Sharing Is Caring

And so.  Happy 18 months to my sweet, funny, already-geeky girl, Isla Madelyn.

This afternoon, I found myself sitting with a bag of ice on my foot.  The kid throws a mean sippy-cup.  And then she came up and stole a piece of ice for her teeth. Sharing is caring.

Here she is inspecting some of her Christmas haul.


Complete with Christmas penguin deely-boopers.

And here she is decorating her Daddy’s beard.


Hope you’ve all had a great few days, or months.

Here’s to more words in 2016.  Maybe even tomorrow.

Lorna xox


What Will The Next 20 Minutes Bring?

In an attempt to revamp/reramp this blog, I’ll be participating in Writing 101. Hello!

This is my 20 minute free-write. Honest.

Isla is down for her afternoon power-nap. So I thought I’d write. 9 months ago, I thought I’d use her naps to write more often. In truth, she naps and I wait for her to wake up. Or I look at her. I look at her and wait for her to wake up. There is a lot of looking at her. I’m still not over that part.

The part where this amazing and beautiful, funny and strong-willed child came from me, by way of a seven hour first date, five and a bit years ago.

So yes, there’s a lot of looking at her. I think I actually marvel at her. Several times a day. She just takes my glasses off my face and laughs at me. Her way of saying, ‘Get over it, Ma.’ But I won’t. Ever.

Our days are now filled with lots of orange food and annoying toy jingles that I hear in my sleep. She waddles around in her walker, plays with the remote controls and pushes all her parents buttons. Already.

For the record, we don’t mind.

Before Neil goes to work, he makes me a coffee that goes really far back on the table, so Isla doesn’t get to it first. Becoming a mother has taught me to drink really fast. No more three-hour litres of coffee.

Isla is my caffeine. No, really. I’ve emerged from the new baby foggy fatigue. I think it’s because Isla gets bored every ten minutes she isn’t sleeping. She likes to listen to music while I wear her sunglasses. She likes to eat books.

I have more help around the house, but I like solo baby-wrangling, too. I put on an audio book for some hands-free reading. And I look at her.

Last week, while I was looking at her, she pointed at me and said ‘Mama!’

I might have marvelled again.

This happens a lot around here this days.  My kid!
This happens a lot around here these days. My kid!

Is It Just Me?

Imagine, if you will, a time when you wore something other than sweatpants.  You went to meetings, you had a ‘phone voice’, you had ‘Things To Do’ on  a list.  On your desk.  A desk that wasn’t in your house.  You may have even had a boss.

A boss who had more than one tooth.

And now, Fridays aren’t the same.  The closest thing you have to meetings is cake time with other mothers.  There is a lot of cake.  Remember when you didn’t like cake?

Now, you have an Elmo voice.  That voice makes your kid laugh.  Your other voice says, ‘please don’t put that in your mouth’ and ‘Dude, why are you in the rubbish?’

Fun was maybe going to the movies.  Or the pub.  Or both.  Because you could.  Now, movies live in the Netflix.  And you are asked to leave the pub, because the sleeping child strapped to your chest isn’t allowed in.

Because maybe she’ll wake up and bite people with the one tooth in her head.

But I digress.

My point is this.  Fun is different now.  Fun is simpler.

Fun is putting your underwear on your kid’s head.  And a pair of sunglasses.  Just, y’know, so the underwear doesn’t fall off.

That’s what fun is.

Or is that just fun for me?









My very patient child.  Channelling Sophia Petrillo.  Or something.

And so. what do YOU do for fun?




Facebook Baby

One of the things I’ve appreciated most in the last 6 months is Facebook.  It really has helped me feel connected to the world.  That’s what happens when most of the people who care about you and the human you’ve made live 40 to 4,000 miles away.

Here’s a run-down on what’s been happening around here for the past few months, as told through Facebook status updates and posts:

June 27th – Isla Madelyn born 11:52, 27th June 2014, 7 pounds, 2 1/2 ounces – happy, healthy and beautiful. Mother and baby both doing well!

June 28th – Mummy’s having her first coffee in almost 9 months …

July 2nd – We got home yesterday and all is right with the world. Everything really is awesome.

July 3rd – Isla at large and watching us eat hotdogs,

July 4th – Registered Isla’s birth and got her a library card!

July 12th – Isla’s first road-trip to Skye

July 14th – Testing the theory that all babies look like Winston Churchill.

July 22nd


July 23rd – Isla is 2 ounces off 8 pounds. Yay, boob juice

July 26th – Isla will be accepting visitors from Friday August 1st.

August 3rd – Isla took a cloth and wiped her face today. Now, if she could just change her bum…Self-cleaning baby

August 4th – Started wearing purple. Of course my child looks good in purple. Keyword: mychild.

August 11th


August 14th – After a gold-star check up, sleeping diagonally, in purple, with a penguin. Daddy AND Mama’s girl.

August 28th – Smisla!

September 17th – Kisses!


Videos, videos, videos … more videos…

November 8th


November 27th – I want to wish all my American family and friends a happy, safe and loving Thanksgiving. I’ve missed you all, especially this year. I’m thankful for you, and for Facebook. To all my local people, thanks for being there for me, and for us. To my daughter, thanks for choosing me to be your mother. To Neil thanks for keeping me in love and books. And I wish we could take a giant trip to meet all of the friends reading this who we have yet to meet! xox

… more videos …

December 19th – Our family Christmas Card without the actual card. We made a person, but saved a tree. You’re welcome.


December 22nd – Mama got all verkelmpt.


December 27th – This time six months ago, I was waiting impatiently to meet Zerbert. All gowned up and ready for the sunroof. She was born to the tune of The Divine Comedy and it’s kinda been like that ever since. Happy half a year to my Isla. Thank you for letting my heart dance outside my body.

January 3rd – I’m trying to write. Isla is Tarzan-yelling, happily. Neil is putting together Isla’s new walker-thingy. Pretty good deal.

January 6th – If anyone is wondering how I still have time to read, my daytime reading is actually listening. I have discovered audiobooks. And I’m only 28 minutes in to Yes, Please. One of the best things I’ve ever heard.

January 6th, again – And so. After jiggling and running in place for a few days, Isla took some steps forward in her walker today. I’m proud of her and mixed emotional myself.

… more videos …

… musical interlude …

January 11th – The baby just gave me a kiss. And then headbutted me. It’s how she shows love.

Happy New Year, Baby

Dear Isla,

You are six months and a bit. You are my Monkey, my Strumpet, My Favourite Baby.

We love you, too, Isla.
We love you, too, Isla.

The first time I held you, I told you you’d been here before. And there’s an old soul shining out of your bright blue-grey-silver eyes.

On a somewhat related note, I’m sorry for thinking that milk-blister made you look like a tiny version of Nanny McPhee for your first few days. I take it back. And I promise that wasn’t the reason I cried a lot.

I cried because you are beautiful. And because I’ve loved you forever, and I recognised your face from my dreams.

I cried because you have elbows.

I really can’t remember my life before you. And your last two weeks of baking really were a different kind of forever.

But you’re here now. We’re here. And your Dad still has all his hair. You have his eyes and my mouth. Make of that what you will.

You look just like you.

Your favourite thing to do is pull my hair. And dance. Sometimes at the same time. I still love you.

You like pears. And shrieking. You seem to prefer me without my glasses on. And if you’re pretending to like country music because it makes me happy, keep doing it. Humour me, I’m your mother.

Right now, your spirit animals seem to be giraffes and sheep. Your Dad is still working on the penguin thing. Humour him, he’s your father.

You don’t like squash. Or socks.

You eat books. Your favourite is Sheep In A Jeep.

You like to turn things upside down. Keep doing that.

And I’ll keep prying my hair from your amazing little hands. Hands which aren’t very far from your groovy little elbows.


Mama xox