having a baby - Nothing good rhymes with Charlotte

Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you’ve got now?

01/10/2017 by Charlotte 3 Comments

Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you've got now? Somebody put this on Twitter recently and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

Because, now you come to mention it, yes I do remember, but I hardly ever take the time to acknowledge it. And isn’t that a shame.

Human beings are wired to be accidentally ungrateful. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say that we’re wired to be ambitious. Always striving for the next thing rather than basking in the glory of having achieved our goals. But why don’t we realise that we can do both?

There was a time when all I wanted was to see Leon everyday. We lived in different cities for a couple of years whilst he studied and I worked. I thought that if we could just live together and we could hang out every night, I’d be the happiest girl alive.

And now? Well, now I do get to see him everyday. And, yes I am incredibly happy. But I’d be even happier if I could see him everyday AND he could remember to take the rubbish out on bin day. Or if I could see him everyday AND he could pop his boxer shorts into the laundry basket instead of next to the laundry basket. THEN I would be the picture of contentment, I promise. As if any of that bullshit even matters.

We do it with our careers too. Not long ago, all I wanted was to write in my own time and be paid for it. I could only imagine what it would do for my confidence and sense of self-worth, if only I could make it happen.

And now it does happen. Not all the time, obviously, because that’s not how the freelance roller coaster works. But it does occur a fair amount. I even have the guts to ask for appropriate fees now, too – something else I fantasised about – because with every commission I know more about what I’m doing.

Do you remember when all you wanted was everything that you've got now? And I’m really happy about it, but I also spend a lot of the time that I could dedicate to being pleased to worrying. About messing up a job, or not finding the next one, or how I’ll manage to fit it all in. Your mind sees the opportunity to step back and feel content and fills the time with concern instead, the silly sausage.

There have been so many things I’ve begged the universe to make happen. For people to travel home in one piece, for babies to come into the world safely, for celebrations to go off without being spoilt by the memory of me tumbling into them down a flight of stairs or vomiting all over myself. And for the most part, the universe has delivered, which is damn nice of it – but I’m not sure I’ve really given it the credit it’s due.

One of my biggest fears about having a baby (and I have a lot should you wish to hear them) is that I’ll blink and miss it. That I’ll be so focused on surviving that I won’t stop to look at this little person we’ve made and to feel grateful. That I’ll get the balance wrong and dedicate too much time to the wrong things and regret it forever.

These worries themselves are a perfect example of a terrible use of time, even though I know it’s all part of the parenting deal. Because I wanted this, so I need to make time to remember how lucky we are that it’s coming about.

Twitter can be a barren wasteland of despair sometimes (and particularly during 2017, it seems) but sometimes it brings you a point of view that changes the way you think, and for that reason I’ll never leave.

This simple question has stuck with me and I’m determined to keep it in mind. Because I’m the first to wallow when things don’t pan out as I’d hoped – and I never question whether that’s a good use of time. So it’s OK to take a moment to notice when the precise outcome you wanted has come about too.

It’s not gloating, it’s gratitude, and there’s plenty of space for more of that in the world.

8 thoughts it’s totally normal to have when you’re pregnant (I hope)

03/09/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

“Oh my goodness, WHAT HAVE WE DONE”

There isn’t a bone in my body that isn’t happy that I’m pregnant (except perhaps the ones in my poor, squashed pelvis). But that doesn’t stop me feeling a bit panicked about the effect this decision will have on our life. So many of the things we can currently just do – go for dinner, bugger off on holiday, dance into the night at 28 weddings a year – are going to be either off the table or a much more complex process.

Parenthood will undoubtedly bring a world of joy and discovery like we’ve never known before too, and I can’t wait. But you’re still allowed to have moments to think “WOAH WE DID NOT FULL CONSIDER THE IMPACT THIS WOULD HAVE ON OUR KNOWLEDGE OF COOL EATERIES,” too, I feel.

“It would be great if I could just not be pregnant for this hour/day/moment”

I am incredibly happy to be pregnant and grateful for the opportunity to have a child. That being said, the total takeover of your body is no small deal. Heartburn is a daily occurrence. My back hates me. My lower regions sometimes feel like they’re all just going to fall out. So it’s a bit tough and therefore inevitable that every now and then you wish you could have a brief break. That you had the option to pop your tummy and the baby down somewhere safe while you do the big shop or mop the floor without getting puffed out.

It’s worth every second of discomfort, of course, but it’s also OK to wish for the occasional bit of time off.

“What if my child thinks I’m a loser?”

I’m not scared that my baby won’t think I’m cool, I know they won’t think I’m cool. That’s the deal when you’re a parent, as I understand it. I just keep wondering what they’ll think about what I’ve done with my life. I have a terrifying vision of them being asked what their mother does and them saying “Well, she dicks about on the internet and talks a lot about writing, but I’m not sure if she’s really ever done anything.”

Every milestone makes us feel the need to assess whether we’ve lived a worthwhile life, so I guess it’s inevitable that pregnancy would do the same thing.

“But… we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing”

We didn’t have to take an exam to establish our abilities to look after another human being. We were free to get pregnant and then deal with the consequences. And it dawns on me a good few times a day – particularly at night when I’m definitely at my most rational – that we have absolutely no idea what we’re doing. If parenting was just cuddles and saying “HELLO SAUSAGE!” into a baby’s face every few minutes, we’d have it nailed, but I hear there’s more to it than that.

Everybody I’ve spoken to about this says that everyone feels the same way, which is reassuring. Perhaps if every parent wore a badge that said “I am making all of this up as I go along” we’d all feel better.

“If I’m not careful, one of these days I’m just going to wet myself”

Our baby can now put more pressure on my bladder than I’m comfortable with. With one kick or punch, they’re able to test my pelvic floor more than any yoga or pilates class ever could. He or she enjoys challenging me at the most inconvenient times – in the middle of wedding ceremonies, in meetings, during my commute. I’ve managed to stay on top of it so far, but the risk of a sudden damp incident has never been so real.

“Perhaps it won’t hurt that much after all?”

At prenatal yoga, the teacher gets us into positions that’ll be particularly ‘helpful’ when giving birth. The problem is, I’m in such denial about ever having to give birth that I tell myself this doesn’t really apply to me. I know the baby’s in there – the sight of my slowly expanding stomach is a handy reminder – but their exit isn’t something I’ve faced up to yet.

I think it’s human nature when faced with a major feat to either catastrophise or naively assume it’ll be OK. And although I do not believe for a second that it’ll be anything other than the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, I can’t face that thought yet. Not properly. So, to help protect me from the truth, my brain keeps suggesting that maybe it’ll be all right. You know, not as bad as EVERY SINGLE WOMAN IN THE WORLD says.

Could happen, guys. Could happen.

“Life would be so much easier if it was socially acceptable to just make whatever noise you need to, when you need to”

I can no longer put on shoes, sit in a chair, get out of bed, or lift anything whatsoever without groaning. My chest and throat are home to such levels of acid reflux that I could burp or hiccup or both at any moment. And what pregnancy does to an already fragile digestive system, well, let’s just say, it doesn’t make it more predictable.

So, for those of us juggling a world of unexpected occurrences within our bodies, life would be a lot simpler if we could just let all the sounds happen, without fear of funny looks/social exclusion. But alas, we do not live in such a society, so I save as many groans and throat-based surprises as I can for the comfort of my own home.

“I just don’t want to let anybody down”

Although you know you’re not doing it on your own, there’s no denying that physically being pregnant is very much a one person job. So it’s normal to feel the weight of that responsibility. And with that comes a fear that you’re somehow going to ‘do it wrong’ or let people down.

There’s only so much you can control, of course. You can look after yourself, read all the advice, and ask for help when you need it. But you’re just going to have to take it day by day and expect the unexpected.

Nonetheless, it’s only normal to be afraid and it’s healthy to admit how you feel. Acknowledging that something this life changing puts as much pressure on your mind as it does your womb can only help to make us all feel less alone.

How to avoid burnout: Learn to mind the gap between body and mind

20/08/2017 by Charlotte 2 Comments

How to avoid burnout: Learn to mind the gap between body and mind I’m going to keep this brief because I’m tired. To do anything else would go against the very purpose of this post: to talk about avoiding burnout.

Getting older has taught me many things. That pretty much everything and everyone is too noisy. That a stool isn’t a seat, it’s a one way ticket to back ache. And that just because your parents are no longer on hand to tell you not to eat 12 Jaffa Cakes at once, it doesn’t mean you should.

Mind the gap

But less obvious is the lesson I’m just starting to grasp about the gaps that can exist between our bodies and minds.

Between what our brains tell us that we can do, and what our bodies can actually withstand.

Between the energy we have in our muscles, and the space our minds need to think.

You know that feeling when you just keep going and going and going and then you suddenly realise that if you don’t go to bed RIGHT NOW you’re either going to collapse or throw up or both?

Or when your brain is just so FULL – with worry, dilemmas, ideas or emotion – that even though technically you could go out with friends or visit family, you know if you do, you’re just going to burst into tears?

That’s what it feels like when the gap trips us up and burnout starts to happen. And it’s chuffing horrible.

Life can trick us into thinking we can handle more than we can. It sounds simple when it’s written down but it’s amazing how frequently it can catch us out. We don’t always realise we’re pushing ourselves until it’s too late. And getting to that point never feels good.

Have the confidence to say no

I’ve written before about how, to feel better, we have to stop trying to do everything at once. And I think part of the issue is confidence. It takes courage to say no to invitations or to admit that you’ve got too much on your plate. Or to say, regardless of how simple an activity might be for somebody else, for you at this point it’s just too much.

Nobody wants to look weak or uncommitted, so all too often we’ll power through regardless. But staying well and happy matters more than saving face. So we need to find a balance between what we’re physically and mentally capable of, and be confident that our limits are justified.

As you change, your limits change

I’m currently trying to adjust to what I can and can’t do whilst pregnant. My brain has a million ideas about how I could spend my time. And then I remember that I get puffed out going up the stairs, and I have to scale back my plans.

And although it’s obviously all worth it, the process is frustrating nonetheless. My FOMO (sorry mum, that means ‘Fear of missing out’) is through the roof as I see people doing all sorts of things that just aren’t feasible for me at the moment. I’m having to learn how to have a nice time in this condition – how to socialise, write and exercise – without pushing myself too far. It was an inevitable part of the process, but I hadn’t appreciated the conflict I’d experience between what my mind and body want from me.

Your boundaries, your business

No matter what our circumstances are, we have to learn to foresee what our minds and bodies need to keep us well and avoid burnout. Annoyingly they don’t always talk to each other until it’s too late, so we have to use what we’ve learnt about ourselves to plan ahead.

What that looks like will vary from person to person. Right now for me that means going out just one evening during the week, as it’ll take me the next two to recover. And remembering not to make plans after appointments with the midwife as I’m always SHATTERED.

For you it’ll mean something else. Our personal boundaries are exactly that – personal. So nobody gets to set them but us.

What do you do to avoid burnout?

7 things that have surprised me about the first 5 months of pregnancy

30/07/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

7 things that have surprised me most about the first 5 months of pregnancy Pregnancy is everything and nothing like you think it’ll be.

It’s something you see on TV and in magazines and all over Instagram, but when it comes-a-knocking at your door it’s still a surprise what it does to your mind and body. Or that’s what I’ve found anyway.

The past five and a bit months (or three and a bit, as I was blissfully unaware for six weeks) have been quite the roller coaster, so I thought I’d write about the elements I’ve found most surprising.

To be clear, I’m not complaining about any of this. I like to use this blog to chat about things I imagine other people have felt too, to help us all feel a bit less alone. Whether this is or is not your experience, I’m really interested, so please do let me know.

1. The isolation of the first trimester

I swear, I took the pregnancy test and the symptoms kicked in immediately. Nausea, exhaustion, sudden bursts of emotion, a constant fear that I was going to fall over and – my personal favourite – the relentless need to eat sugar.

And whilst all of that was to be expected, I didn’t expect to feel as isolated as I did. I couldn’t arrange many social activities for fear that I’d have to bail on them at the last minute as I felt too poorly. I also didn’t really feel up to going out and felt nervous when separated from my fridge, my steady supply of Laughing Cow cheese triangles, and my bed.

It didn’t occur to me that, because we wouldn’t tell most people I was pregnant until we’d had the 12 week scan, I’d just have to hang out by myself a lot and wait. I think my situation was magnified because we’d just moved house and we didn’t have Wi-Fi or terrestrial TV, so I had nothing but old DVDs to entertain me. (I’m not sure if you’ve watched one of those recently but you have to GET UP to change over to a new one, which is highly inconvenient.)

But anyway, that sense of isolation came as a surprise. I’m very happy to be able to leave the house again now.

2. My capacity for snacks

You don’t have to have read many posts on here to know that I like a sugary treat. And now that I’m pregnant that enjoyment has turned into a NEED. Consuming regular snacks feels crucial to my survival. Whereas previously I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without an umbrella, now I wouldn’t go out without at least one chocolate coated bite.

The crazy hunger of the first 12-14 weeks has definitely eased off – I can now have my dinner after 5.30pm and not fear for my life – but I’m still chomping on the regular, just to make sure I stay upright. Even by my standards, a vast amount of sweet goods are passing my lips right now.

3. The things that have made me cry

Here’s a list of things that have made me cry since I’ve been pregnant, despite not being in any way sad.

A very happy Gavin and Stacey episode I have seen four million times
Being a bit too hot
Opening my birthday presents
Walking down the stairs
Walking up the stairs
My nephew giving me a little kiss on the cheek
The fact that it was Tuesday

Hormones exist to mess with us and I can confirm that mine are taking their job very seriously.

4. My new-found fear of loneliness

All being well, I’m going to have a small person to hang out with for the foreseeable future from the end of the year onwards. And I can’t wait, but it’s strange how, despite the constant promise of company, you can start to fear being simultaneously lonely.

It’s because it’s all unknown. The routine, what we will and won’t feasibly be able to do with a day, how I’ll cope with looking after somebody who can’t really communicate, how the inevitable exhaustion will affect my capacity to travel, interact and whatnot. I am game for all of it, but it has surprised me that these little pangs of fear have started to kick in.

I’m planning to do lots of things to address this. To build a sense of local community. To seek advice from the dozens of other people I know who’ve done this before. And to keep being honest about how I feel.

5. How quickly you fall into an existential crisis about who you are now

That there will be a person in the world to whom my name will be ‘mum’ is an incredible and bizarre thing. It’s a whole new role and dimension to my life that I welcome with open arms and relentlessly watering eyes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about all the other roles I have in the world – a wife, a friend, a sister, an auntie, a writer, a comms manager, a dedicated fan of leopard print clothing, a Coronation Street enthusiast – and how having a baby will affect each one.

I will, of course, continue to be all of these things (I’ve been delighted to find how prominent leopard print is within maternity wear), I’m just having that inevitable ponder about how each role will shift within the new, baby-inhabited world. I imagine all parents-to-be go through this thought process.

All I know is what’s important – no matter what kind of change you’re going through – is that you don’t lose sight of what matters to you. And that you let yourself figure out how to give each the appropriate amount of attention in your own time.

6. The crazy sense of vulnerability

I was once in such a rush in Central London that I didn’t just walk into a stranger, I walked up him. My feet were on his calves before I realised what I’d done. He was remarkably nice about it considering my incredible invasion of his personal space. But since I’ve been pregnant I’ve felt the need to slow down.

I’m frightened I’m going to fall over and do myself damage. I’m scared of people with bags whacking into me and hurting my small inhabitant. And I’m relieved every time I’ve manage to get home without incident. It all looks very melodramatic written down, but I guess that’s my point. The *drama* of these feelings has surprised me too.

I just feel a huge weight of responsibility (both physically and metaphorically), which is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Biology dictates that I’m the only one in our marriage who can carry this little being around for now, and I’m desperate not to put us in harm’s way. So a slower pace and avoiding walking up strangers feels sensible at this point.

7. That so much of this feels normal

I never thought it would feel normal to be kicked several times a day by a tiny person I’ve never met. But here we are. And I must admit it’s a relief that it doesn’t freak me out. Because it is a crazy thing to imagine before it happens and I worried I’d just spend the whole time scared.

And although fear is definitely a prominent feeling for me right now (but honestly when has it not been), excitement and determination are helping keep it at bay. I want to do this and when I don’t think about the details too much (denial will remain my friend until the third trimester, I’ve decided) I’m confident that I can.

That feeling alone has come as the biggest surprise of all.

Body image: Why we shouldn’t feel ashamed when we change

23/07/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Body image: Why we shouldn't feel ashamed when we change When I was first pregnant I found myself automatically apologising to my husband for the fact that my body would change.

And this is weird on several levels. Firstly, OF COURSE it’s going to change. How could you grow a new person within your own body without needing to make a little room?

Secondly, I didn’t do this on my own. I’m not going to draw you a picture but getting pregnant is very much a two person job and one we did on purpose. So, actually, I haven’t changed my body, we have.

And thirdly, why would a physical change require an apology anyway? Changing is what bodies do. We get older, we do varying levels of exercise, we experiment with the volume of Nobbly Bobbly ice creams we can consume during the summer months… We change together and support each other as we go.

But nonetheless, the instinct to apologise was there. He required no such thing, of course, because he’s not a dickhead, but this wasn’t really about him, anyway. It was about how I perceived myself, my own body image, and how we all respond to change, particularly when it occurs in women.

Several people have felt compelled to reassure me that ‘You can hardly tell you’re pregnant at all!’ or ‘Don’t worry, you’re wearing it well’ or ‘It’s OK because it’s just on your tummy and not on your face or anything’.

And it’s so strange because I’d be fine with it spreading anywhere it needs to go. I want people to be able to tell. A child is growing in here and I am happy to look however I need to keep us both safe.

When people say these things, I’m not even sure they know what they mean, only that, for the most part, they mean well. But I think it would be better for everyone if we stopped. There’s no need to panic. Bodies change and that’s OK.

Weight can, of course, be a huge trigger for insecurity, just like any other element of our appearance or lives. And I’m sure that many people who make these comments are just keen to keep everybody feeling good during such a gruelling process.

Body image: Why we shouldn't feel ashamed when we change But we mustn’t normalise the idea that a woman’s body changing is a bad thing. Because it isn’t.

What matters is how a person feels and that they’re healthy. And a positive status in both these areas looks very different from person to person. My healthy and your healthy, and my happy and your happy, no doubt do not look the same. And yours is absolutely none of my business.

Before I figured out that I was struggling with anxiety, I was often a little underweight. Nothing drastic but it was a side effect. When I look at my wedding pictures, I can see that although I’m happy in our relationship, I had some serious personal work to do. And since I’ve done that, I’ve had a steadier, healthier weight, which has involved getting a bit bigger, and that is a good thing.

I found it alarming that my instinct when I got pregnant was to say sorry for the changes my body would go through. That I felt the need to clarify whether my husband would manage to find me attractive during this time. (I am a constant source of Cadbury snacks right now – what could be more alluring than that?)

But I caught myself just in time and do not apologise any more. I am instead trying to enjoy this process, as much as the exhaustion/crying fits/surprise nausea will allow, anyway. Because this is a journey to something I want, so I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If we want to live in a world that’s kinder to women’s bodies, we have to start being kinder to ourselves.

We need to be more honest about what’s fuelling our thoughts. Are you apologising for your weight/look/whatever because you have done something wrong? Or because you’re afraid that if you don’t, somebody else will suggest that you should?

Because, you know what? That is one risk you can afford to take. Because anybody who suggests that is wrong. And they should be the one to say they’re sorry.

32 reasons getting older isn’t so bad after all

09/07/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

32 reasons getting older isn't so bad after all I’m about to turn 32. Thank you in advance for your card/Facebook message/silent cursing of the day I was born.

For the last three years, I’ve taken to this blog to write a list to mark the end of another year. When I was 29 I wrote 29 things I’d learnt in 29 years. Then came 30 pieces of wisdom to mark the big three-oh. And then, last year, 31 things that continue to surprise me about being alive. (A list which, were I writing it this year would include: That anybody thinks it’s reasonable to have phone keypad tones switched on in 2017; and The incredible impact air conditioning can have on my temper).

So now here comes 32. And whilst all the other ages came as something of a shock, this one feels just right. So this time I’m sharing why getting older isn’t so bad after all. It’s gonna happen anyway so you may as well smile about it.

1. Nobody cares that your main aim in life is to go home at a reasonable hour and get into bed. Most people feel exactly the same way.

2. The older you get the clearer it becomes that – with just a few exceptions – you simply don’t have to do things you don’t want to do. (This TED Talk on how to stop giving a f*** offers very helpful advice on this subject).

3. It finally dawns on you that the idea that if you’re not wearing heels you’re not properly dressed up is BULLSHIT. You can, of course, wear whatever the hell you want.

4. People don’t just compliment your nail varnish, they applaud you for finding time to apply it.

5. You get to regale younger folks with crazy stories about all the things you got up to when you were young. About the time you failed an exam because you stayed up till 5am the night before. Or when you drank triple vodka and lemonades and begged your body to let you throw up. They don’t believe you were ever that fun, of course, but you get to tell the story nonetheless.

6. You realise that the fact that women go to the toilet too isn’t taboo after all. In fact, within minutes of meeting a fellow female thirty something, it’s not unusual to have compared notes regarding the weakness of your respective bladders.

7. The ever growing list of glorious new roles you get to take on. Auntie, sister-in-law, friend-always-happy-to-discuss-the-complexities-of-Coronation-Street-storylines. With great age comes great responsibility, and I am here for all of it.

8. Female friendships at this point in our lives are better than they’ve ever been. Much like wine, cheese and Colin Firth, they really do get better with age.

9. The sweet joy of regressing. Yes maturity is important, but hanging out with school friends and howling about the time Tina hid around a corner waiting to scare me and instead jumped onto a perfect stranger’s back, will never get old, even if we do.

10. Relationships with your siblings. My brothers are two of the best men I know. This is not a sentence I thought I’d write when we were living at home and SCREAMING at each other about who got to sit in the armchair closest to the telly. (I mean, it doesn’t matter but it was always them and it was so unfair). And I have it on good authority that they thought I was pretty ghastly too. Nice job growing up, everyone.

11. You realise that dropping a swear word into conversation with your parents won’t bring the world to an end. It’s been 32 years and we’re finally in agreement that ‘arse’ is an incredibly useful term.

12. We get to look around at a world growing up on social media secure in the knowledge that, unless time machines become a thing – and they SHOULDN’T – the minutiae of our teenage years will never be documented on the Internet.

13. The oddly grounding effect of spotting a grey hair in your fringe. Here I am, it says, the passing of time, happening right here above your eyebrows. Stop dicking about on Twitter and LIVE, for goodness sake.

14. You learn that a successful marriage depends on a strong commitment to little white lies. (My husband refuses to admit that he can see the aforementioned grey hairs and for that I will love him forever).

15. For the most part, the people in your life now are in your life because you want them in your life. Because who’s got time to have things any other way?

32 reasons getting older isn't so bad after all 16. The freedom to write a birthday list requesting what you really want. You can keep your gadgets, give me comfortable pants and a high quality shower gel and I’ll be happy for the rest of the year.

17. Not being embarrassed to admit that when everybody started going on about Drake, it took you a week to figure out that people weren’t talking about Nick Drake.

18. …Or that “Sifting through a rack of reduced greetings cards” is your idea of a perfect weekend activity.

19. …Or to say that a stool is not a chair (with my back?!) so you will need to find somewhere else to sit.

20. Or that, as far as you’re concerned, anything happening outside of your house on a Monday night is going to need to happen without you.

21. Having the confidence, when a waiter or waitress asks if you have any questions about the menu, to ask them so many that they may as well take a seat whilst you work through your list.

22. The constant novelty of marriage. Yes arguments happen, and no, some people don’t seem to understand that “Unless you’re planning to build some kind of fort, please can you put used toilet rolls in the recycling bin” isn’t a joke. But waking up next to a person about whom you believe all love songs were written never stops being exciting.

23. Knowing that with every day that passes, fewer and fewer people in the world expect you to look or be cool.

24. Realising it really is OK when somebody pays you a compliment to just say “Thank you”. You don’t have to panic and list every single one of your faults in response.

25. The understanding that nobody in your life ever thought you were being ironic when you listened to Steps, Boyzone and Westlife anyway, so you might as well just enjoy them with your head held high.

26. You discover the world of books designed to help make your life easier. I wrote a few months ago about Derren Brown’s ‘Happy’ and learning to focus on the things in life we can control. For this book and the many others about how to keep your sh*t together, I am very grateful.

27. The pressure of time continuing to pass forces you to finally find the courage to SAY what you want to do with your life. Which is excellent because now you can put all the energy you’d usually reserve for feeling embarrassed by your ambitions into realising them.

28. Permission to participate in borderline fanaticism regarding high quality air freshening products. TALK TO ME ABOUT MY DIFFUSERS. I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY.

29. The knowledge that, at any point, should you need or want to, you can go home. Because you are an adult, and you get to decide what you do.

30. Finally feeling like you know yourself well enough. How much sun you can take. How much water you need to feel normal. How many giant chocolate buttons is too many giant chocolate buttons. Sometimes you have to get it wrong before you can know how to get it right.

31. Realising that most of the very best moments of your life don’t make it into the photo album. They’re too good to stop to look through a lens.

32. Sh*t suddenly gets real. I’m sitting here with a small human being kicking, punching and spinning his or her way around my womb, quietly waiting to turn our lives upside down. It’s as bizarre and beautiful as everybody says.

You see, age has its downsides – its aches and pains, its effect on your capacity to party – but without it I wouldn’t be here, somewhere close to ready for motherhood. So I really can’t fault it.

I can only imagine what I’ll have to say about the world by the time 33 comes around.

Life lesson: It’s cool to be kind

04/06/2017 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Life lesson: It's cool to be kind Existing on this planet feels particularly tough at the moment. In the UK the past few weeks have seen attacks on innocent people, and more horror and sadness that any of us wanted to imagine. It’s impossible to comprehend let alone accept what’s been happening, or the pain and suffering that those affected, their families and friends are going through.

And if any comfort at all can be taken at such an awful time, I am trying to take some from the very fact that we find it so hard to get our heads around such cruelty. Because finding it difficult shows that most of us are good people who would never hurt anyone intentionally. We’re here to love and look after one another, to use our days to experience laughter and joy, and to demonstrate kindness whenever we can.

Most of us do this on a small-scale, day-to-day basis – perhaps to a friend or a colleague, or maybe even to a stranger should the opportunity arise. And others take it to the next level – signing up to be nothing short of heroic as and when the moment requires. And for those people there can never be a sufficient level of gratitude.

Living in London means it’s the norm to joke about the level to which we Londoners ignore/sigh at/silently despise one another whilst commuting or attempting to make progress down Oxford Street. It’s a busy city and I’m as guilty as anyone of getting annoyed about the pettiest of things, and of putting my head down and just trying to get around without yelling at anybody.

But there’s a big difference between cynicism about the pain-in-the-arse daily grind, and actually not giving a damn about other people. Because we do care really, and never is that more apparent than when it really matters.

And it’s this knowledge – that the vast majority of people are good and kind and, normally, just trying to get from A to B – that I’m trying to hold onto today. Feelings of despair and confusion are an inevitable part of dealing with reports of such cruelty – and it’s important to make time for them – but then hope comes from focusing on the positive side of humanity. The sweet joy of having the freedom to live the life you want to live, the love and loyalty we can show our friends, and the bottomless pot of kindness forever at our disposal.

All being well, we’re going to be having a baby in November. (A less serious post will inevitably follow about the endless joy of the first trimester, I’m sure). We’ve a long way to go but, as you do, we’ve found ourselves wandering around shops and spotting things we’d like to put in the baby’s room. And one such item is a picture that reads: It’s cool to be kind.

After this weekend, I’m surer than ever that I’m going to buy it, because there’s no better lesson we can teach our child. And it won’t do us any harm to be reminded of that fact everyday, too.

How’s married life? Exactly the same.

02/02/2014 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

Aside from “When are you going to have a baby?”, “Are you pregnant yet?” and “Will you name your firstborn after me?”, “How’s married life?” is the question I get asked most frequently.

I don’t know what people think will happen when you get married but, in my case at least, it hasn’t changed anything at all. Sure, I got a new surname and now spend most of the day trying to remember what I’m called, and I had a ring put on my finger that has to stay there forever or the world with explode (or something like that) but otherwise things are just as they were before.

But that’s a good thing. And here’s why:

1. That’s why you got married in the first place
Getting married means: I want to be with you as I know you for the rest of my life. It doesn’t mean: marry me and then immediately change into somebody else to help keep things interesting. The fact that you get to spend your life with somebody exactly as you find them (with perhaps just a few small wardrobe improvements) is one of the main reasons marriage is so popular. There’s that, the fact that you no longer have to pretend to like nightclubs, and knowing that there will always be someone there to help you take the bin out.

2. You’ll face enough change together as it is
Life is full of surprises – some of them good, such as the release of Cadbury’s Pebbles (have you tried them? They’re delicious) and some of them bad, like when Coronation Street gets cancelled because of sport. But that’s OK because whatever comes up, you’ll take it on as a duo, so the least you can do is remain the one consistent thing in each other’s lives. If you got married, changed into different people and then ITV altered its television schedule, do you really think you could handle it?

3. If you were going to change you’d have done it by now
Remember all those hours you put in at the start of the relationship? The showers, the shaving, the pretending to be up for watching Transformers when you’d have preferred to just stare at the cinema ticket for two hours instead? Couldn’t keep that up for too long, could you? No, after a few months you settled into being real people – with opinions that differ! And bad habits you refuse to change! Like his inexplicable love for leaving boxer shorts in the middle of the bathroom floor Every. Single. Morning! And if you thought marriage was going to change any of that, I’m afraid that you were mistaken. Marriage changes nothing, it just means there will be somebody there to comment on all of your faults for the rest of your life.

4. It’s OK that you don‘t have any news
You have to accept that from the moment you said ‘I do’, you became the least interesting people in the world. Whilst the engagement is all “Oh my god!” and “How did he do it?!” and “How many strippers do you want on your hen do?”, your marriage will only spark a reaction if you co-create a human or start asking your friends to put their keys in a bowl when they arrive at your house for a dinner party. So it’s best to just take advantage of those first few months – sit back, relax and enjoy being out of the limelight. And if the only news you have to share is that you’ve started watching Modern Family or that you’ve discovered that ten is the optimum number of marshmallows to have with a hot chocolate, then so be it.

So if you want to have an interesting conversation with a newly-wed, don’t ask them what married life’s like, ask them what’s good on telly at the moment or what snacks they can recommend – they’ll have so much more to say. And if you think you can see a bump forming around her middle, I recommend checking the bin for sweet wrappers before putting yourself forward as a namesake.