Reasons for Happiness: Colour Every Day.

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Cutting out quilts.

colour

Paws covered in paint.

flowers
Flowers from the garden, clutched softly in little hands.

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Dresses that match your (soon-to-be) jam.

Reasons for Happiness: Children’s Artwork.

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‘Orange’.
‘Apple’.
‘Milk’. ‘Pasta.
The shopping list as written by a 4 year old.

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Kitchen blackboard self-portraits + L.O.V.E above (can you see it?)

r.f.h3
The bellybutton, though. Kills me.

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She works mainly in glitter.

A Love Letter to You.

This is to say thank you.
Thank you for reading what I write. Thank you for the validation it brings. Because it’s more than the validation of a number or a notification.
It’s you being here with me.
And that’s all anyone is ever looking for.I like you too, you know. I like how your eyes look after you’ve been crying; from laughter or otherwise, all red-rimmed but clear, like you can see more now than maybe you did before.  I like your nose, how you’ve grown it in the centre of your face. I like how you mispronounce words sometimes, but you think that trying is more important than how failing may feel. You’re right. And I like that about you too. I like how sometimes you sit down or fall down or feel down and think you may never get up again, but you do. I like that there’s something that you really love, something that makes you know what they mean when they say ‘it’s dear to my heart’. Writing has always been that thing to me, and you being here has helped me not be so afraid to say that, instead of whispering it, when no one was listening. I like that everyday your future is finding you, wherever you are. And I like that, somehow, we are connected in that, even though some days it’s only across this technologsea. I like that we can make each other feel less alone, because we’re not, really. You’re here and I’m here.
Thank you.

I appreciate it.
With love,
Alice Andersen.

March.

Dear Babies,

When we are dancing, to records I used to play, on Saturday nights; and your little bodies are spinning, spinning and your little faces are laughing, laughing, I am filled with the knowing, that there is no where so sweet as now.

I have never just loved where I am. Not known how to be still, have rushed and pushed and run toward a future; always desperate for ‘something to happen’.

And then there was you; and you slowed me down. Made me look up and out, instead of down and in. Connected me.

And the more I listen to that, to you, to all the lessons you have brought with you, the happier I am.

Mabel; you are infinitely sweet. When you were a baby, and you lived in my lap, I could literally kiss you to sleep. 1000 kisses a day seems to be your requisite – we’re the same in that way. I am doing my best to get you to stand up to your brother, when he does something you don’t like; making sure you have a voice, and the confidence to use it. You told him the other day, ‘Don’t treat me like a toy! I’m a robot!’, which was so cool and empowered I would have given you a high-five, but I like to let you just be in your own radness sometimes, to find solidity there, in who you are; to trust your own reactions without need for affirmation. You boss us all around, constantly. You don’t like to wear dresses, but on the occasions you do, you tell me they are for dancing, so we try out a few moves. You say ‘ya’ instead of ‘you’ and the other day when you couldn’t remember the name of your tounge, you told me you didn’t need your face washed because you’d ‘Use your licker’. You make me cry with laughter.  You’d rather be a pirate than a princess.

Theo; your comprehension is incredible. You process best when given all the information, which I can see you sorting in your mind, adding up, finding validity within your understanding, working out how things are. You are perceptive and persistent. You have great big feelings – we’re the same in that way. I do my best to support you through them, to provide you a place of stillness, to be the constant you can always come back to when you’ve gone to far. Remember, little love, no matter how far you go, you can always turn around. You ask me amazing questions all day. ‘Why are the crackers being quiet?’, when we haven’t sealed their container properly, and the air has made them lose their crunch. ‘What is that light dancing in the water?’, the windows reflected in the bath, I say. ‘That’s interesting’, you tell me. ‘What’s that hook for?’, it’s for a chain to connect the plug with the bathtub so you don’t lose it, I tell you. ‘That’s clever’, you say. You’re three, I tell myself.

We are constantly learning from one another. All the time finding out how to best be ourselves. You have brought out the best in me. Your very existence has made me finally appreciate my own.

Thank you for being you. And thank you for being mine.

Love, Mama xx

January.

Feburary.