I Did What No Woman Should Do……

Not a lot of people know this, as it’s quite embarrassing to admit, but just before Christmas I did what no woman should ever do….

I CUT MY OWN HAIR!

This is, of course, asking for trouble at the best of times.  I’m sure everyone has given their own fringe a trim as a kid – the results were never good.  And come to think of it, none of my Barbie’s looked particularly stylish after I’d given their hair a bit of spruce with a pair of craft scissors.   The writing was on the wall, you might say.

Anyhoo, there I was one night.  Him indoors was on a rare night out, children were in bed, I was having a glass of Bailey’s and a trawl through YouTube.  I somehow came across a huge number of videos of girls with beautiful hair, giving me tutorials on how to cut it yourself. Ooof, this will save me loadsa money, I thought.  That looks so easy, and those girls have fantastic hair.   Bolstered by the Bailey’s, I grabbed the kitchen scissors (yes, I know KITCHEN SCISSORS, this was never, ever, ever going to end well) and headed off to the bathroom.  I’ll just trim the split ends off, I thought.

To, eh hem, cut a long story short, the results were not good.  I had some sort of weird mullet with short bits sprouting up from the top and uneven long straggly bits at the back.  My shoulder length hair was ruined.

Thankfully, my mother-in-law was visiting a couple of days later.  She used to be a hairdresser, so she did the best she could with what she had to work with.  I now had shortish hair.  I’ve never had short hair.  Haven’t got the face for it.  But everyone thought it suited me.

This weekend, I took the plunge and am now the owner of I a proper haircut.  I’ve got a pixie cut and I love it!  I had a bit of a wobble, worrying I looked a bit butch but now, I love it. This may sound ridiculous, but it’s the haircut I’ve been waiting for.  I feel different, more confident.  I’ve found a style that suits me.  I’m going to be channeling a bit of Jean Seberg, I’ve always loved her hair and her simple, chic style (minus the ciggie).   So now, I am hoping my ‘I don’t know what to wear, boo hoo’ trauma will be solved by asking myself ‘ Would Jean Seberg wear this?’.  Simples.

So, let this be a warning to anyone contemplating cutting their own hair.  DON’T! No matter how many Bailey’s you’ve downed.

The Graduate

Today, I attended a graduation.  Not mine (I wish).  Today, my family and I clapped – but were too afraid to cheer – as my Mum graduated from Swansea University as a fully qualified Midwife – wooooohoooo!!!! Go Mam!

This is a massive achievement, I’m sure you’ll agree, though it was no mean feat. It has taken years of hard work and dedication. Not to mention the bravery it takes to get back into the education system in your forties (sorry mam), after leaving school at sixteen, having a child (moi) at seventeen and spending the next 22 years being a brilliant stay at home mum.

I am sure she wont mind me telling you (as it’s only between us) that when I was born, 28 years ago, it probably had never entered her head that she would one day be graduating from university, donning her cap and gown and be receiving a top-notch MEDICAL degree!

Today, she did it!!

I, for one, have found it incredibly inspiring and motivating to watch her on this journey.

I often have bouts of self doubt and sleepless nights worrying about what I’m going to do with my life. As my friends all settle down into their chosen careers and become more and more successful I worry that I am being left behind. My Mum has shown me that you don’t have to have your career plan mapped out at age 18. It’s ok if you still don’t know what path you want to follow (no matter how old you are). It’s never too late, for anyone, to find their ‘calling’. She has also proven that you can achieve ANYTHING you set your mind to.

So, with this in mind, I am trying to stop worrying about what I’m going to be when I ‘grow up’ and simply focus on the most important job of all – being a mum.

P.s if you’re planning on having a baby in Swansea in the next, oooooh 15 to 20 years or so, you’ll be very lucky to have My Mum as your midwife.

The Day it Dawned on me…..I can cope with my children!

So again, I am pinned to the sofa by a sleeping, snotty, moaning groaning child.  Story of my life. This time it’s the boy who is under the weather.  So what better excuse than to bite the bullet and enter Tots100 / Al Fresco Holidays competition. So here goes……..

The year was 2007.  The day was a cold, grey, early February morning.  By early, I mean EARLY.  I hadn’t silly o’clock since those horrible pre-dawn breastfeeding sessions.  But that didn’t matter, today we were off on holiday!!!!

I’d dreamed about going to Paris since I started studying GCSE French eight years earlier.  Now I was going there, thanks to my amazing boyfriend of 2 years. I was going to impress him with my, eh-hem, fantastic ability to order crepes in actual French lingo!  I was going to kiss him at the top of the Eiffel Tower!  I was going to secretly pray that he’d bought an engagement ring with him to surprise me with!

But this wasn’t a romantic trip for just the two of us, oh no, we were taking our two daughters with us!  That’s right, we hadn’t been together long and we’d already had two children!  So this trip wasn’t going to be how I’d imagined it for years.  It was gong to be better.  I was going to experiece the city I’d dreamt of visiting, for the very first time, with all three loves of my life. My family.

As we boarded the flight, for the first time, I felt like a real grown up. For the past eighteen months, I felt I was simply winging it as a Mum.  I loved these little girls….so much it hurt and I often made myself physically sick worrying what I’d do if something happened to them.  I just felt that I wasn’t particularly good at it, I was just ‘lucky’ to have beautiful, happy and contented babies.  It was fate – nothing to do with me.

I had worried for weeks that for some reason the trip would be a bit disastrous.  That I wouldn’t be able to keep my babies quiet on the plane over to France, I’d dreamt  that I’d only packed summer clothes for them in the middle of winter, or I’d forgotten nappies. I fretted that people would judge us for having two children at such a young age, or something would happen and I wouldn’t have my mum/dad/nan up the road to phone for advice.  I worried that all alone in a different country, I’d realise that I wasn’t up to scratch at this parenting lark.

I proved myself wrong though.  I realised just how strong, capable and quite frankly brilliant  Rob and I were at being parents.  We kept the girls happy and occupied on the plane, they were dressed warm and snug for the whole freezing cold trip, their bums were wrapped in Huggies the whole time, no one looked down their nose at us for being a young parents and I didn’t need advice from anyone. I actually knew what I was doing.  Who knew? (Everyone, apparantly…but me.)

Anyway, we had a fantastic time.  We ate crepes and Nutella, we went up to the top of the  Eiffel Tower, we walked and walked and walked around the whole beautiful city, we went on a boat up the Seine, I ordered food every night in actual French words, we bought art and old postcards from street sellers, we visited Notre Dame cathedral and we even saw the Mona Lisa.  It was breathtaking…..No engagement ring though. Booo.

On the fourth day, another surprise came in the form of Disneyland tickets.  Rob had booked 3 days there so the girls could have some real fun.  I’ll never forget the look on Eva’s face as her eyes set on the famous pink castle.  Olivia was too small to realise.  Hopefully we’ll go back before she gets too old for the Disney magic to be gone.

The best thing about this holiday though, wasn’t just the memories made and the amazing photographs taken, it was for me, realising that I should have a bit more confidence in myself and have  faith in my decisions.  We are a brilliant team.  The Kendalls. (well, I’m not a Kendall, yet.  One day.)

Since this time, we’ve had another addition to our family.  Unfortunately, we haven’t had the opportunity to go on holiday with him in tow.  But I am 100% confident in the fact, that even though Frankie  is a HUGE handful, we would cope just fine.  Better than fine.

So, I’d better get on with filling our penny jar.  Off I go to search down the sofa.

Silent Sunday