Now the jet lag has started to pass and the first day back at work is over, Cuba seems like a distant dream away.
This time last week I had just left Havana with the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and was trying hard to quell a large lump in my throat at the thought of being away from Frog for four more days. Continue reading
Me. Changing my name.
I changed my name recently – getting married can do that to you. The thing is, I keep forgetting.
There’s nothing like being unable to place your own name to make other people think you’re an idiot. It doesn’t help when you forget your address in the same sentence. Bloody forms. Why do they always need your name and address anyway? Stupid passports. You’d have thought a terribly unflattering picture would be enough.
Anyway, when I married the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine I decided not to follow my new husband’s suggestion and call myself Mrs Northern Love Machine. Instead I took his actual name: Weaver. Continue reading
Filed under Family, Weddings
It’s funny how something as mundane as a pair of shoes can evoke a memory in just the same way as a smell or a taste.
I’ve already blogged about the NLM’s slow-starter of a relationship with Frog. When she was tiny she was so reliant on me and my boobs, he felt a bit pushed out. He didn’t know how to interact with this shrivelled little person that looked like an old man, yet he wanted desperately to be a “good dad”.
Christmas was a turning point for us. Frog suddenly got interesting, with her raspberry blowing and squeals of laughter. Now, whenever I see her little red shoes, I’m reminded of this picture, which perfectly sums up the changing relationship between Frog and her dad. Continue reading
It’s 7am and the house is silent, waiting.
I’m the first one to wake. Butterflies are dancing in my stomach. I haven’t felt this way since Christmas Day when I was nine.
It’s my wedding day.
Next to me, still fast asleep, is one of my best friends and bridesmaids, Ruth. We had an early night after a glass of wine and some pizza with my sister and other best friend, Ellen. The baby is still asleep in her bedroom next door.
I pad downstairs and put the kettle on, to try and still the dancing butterflies. I open the back door to check the weather and smile as the sun touches my face.
Despite Gary Barlow’s best efforts, I’m officially off the market.
That’s right, I am now *gasp* a “Mrs”. I have a new husband, name and marital status.
This time one week ago I was slugging down wine and preparing for the first dance. I was still attempting to teeter around on too-high shoes (my new husband is six foot five, so the high shoes were a necessity) and look elegant in my beautiful dress. But the alcohol was also starting to take it’s toll, so the veil had been ditched and the laughing was getting a little raucous. Continue reading
I’m getting married in the morning. No really, I am.
I’ve managed to
hoodwink persuade a real-life, actual man to promise to spend the rest of his life with me. I know, I can’t believe it either.
The man in question isn’t in the house this evening. He’s been turfed out into a nearby hotel, along with about ten million family members from all corners of the country. They’re all in separate rooms though, obviously. Continue reading
I’m getting married in just over two days.
I’ll be promising to spend the rest of my life with one man, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine. The rest of my life. Forever. And ever.
Now, just a few weeks ago, I was asked why I was getting married. Apparently it’s not a particularly trendy thing to do nowadays. With one daughter between us already, we clearly don’t have the whole “sex before marriage” thing to consider. And we decided to have a baby together before we decided to get married, so marriage was never a factor in the family planning plan. I must admit, that question threw me a bit. I mean, why does anyone get married? Continue reading
Filed under Family, Weddings
Everyone has an opinion about weddings. The “right” way to do them, the “wrong” way, what’s symbolic and what’s just plain tacky. A bit like parenting, weddings can divide and bring together.
And that is exactly why we’ve had such trouble choosing our first dance.
We’re not particularly traditional people. We did everything the wrong way round to start with, having a baby first and all. And we’re not getting married in a church. So I was all for ditching the first dance altogether. But then I realised the endless possibilities. Continue reading