hannahmistryblog

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Like a Boss

2018 brings with it a huge new challenge. In a few weeks time I’m due to start my first full time, USA, teaching job. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, a real life, grown up, job.

Shit is about to get real. Suddenly, I find myself trying to organise full time childcare and navigate all my old teaching files and lesson plans. I’m busy labelling the million keys I’ve been given for my new school instead of watching cookery programmes because there’s nothing more embarrassing than a teacher who can’t even get into her classroom. It’s a bit like when your teacher used to put on a VHS and it was never in the right place or worse, the leads weren’t plugged in right. Awful. Painful to watch and the last thing I need to be worrying about on my first day.

Anyway, I digress. After spending the last three years struggling to feel completely fulfilled being at home with the kids, I had finally let it go and was focused on the boys and relaxing about my career...then there it was. A job advertisement and some phone calls from teachers I know urging me to apply. Fate and the universe challenged me once again...’Oooohh so you think you’ve let it go do you...? Let’s see shall we....?’

The long and short of it is, an opportunity came up that I just couldn’t miss. I interviewed, some references I have said some nice things about me to the Principal and they thought I was the right fit. Just like that, I was employed. Suddenly, the idea of going back to work was now a concrete thing. Something that is actually going to happen, very, very soon.

So things are going to change. Drastically. My boys are going to have to adjust to a completely different situation, they’ve got to get to know new people and to trust in them when they feel tired or sad. So do I. Handing over my boys to someone new is going to be the biggest challenge of all. Getting used to not being there for every moment in their lives is going to be a very strange feeling. I know though, that they’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. I know that millions of women all over the world do it every day. I know that my mum worked and I turned out pretty ok and that for me to feel completely happy, I need a career in my life. So, it’s time to go back.

It does feel a little bit like the job kind of found me really but sometimes, we all need a little friendly nudge to get things moving.

2018, you’re going to be a whole new kind of adventure, I’m ready. Let’s do it. Like a boss.

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Latest Fall wreath for a friend. Loved making this with things I found this week.

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My Autumn Wreath

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It’s a Treat.

Halloween is mental. It’s a bloody big deal Stateside. I’ve avoided really getting involved over the past 3 years. Costumes...? Yes, but trick or treating...? Nope. Not so much. There’s always a reason.

‘It’s just too late...’

‘I’m/he’s too tired’

‘He doesn’t really get it.’

‘He’ll probably be scared and then be awake all night.’

‘He won’t wear his costume’

‘His costume is shit.’

‘My costume is shit.’

‘Does anyone really get dressed up anyway...?’

You get the idea. Plus, honestly, in the past I’ve not really ‘got it.’ I was never a big trick or treater and fancy dress of any kind is pretty much an after thought. Half hearted and last minute. I did once go as ‘Road Kill’ though. I thought that was pretty funny and it did take some prep. Granted, there was no sewing machine involved but I did have to drive over a t-shirt with my car.

This year I made the effort though. I really did.

By October 1st I’d picked out costumes and procrastinated about ordering them on Amazon for fear of our eldest changing his mind and the not so little one growing, or worse, that my other half would discover I planned to put him in green tights.

By October 10th we’d raided every dollar store in town and picked the least tacky, least scary but realistic spider themed decorations and random flashing crap that we could get our hands on.

I spent a whole morning whilst the youngest napped putting spiderwebs and spiders over everything. Which was great until every time I opened the front door I shit my pants thinking we’d been taken over by bloody black widows.

We went to the obligatory pumpkin patch, attempted to take group photos with seven ‘threenagers’, two one year olds and a baby. Let’s just say, none are in focus, all involve someone climbing, falling, smiling with their eyes shut, crying, or holding up a pumpkin bigger than their head. Still it was fun. We picked out 4 stellar pumpkins and I milked a goat. Average day.

I hosted a play date to paint and decorate our harvest. The kids were into it and loved sloshing paint all over and adding stickers to bring our little pumpkins to life.

We baked Halloween cupcakes, one day, then decorated them the next with our little mate. I even bought bat and pumpkin themed sprinkles and monster cupcake toppers.

Then ‘hooraahhh!’ Amazon Prime did its thing and our costumes magically appeared on the doorstep. The good news was our eldest was well into it. ‘Spidermaaaayyyn’ was a hit and when he saw the ‘Supergirl’ costume he was almost as pleased as Daddy. We spent the morning flying around the house pretending to be super heroes. It rocked.

Before we knew it, Halloween week was upon us. The annual birthday costume party of his little mate who was born on the 31st of October had come around and we were ready to get our costumes on. Except, Mr O was not into it. At all. Batman is way uncool and the fact it was a one piece costume just tipped him over the edge. A cape!? ‘Have a word mother.’ I’m not fucking wearing that. The good news was the husbands ‘Joker’ costume fit (he wasn’t into being ‘Robin’, party pooper) although the mask was the stuff of nightmares so he ended up looking like a half hearted Pimp. For our little Batman hater, I had to improvise with a hand me down Superman t-shirt and some blue jogging bottoms. I attempted to put some of our eldest’s Superman underpants over his joggers but I was concerned they might cut off circulation to his nether regions so I took them off quick smart.

Suddenly, it was Halloween night. I’d prepared this time for Mr O’s meltdown about his costume by sewing the cape to a batman swim top I’d inherited from a friend and turning a pair of Leo’s black pj bottoms inside out. He had no idea he was in costume. Mom win.

We ‘tricked or treated’ with some friends nearby and spent the evening chasing around two tiny Spidermen and an adorable Mickey Mouse whilst they went into houses uninvited to get their ‘caaaannnddyyyyy!’

It was crazy out there. Everything from Freddy Kruger to a giant Alligator, Cinderella to a kid riding an Emu. Bonkers. Total mad house. It was ace. I even bonded with a fellow ‘Super girl’ and just loved seeing our already crazy wonderful kids race up the streets and front lawns to grab disgusting handfuls of sweets and chocolate. ‘Mommmmeeee I got more candeeeeeyyyy!’

Yes son. Yes you did. Didn’t I tell you it was worth dressing up?

[hannahmistryblog]

Smells Like Watermelon

This Sunday, our sweet, radiant little boy is one years old. One. He has been in our lives for such a short amount of time but has filled it with so much noise, the most electric smile and the most superb head of hair I've seen in all my years. His first few months were spent red faced, awake and often screaming. I walked miles and miles around the house, willing him to sleep, pleading with him to shut his eyes. We drove around Santa Clarita at 3am in our pajamas, the moon shining down and him snoring in the back, like there was never even a problem in the first place. Then we worked out what was wrong, why he was screaming and never sleeping and we found out who he really is. He's an old soul with a huge heart. We were sitting in our favorite breakfast place with him when he was around 5 months old when a biker and his wife walked across the restaurant to tell us that. 'He's an old soul that one. Look at him. He's an old soul.' I looked at him the, through their eyes and I realised that he has this sort of knowing look and a smile that says, 'I know a lot more than you think.' Like he has a secret he's dying to tell but knows he can't. Our sweet boy is a child who smiles easily and nestles his head into your neck. He puts his two arms in between you and his body and leans in for a brief but thorough cuddle. He's a lover but definitely knows how to fight. Holding his own against his older brother has never been a problem. Our baby O is strong and determined with a vice like grasp and a large head which he's not afraid to use as a weapon. He's solid and sturdy and learnt how to wrestle before he could walk. Food is his friend; particularly anything on the bone, messy and covered with sauce. All summer he's smelled of watermelons and meat sauce. Rice is also popular because it can be rubbed into any surface, or poked into the corners of high chairs and ear holes. It dries nicely too to create a sort of high chair confetti which I am perpetually finding on every piece of furniture we own. He'll eat pretty much anything and especially likes any type of food his brother is eating. Our eldest has learned not to leave any food or plates lying around because his brother will eat it. Whatever it is. He's been feeding himself pretty much from the word go because his older brother suddenly lost the ability to use cutlery and/or feed himself anything other than snacks at around the age of 2 and a half. The poor kiddo has had to fend for himself or go hungry. On the plus side, he can pretty much use a fork and spoon already which is excellent news except when he decides to use it as a catapult or other launching device. Our little one year old is deliberately mischievous and occasionally the world goes quiet and I know, he's up to something. He's been known to shake standing lamps and pull wires out repeatedly, looking at you with a wry smile and a flashing those adorable dimples before he does it. He wills you to chase him, grab him and stop him, giggling and laughing all the while. He's scaled stair cases with more stealth than a ninja and I've caught him hanging head first over the top step laughing and eyes twinkling. He thinks farting is hilarious and looks over his shoulder at you after he's let one rip, throws his head back and laughs freely. Chasing his brother and the cat is his favourite past time and his ability to play peekaboo is beyond compare. He's full of fun and playfulness and a determination that seems will stay with him for life. He's a people person and watches the world and all it's craziness with wonder and a total trust that is really quite remarkable. This first year of his life has been filled with joy and sheer love. He has brought even more bonkers moments to our house and he's given his brother a best friend for life. Our boy is wonderful. I know I'm biased but he really, genuinely is. Happy birthday sweet boy. May your day be filled with laughter and smiling and cake. You deserve everything the world has to offer and more but don't grow up too quickly and please, please, hang on to those dimples.

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Sponsored by...

Last weekend me and the hubby took advantage of having a great baby sitter and had an impromptu night out. These kind of nights out seem to work better for me in terms of lasting past 10pm. I don't get over excited and drink too much too fast, I don't rush my food or get indigestion because I'm so excited because I've been building up to a night out for weeks. I like to think it's much more relaxed and civilized. On this particular evening we found ourselves eating Japanese food, walking barefoot (just me, apparently I've forgotten how to wear heels) drinking cocktails and requesting shit piano tunes at a local bar whilst two pianists battled it out. Wild. After losing count of the Cosmos I drank or the Old Fashions poured, we found ourselves heading home after midnight (shocker!) and I found myself discreetly emptying my handbag in the back of the Uber because I felt slightly nauseous (must've been the shrimp) ...at that moment, and not before, I knew I was in for the hangover from hell. Honestly, I never really was any good at hangovers, (who is?). I'm the sort of girl who has to remain laying down for the majority of the day to avoid projectile vomiting across the living room and needs a can of coke and a McChicken sandwich at around 4pm in order to even attempt to raise my head off the sofa/pillow. Now though, I have two kids who like to wake around 5.58am, 6, if they're feeling generous. Laying down all day is simply not an option. On this particularly hung over Sunday both boys woke at 6am. No mercy. I dragged my bedraggled and dehydrated ass out of bed, tried to avoid looking at the bird that had made a nest in my hair or at last nights eye liner, and slept walked downstairs to get their milk. On a morning, we all hang around on our bed and watch whatever TV program is on the sacred channel that is 'Nik Junior' and the kids drink milk whilst I try to ease myself into the day. As usual, this quiet lounging starts with leg kicking, then lovingly head butting each other, to full on WWF wrestling moves. Believe me, it's not ideal to be 'clothes lined' by an almost 3 year old whilst you're attempting to drink your 'Pedialyte'. Breakfast was also sponsored by 'Peppa Pig' and peanut butter on toast whilst the other half got his football kit on and left to play a game, hungover, in already 85 degree heat. I wasn't sure whether to offer to play for him- it's a tough call between hungover with a one year old and an almost 'threenager' and running around wearing polyester in the blazing sun with the 'Bulldogs'. The kids just about took it so I stayed put. Thankfully, my mate 'A' had invited us for brunch which in my haze of 'bleeuurrrggh ' I had let slip my mind. She's a bloody marvelous cook so when I received a text saying 'bagels and champagne' I cheered and puked a bit in my mouth at the same time. More importantly though, she's right good at entertaining those kiddos and I know she's always about the fresh coffee of a morning and that, I could get on board with. Especially that morning. After wrestling with clothes, sunscreen, and listening to the 'ABC' song, out of tune, and at full volume whilst 'Kid One' sat on the pot, I was relieved to head out the door and be able to strap them in a car seat for 5 minutes. Bagel Momma made me aware, just before I gathered the kids, all of our shit and my pitcher of water, that another toddler would be joining us. So now, we're at - one hungover mother, one coffee and bagel making mother, three ''threenagers' and two one year olds. We were going to be outnumbered. Severely. Especially with my bleary eyes, dry mouth, pounding head and sloth like movements. My ninja powers were very much compromised. We arrived, I was fed, watered and the kids played. I sat on the couch and nursed several coffees whilst my angel friend provided food and entertainment for the kiddos. At one point, I was pelted with beanbags and even managed to invent a game out of sliding and throwing them into baskets. Winner. Anything to stop the bean bags flying in my direction. There were fisticuffs, holding hands, running round and round grabbing onto pretend jump leads whilst one toddler dragged the other and the third screamed about it being 'my turn!' There were water fights and popcorn making and two babies napping. Suddenly the hangover seemed less and less of a problem. Let's be honest, there really is nothing like three shouting, physical boys to shake you back to reality, one bean bag to the face at a time.

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The Little Things

Over the past few weeks I've made the decision to start looking after myself a little more. Do something for me each day. The things I've chosen may not seem like huge life changing things, and embarrassingly, probably should be part of my every day routine anyway, but making the conscious effort to do them each day is making a difference. It's been a year of great change in our family and honestly, I've let myself get a bit, rough around the edges, shall we say? These past few weeks I've promised myself I'll do three things: 1. Take off my make up at night and start a better skin care regime. 2. Floss - at least daily (I know...my sister will be horrified as will I'm sure most of my American friends with their pearly whites) 3. Start yoga. As a red head living in California where 360 days of the year it's pretty much blazing sun shine (I know, 1st world problems) I've started to notice my skin is starting to take a bit of a battering. Add two small kiddos into the mix, 3 years of practically no sleep and years of exaggerated facial expressions whilst teaching drama, I really am starting to look different. I'd look in the mirror on a night and think, 'I'm so exhausted I can't be bothered to take off the remnants of my makeup...', fall into bed and wake up the next day looking even worse than the day before. Dark circles, dull, flat skin and then scrape my face red raw taking off last nights slap with a dried up baby wipe. Seriously, there had to be a better way. I got in touch with a friend of my sister @skincarewithabi who has recently started selling skin care products and seemed to know what she was blogging about so I tapped her up for some info. She recommended The Ordinary from Deciem - natural skincare, non toxic products, a non toxic suncream Heliocare factor 50 and Bioderm micellar water to take off my make up on a night. She also mentioned an app Think Dirty that I've had to stop looking at because seriously, if I don't contract numerous forms of cancer from the years of carcinogenic products I've been using it'll be a miracle. It's been nearly four weeks now- I've used the make up remover like it's a religious practice and then slapped on the hyaluronic acid serum twice daily to rehydrate, I've stuck with their daily moisturizer and a retinol cream twice a week which is supposed to make my skin look all plumped up and young. I've been taking a no make up selfie each week....I'm not sure I'm brave enough to post yet...there's still a bit of settling in to do and think the acid or the retinol is beating me up a little but the good news is...I've stuck with it and I even went to the supermarket bare faced and proud. And you know what...? It's not really about whether I look any better, it's really about giving myself the grace and time to take off my make up with something other than a bloody baby wipe or a bit of loo roll with some cleanser on it. Flossing is, well flossing. I 'effing hate it. It's rank and hurts and makes me cringe but I'm sticking with it and if my dentist says, 'you really need to make sure you floss every day' the next time I go I'll be pretty pissed off. Again though, it's more about having a whole two minutes to just do something quietly, for me. Something that takes care of my body so that I'm not a toothless wonder by the age of fifty. Yoga. Now, I'm only on day two and here's what I've learned so far; 1. I'm about as flexible as a plank of wood. 2. My inability to hold my own body weight using my arms and legs is appalling. Yes, it's pretty embarrassing. I'm finding it hard, each half hour session I do but, I'm enjoying grounding my body, breathing and thinking about sweet FA. The boys go to sleep, I put on my Lycra, roll out my mat and attempt to get my body to cooperate. This is going to sound very 'wanky' but it's actually rather nice just focusing on breathing and getting my body to feel grounded. It's a funny thing getting to know your body again after having babies. It's not really mine anymore. It seems to be constantly in a state of being grabbed or pawed by either child and clothes don't fit like they used to. Having just a short amount of time each day to get to know myself again is actually rather nice. So that's where I'm at. Trying to do a few small and basic things for myself and committing to it. No guilt, nothing extravagant, just claiming back a little bit of me.

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Nightcrawling

This week I’ve found myself back in sleep deprivation purgatory. Some nights these kids nail it and both sleep through, on others they are up all night, taking it in turns to get me up and out of bed and consequently sending me bonkers.

This week I’ve found myself watching Netflix at 3am on the iPhone whilst my youngest son plays climbing frame on the bed head like some sort of possessed, drunken monkey. Even a true life crime documentary didn’t send him back to the land of nod.

I’ve driven around in the middle of the night wearing mismatched pjs, leopard print slipper socks, tan leather lofas and my husbands corporate jacket. Stopping off at the Starbucks drive through at 4am for a flat white and a sausage and cheddar sandwich is totally legit when you’ve been up since 1.30 with a screaming child. After eventually pulling into my drive with a sleeping babe in the back and a cold coffee I reclined the seat and got some shut eye myself- for like 30 minutes. God knows what the neighbours must have thought....another domestic?

Last night I was in and out of my first borns bedroom as he continually shouted me for a variety of urgent needs ranging from the toilet, dropping ‘Froggie’, needing a different blanket, needing a cuddle, a drink….needless to say after doing this dance for several hours and the rising anxiety that he would wake the little one I put him into bed with us where he proceeded to sing 'Old McDonald’ and 'B-I-N-G-O’ whilst repeatedly kicking me in the crotch and elbowing me in the boob until he fell asleep just as my husbands alarm went off.

Not only do my human mini beasts give me the sleep run around but my first furry childcat likes to join in the merriment. This week I’ve had to drop kick the cat into the garage after he proceeded to open every cupboard in the house and then spend 20 minutes rummaging around in the shopping bags. I promise you, getting up to feed a cat at 3am was not in my 5 year life plan.

I can only laugh through the tears at Leo and his dads latest conspiracy which involves sending our eldest son to me so he can nod and smile with wide eyes whispering with glee, 'yeah…let’s get a puppy mamma.’

No son, no. Screw that.

Tonight I have plans to go out and drink wine. All of the wine. I will alternate it with coffees if I have to…or maybe there’s somewhere around here that does a good espresso martini….?

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Sleep Little Ones

In the midst of all this madness there is wonder. When the nights have gone on and on and my bleary eyes just can't seem to take any more I see these moments, and I hold them tightly. Here's something I wrote recently with snippets of some of those precious moments. 'Sometimes I get to sit in the rocking chair whilst they shut their eyes and just go to sleep. They lean into sleep, like it's all they've ever wanted. Most nights I get to read a book and do the voices and he says the lines of the story with me. We look at each other and grin in wide eyed wonderment at the pages and the adventure. On special nights we stand at the window and watch the rain storm. He stands tippy toed on the toy box. We count the seconds between the thunder and watch the rain drops trickle down the window. Some nights I lay him down wide awake and he looks up at me with wide eyes in the dark. I smile as I leave and then sleep hits him, and he welcomes it. Most bedtimes he holds froggy and ruggie and closes his eyes tightly. 'There's no monsters?' He asks. 'Absolutely not' Scratching the back of his head, eyes closed , tiny feet rubbing together. Rocking in the darkness, his little hand nestled in between my arm and my body. I look down at him and wait for the moment I know he has accepted sleep. That tiniest of exhaled sighs. It's safe then, to let his head touch the mattress and to pull up the covers. Sleep little ones. Sleep long, sleep well, and dream.'

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Sleep Talking

I usually write because something is irritating me, or causing me some sort of inner turmoil, or because it’s so ridiculous that I thought someone else might laugh at it. Of late though, I’ve been trying to write more positive blogs.

As you can see, the blogs have dried up. Not because I haven’t got anything positive to say, but because I’m so effing exhausted I can barely see out of my eyeballs. They actually hurt, my eyeballs, I think it’s from being open 20 hours a day. At the minute, we are surviving on around 4 hours of sleep a night. 4. 240 minutes.

I swear, these kids are trying to kill me. Trying to kill us. I think it might actually be possible to slowly snuff out someone’s life with sleep deprivation, or at least extinguish the will to live anyway. Or if the lack of sleep alone doesn’t kill you, it’ll be your partner, or doing something stupid like trying to dry your hair with the food processor or falling asleep at the wheel.

I’ve always been a person who struggles with less than 8 hours sleep. I was the 20 something who was happy for the night out to end at 2am rather than going on to the after hours club. I was the 20 something who was known to fall asleep on New Year’s Eve, before midnight. I think it was bordering on sad, but honestly, I’ve pulled more all nighters being a mum than I ever did in my clubbing days. When it’s not by choice it’s even more excruciating.

Some nights, these kids are like a wrestling duo, tag teaming us so that once your head hits the pillow after an hour of feeding, burping and rocking the baby to sleep then slowly lowering him into the crib as if her were a ticking bloody time bomb, the voice of the other pipes up. ‘Momma!’ What the fucking hell!? Seriously, I’m a friggin sleep walking dragon. I swear I could breathe fire if only I had the energy to muster it.

I’m awful without sleep. When we lived with my Aunt in Canada we used to joke that you don’t speak to her until she’s on her second cup of tea. She wasn’t joking. At the moment, I’m worse but with two kids that are working at 100% capacity as soon as they wake up, easing yourself into the day one coffee at a time is not an option.

I catch glimpses of myself in mirrors and shop windows and I honestly don’t recognize the woman standing there. I’m like the walking dead, but with worse hair. The other morning I woke up with my pj shorts on inside out. A few weeks ago my neighbor caught me in my striped pjs, slipper socks, trainers and cardigan putting my 6 month old into the car at 4am. I looked like I’d escaped from somewhere and was stealing a child. He was chipper, 'oooh you’re up early.’ I was swearing like a sailor and deranged. I honestly think he was worried for my sanity. Baby O thought it was just a big adventure.

It’s not. It’s time for sleep. Some shut eye, time to reboot and recharge. 2am is not play time. We do not laugh at 3.30am. No. Not me. Go the F to sleep.

[hannahmistryblog]

Lights Down

It’s over. The final lines have been delivered, moments shared, the lights went to black. Another project done and dusted.

It seems so sudden even though it’s what you’ve been working towards for the last few months. As I now enter a period of mourning whilst I withdraw from the thrill of working in the rehearsal room, I hold on to the feeling of pride and elation at what we achieved.

This was a challenging play in many ways. The subject matter, the way the text is written and with an ambiguous ending, the students both on stage and in the audience worked so hard to connect with it. A British play, written for young people has many parallels to life here but is also a world away. The cast worked incredibly hard to make the story and characters translate and it was so fascinating seeing and hearing this American audience react to the events unfolding on stage. I’m intrigued to hear what they thought.

As in any production, how ever long the run, each night brought new challenges and new opportunities for the actors. There were some seriously special moments from these students and they had to take a real leap of faith working with a director who they don’t really know telling a story that’s not from their world. I was totally privileged to work with them and cannot tell you how immensely proud I am of the whole team and how thankful I am to have met the program leader there who has honestly, given me back a piece of myself.

So tonight. I’m going to trawl through the photos I took, and celebrate the end of a project and start bashing out ideas for the next!

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Thinking Inside the Box

Watching them from the lighting box last night was pretty wonderful. It's all just pretty amazing, what these young people do. How they bring it all together and make the moments you've imagined and worked hard to help them shape come to life. It's pretty bloody great being back in the theatre. The first night of a show I always watch from the box. It's a reassurance thing, a just in case kind of mentality. It's also important to help you really appreciate just how much work goes into an hour long production. The programming, focusing, trial and error, cues and fade outs and fade ins. Somehow, bringing the piece from imagined to real, tangible and right there. Of course there are moments that have you on the edge of your seat when you're in there because let's face it, I have no friggin clue what any of the buttons do, but once you trust that they do, you're ok. It's sort of another world sitting in there, you're detached from the audience and it's hard gaging their response because there's a glass wall between you. So tonight, I'm sitting out front, I'm going to watch the performers work and I'm going to be taken along with the story. One word, one lighting cue and one moment at a time.

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Nailed it.

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Last Leg

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Last Leg

So, it's the run up to opening night for the students I've been directing. It's always a precarious time. Things seem to be coming together and then unraveling all at the same time. Exhilarating and terrifying. There's so much to do and so little time left to do it in. Two rehearsals to be exact. Two. Bit scary writing that down. It seems that regardless of where you work with young people it's always last minute. Always. I'm not a last minute sort of person to be honest, at least not when it comes to performance work anyway. But I know, come opening night it'll be ready. It has to be you see. The show must go on and all that jazz. Finally after years of stressing that it won't be done, it'll never be ready I've finally learnt to just try and let it be. To trust that it'll come together and the buzz and energy of an audience will lift them and push them on to where I know they can be. We have everything blocked, tech is ready, set is coming together and the actors are developing their performances. It is a good place to be the week before a show and I'm really excited to push them during this last few run throughs and in rehearsal time to see what else they've got lurking under the surface.

[hannahmistryblog]

T- minus Granny

I think it's fair to say that these past 6 months have been some of hardest we've experienced. For many reasons I've found myself in a bit of a rut and I needed to do something about it. Over the past month I've really tried hard to focus on the positive things. I write them down in a journal every day. I've tried to reset my mindset to look for the things that are going well, the things that are beautiful and precious in the simple every day that we live. I've tried to find the wonder in the mundane and hold on to it. Setting myself the task of writing them down at the end of the day has definitely helped me to see them through the chaos. I've noticed things that I might otherwise have missed or taken in only for a fleeting moment, moving on to the next. Don't get me wrong, I've still lost my shit, ugly cried and given people (including my children) the silent treatment but it's definitely helped. I read a quote somewhere that said it's important to teach your kids the wonder in the every day. I'm sure it was more poetic than that but you get the idea. As we get older and life rushes by one meal, nappy change and nap at a time, it's easy to feel the pressure of making it count. Especially in this age of social media, blogging and Instagram. We are bombarded with idyllic lives caught in filtered pictures and tagged locations. It feels impossible to compete. Even though competing is not really what it's about, more like comparing, even though you don't really want to. So, on the morning Granny T leaves town after almost 3 months with us, I'm thankful for the little things. Watching the boys laugh and smile with her, the dinosaurs on their new pajamas, singing the theme tune to 'Mighty Machines' whilst nodding our heads, watching baby O chat with the cat, the usual but the only ours. Granny has been a total legend, honestly I'm not sure how I'm going to manage the day to day minus Granny T but of course, I will. The kids and I are going to be lost without her over the next few weeks as we adjust to life as a threesome again but it won't be long before the next family member rolls into town and eats all our food and leaves all the lights on. Also, I do realize, I'm a bit of a bloody hypocrite talking about social media when I'm the one blogging my head off. Please know friends that there's no reason to compare, or compete. Last night was a total shit show. Screaming baby, knocked the mobile off the cot, ran out of water in the machine to warm the bottle, lost my temper after putting the baby swaddled and asleep in his cot only for him to continually wake up. Resulted in baby in the bed, spread eagle and fast asleep while the husband and I clung to the edge. Woke me up by crapping in my general direction. But, he looked cute, and did this little snuffle snore that I'll write about in my little book of good things. See, the good stuff's there if you just look for it.

[hannahmistryblog]

The Little Things

The other night I was reminded of how precious our private moments are with our children. The little rituals we have with them that make our time with them specific.

My husband and I have always tried to keep the bed time routine similar but I know that there are things that I do, that make my routine totally different to his and vice versa. They’re the tiny little things that shape our memories of childhood and make the parent child bond stronger.

My eldest son and his daddy shared just a little piece of their private ritual last night at bath time and the boy even let me in on the game. Counting all our fingers and toes and celebrating their existence with an air grab accompanied by a ‘yessss!’ It was adorable, sweet, ridiculous and I was completely privileged to have been initiated into this weird father son ritual.

When we have relatives staying for extended periods of time I hear them with the boys, creating their own little rituals and routines and it makes me so happy to think that they have these special memories. Some I’m privy to and many, many more I’m sure I’ll never even know exist. Those ones are the most precious, the ones I’ll hear about in years to come when the boys are older and we’re reminiscing about time with family. They’ll tell me of a memory I had no idea about and I’ll instantly feel happy that these moments shaped their childhood. That they were theirs and theirs alone.