps it was the Carte d'or chocolate chip icecream with fresh raspberries that I ate last night. Upon revealing this to him, Mr T has confiscated all my icecream for fear that I may give birth to a giant Mars Bar on speed and not our wonderfully gorgeous superboy. And he explained this very passionatly to me whilst licking out the last remaining remnants of heaven from the tub. Torture.
Anyway, heres a list of what I am going to be up to. At least until the baby arrives by which point I'm pretty sure my planning euphoria will boil down to sleep deprived survival techniques.

So here it is. The big plan

1. I'm going to do this. I'm all alone at home with my sewing machine. No excuses this time. I will follow the main pattern but give it a Khairun twist.
Update: I made the doll! I. MADE. THIS. DOLL. I'm so chuffed with myself that I could do a little pregnancy dance. I could but I probably won't.

2. Try to make Flickr like me. Put up all my artwork there, the good the bad and the pants. So far, I have a measly two.
3. Take a self-styled Etsy shop business course. I've even got my own notebook for it. Here it is.

4. Keep updating my blog. Which is what I am doing now so there's one thing on the list I'm doing.

5. Make more quiche for friends because it makes them happy. Did my first one today with the help of a friend's recipe.

6. Save my garden from looking like Death Valley. And currently it is.

7. Take baths. Have massages. Finish reading this. And relax God damn it!

Back to the doll making. BYE!

My voodoo and a story about big knickers

2009-09-07T09:42:00.000-07:00

I definately was not intending for my blue lady to look so evil-looking, but hey ho, just gotta go whichever way the wind blows. I've tried to keep in mind the idea of reworking on something until it's just right. So despite the end result of this latest project of mine, I can take it as a learning lesson rather than as absolute failure. Consigned to a drawer labelled 'Things I Will Never Bother Doing Again Because It Turned Out To Be Pants'. Yes, admit it reader(s). You know you have a drawer with the same purpose. So I have decided to cleanse myself of all the creative half hearted efforts this drawer has contained over the last few years and pinned alot of them up on a board right in front of my workspace. Im remindef of a feeling similar to that of hanging out a pair of big old knickers for all to see, flapping away in all its pale pink glory. Now, the obvious matter in this case would be to realise that I really need to buy nice knickers, but at the same time they are still my knickers and I need to own the fact that I do like wearing them. Lots of comfort. 100% cotton. Roomy. Good to do Yoga in. Anyway, What Im trying to say by using my big knickers as a metaphor, is that seeing my creative efforts for what it is, in front of me, really shows me the common thread in my work which is a great insight and a reassurance that I'm not so all over the place creatively as I often think I am. I can see what I can do well and what I need to work on. But I can also see where I should be taking my work. It's all about being true to yourself. And the best way to do this is to open that drawer and bring it all out into the open. Three years of work that I should celebrate, no matter how oddball or dissatisfied I might be with them. It is still me. And I love my oddball tendencies.
Big knickers are cool.

This is a girl

2009-09-06T04:42:00.000-07:00

who used to be camera-shy. Not anymore though. You get to a certain age where you just don't give a hoot how ridiculously superficial you become. (Sandra-I hope you don't mind me posting this without your permission, but its such a lovely picture of you that I couldn't resist the temptation)

who, every year, missed the annual village fête near our weekend hideout in Atalaia, a tiny parish situatued along Lisbons coastline.

who used to think that you need to be the best in what you do. But simply being good enough, is a much more realistic goal.

Hope you are having a lovely weekend folks!

I got myself out of the slump

2009-09-01T08:00:00.000-07:00

and worked on a small piece, making use of my watercolours and inks. I like the way this has turned out.

I took a long hard look

2009-09-01T02:06:00.000-07:00

at my blog and I decided that it really needed a tidy up. I've heard that during late pregnancy, women have an uncontrollable need to clean, arrange, colour coordinate and label-anything to feel a sense of order and serenity. Well, in my case that same hormonal desire,whilst certainly running havoc in my ovaries, hasn't exactly pushed me towards a mega cleaning marathon. But it has given me enough highs to plough through my favourites and jazz up my blog. And boy, did it take a long time or what. Updating links, adding new categories, reading up on other blogs for inspiration. All done during my peak nesting times. Though blogging might not help stock up on nappies, or get me thinking on the necessity for a room themometre or a baby wipe warmer,it does keep me grounded in all the sky high emotions of having a baby. And it makes me happy too, in the mere knowing of what it is that makes me happy, what keeps me ticking, if that makes sense. I have said to myself time and time again, that I would like to open an online shop. A part of me kept stalling on it because of lack of time to produce more work, lack of inspiration, lack of confidence, and lack of knowledge in making my work into a business of some sort. This is my mind talking here. And a talking mind is a huge obstacle to overcome. Having a baby might just be the key in making me a stronger person to just do it. Or not. Either way, I've still just got to do it. And I will take advantage of the time I have to be at home now to do it. Wish me luck!

In the meantime, here is a picture of food. What a surprise eh? Last nights attempt at eating small portions failed miserably when friends of ours decided not to bring just one giant quiche, but two. Plus a salad with my very own special dressing, and all of it eaten up on our balcony. My way of enjoying the last handful of summer evenings.
After all that food I felt I needed to be airlifted by helicopter afterwards. I have to control my eating!

Me, a mirror, and my little wonderboy

2009-08-27T15:11:00.000-07:00

Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear from Gabe Askew

2009-08-26T02:34:00.001-07:00

Two Weeks - Grizzly Bear from Gabe Askew on Vimeo.

My heart is all mushed up after watching this about 10 times. Mr Magoo also has another name in honour of this occasion; Mr Grizzly Magoo.

Off to have a shower before the neighbours start calling the local authorities due to a strange whiff.
Just kidding OF COURSE! I'm still maintaining personal hygeine. Whilst walking around my apartment in big underpants and a tank top with the air conditioning revved up to the max. I'm supposed to be resting but all I feel like doing is to walk in and out of rooms and torture myself with what I need to do to make everything look spick and span.
Three more weeks. THREEEEEE MOREE WEEEEEKKSSS!

This is to blame

2009-08-26T01:20:00.000-07:00

for having gained another 3 kilos in just over a month. Spinach tagliatelle with roasted tomatoes, aubergine and large helpings of ricotta cheese. Me and Mr Magoo likey likey very very much.

Fire bird

2009-08-25T00:08:00.000-07:00

2009-08-25T00:07:00.000-07:00