I'm taking part again in Angie's right where I am project 
Here is last year's post on the same theme.

The weather this week has been glorious, hot and sunny, Summer is finally here. Out and about with Ernest and my mindee, I realised I needed a parasol for my double pushchair, and remembered I'd bought one just a few days before Florence was born, but hadn't even taken it out of the packaging.
I couldn't remember where I'd put it, I thought maybe the cellar with the pram frame, but it wasn't there.
I remembered that the carrycot was way at the back of a storage cupboard in our room, and maybe I'd put it there.
When Woody got home, he held a torch over my shoulder as I squeezed into the cupboard and made my way past the bags of breastfeeding (pumping) paraphenalia, and the carrycot for Ernest's pram, the boxes of old college work, and art folders...there right at the back was the old carrycot, and I pulled it out, triumphantly.
I unzipped the cover, and my heart was suddenly ripped right out of my chest. Yes, there was the brand new parasol, but the carrycot was still made up with sheets I'd sewn, and a precious fleece blanket I'd saved and laundered ready for Florence.
I must have put it away like that, two years,ten months ago...or thereabouts.
That little bed made ready for a real live newborn, a real live newborn, a real little girl...not the shadow, the memory, but a real baby, my real baby. My heart pounds out of my chest, into my throat, I can barely breath and the sobs are caught there, stifled. I mustn't do this, I'm fine, it's ok...but it isn't, it isn't.

Last night I dreamed of giving birth. I was standing, I could feel the baby birthing itself, but I couldn't speak to tell the midwives. The baby was born suddenly and fell to the ground. I looked down and there he was, a baby boy. I shut my eyes and screamed no no no, because I knew he was dead. Then though, I knew I was dreaming, and I decided no, he wasn't dead, and he was beautiful. I put him over my shoulder and he opened his eyes. I said "Hey you, I know you".

I woke up confused and scared, and weirdly elated at just having given birth.
I used to love pregnancy and birth, I guess a part of me still does despite everything.

Right where I am today is not right where I was last week, and it wont be right where I am next week either. That's something I've learned to accept. (I think)

It's been a rough few days. I've found my words and those of others stolen and twisted to suit the agenda of a vile, hateful and hate filled website.
I'm disgusted to think there are those out there on the web who will take my perfect beautiful little girl, and the sons and daughters of other grieving parents and use them for their own cause. That those same people seem to think that we put an "experience" above the lives of our children.
I can't change that twisted thinking, and I'm not strong enough to try....maybe that's why I, and others like me are the targets of such venom, we are easy prey.

It's been an ugly few days, but this jar of dandelions brought to me by my lovely (and grubby) Sid wipes out all that ugliness. There is love here, and light, we are brim full, it's so much better than hate.

Today I am attempting to take part in a discussion inspired by Merry's most recent blog post. Honestly, at this moment, I've no idea what it is I want to say.
Words dried up here some time ago. These pages no longer feel like a safe place to go over and over and over again just how much I love and miss Florence.
Like Merry, I predicted back in those early days that this blog would gradually become less about Florence as time went on. It never really was a blog just for her anyway.
I tried that, I started moving all the posts about her over there...it's still a work in progress, too painful to continue, and too hard to delete.
As we approach Summer, and what would have been Florence's third birthday, I think I can say that we have accepted her loss as part of our lives. She is woven in to everything, so present, unyet so very distant.

"And then came the rainbows"

Ernest is a joy to us all, he is so very full of life, and my goodness, I wish I'd had him when I was younger, that boy wears me out!
He'll be two soon. I still marvel at his aliveness.
Last evening as I was trying to make our bed, and he was leaping all over the duvet, and shouting "wheeee!", I thought back to that scrappy little screaming bundle he was almost two years ago. To how worried we all were about him, how weary he looked, not ready to be born. How terrified I was until he was no longer a baby...I still get scared, but it was worse when he was a baby.

Life now is busy, really busy. Each evening I fall into bed, bone achingly tired, and although I do long for some free time to relax, I'm too scared to wish for it.

The truth is, that I'm ok, really ok, but equally and often, I'm not ok with being ok.

This week I dusted off the box of painting supplies. I though Ernest and my little mindee might enjoy a little messy play.
They both did!


India and Eden always loved to paint, Angus and Sid were never interested, and so our box of paints had been abandoned for some time. I was quite surprised to recognise so many brushes and aprons that must be 16 years old.
Dressing Ernest in the yellow apron reminded me of this photo of Eden, at about the same age, showing off her mornings work.


I love the way small children enjoy the process of creating with paint,revelling in the delight of brush, or sponge or finger gliding (or sploshing!) paint onto the paper.
Something that's often lost far too early, and something I think adults should all have a go at.

The other thing I love about painting with toddlers is that cleaning up is usually fun too, especialy if it involves a sink full of bubbly water.
This photo is of India, also about the same age as Ernest is now, washing her paint pots at the kitchen sink, with a little visitor looking on.

Finally bought all the fabrics for India's prom dress today.
We'd already bought 23 metres of tulle, but today we bought lining,satin and some very pretty lace.

Oh and I managed to get myself something rather lovely too...and all within our very strict budget.


Was nice to catch the bus with India and shop, just the two of us. I can't remember the last time we did that.

Ernest loves water play. Usually I park him in front of the kitchen sink filled with bubbly water and lots of unbreakables..oh yes and lots of old muslins to mop up the sploshes!
Yesterday though he insisted on pouring his water into any available recepticle...and elsewhere!
So, I sat him at the table with some plastic party cups, on that pile of old muslins, and he had a great time pouring and tipping.
I love the simple things he gets so much pleasure from.

One large plastic mixing bowl
One metal tea tray
A set of measuring spoons
A funnel
A few hand fulls of rice (failed Mummy didn't dye it rainbow colours first!)

And of course, one curious little toddler...








This kept him busy for a good 45 minutes, long enough for me to prep tonights dinner, and fold some laundry



And yes, we did need to hoover afterwards

This little swatch arrived in the post yesterday, from Spoonflower. It's a simple little design made from one of my many scribbles in my many sketchbooks. Far from a perfect finished design, it still is nice to see how it might look on fabric, and how I can improve it.

Today is my birthday, I've had a pleasant day with my family. a day out, a picnic, presents, and cake.
This morning I had ten minutes alone snugged up under my duvet and I imagined a little curly haired girl snugged up with me...just for a moment.
Woody and I took her some sea shells from the beach on the way home.