Monday, 25 May 2009

Fame! (I'm gonna live 4ever. I'm gonna learn how to fly!)

At least for the day! Dig my article about Life Clubs in today's Scotland's Daily Record.
A giant photo of me and my name SEVERAL times feels weird. And nice.

I recall that I also really SAID all those things but they didn't sound nearly so precious at the time. Nor do I remember trying to sound British. (Rubbish, Brilliant, Have A Go) Do I really talk like that when I am trying to fit in?

Well it is a good day for the Scots as they now know that we exist!

Too bad there is no mention as to how to attend! (!)

P.S. Look how LONG my hair is!

Saturday, 16 May 2009

hard labour

Mark's that is.

As Mark is spending his 4th weekend eyeball deep in drilling and sawing and pounding and earning blood blisters, I sit idly by with offers of occasional cups of tea and making good on my promises of a good meal when the day is done.

He is seriously going to TOWN. Building from scratch:
  • a walk in 'cupboard' for all manner of tools and buckets, and hide able cleaning junk
  • a wardrobe
  • and is now installing new wooded worktops/counters in the kitchen.
I am amazed at his hard work, his perfectionism, his tireless cheer and lack of moaning, even when he incurs minor cuts, scrapes and falls into bed exhausted.

I sometimes feel a little guilty that I am not really helping. Or Helping At All. I mean, this is my baby's room and my house too. Shouldn't I be helping? No, he claims. Honestly, I do love my pregnancy excuse for not lifting things or holding stuff. But I am seriously Not Needed for this project. Not for the Figuring it Out. The Decisions of How. The Buying of the Materials. The Clean Up of the Mess. And I am so grateful.

He treats this as his job. While mine is to take a nap. How did I get so lucky?

I feel so honoured and a little pampered as he rubs MY hands after a day of hard work.

I can really learn some lessons from him to keep going and see the big picture of how things will look. Not get hung up when things go slightly wrong. Be creative in the approach. Have the right tools. Get help when you need it.

Perhaps this is his version of nesting to get ready for the little one. And this is his labour. Mine after all, will come in 4.5 months. And may involve a little more than a blood blister. And I'll get pain meds.

What is really true is that this, Mark's labour, is no less a labour of love.