Couldn’t resist an update collage of #wildwilf , but as I sit here with him sprawled over me post bottle, I do wonder whether the good old fashioned way of sterilising with Milton fluid wouldn’t be a better option than the microwave steamer we have. We’ve been away on quite a few breaks away with Wilf and the continual dilemma of ‘how do we keep the germs at bay’ never stops confusing us. How do we sterilise without our mahusive microwave and steamer @philipsavent How do we make a bottle without our @tommeetippeeuk perfect prep. We’ve worked a few things out through making mistakes and forgetting key items but would be good to know what you guys find useful at home and away! Funny how your brain works at this time of night! What did/do you other mums do? #middleofthenightmusings#funnywhatyouthinkofatthistimeofnight#oldvsnew#babyquestions#almosttimetogetup#firstworldproblems
I remember thinking to myself when Carter was an infant that I just couldn’t wait for him to start calling me by name and now I hear it so many times in a day it’s practically draining!
Last night just as I was hopping into bed, Carter stirred in his crib and called out “momma”. He was still half asleep but he knew calling momma would make everything right. It was the sweetest little “momma” I’d ever heard and as I tucked the blanket around him again I had to wonder just how much comfort that call for mom brought.
Because let’s be real, in the long list of our job descriptions, we moms often loose sight of the fact that in loving we bring trust, security, safety and comfort. So today when I hear my name 10 times in a row, I’m going to think of last night and that sweet cry for “momma” that reminded me of who I am. .
I ended it with a man once. Only Man I'd ever really known in all this, this Life. I Loved him like I have loved no other thing on Earth, the person he showed himself to be took me places I'd never seen, even Standing still.&when I moved, no matter where I went, or in what capacity, he stilled me so that I never felt alone again, or ashamed. He made every slight and slander from males who knew nobody would ever believe I'd submit to their half lit egos harden in my chest, every wound crust across my heart and spontaneously combust in the sight of all less than him whose door I'd ever been called to darken and be denied. He was the first to make my wings burst out of hiding due to the chance for actual Love and beginning of like vibrating through space and time to me from behind his eyes& just sat there, in the dark, with, unafraid, not high. I Loved what was left of his horns that I was supposed to be scared to see, as real as my wings were to him when he looked at me.
It was his entry, when I was so blinded by a slash that I could not see I was steps from wit's end, a rare spread of paces from a river my body had broken itself plummeting to lifetimes before. Heart wide open, respecting the hurt that had been just enough of too much to have wrung me dry. &he waited, kept watch, honored my mourning, this guy. The first one who could see my pain and look me in the eye.with what I now see was Empathy. The hole in his chest was broad and wide too, ancient, yet still he walked. And waited beside me patiently until I stood, then flew.I really Love this- him.
But he believed the ones God refused to give me to. Unaware that even then he had been pointed to. More than he believed in the power of on sight, just walking in and speaking to me. He showed Up& sided with everything that hated me for not depending on what they saw me to be through ruptured ears, lazy eyes &arrogant addictions only given up enough to give creedence to New lies being lived. I ended it with a Man once, ethereally. &every breath since breaks every ventricle of my heart time &time, again.
#Again . A #poem by #angelbrynner#sedonarevisited#middleofthenightmusings#globalboho2018
"...We come to each other in such pieces sometimes. If we can take the last leaps at all. And it can be so hard to see the 'New' God is trying to give you with the old doing everything it can to ram itself up under your eyelids. You can have thought you were moving in such peace, such healing, nevermind the new you hold at arms length because you know it feels the weird love. And then the old comes... Again. Into space your unspoken wariness left. It can Because flames rush into vacuums to die. And the stir up can bring such sadness, because this time you don't get to see the moves, the manuevers without the healing you've walked through between them, then and now and call them more than manipulation. That is your pain, your gift, the embodiment of what you used to settle for the #halfLove of, without the lies you once told yourself to justify staying in step with it, even though you knew it used you, just more gently than other energies afoot in life. Without it realizing you see All of it now for what you were too weak to fully deal with it being then.
And it may not even be in a face pressed up against a door you quietly felt moved to lock, daring you to dance with that demon again, beckoning you to a war it's trying to suss out whether or not you know you no longer have to fight. It may not be in your house. It may just be at a fire pit every time you're called to write, staring brokenhearted out of someone with the same eyes as both the first man to betray your heart as a child and the one who strung himself out trying to stalk you to crazy after you gave up on him and ran away, all while being the embodiment of every vice shadows say are waiting for you in the one who finally feels safe and true.
Until you really get that this is going down because you have come up... And the Entire Universe has Faith in you being ready for who...all this #pastlife mess... Was purged out of you so you could receive.
We have to own the healing. And we will face the root of the hurt however God sees fit for our tales. But it's here-the Reckoning, Because we finally are. " "#TheReckoning , #Respectives " by #angelbrynner .
These are the moments I live for as a mother. Watching the two of them play together brings me so much joy! Brother is still little, but they find ways to connect and entertain each other. Sharing the news yesterday brought back those feelings of initial shock at adding a third little nugget to the mix, but watching them play in the sand had me imagining what it would be like when they get here. I’m already starting to get excited about snuggling all my babies at once 💕 #middleofthenightmusings#jetlaghasmeallmixedup#orwasitdaylightsavings#ormaybethebabies#itwasagoodday
#itreallyisaphenomenalpic . Of #keanureeves
Most of the-my- shall we say #avantgardenoise aside ...anyone who watches this #keanu guy as an actor and gets it, gets what those who claim him as their favorite see under the surface of the roles he's chosen to play...that it's All in there and he can grapple with it and it can go any which way, that character, that geist....manuever it so that the audience is caught up for reasons known only to each of them and the dance their souls are doing with his presented psyche... Those #rabidfans (as well as those reserved ones and those in repose too)are flipping out...because THIS feels like. ..the first pic we (or at least I) have seen, has ever gotten out. .. that captures a hint of the guy "in the mickey mouse suit" Doing all this. There's like seven in this series, a few seen and loved already, too, so there's a familiarity across the gazes of the onlookers. ..but this image stops that gaze short. It- really is like an iconoclastic headbutt lol. & I could be totally wrong. I have been. It happens lol. The photographer could've yelled something specific to cull that look &it's possible it'll never rise again through the ether nor the ethos that is representational of this guy as an artist. Especially if too many stalwarts (cough*)can't (or wont)hide losing their shit over seeing it lol. Heck, That Could be the antithesis of who it is doing all this. But that reads like a coming into your own pic like no other, 30 damn productive assed years in the game. Diff field, but anyone who saw vanderloo when he got to the end of a runway and something IN him lunged out at that blockade of photographers with such ferociousness that they All gaped momentarily in shock then shook it off and started clicking... I wonder what #jackguy thought when he snapped this- like if he saw it, knew exactly what he'd- I want to see the pics on either side of this one. Curious.
He could've just been acting.
#butdamn . #propsareprops .
I want to see Him. You know?& this makes me feel like i did. Like this is the bike animus or something lol #middleofthenightmusings
There are a lot of things I used to do. I used to draw and paint. I used to drive too fast and cry too easily. I used to see older women with their unabashed courage and say, "One day, I'll be brave, after the world has imprinted itself on me." I used to wear cardigans, even when it was hot, to hide my arms. I used to spend an hour getting ready, obsessing over imperfections and contouring. I used to let the fear of offending overrule my comfort and sometimes, safety and sanity. I used to be afraid to sit alone at a restaurant. I used to fear the silence. I used to take personal the moods and reactions of others. I used to utter apologies in every fifth sentence I spoke. I used to be easily intimidated. .
Over time I stumbled, often without a semblance of grace, and landed in this patio seat under a palm on a busy downtown street. I finished my breakfast across from an empty chair, my arms and face bare. I smiled at strangers and said good morning to brave old women who had the world imprinted on them. Some days I drive in silence and forget to look at my phone. I apologize only when I mean it. I don't intimidate easily. .
There are a lot of things I used to do. Some of them I want back, like watching my hands drag across paper spreading ink. I miss dusty fingerprints from smudging charcoal lines and the sound of a paint-filled brush on canvas. The others can stay fallen along the wayside, shed off like old skin. I was asked what my biggest passion is, and it's me. It's my life. It's this life. It's living with and among others, it's breathing. It's dancing and not giving a damn about the sweat or who's looking at me when I'm at the beach with my legs out, because I'm too busy feeling the pulse of the bass draw my hips side to side and smiling at the sun as it browns my skin. #middleofthenightmusings#itsbeenagoodyear#iusedto
Think of the butterfly's discomfort in the moments just before emerging from its cocoon. What was once its safe space for transformation has become the very prison that now binds its wings & keeps it from flight. Its only chance to take to the skies and fulfill its purpose is to break free of its beloved shelter. 💙
Night time driving is probably my favourite thing.
I'll always wish I could drive for that very reason.
Driving kind of gives you a sense of freedom in a way. Despite being bound by roads and expenses and speed limits and laws of the road there's still the essence of choosing your own path and being able to go as and when you choose.
I've had the odd thought lately also about the age old question about how one would like to die and I came to the conclusion that the most peaceful way for me would be just being driven round aimlessly in the evening or night with nice music and being curled up on the backseat.
Odd maybe but still.
Either way it's hard to admit sometimes that I'll forever regret being unable to drive myself though I try not to think about it or talk about it much due to my mother believing my eyesight issues being her fault because my issues were inherited as we have a family history of poor eyesight. Honestly I think it's rubbish and I'd never blame her - she did nothing wrong. It's just the hand life dealt me and be damned if I don't make the best of it while I have it.
Shortest novel ever written. The story goes E. Hemingway made this short story as a bet to make people cry. I'm never gonna forget my nut of a professor telling us about it... #middleofthenightmusings#sad Can anyone guess what it is about?