Balancing Life~

I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope but I’m concentrating so hard on not falling off. I’m focusing because I know I can make it to the other side as long as I do not lose focus.

It’s thrilling, breathtaking, stressful, scary but I am determined.

I’ve finally applied for my Teacher Training course. Primary PGCE after years of mulling it over. Whether I could do it or not, my anxiety kept me locked in a cage. Doubts crept in whenever I dared to dream. Dared to think of being ambitious.

But somehow, giving birth to my daughter seemed to turn a key and unlock me from within. Yes, I still worry none stop but that comes with motherhood. But what I didn’t realise, is that confidence, also comes with motherhood. Sometimes when I am holding my baby girl, I’m clutching her for comfort but I am also feeling… EMPOWERED. As if I’ve stepped up a level, as if I need to stop thinking about myself and think about my daughter and how I can make her a stable, secure, happy individual. How I can make her proud to call me her mother and how I can show her that she can become whoever she wants to be, she can do whatever she wants to do.

So I just jumped into it, finally. Just leapt right in. Despite all the doubts that keep trying to pull me down. I booked my professional skill tests for English and Maths and I have an interview at one of my chosen University’s for a PGCE course.

Yes, negativity is chattering away in the back of my mind telling me I won’t get through and the hundred million reasons why but it’s 10:42pm and my baby has just fallen asleep in the crook of my arm and my other hand is researching topics for my interview preparation. I’ve been doing this all day because I am worried if I stop now, I’ll give up, so I just have to keep going.

Keep writing stories, keep working on my novel, keep up with my blog, pour my heart out in poetry, study for my interview, become a teacher eventually.

Keep gobbling up the Forrero Rochers my husband bought me for our anniversary instead of sensibly eating one a day.

My husband has a fractured shoulder.

My baby girl is grumpy and teething. Her first teeth are coming through (three at the bottom and one at the top)

The laundry has piled up a little.

But I’ll find a balance because I’ve realised now, I’m a mother, a wife, a writer, a blogger, a poet, a student and an aspiring ‘to-be’ teacher so I have to find a balance…

And thrive.

Lots of love, Ebee.

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Flowers or Weeds~

Are you strong enough to fall

without cracking at all,

crack, crack, crack, it’s fine.

We all have a few lines

running down the palms of our hands

and upon the ground where we stand.

Unstable and breakable we’re still of use

though we’re not all pretty and new.

Polish us up a little and watch us shine,

A bit of magic and a little bit of time

is all it takes for healing and growth.

What will grow from our cracks, nobody knows.

Flowers or weeds, flower or weeds

whatever it is, it still sets us free,

It’ll let us be

It will let us be

It will let us be free.

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(Photo’s taken by me of the roses in my mother’s garden)

Lost In Poetry And Music~

 

Okay, so how does this song make me feel.

First, let me tell you what’s happening. It’s 3:10am and I’m sitting on my bed, I’ve just fed my baby and put her back to sleep. Normally I’m desperate to get back into bed and go back to sleep in a heartbeat. I mean when you have a baby you don’t pass on the chance to sleep when you can. but I want to be myself for a change. You know, the original me. The one that sinks into music and poetry. So i put this song on and I just transform. My heart feels heavy, my breathing feels heavy, so heavy I feel like I’m trying to hold my breath so that I don’t wake anyone up with my breathing. BREATHE.

I could cry with all that I’m feeling. Exhilarated, heart broken, nostalgic, powerful, vulnerable, angry, free, happy. Inspired. And there’s adrenaline. There’s poetry. I don’t really know what’s going on. Nothing maybe but it’s beautiful. But it doesn’t make sense but it does, too. It’s all of the people’s faces who have ever influenced me in some way or another. Seeping into my poetry in my writing, in my characters, in my story, in my life. In this song. It’s all of the memories. Emotions. Thoughts. The would be’s and the never ever’s. Its everything and nothing at all. It’s a song that’s going to do this destruction and rebuild over and over and over again… What more can i say. c:

Messy Room and How I (try) Dealing with It

‘A tidy room reflects a tidy mind’

This is something my mother would always say to me and I believe it’s completely true. When my room is finally clean, it feels like I can breathe and that I have space in my mind to fill up with new fresh ideas. However, I’m full of reasons, (or excuses) for why I can’t keep my room clean.

I live in a house with eleven other people. I live in my husband’s family house as we can not afford our own home at the moment. So it is me, my husband and my baby in one room. My room is basically acting as four rooms in one, my bedroom, my baby’s nursery, a laundry room and an office. This is one reason it’s so hard to keep my room clean because there is so much going on in here.

I’m also known for not being very consistent, I can’t keep on top of tidying because I have so much to do, so my room piles up very quickly and then I have to quickly clean it up as best as I can.

Here are my bad room habits and how I solve them:

PROBLEM 1.

Clothes are a NIGHTMARE. The job of washing, ironing, folding, putting away is never ending. Because there’s so many people in this house, I can’t wash clothes every day as we only have one machine and dryer which everyone shares. I have to wash my husbands, my own and my daughters clothing. So the dirty clothes pile up in the laundry basket, then over flow onto the floor, then they get washed and get dumped on the floor and bed for ages because I’m one: either too lazy to put them away straight away or two: I have no time or three: I’m too exhausted when I finally  have time. I’ve even thrown away three huge black bag of my own clothes in hopes that if i have less clothes to wear, there will be less washing… but it doesn’t seem to work that way.

SOLUTION 1.

So how do solve my laundry situation, well, once a week, I power wash. I take two days to use the machines – throw the laundry load in, wash, dry and then I have three black bag of clean clothes in my room which I have to power-put-away, which is put the clothes away as fast as you can before baby bee wakes up from her usually very short naps.

PROBLEM 2:

I have a king-size bed so it sometimes seems like it’s taking up half of the bedroom, it is also crammed right next to my desk so I have to use my bed as a seat for my desk. I basically live on my bed (sometimes.) I eat on it, sleep, study, write, relax. Feed little bee, change her clothes, nappy, entertain her. My bed is basically an island and the rest of the room is the sea. At the end of the day when it’s time for bed, I have to lob the pile of clothes off the bed before getting into it, only to get my foot stuck into a toy or a (clean) nappy.

SOLUTION 2:

Making my bed in the morning is really important. It makes my room look so much tidier. If I don’t make it, it’s far too tempting to get back into bed when my little one goes down for her nap. I like to have a few different and pretty bedding to keep my room fun, creative and not so boring. It also is a huge motivator to get me straighten my bedding in the morning.

PROBLEM 3:

I am really bad at taking my plates back downstairs after I eat in my room, the dishes pile up and then I end up taking them back down in smaller piles, hoping nobody notices the piles of dishes reappearing in the drawers. I know I should take them back down once I’m done with each plate, but come on guys, I have to go down two flights of stairs to reach the kitchen. (please ignore the fact it took me two flights of stairs to take the dishes up in the first place.) Okay, okay, you win, I’m just lazy.

SOLUTION 3:

I should stop being lazy.

PROBLEM 4:

I’m also really bad at putting used nappies in the bin, straight away. I usually stick it in a nappy bag and then fling it across the room hoping it land in the garbage bag, (99.9 times it doesn’t.)

SOLUTION 4:

…I should stop being lazy.

PROBLEM 5:

Another problem of mine is that once I get into a writing project, or creative project, all of my notebooks, stationary, creative paper, notes, random papers all come out and scatter everywhere, all over my bed, all over my desk across the floor next to my bed, and then when the excitement of what I was working on dies down a little bit, the papers and notebooks and art supplies and stationary…are not put away. They just lie there, probably cringing as I clumsily hop and tiptoe over and around them instead of picking them up.

SOLUTION 5:

Eventually I pick them up and they all get shoved back into their drawers and folders until the next time inspiration strikes. Guys, these are the only type of parties I ever throw. I’m serious.

PROBLEM 6:

TOYS. TOYS EVERYWHERE. We’re trying to teach little bee to play independently, so that we can get on with our jobs and chores. So that means all of her toys come out, scattered everywhere for her to explore. However, it’s not just her toys she’s interested in, it’s anything and everything. Especially things you’re using – i.e – your laptop, phone, pen, notebook etc. She especially loves tissue paper, to tear up (and then try to put in her mouth.) She loves bottles, wrappers, her shoes, empty boxes, keys etc. So the mess continues to grow and I use it as an excuse that it’s all her ‘toys.’

SOLUTION 6:

Well, I found a lovely box, in which every day I put a few toys in (not too much that it overwhelms her and not too less that she gets bored.) I throw in a few ordinary non-toy things (safe objects) and I let her rummage through them. She usually works her way through them before settling on a couple of things to either try to destroy or eat. (She loves doing recycling for me – ripping up cardboard or paper) and she also loves chewing and slobbering over her Mr Men hardback books and plastic spoons.

At the end of her play session, I try to either put away or throw away the ordinary things in the box and put away her toys so that I can pick different toys and objects next time she want to play.

PROBLEM 7:

Finally, we have the clutter on the surfaces, on the bedside tables, on the dresser, on the desk. It’s just every day things we use get left out, like hair brushes, deodorants, creams, the iron, candle, water bottles, stationary et cetra. (Sometimes these places do get a bit crowded and things end up on the floor.)

SOLUTION:

Every couple of days I try to de-clutter so that i can wipe down the surface with wipes, because dust collects easily and so that I can run the hoover over the carpet.

I could probably get into all sorts with this blog but I think I will leave it at this.

Are you a tidy or messy person?

Is there anything you can relate to in this blog?

How do you keep your room tidy and organised?

Lots of love Ebee.

P.s – As I was reading this blog post to my husband, he sat there whispering ‘you’re such a liar, a liar.’ at all of my ‘solutions.’

but what can I say… i am a story teller after all!

The Magical Relationship Between a Writer and Their Notebook #AmWriting #Writers — BlondeWriteMore

 

I love this blog post. Absolutely spot on. My husband once said to me:

‘Your notebooks are like your external organs.’

This weekend has been spent clearing out my loft. As we battled against ten years worth of forgotten clutter I came across a few of my old writer notebooks. As I opened them up I did wonder whether they would make me cringe. But they did quite the opposite. Some of my old stories were […]

via The Magical Relationship Between a Writer and Their Notebook #AmWriting #Writers — BlondeWriteMore

Why I Want To Be A Writer

Why do I want to be a teacher? And why do I want to be a published writer?

I want to make a difference in a child’s life. I want to inspire them to read because stories open up so many worlds. It opens up the imagination.

I remember, being a little girl in primary school as one particular teacher would read to us books by Roald Dahl. It was truly the most magical moments of the whole school day. I would be captured in the story, I would be going on a journey with the characters. I never wanted my teacher to say ‘to be continued’ after the end of a chapter. I would get lost in the words, in the journey, the adventures.

When I began to read, it was very difficult for me to put down a book. It wasn’t long before I felt that I could write stories too. I wanted to create characters and control the way their journeys go. I wanted to make my own imaginary friends and give them a world and stories and adventures and travel with them. I didn’t have many friends when I was younger and I still don’t, so I found I spent a lot of time in libraries or my room, writing, creating.

I have always wanted to inspire people, children and adults, the way the authors of the books I’ve read inspired me. I want to make someone believe in magic, believe in themselves and believe anything is possible if they set their mind to it. Anything is real if they really believe in it.

It’s passion that is the companion in my heart. Passion like fire that spreads through my veins. Passion that could set the world on fire and that is something ginormous, coming from a girl who has been on a long, rocky road of low self-esteem, self-doubt and anxiety. They have also been my companions.

But it’s up to me which road I’ll take.

Got to dash now, my little bee is ready for a nap and needs mummy.

Lots of love, Ebee.

Sleep Deprived Love

(so after writing my very rambly blog about my first taste of motherhood,

https://thrivingebe.com/2018/06/05/mother-in-the-hood/

i thought this rambly poem about new mum-messy-life-baby love-emotions everywhere-who am I is appropriate to go up on the blog, enjoy c:  )

 

Dwindling dreams, poetry ripped at the seams.

Odd socks, time tick tocks. Mind – on the rocks.

Sleep deprived, we’re so dead and so alive.

We need sleep, we’re in too deep…

Heaps and heaps of dirty laundry,

Bland and boring – can’t be me.

Consumed by LOVE, lost in the role of mother.

Can’t help but whisper; ‘I love her, I love her.’

Anxiety and confidence go BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Clutching her close when I enter the room.

She radiates my heart with excitement.

My soul brightens. Her journey, her story, all written~

Yes, I’m smitten, yes, I’m overwhelmed.

It’s chaotic, it’s beautiful, roaming in realms

I’ve never entered before, I’m worrying non-stop

Out of control car driving into writer’s block

Over and over so I’m throwing down the caffeine.

It burns my throat, I’m a tramp and a queen.

So there I am, back again, remembering

That this has always been me from the beginning.

No sense, nonsense, splatter, pop, burst, bright

Each day a dance, a walk, a run, a fight or flight.

Now shut the hell up and go to bed – GOODNIGHT.