After a pretty miserable week - rain and my inability to be pregnant, again, god this is exhausting, the first couple of warm evenings for a while were oh so lovely. Saturday night drinks - I tried to chill out, cheer up and be 'me', someone who is all too often lost these days. How I want her back. We did enjoy G&Ts, hog roast and dancing with friends at one of our local pubs - you just cannot beat live music and the smell of beer on a summer's evening.
George loved partying with his friends - and especially being painted up as spiderman. The weekend rounded off tonight with an evening ride to the allotment for more harvesting and watering. Another vat of marrow and coconut soup is now simmering on the stove!
First attempt at jam - not so successful but hubby insists it is delicious. Good job as I have 4 jars and daren't trial this one on anyone else. More of a syrupy goo with marrow in. And I forgot to peel the marrow. Ooops.
George has always been pretty on the ball with all the baby/ toddler milestones, talking, walking etc etc. Now is the time that I always suspected we may fall behind .... toilet training. Much interest was shown several months ago but now, as his friends become 'dry' by the day George is not so keen. Quite capable, yes, but keen, no. I am in no rush, what I really want to do right now is press the 'pause' button as he is so gorgeously adorably - it is my favourite age (aren't they all?!)
The classic line came last Thursday:
Me: "So, darling, when do you think you might want to start using the toilet George?"
George: "Errrm, maybe when I'm married mummy".
No idea where that came from but it tickled me all the same.
The birthday party season has begun. Muchos fun had. George tells me he wants a farmyard party with chickens. Could be interesting in my play room - let the planning begin!
... Some of this week's interesting creations along with the now more monotonous risotto and curry renditions. Although with freshly picked/ dug veg, can it ever get monotonous? Veg curry 6 days a week please.
On the mornings that hubby leaves at some ungodly hour for work and George and I surface at about 8am (on a good day) for brekkie we are always greeted with everything laid out ready, dishwasher unloaded, tea bag in mug, cereal poured, a note for me and a little picture drawn by daddy for George's delight. (Oh dear, when i look at that in black & white makes me think maybe I should do more?!!)
Now I know behind all of the people exclaiming every 5 minutes "I love my husband" is perhaps a curtain of uncertainty - dare I say?! But, man, the guy I married is pretty damn spesh. And his little boy is pretty keen too - a couple of shots of the two larks today.
I made possibly my last ever trip into my office of 7 years this week. A lovely lunch, tears and goodbyes. Walking around London I did feel so nostalgic for the old days. The carefree ones where I went for a drink or 5 with my closest friends after work, and didn't have to worry about effects of food, wine, life on my fertility and just had fun whenever the mood took me. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't change my life now for the world, apart from the obvious, but nostalgia takes you to somewhere in the pit of your stomach where you can miss the old times so badly but also feel so truly blessed to have had them at all.
My team bought me a Tiffany necklace and some lovely flowers. I still wear the Tiffany bracelet every day that my hubby bought me for our first 'being together' anniversary 9 years ago. I'll treasure this necklace too.
