One is FUN!

From time to time I get comments from people who have 2 or more children about the fact that Owen is, for all intents and purposes, an only child. These have ranged from gentle enquiries about wouldn't I like more (no, I wouldn't), to observations about how good/kind/gentle/sweet Owen is with babies and toddlers (and I am tidy in other people's houses), to straight up questions about why I am not having any more, to a few pointed statements like "oh, but he'll be lonely" or "it's not fair on him to not have a sibling..."

All of which is, frankly, a load of hokum and/or rude. But more than that, what interests me is how often the more barbed comments appear to come tinged with a bit of...envy. "Oh, I wiiiiiiish I could do that but it's too hard/expensive/difficult to manage with 2/3/4..." Well then, here's the rub: if you can't afford the family lifestyle you aspire to, don't have a load of kids.

I can't like - I absolutely LOVE the fact that Owen and I can just do things together as a TWO without having to juggle as a THREE with a buggy. It pleases the smug part of me (my left heel, if you're asking) when Owen is able to talk about an activity he's done which is met by approval/praise by other adults. Now, it wasn't entirely a situation of my own choosing - although I am glad of it now - but being able to take Owen to museums and various types of outings without having to divide my attention or energy is, I'll say it - nice. We can afford to take him on trips which would be increasingly expensive as he gets older, and I like that. We can spend an afternoon visiting the same 2 locations in a museum over and over again. Am I raising him to be self-centred - an "argument" which has been suggested to me, as in "oh, he'll grow up always expecting to be the centre of attention/not knowing how to share/selfish..."? I don't think so. I'd like to think that he'll grow up, with our help, to be a confident, inquisitive individual.

Or a successful (read: narcissistic) Hollywood actor, so either way, I'm quids in.

I like old stuff

I like old things. By old, I mean anything 50+ years vintage. In fact, the older, the better. I don't know why. Maybe it comes from growing up in an old, decrepit house which had all sorts of nooks and crannies stuffed with old, forgotten items. Maybe it comes from being raised in a household where we mostly couldn't afford new stuff and so somehow, my parents encultured me that old wasn't just okay - it was great. Or maybe I'm just a weirdo.

I know which one is the most likely option out of those three. But weirdos are made as well as born. Having a father who, on our trips to the dump to throw out goodness knows what (since we never seemed to throw ANYTHING away), would discover "treasure" for me like a very old doll with a celluloid head and a rubbery body burnt black by... the sun? a fire? - which I then cherished (whatever happened to Dump Dolly? Must ask my mother...) probably contributed. So did having a mother who managed to somehow find a mountain of tiny vintage clothing from the 1920s for me to wear as dressing up outfits for when I would climb trees/ramble in the woods in summer...

Anyway, I just cannot resist something which shows that it existed loooong before me, especially when I can get it for next to nothing. Which is just what happened to me on Sunday at the car boot sale near our house!

third time's a charm?

For the 3rd time in my online life (I'm 17 in that sense), I am attempting to not just START but sustain a blog. Given that I'm not exactly what you might deem a "COMPLETER/FINISHER", this is less likely than you might think.

Yeah, you, reading this. I'm talking to YOU.

Wait... is anyone reading this? Am I, yet again, talking to myself?