Six month birthday

So much has happened in the last two months, to us as a family, and in terms of Fig’s growth and development, that it’s hard to keep track. The very thought that this little person, who is at the centre of every single one of my days, has only been with us for six months clashes head on with oh my god, he’s six months old already!  So I’ll crack open the bubbly, and he’ll crack open the milk, and we’ll cheers to his first half year.

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A walk through the northern industrial past

One of the things I love about the area I live in is its history: the landscape is littered with relics of the manufacturing might of the Victorian era. Like so many Lowry paintings, the hills and peaks of the northwest of England are punctuated with mills, factories and disused railways (many of which have been re-purposed as stunning cycle paths), and those views, where industry cuts black swathes through the countryside, are some of my favourite in the world.  It was once said that Joy Division’s music was the sound of exactly that, the meeting of the wild moors and peaks that dominate Ian Curtis’s home town of Macclesfield and the industrial clatter of nearby Cottonopolis (Manchester). So maybe my love of this landscape explains my love of Joy Division. On Sunday, Saul, Fig and I went walking along the river in one small Peak District town, New Mills, taking in the ruins of Victoria’s industrial England.

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Springing back into action

Because it’s spring, and because, after the chaos of moving house with a five month old, I feel back in the game enough to start posting again. And Fig’s clothes – most of which he’s about to grow of and produce yet another binbag of things to give away / hoard! – hanging on the line in our new backyard in the glorious sunshine seemed to sum that up. So, as Shelley Long said in 1987, hello again!

Baby Box

Without even planning to do it, I have a small (note to self: buy bigger) box of baby memories already.  It started with simply the cards we got when Fig was born, and inevitably his hospital name tags, but then I couldn’t help myself adding little mementos that have come to symbolise a time in his life so far.

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Four month birthday

Is any mother ready for the speed at which her baby grows and learns? It feels like only yesterday that we brought Fig home from the hospital, plonked his car seat in the middle of the living room and looked at each other – what now?  He was so tiny, so fragile, so helpless, it was enough to make you weep: he couldn’t focus his eyes on anything, couldn’t hold his head up, didn’t understand anything that was happening to him.  His world was a sea of noises, smells, lights and sensations, some of which were comforting and some of which were unpleasant.  And now, four months on, he’s…he’s THIS.

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Let it snow, let it snow…

Baby Fig today saw his first snow.

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