Category Archives: Family

Reasons to be Cheerful

October 1, 2011 By in Family Tags: , , , , , , , , 2 Comments

We are celebrating two anniversaries in the Dorky House this week. If that’s not a reason to be cheerful (and an excuse for lots of cake and champagne) I don’t know what is!

Yesterday was our fourth wedding anniversary. In honour of the occasion, I finally hauled my mud and beer stained wedding dress out of the wardrobe, and sent it to be cleaned and boxed. I’m struggling to decide what to do with it next – I’m tempted to shove the box under the bed and keep it for some ‘just in case’ moment in the future. But I also think it’d be nice to give it to charity and let someone else get some use out of it. I’m going to keep pondering it for a while.

We took some during the week to look back through our wedding photos, which were taken by the lovely and brilliant guys at Jack Photography. And by happy coincidence, when I was rearranging some computer files, I found the epic wedding recap that I wrote shortly afterwards… all 2000 words of it!

I can’t believe how many things I’d forgotten; like the fact that I broke the zip on my bridesmaid’s dress half an hour before we were due to leave; and that the minister messed up the words and asked me if I’d take DorkyDad to be my ‘lawful wedded wife’. “Umm, no,” I said. “But I’ll take him to be my lawful wedded husband!” I’d forgotten that one of our guests joined the band for an impromptu session playing the spoons, and that shortly after leaving the wedding he was dragged back by his wife, having pocketed those spoons and forgotten about them. I’d forgotten just how good our food was, how my feet hurt from dancing and how my cheeks ached from smiling.

I’m one of those annoying people who can honestly say that their wedding day was one of the happiest of their life. No drama, very little stress, just a lovely time surrounded by family and friends… and the knowledge that it was the start of something special. The last four years have passed so quickly, and been packed so full of interesting events – I can’t wait to see where we are another four from now.

Our second anniversary this week was marking 6 months since DorkySon started nursery. It seems strange to admit it now, because those two mornings a week at nursery are so much part of our routine, but at the time it was definitely the hardest decision I’d made as a parent.

I had intended to stay a full time parent until he turned three and started his funded nursery place, but as he approached 2nd birthday in March it was becoming clear that he needed more stimulation, socialising and challenges than I was providing, and I needed a few hours a week to myself otherwise I was going to go nuts. I think the awful weather last winter exacerbated the situation – there were too many days when we were stuck inside and full of pent up energy.

We were so lucky to find a good nursery nearby – it’s small enough that all the kids and staff get to know each other, and has a lot of outdoor space. It is reasonably priced and is literally a five-minute walk from home. Despite the fact that there were a lot of staff changes soon after DorkySon starting, he settled in quickly and seems to have had a blast. He’s had the chance to do lots of activities that he wouldn’t have done at home (they had a fire engine visit last week…), his confidence has grown massively, and he never stops talking about how much he likes the people there.

From my point of view, it has been brilliant to have two mornings a week to do some bits and pieces of freelance writing, schedule appointments, do paperwork and even *pulls guilty Mummy face* go for the occasional coffee or take a nap.

I’m not sure why starting DorkySon at nursery stressed me out so much. I was deeply aware of how lucky we were to be in a position where it was through choice and not necessity. I guess part of me felt like I was somehow failing in my motherly duties by admitting that need for some time to myself, and part of me was worried that he wouldn’t adjust well to it and would be unhappy. I’m thrilled that hasn’t been the case, and now I’m just hoping desperately that when we move we can find a new nursery where he settles as quickly as he did at this one. (I’m also hoping I can pick up some more paid freelance work to justify it!).

So yes, two big occasions being marked this week, and two big reasons to be cheerful. Happy anniversaries to us!

To see other bloggers reasons to be cheerful, check out the linky over at Mummy from the Heart.

Reasons to be Cheerful at Mummy from the Heart

The Gallery: Home

September 28, 2011 By in Family, Poetry, Scotland Tags: , , , , , , , , 19 Comments

I’ve never taken part in The Gallery before – a weekly link-up hosted by top blogger Tara at Sticky Fingers, where participants post photos around a certain theme – but when I saw that this week’s prompt was ‘Home’ I couldn’t resist. For obvious reasons I’ve been thinking about the concept of home a lot recently, and this provided a great excuse to go and look back through some of my old photos.

I chose to make a collage, using photos of some of the bits and bobs around our house that we’ll be taking with us when we move, and using to make our new place feel like home. I’ve given a short explanation below of what they all are. If you like these photos, please feel free to check out some of my others on my Flickr stream, which is here.

Photos, moving clockwise from top left:

The rug. We love our rugs, we do. We’ve got two beautiful wooden floors in the house, which we had sanded and varnished when we moved in… and then promptly covered up with our big, patterned area rugs. When I first met DorkyDad, he had a special comb for keeping the fringes of his rugs nice and neat (can you tell that he’s a Virgo?). But since having DorkySon he’s pretty much given up on that. Now he’s just grateful to get to the end of the day without having milk or juice tipped over any of them.

The cat. I may lose readers over this, but I’m not a cat person. I’m not just ambivalent; I actively dislike most cats I meet. Partly because I’m allergic to them, but mainly just because I think they’re horrible. If it’s any consolation to the feline fans out there, the feeling is mutual… most cats head straight for me and slink around my ankles once or twice, before hopping in my lap, looking me straight in the eye, and sinking their sharp little claws into my thighs. Anyway, I digress. This funky little metal guy is the exception to my cat-hating rule; he sits in our kitchen and keeps an eye on things. He has attitude. I like him a lot.

The table. I’m not being boasty (well, I am a little bit), but we have the best dining room table ever, which we found in a wee second hand shop in Edinburgh. It’s ridiculously big and heavy and, as you can see from the photo, has had the crap beaten out of it. Apparently it was used as a cook’s table in Donaldson’s School, which is why there are so many knife marks and chunks missing. It’s coming with us, even if I end up sleeping under it on a pavement somewhere.

The lamp. This was a present from me to DorkyDad. It’s an old Cadillac headlamp, which has been fixed on top of a wooden tripod. For some reason it also has a built-in compass. For months, when we walked past the lamp in a nearby shop window, DorkyDad used to say how much he’d like it. Then one day it disappeared and he was very sad… until he discovered that I’d gone in without him one day, haggled down the price, and hidden it for his birthday. It’s kinda kooky, but we like it.

The candlesticks. These were a wedding present from a friend in Zimbabwe. I haven’t been able to find candles dinky enough to fit in them recently, so we haven’t lit them for months, but I still like having them around.

The dominoes. These are DorkyDad’s dominoes, which live in an old wooden cigar box. I am totally an old lady before my time; I love playing dominoes, especially by candlelight, with a glass of wine and some music on. I get ridiculously competitive, and take enormous delight in sending DorkyDad ‘down to the boneyard’.

The bed. Comfiest bed ever. The end.

The paintings. Our house is chock-a-block with art, none of it valuable, but all of it well loved. We are lucky enough to have some ridiculously talented family and friends; and we’ve also picked up some beautiful pieces at the College of Art degree shows. A large proportion of our paintings, including this wooden lizard, are pieces of Gullah Art, from the Red Piano Gallery in South Carolina. They are all non-negotiable; they’re coming with us.

The harmonicas. Because no home is complete without some sweet music making machines. Both DorkySon and DorkyDad are fans of playing the mouthie. Me, I just like to take photos of them.

The toy cars. Only a fool would try and part DorkySon from his red Chevy, his purple Carmen Ghia, his yellow Beetle, or any of the other several hundred cars and trucks in his possession. He knows where every single one of them originally came from. And are they coming with us to London? Hell yes.

The blue vase. This was a present for DorkyDad from some of his very best friends, when he moved house previously. Having fresh cut flowers in a house always helps it feel like home, and never more than when they’re placed in a beautiful vase.

The notebooks. This is a family of writers. We are note-takers, poets, journal-makers, scrapbookers and photographers. We are surrounded by paper. We may have to do some filing, but we gave away our shredder last week, so all the papery stuff is here to stay.

The centrepiece. The clock, the painting, and the marble fireplace in this shot are all wonderful… but the real star of the show is the Monster. He is very old, and is part of a great story, which I probably can’t tell without getting DorkyDad into trouble. But wherever we go he will be coming too. He’s our protector, and no house would be a home without him.

To see how other bloggers have interpreted the theme of home, check out this week’s gallery here.

Boxes, books and a serious case of Lady Flu.

September 25, 2011 By in Family Tags: , , , , , , , , , , 4 Comments

I’m having one of those nights where I’ve started a post and deleted it about half a dozen times. The words just aren’t flowing, maybe because I’ve had a stinky old head cold and a stomach bug this weekend. I’ve got a hot toddy to get me through X Factor, then it’s two Night Nurse and off to bed. I know I posted a few months ago saying that mummies aren’t allowed to get ill, but occasionally even we have to admit defeat.

I think the cold might be a London one – I was down earlier in the week having a look round some areas – nine hours up and down the East Coast main line and several hours on the tube probably exposed me to numerous foreign nasties. So there’s a lesson; get the whole family dosed up on Echinacea and Vitamin C before we move!

Snuffles aside, it has been a productive week. After four years of marriage (almost exactly – it’s our anniversary this week!), I’ve finally sent my wedding dress to be cleaned. In preparation for the move I’ve offloaded a few bits and pieces of superfluous stuff onto friends. Mainly, it was a good excuse to catch up with some lovely folk that I’ve not seen in a while, but it has also helped free up some cupboard space. I hope our shredder, coffee machine, and Moses Basket are enjoying life in their new homes. All the clothes and toys that DorkySon has outgrown are boxed up and ready to go to another friend, assuming she doesn’t go into labour before she can come and collect them. So far, the great wardrobe clear out has yielded three big bags of clothes which are now waiting to be taken to the charity shop (it may turn into four bags… I’ve got some dresses that I know I’ll never fit into again, but can’t quite bear to part with yet).

Next come the books. I am rubbish at getting rid of books. I know I’ll never sit down and re-read any of the tomes on body art that I needed for my honours dissertation, or the book about David Jason swimming with dolphins, which mysteriously appeared on my shelves. We probably don’t need three copies of the Catcher in the Rye, or two copies of every Harry Potter book. I can tell you right now that I will never get beyond page 20 of Ulysses. But still… I find books impossible to get rid of. They are the only things I can spend vast amounts of money on without even a tinge of guilt. I was lucky enough to grow up in a house where books could be found everywhere, and had always envisaged bringing DorkySon up in a place where he too would find interesting books in every corner and cupboard.

If we end up moving somewhere with limited storage space, and it comes down to a choice between the dresses and the books, I know already that the books will win.

But anyway, before I succumb to my lady-flu and disappear under the duvet, let me remind myself of the many other things that were good this week:

1. We had another flat viewing today, with a relatively normal prospective buyer (I can’t wait until we’ve sold, so I can blog about some of the bonkers folk we’ve had in previously…).

2. DorkySon is slowly getting to grips with his new scooter, and when he’s not busy doing that he’s dazzling us with his ever-expanding repertoire of songs. ‘Twinkle Twinkle Traffic Light’ seems to be the current favourite.

3. I had a grand old time wandering around London and scouting out some possible areas to live, although somewhat predictably I fell in love with the two most expensive areas on our list. Fingers crossed we can find a suitable flat in the next six weeks, with room for plenty of books. Did I mention the books?

4. My tiny-violin nostalgia piece about moving was featured on Offbeat Home.

5. I’ve got 97 Fans on my DorkyMum Facebook Page! Which is nearly 100… Which would be marvellous. If I can get to 100 by Monday morning it might, just, compensate for the awfulness of the new Facebook layout.

Hope you all have a ruddy marvellous week. If you don’t want to come back here for more paracetamol-powered ramblings I completely understand. I am hopeful that normal service will resume soon. Meantime check out Letters from Your Mum, DoodleMum and Mental Political Parent for some other interesting and often amusing takes on parenting. And check out the excellent Love New Blogs tomorrow morning for their weekly showcase of newer blogs.

Okay. Night night all. I’m done.

For Sale: 2 Bedroom Flat, scuffed paintwork, full of love

September 13, 2011 By in Family, Scotland Tags: , , , , , , , 17 Comments

It’s strange how – when you know you’re going to be moving – you start to look around where you live and see things in a completely different way. Even before the For Sale sign has gone up outside, and the first potential buyers have stepped in the door, it stops being quite so much of a ‘home’ and starts turning back into just ‘a house’.

You refer to it, in emails to estate agents, as your ‘property’. You start to notice the cobwebs in the corners, and immediately add ‘long-handled duster’ to the shopping list in your head. You spot the scuffs in the paintwork, the cracks in the cornicing, and all those trails of spilled smoothie on the cream carpet. You realise that you still haven’t fixed the hole where the neighbour’s hamster chewed through your wall. You wish you’d had the time and money to do the bathroom, the den, and the windows.

Jeez, you think. Where are we going to put all these books? And paintings? And rugs? Maybe, you think, it’s time to get rid of all the old baby clothes.

You try and remember how the wardrobe comes apart, what angle you have to hold the dining room table at to fit it through the doorframe, and where you put that special screwdriver; the one you need to disassemble the bed.

You start to become very objective, about it all, very distant. And then a draft of the particulars arrives in your inbox – all adjectives and professional photos.

Gosh, you think, what a lovely house.

There’s the dining room, where you sat with friends over long dinners, drank wine and whisky in front of the fire. There’s one bedroom, where you were helped into your wedding dress; and there’s the other, where you stood over your new son in his Moses basket, and leaned in to hear him breathe. There’s the kitchen, cosy and cluttered; pureed blueberry spattered on the wall, music always playing on the radio, family photos pinned to the corkboard. There’s the den, where you took family naps on the sofa; and the hallway, where entire cities were built out of Lego.

Gosh, you think, what a lovely home.

Haven’t we been lucky to call it ours? We have warmed up the old, stone walls and filled the rooms with laughter and love. We have tended the garden, mended the fence, and added a beautiful piece of stained glass to the entrance hall.

There is an advert for something – I forget what, perhaps a watch – that says ‘You never own it. You merely look after it for the next generation.”

It’s a good way of thinking about material things. We have never really ‘owned’ this house, just made it our home until it was the turn of another family. I hope they don’t mind the scuffs in the paintwork. I hope they keep the walls nice and warm. I sure hope I remember where that screwdriver is.

The One Where We Move to London

September 11, 2011 By in Family, Harpenden, Scotland Tags: , , , , , 34 Comments

You have no idea how hard it has been to sit on this news until all the relevant contracts have been signed and sealed. I’ve been itching to tell you… sitting on my fingers to stop myself pressing publish.

DorkyDad has accepted an exciting new job with an international charity based in London. I’m incredibly proud of him for taking on such a big challenge, and trying to use the knowledge and experience he has from working in higher education to benefit another sector.

Now that we’ve had a few days to absorb the news, pop the champagne and wave our pompoms, the reality is starting to sink in that Clan Dawkins is moving to Englandshire.

Oh my.

We are doing this completely the wrong way round. Most sane people start off in the city, and then escape to a mid-size town, before ending up in a village to have their family. DorkyDad started off in small-town America and I started off in the Western Isles… we met in Edinburgh… and now, with a 2 year old, we are moving to a city with a population bigger than that of Scotland.

Ach. We have never been a family do to things the ‘right way’.

I am by turns excited and terrified.

I go to sleep with a smile on my face, imagining myself in the London I know from watching Richard Curtis films; entertaining friends in my swanky Notting Hill pad, chatting to famous authors at book launches, and running through the snow in pants and bare feet to kiss my Mr Darcy.

And then I wake up imagining myself in the London of the riotous news footage. I have been scaring myself by looking up crime statistics online. I am starting to think that two mornings of nursery for DorkySon will probably cost more than our mortgage. People are telling me I should be joining school waiting lists now. Right now. Preferably yesterday.

I suspect, and hope, the reality will be somewhere in between. London is a place that extends far beyond what I know from film and television. I am vastly reassured by the emails I’ve had from friends, some of whom have children too, telling me that they love it; that it’s a wonderful city, that I will never be bored and yes they do have parks and green spaces there too, most of which I won’t be mugged in.

To keep the excitement and terror in some kind of equilibrium, I am making trade-offs in my head.

For example… on the downside, we are unlikely to find a flat that will accommodate our massive and beautiful dining table, which was bought for an Edinburgh sized room. But on the upside, we can go for sunny-day picnics with my London-based brother and his girlfriend. On the downside, we’re probably not going to have a big private garden for DorkySon to roam around in. But on the upside, we can spend every weekend wandering round the London Transport Museum (or we can just pay £1.30 and go for a ride on the nearest red bus, which will probably keep him just as happy).

We have so much to learn. Who knew that Barnes and Barnet are two entirely different places? That the Circle Line isn’t actually a circle anymore; that rents are advertised per week instead of per month; and that the same property can be marketed by half a dozen different agents. It’s enough to make a wee Scottish girl’s head spin.

What I would really like, right now, is for someone to hold my hand and sort out all the details. Find us a perfect house, at the perfect price, in the perfect area. Make sure there’s a big old park nearby, a choice of affordable nurseries, some great shops, and a leisurely fifteen-minute walk to DorkyDad’s office. While they’re at it, they could throw in an annual membership to the Tate Modern, and dinner reservations at Nobu for the weekend we move down.

But that’s not going to happen. Richard Curtis didn’t write this life. So I have to put my big girl panties on – top up my Oyster card, keep trawling through the property listings, and start packing my books into boxes. It’s an adventure. I can do adventures; I’m just a bit out of practice.

There is a lot we are going to miss about Edinburgh – enough to warrant its own post in the next week or two – but like Alice in Wonderland, with her oversized limbs poking through the windows of a house and her giant head jammed against the ceiling, we’ve recently been feeling like we have outgrown it. When we stand on our front porch and listen to the wind, whispering in the trees, it’s telling us that it’s time to move on.

So we are. Moving onwards and, hopefully, moving upwards.

Look out London. Here come the Dorkys.

Helpful suggestions for places to live, places to avoid, estates agents to give a wide berth etc are very welcome, either here or across on the DorkyMum Facebook Page. And if anyone has a flat they’d like to lend us for a couple of months, now’s the time to speak up!