Wondering

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

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

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

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!.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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!