All posts tagged jules

Vacation

by admin on June 21, 2010 in , , , with No comments

Before I talk about our holiday, I need to explain something.

My husband, as much as I love him, does not do ‘impulsive’ terribly well. In fact, if you could describe him, one of they very first words you would use would be “not” and the second would be “impulsive”. For all of his excellent qualities, he’s not what you would call… a go-getter. The man still has clothes in his wardrobe from when he was 16. And a $5 note in his wallet from 18 months ago. He’s not a spender either.

So when Jason walked into my office on Saturday morning and said “hey, we should go for a drive to Busselton and stay for 2 nights”, he may as well have said “I have decided I want to be a lady and I am going to go on tour with the drag burlesque travelling circus, k?” and I would have reacted in much the same way. OK, not really, I probably would have expected the second.

But, he suggested it, and we booked into the Abbey Beach Resort based on their website. On the beach? Wireless? Check. Mini bar? Check. Restaurants with room service? Check… and check. $600 for 2 nights? Well, if it has wireless and is luxurious and has room service and a spa, well… let’s just indulge for a little while. We have a funeral on Monday afternoon we’d rather not think about.

Let’s not forget, we have 3 children – all of whom are not known for being the most flexible on the planet. But, they roll with it as much as they can and are happy to come along. Which is just as well because we blew our load on the hotel room and can’t afford a babysitter. So, it was basically a choice between a holiday or being locked under the stairs.

But of course, it doesn’t take long for the feral to kick in and I feel the urge to do both.

We arrive at a $300 a night “beachfront” resort that has glimpses of the beach (if you look past the 3 tennis courts and the giant tree), no mini bar, no room service in the apartments. The wireless costs $10 for 2 hours, but doesn’t reach our apartment. There is a queen-size bed, which we can live with but we are not used to, and our children are that lovely combination of excited and cranky at the same time. So, about every 3 minutes or so the jumping around and screaming will be interrupted by crying. And then the baby will go straight for the dishwasher buttons, then the knife drawer… whilst Jason and I try to figure out how the hell we are going to have dinner in our room because the kids are too tired for the restaurant.

So I hit up the lounge bar with my laptop, check emails and drink a glass of wine whilst I wait for our takeaway dinners. Which arrive on 4 plates and a tray. I have a laptop. It should also be noted that the restaurant is roughly equidistant to our room and the lobby… and they bring me the meals to the lobby. Which was nice of them, but I a) don’t understand why they can’t just bring it to the room and b) I now have to carry 4 plates and a tray back to our room. I smile through gritted teeth. Confused, perplexed gritted teeth. Oh and some bright spark decides to wolf whistle me on the way which, you know, made me feel sexy. Fuckhead.

By this point the baby is screaming and won’t go to sleep. Mina and Mr J are basically ready to hit up the drawer with the baby and have a knife fight with each other, and I am at my wit’s end because I have had to carry food across a $300 a night resort with no wifi and am grumbling to myself how holidays are so much fun with kids.

We finally get the kids to sleep around 11pm and I decide to have a spa. A spa that, as it turns out, has a drain 2/3 up the side to prevent you filling it above that point. Apparently they’ve had issues with it flooding because people overfill it. And then it occurs to me that bogans ruin EVERYTHING. Then I think “hey, I’ll have one of these “indulgent” hot chocolate sachets they’ve laid out. Mmmm, powdery, lumpy, snotty cocoa.

Did I mention that the baby threw a spatula off the balcony yet?

We then go to bed for a very uncomfortable night’s sleep and wake up with the day ahead of us. Tired, cranky children but we manage to have a nice breakfast, where the resort redeems itself just a little bit. We stop by the resort playground, where the baby manages a triple somersault onto his face and Mr J throws a tantrum or two. We hit up the beaches, go into Dunsborough, have  look around and take some photos. The kids start complaining of dying hunger (despite having huge plates of ginger pancakes an hour and a half earlier), so we go and get them McDonald’s. Yes, the Brennan children are all about our lovely local Southwest cuisine. Sigh.

And then we head down to the Busselton Jetty and go for a walk. Mina and Mr J go down onto the beach and I take some photos. And before we know it, both of my children are in the water, in full clothes, having the time of their lives. And for a brief moment, I want to tell them to get out of the water, but instead I just roll with it and take pictures. And laugh. And relax and realise that they are having fun and so am I, for the first time in a very long time, and we just enjoy the moment.

And boy, did I get some photos.

We return to the hotel room (where I have managed to purchase wireless access from the Caravan park next door), the kids are happy, soaking wet, getting out of their clothes. They jump in that crappy spa, Moo goes down for a nap (after again trying to eat a dishwasher detergent block), the kids start whingeing and Mina gets belligerent.

But I go and have a nap.

I wake up to Mina complaining she’s bored and Mr J playing Angry Birds on the iPad. Jason and I then see fit to tell our children what OUR childhood vacations consisted of: poo in a bucket, showering from a bucket (at which point I said to Jason that I hope it wasn’t the same bucket), hanging around a holiday village where the most thrilling thing was a trampoline… and 7 people in one caravan. And our daughter was complaining that the resort playground was boring. Hum. The older two again start bickering and we endure dinner in the Brasserie, where they make so much mess it is embarrassing, I am wearing dress boots with tracksuit pants (because I forgot a bag), and the baby smears $30 seafood risotto all over his face. And the carpet.

I look over at the young honeymooners at the table near the fire and realise that we are that family that either ruined their honeymoon, put them off having children for the next 10 years, or if their wedding was because of a baby in her tummy already, scare the crap out of them that they are just a few short years away from wearing tracksuit pants in a restaurant, drinking wine a little fast, and barking at her kids to sit down every 45 seconds.

Naturally, we have to leave the restaurant and take dessert back to our room because the kids are tired and bickering… and we finally get them to bed at 7:30, get to enjoy each other’s company for a little while, watch the first episode of Mad Men on DVD and then off to sleep I go because I drank my wine a little too fast during dinner.

And this morning we’ll be having breakfast, where they’ll find new and creative ways in which to embarrass us with food smears and tantrums, and then we head home for my Grandma’s funeral and one of the hardest days of my life. But, in amongst all of this, I realise that this was the best idea ever and even though holidays are exhausting, frustrating, and sometimes downright disappointing, it really is all about this moment. This $1200 moment.

Busselton 11a

Busselton 10

Rangus McNuggetBurger Esq. IV, aka "Moo" aka Moo Carlin. Confused little fuck.

by admin on February 28, 2010 in , with No comments

Moo.

Holy shit.

Moo!

ONE!

Where the hell did the last 12 months go? On one hand, it seems like so long… and on the other… so fast.

You poor, poor forgotten third child. I need to apologise in advance for bringing you into the world last, because for some reason, you seem convinced that you are our first. You seem to think that you can do stuff – like play – without being harassed by a well-meaning but otherwise utterly boorish 4 year old. You seem to think that you can get food without a cascade of other children nagging for my attention. You seem to think that, you know, giving yourself a severe egg allergy is something I won’t whinge about every time we need to make a cake or something. You also seem to think that if you scream, I’ll actually get up – rather than assess the cry and carry on.

Boy, do I have news for you.

That’s not to say I don’t love you… of course I do. In fact, in many ways, the fact that you had such a horrible start to your life makes me appreciate you just that smallest bit more… because we nearly lost you and I can’t not think about that every single day.

When Mina & Mr J were born, I managed to write out a story about the day they were born… you know… peppered with jokes… that sort of thing. All of my pregnancies & births have been really tough, but with the other two I managed to intellectualise a lot of it as the luck of the draw, in capable hands… and find sufficient distance.

But with you, it was so different. And I want to talk about this just for a little bit because I have never really been able to until now… and I don’t want you to think that the absence of a written birth story is somehow because of the “third child” thing. It isn’t. It’s because I could never summon up the strength to talk about the worst month of my life… because if not for something within me that said things weren’t right, you probably wouldn’t be here.

And I don’t know if that is something that I can ever shake. Partially because now that 12 months have passed, I can no longer pursue any complaints; partially because I just felt so disempowered and humiliated by this doctor for demanding adequate care; and partially because the thought of you, on all those machines, on all that morphine, on all those drugs… is just too much to bear. So I never really processed it because frankly? I spent every single day of the last 12 months just trying to forgive him. I think it might take a little more time.

I will never forget that Sunday morning, when I hadn’t felt you move for a while, when I called up the hospital, went in, and found you were distressed. I will also never forget the numerous arguments with my “Doctor” over the fact that my blood pressure remained uncontrolled, that I felt sick, that I was so swollen I could barely move… and he did nothing. I asked for a second opinion and he lied to my face about the doctor being out of town. I will also never forget that Tuesday, after spending 9 days in hospital, feeling ill, not feeling you move, and hearing “oh he’s just a quiet baby” over and over again from the incompetent, bullying, private hospital midwives, and having my Doctor walk in, and discharge me with a blood pressure spike of 170/110 the night before. I will never forget asking for growth scans (having had 2 hypertensive pregnancies before) and being told “2 weeks won’t show anything new”

I will never forget locking myself in the bathroom from the stress, leaving Dad to argue with the “Doctor” in my hospital room, and finally sacking him, walking out of the hospital, and requesting that he arrange for me to be seen at King Edward by a Doctor who actually gave a crap. 2 days later, we were seen by a Maternal-Fetal Medicine specialist.

I will never forget being right. For being told by an experience sonographer that not only was there no such thing as a “quiet baby”, but that in 2 weeks you had gone from the 50th percentile to the 10th. I will never forget feeling a little relief that my blood pressure seemed to have settled down, but still being told that you needed to be born, because you were under significant stress. I will also never forget being told that if we had left this another week, your chances of being stillborn were significantly high.

But apparently, you know, 2 weeks doesn’t make a difference, and that “Doctor” we had fired, to his face, had instructed me to see him in a week at his office and discharged me. It plagues my thoughts, wondering, if I had been compliant and listened to him and his assessment. And it makes me so angry that he gets to treat women who might not be as stubborn as me.

But you know… I never could really write about it in the same way, with distance, that I did with your brother and sister… because I am still not over it.

But you know, in a way, it’s been the catalyst for me deciding to go to Medical School. All of these cumulative experiences have given me the push I needed to make the decision. Not that I wouldn’t trade that experience in a  heartbeat, but, you know.

Unfortunately you were born in the eye of a storm… because 2009 was an extremely stressful year. After the stock markets crashed at the end of last year, the clients were fairly light on, I was in hospital and your Dad had to take a whole heap of unpaid leave. We had a lot of financial difficulty at the beginning of the year, and it eventually resulted in the repossession of my car. But hey… we recovered. After you were born and I got back to work (I had a conference call at midnight the night after your were born and still in the NICU), things started to slowly recover and I managed to pay some debt.

Then, your Dad got injured at work, was bullied by his employer and the insurance company and, well… that fucked us right up for 6 months, only settling a month ago. I also got really sick, have had to battle with Doctors and all kinds of stress… and basically… we started 2010 optimistic with it slowly proving to be just as fucked as 2009.

With the settlement money not even covering our losses, we are back to square one and its stressful. But, you have your Dad home with you, and he takes care of you whilst I work. All day. Every day. I am exhausted and still quite unwell… but… getting no government support, no family support and, well, basically being on our own, I have no choice really but to make it work.

I write about this now because I find it funny that by the time you are Mr J’ age I will be pretty well on my way to being a Doctor. And by the time you are Mina’s age, I will be one. So I am just taking a moment to remind you that things were hard. In fact, I expect them to stay that way, because, well… we aren’t the luckiest people in the world… and I expect things to get worse before they get better. Because I am tired & sick, your Dad is tired & sick, and we snap at each other a lot just trying to survive.

But we do try to protect you from that as much as possible. We do that with all of you as best we can. We fail frequently but… you know… we try. We just keep on going forward, one foot in front of the other… and hope that someday all the effort pays off. Maybe it ill in the form of tenacious children… who knows what the future holds, but hey… it’s certainly not boring.

So, you know, you’re walking and getting into shit and being basically cute… and I am trying to enjoy every minute as much as I can.  I say that the only good thing to come out of 2009 was you… and I mean it. I can’t imagine our lives without Moo, and despite feeling very unlucky most of the time, I am just so blessed to have you in my life… even if I have to make you special egg-free food.

Happy birthday!

What's not funny about the need for speech therapy?

by admin on July 9, 2009 in with 5 Comments

Mr J (for the uninitiated, our almost-4-year-old middle child) is going through a slight language burst, where his vocabulary is quite broad, but his pronunciation of complex sounds can sometimes leave a lot to be desired. For example, he has difficulty with “Br” and “Fr” – and pronounces them as “W”.

Like all 3.5-4 year old boys (and 35-40 year old boys…), he also has a pre-occupation with his penis. I tend to just look away whilst he fondles himself without any regard for the fact that his mother can see him. Which, needless to say, is something I hope he grows out of.

His favourite character out of Pixar’s “Cars”, is Frank, the Combine Harvester (trust my kids to attach to the most obscure), which has made the purchase of the associated toy difficult.

Hello eBay. Yes, I found one.

I told him about it.

And, whilst fiddling with his penis, he proclaimed rather loudly in the bathroom that Mum had bought him his very own “Wank toy”.

My response?

“Like you need any help.”

Naturally, I got a blank stare, because my children don’t appreciate how utterly brilliant and funny their mother is.

If God is 7… ok those Pixies references are getting old. Happy Birthday Mina.

by admin on October 1, 2008 in with No comments

In case it’s not already abuntantly clear to you by now, Mina, I suck. I suck at writing birthday blogs on time. I suck at paying attention when you’re talking for the twelfth time about Barbie and the Diamond Castle. And sometimes, I suck at making sure you have clean uniforms to last beyond Wednesday and I most definitely suck at remembering to buy enough fruit for school.

But, somehow you survive anyway.

And that’s what is so awesome about being your Mum. You let me get away with being imperfect.

I think by now you have realised exactly how imperfect I can be. The business is at a point where it creates just enough stress to be disruptive, but not quite enough money to justify the stress, which means, well, I am kinda cranky and overworked. A lot. To the point where I frequently fantasise about going back to a full time job, where it was easier, I could Facebook for half my day and still get a paycheck, where the livelihood of the family didn’t always depend on me being productive. I fantasise about not having to bend over, show reams of paperwork, a business plan and a urine sample to get any level of respect from my bank, even though I earn more than most people with a full time job. I frequently fantasise about having that boring, traditional life, where people understand what you do, how you make money, and see it as legitimate. The stress of having a business at home is something that affects the whole family, and sometimes, it really sucks.

But the cost of going back to full time, of course, is that I would not be able to drop you off at school, or pick you up, or have impromptu playdates, or any of those little things that I enjoy being there for. Granted, I don’t exactly go to assemblies, or volunteer in the classroom, or, well, anything beyond paying for stuff, but at least now I have a choice. Being able to dictate my own timetable is the single greatest thing about what I am doing right now. There is very little that I have to do, right this second, that it cannot be done later. Unless, of course, I keep sayig “later” and then I end up barking at the both of you to shut up and then yell at your Dad saying how I get no respect and that…. well…. yeah. That. Which is usually my own fault.

And I am sure you know that being in business doesn’t always suck, when people pay on time, and I am motivated and things are going well, and you and Mr J are playing nicely, and all my work is finished before 5pm, and I am not completely exhausted from growing a new human in my belly all day. In fact, when I hear you talking about how you want to work with me when you grow up (well, a web designer AND a Rock Star), it makes me feel like, despite my glaring imperfections as a human being and as a mother, that deep down, you see me as a role model. And that is the best feeling in the world.

There is a saying that to see a child at 7 is to see the adult. I have been seeing glimpses of the kind of woman you will become: strong willed, kind hearted, practical, intelligent, with a strong sense of the macabre and ironic. I would say that you are a lot like me in many respects, except that you seem to be more meticulous and conscientious than I ever was. Maybe it’s the non-dysfunctional surroundings that help you to be like that – you have more structure than I did. But, you know your own mind, you know what you want, and you have a pretty good sense of the world around you too. And it’s the most awesome thing I have ever witnessed.

And as I see glimpses of the woman you will become, I have remind myself to not fuck it up. I am trying very hard not to repeat the mistakes of my parents, with a hope that when you are an adult, you can come to me for anything, you can tell me anything, and we will have the kind of relationship that I always wanted with my own mother. I think we are off to a good start, because right now, you look forward to a day on your own with me. You want to play guitar like me.

For your birthday you have started guitar lessons, and you have a new Daisy Rock guitar, thanks to Janet :). The teacher seems to think you’re doing really well, and you love it. Watching you play guitar with full distortion, and rocking out, is an inexplicable feeling. All I ever wanted growing up was music lessons, but I never got them. So I am partly living through you, and I hope that’s ok. I hope you stick to it, but most of all, I hope you enjoy it. I have always been committed to providing you with opportunities that I never had, and I hope that when you are all grown up and a part time rock star/web designer, that you’ll be a little bit appreciative that even though there are some things I am bad at, that my intentions have always been to nurture you into the woman that I see you becoming.

Happy Birthday, 3 weeks late. Sorry. :)

 

5 things I wish I'd known about the web design business.

by admin on August 14, 2008 in with No comments

3 years ago this week, I left my government job. I didn’t leave willingly – I was 7 months pregnant with my son and had developed complications that meant I had to resign. I was terrified of the prospect of ruining my career in Policy, and wanted nothing more than to get back to it as soon as Mr J was old enough.

It turns out that it was the best thing that could have happened to me, because it freed up enough time to take on some small graphic design projects, which became more small projects, which tuned into some larger projects, until all of a sudden, here I sit 3 years later, running a business that was literally formed from the ground up with nothing, with no formal training in graphic design or programming, that is growing more every week.

I have learned so much in a small amount of time, that to look back on my old bad habits of business make me cringe. In fact, the list became 10, but I will spread it over 2 posts :). So, here are the FIRST 5 Things I have learned, that I wish I knew 3 years ago:

1. Do NOT negotiate on prices (unless there is a substantial benefit. And yes, I mean substantial.)

Many of the freelancing and career sites will be very cut and dry in their advice about setting rates and sticking to them. In my case, having a degree of flexibility, and seizing opportunities for exposure, actually allowed me to build credibility in an industry where I was a hobbyist, with lots to learn, and I had no idea what my hourly rate was or should be. I had a fair amount of ability and unrefined skill (it’s still not fully there!), but not a whole lot of formal training. So, I offered to do work that other designers would snort at, eg $400 websites, just to get my portfolio up and improve my skills. It was awesome just to make some cash with a small baby at home, doing what I love!

It worked. Really well in fact.

But working for cheap for a good reason is not what I am talking about here. I had already made a conscious decision to do a certain number of cheap projects for the exposure, and I had already built that in to my strategy. Some of those lower priced websites still bring me new clients. That is just plain smart, because for my discounted work, I was getting, and continue to get, something in return.

But, there will come a point where someone contacts you and demands that you lower your rates, but will offer absolutely nothing in return. This is a mistake I had to make at least 3 times before realising that you do not want those people as clients. I was afraid that there would be “no more work” and that any client was better than none. Neither of those fears are grounded.

In hindsight, I still felt that I was winging it, and it affected my ability to stand my ground when people tried to set the price based on what they could afford. So I accepted those projects. And, guess what? They went nowhere. I will tell you that just about every single time I was pressured into discounting, the relationship went sour down the track. I don’t do it anymore.

When it comes down to it, if I have a slow month (which I haven’t had in a year and a half), ultimately, I would rather be spending time with my kids, or learning something new, or developing my own projects, than working for less than minimum wage for someone who doesn’t respect you. There are any number of jobs where you can do that!

2. Use contracts and clear specifications

If there is one thing that I will tell you to repeat, over and over and over again, it is touse contracts and have clear specifications. Use contracts and have clear specifications. Use contracts and have clear specifications.

Spec creep and chasing money are two of the biggest minefields in this business. I once had a 1 month project drag on for 9 months because I did not enforce the original spec and kept allowing changes to be made (and revision after revision) without reviewing the contract and the spec, or charging the client for my time. It was a complete disaster from start to finish, and needless to say, it was the catalyst for me not only upping my rates, but setting limits on what I will and won’t do as part of the payment.

There are lots of people out there who don’t understand the difference between a Flash site and a non-Flash site, and the substantial differences in costs between them. Never, ever assume that clients understand what they are getting for their money. Put it in writing.

And don’t be afraid to say “we are wandering off quote here” as soon as it starts to happen.

3. Be open and honest, but not too open or too honest

When I first started in this business, I was on a high. Everyone was my buddy, everyone was on the same page as me, and I didn’t care what people thought. I said what I wanted, when I wanted, and I made no apologies. I brought people into the fold, befriended them, confided in them, and occasionally even complained about clients on IM. People asked my opinion, and I told them honestly. I made small talk, I had even deeper conversations.

Oh, how naive I was!

Being an open book is great if you are the right kind of open book. If you use honesty and transparency well, it can benefit your business tremendously. But, there are limits.

Here are some things you don’t talk to clients about:

  • Other clients
  • Your Health
  • Your children, beyond the basics
  • Your marital problems
  • Your financial situation
  • Anything that can be used against you later on.

Try to keep some distance between your personal life and your work life, and definitely do not complain about other clients, no matter how tempting it is, and ESPECIALLY if they are in the same industry.

4. Be (emotionally) prepared for the hard times

There was a turning point for me where this business stopped being just “extra” cash, and started being, well, an actual business. There came a point in 2007 where I was being offered policy jobs, and was thinking of going back to the public service, when I suddenly realised that I was actually not that person anymore. I was a designer with my own little business. That was a massive shift in focus for me, and then I started thinking about it like a business.

When this mind shift occured, naturally, I started to wonder about the work, where the next job was coming from, and living invoice to invoice (something which I am still not entirely great at!). It is pretty common knowledge in all business literature that the first 2-5 years are very hard financially. The business books offer up a lot of advice on how to deal with ebbs and flows, and how to deal with cashflow (my single biggest problem and a common one for self employed folks), and how to avoid failing in those formative first few years.

What I wasn’t prepared for, however, is the massive emotional strain that business can put on you. I always knew it would be hard financially, but the emotional rollercoaster came as a huge shock to me. When the sale of a website was not just about keeping the business afloat financially, but it also determined my worth as a designer and a human being. That every success was met with extreme happiness, but every rejection being hurtful.

I used to let the mood of my day be dictated by the moods of my clients. I don’t do that anymore – well, at least I try not to. I have learned to distance “myself” the business-person and “me” the human being in a way that my mental and emotional well-being is not so entreched in the success or failure, or ups and downs, of the business. That takes practice, and I am still learning, but, be prepared for a wild ride!

5. Know when to end it

It’s easy to sell a website. I have skills that not many people can do (or at least, do well!), and eventually, even the people that suck at web design get some clients.

It is not so easy, however, to end a client relationship. I have been going through a process in the past 6 months of assessing clients that cost me the most time for the least pay, or don’t fit my future goals with the business and have been trying to gradually move away. The vast bulk of these have been US clients, who for varying reasons, can’t (or won’t) pay competitive rates with local people and even the UK. I have been taking on less and less US clients, who seem to want far too much for far too little.

It was a very hard decision to make, but it has been the right one. Knowing when to get out is as important a skill as knowing how to sell to a client in the first place. Some of the reasons I may choose to end a relationship:

Clients that:

  • refuse to pay market rates
  • want work-for-hire, or otherwise try to set the agenda or micromanage
  • don’t respect that your time = money
  • view you as replaceable
  • constantly pay late
  • often ask for free “5 minute” jobs, or expect anything for free.
  • threaten to use their cousin’s friend’s brother, or refer to said cousin’s friend’s brother who can do it “cheaper”, or threaten to go to India or find some other impressionable young guy…

……are NOT worth your time.

How you actually end it is up to you, but being able to look at your situation and realise that there are always better clients than that out there, is the single biggest leap I have made in the past year.

I enjoyed writing this list, and I actually thought of 5 more things whilst I was writing, so I might write a sequel to this! I am starting to see things growing, and getting better, and it DOES get better. But knowing some of these little things can maybe make it easier.

The Saboteur…

by admin on January 5, 2008 in with No comments

Mina has always made up her own funny little songs. For as long as she’s been able to speak, she’s always made up funny little songs with random lyrics, often having us in stitches.

Today, she decided she was going to put a concert on for us and sing a couple of songs, and I even filmed a little of it before my camera battery ran out (Stupid Everio loses charge)…

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGaROzBa8IY]

Anyway, not long after this, Mina broke into a random made-up song about Santa. Apparently he discovered a cliff, fell off the cliff and died, and went and met a woman… or some weird shit… anyway, Jason starts helping her with funny song lines (the tendency for Brennan conversations to digress like this are not uncommon)… and WITH NO VIDEO CAMERA ON, Mina cracks it and says “Stop it Dad! You’re just trying to STUFF THIS ALL UP FOR ME!”

And, just because it’s funny, here is some video of Mr J getting in the way of Mina’s concert:

[youtube:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yErvKQBj8_M]

If anyone ever asks you what’s so great about being a parent? Its those completely random and daggy moments, where they lob into each other’s “concerts”, or thump each other, where you get this inexplicable warmth in your belly that you made these little people.

← Older Entries