It's weird - when we decided* to try and get pregnant, I didn't really think much about it all.  We were really lucky and it happened very quickly so maybe we didn't realise what path we were setting ourselves off on.  It's not like we're young and/or foolish, we're 34/35 and been together for 12 years and we wanted to make a baby but it's all so damn theoretical until that positive test.  And it stays a bit unreal, but on a slowly adjusting scale.

At the ripe old mark of 23 weeks, my body has changed A LOT, little Scooby is kicking, we've got bags of baby stuff accumulating, i'm going to pregnancy yoga (ok, only once), I'm slowly gearing myself up to watch a birth video, we've maybe chosen a name, we're going to start antenatal classes next week and  I've had a couple of outrageously vivid moments of "holy shit!  We're having a baby!"  It's becoming more real for sure.  But then I realise I'll laugh at this post at 39 weeks.  And laugh that I laughed at that post once baby is born.  Reality happens bit by bit and I'm slowly understanding you can't really mentally prepare for anything until you're in it.

* 'decided' being a little strong and possibly not entirely quite as decisive but more like....'we wouldn't...would we?  Maybe we would?  We did!  Wow!....cool.....'

I know it's early days but the excuse to shop for baby's room has been irresistible - even if the room doesn't yet exist.  I just hope the new house (we have yet to find) is big cause I'm showing no signs of slowing.

And I realise I'm leaning on the girly side of decorating but I figure this room is really for me for the first year, kid ain't gonna care if the florals & swans have crept in until he's a bit older, or in fact maybe he'll never care (amazing!)

I guess I should start buying actually useful things like breast pumps and changing mats sometime soon....*yawn


The white rocking chair was bought by my mum last weekend- I LOVE it.  Blue cushions made by Andy's mum, soft toys from local craft market - Andy choose the long pink dog for our boy - and thrifted crochet blanket.


The painting I bought from work and is by artist Stanley Jones, it's gorgeous and named 'My Father's House' based on the landscape in Provence.


Birdhouse made by Andy's uncle - we're going to make it into a lamp - or coat hook,  ethnic cushion from Tree of Life, other stuff is thrifted.

I've not been updating this blog for the last couple of months mainly because of two things...one awful, one WONDEROUS!


Awful: My camera kit was stolen from my car - a total bummer and the second time we've been robbed since we've been back in NZ.  I've just ordered a new camera and I'll be back snapping and squirreling memories away on this here blog which has become even more important because......



WONDEROUS:  I'm up the duff!  Aaarrrgh!  It looks like adopting little kitten Boo was a warm-up - I'm 18 weeks and we're really happy, excited and freaked out.  But more than anything, we're up for this adventure, keen for this wild ride.  It's been 12 wonderful years of adventuring together, just the two of us and now we can't wait for a side-kick.  

It's been a text-book first trimester with nausea and tiredness (oh my god the tiredness!) but nothing more sinister.  It's finally passed and god I feel AMAZING! I probably just back to normal but normal feels wonderful.  Our scan's have all been good, the little sprout is growing well and in about three weeks we'll know what flavour this magic bean is.

The last 18 weeks - sleeping, eating, not-eating, long baths, worry, smiles, tears, lots and lots of thinking about names, telling family, telling friends, telling work, trying to imagine what's ahead, buying the first little baby outfit, hitting all the op shops and markets and finding baby bargains, getting very excited/emotional/scared/blissful.

I've been reading dozens of amazing baby/parenthood blogs and birth stories, they really help me process and begin to understand this strange new world I'm in.  I've a long way to go.  I hope to keep track of our journey here, the three of us growing, learning, changing and ultimately becoming a family.  I feel like I need this blog more than before, and in a different way.  Not just for memories but to help me to get prepared, to see my own thoughts out there before me and to have a place to sort those thoughts out.

Delighted to have you along for the ride new followers!  Your blogs are inspirations to me.

Em x

Peru and Bolivia 2010

Just went through my images of our travels in Sth America, Maria and Mike want some for their new apartment in Athens.  Good memories.  I'm wondering if I have enough for a small exhibition at The Depot so  I think I'll go through them and post those I think might work as prints, build up an idea.  Any feedback on those that should/shouldn't be included welcomed.

1. Peruvian village where we stayed with our guides before beginning the Inca trail.
2  Floating village at Lake Titicaca.
3. Shot from a bus, Peru.
4. Salt Flats, Bolivia and village restaurant, somewhere in the jungle.

Glorious day at Muriwai Beach - walked for a few hours along the beach and saw horses play in the surf, tons of happy dogs and a washed up shark.  Finished up with beers at Halletau.  And the best bit is we have tomorrow off too.  Thank you Queenie.

And Boo is MUCH better too - he is showing us his true colours now, tearing around the house, a little black fluffy ball of mischief, collapsing in various spots to nap, stretching out and looking very contented.

Little Boo is part of this home now and he has taken over.  He is a rascal and a monkey and a very, very sweet little creature.  He loves to be held and carried, not so keen on pats, loves clawing our sofas and skidding across our polished wood floors, likes to burrow under blankets to nap, sit on keypads, hang with his flatmates and sleep beside the fire.  After a week none of us could remember life without him.  The bad news is he has gotten a cold and is on antibiotics.  He isn't as playful and sleeps a lot but most heartbreaking is his terribly blocked nose and snuffles - it's kiling us.  We've had him in the steamy bathroom which can apparently give him some relief and we're keeping him warm but he just has to fight this himself according to the vet.  It's awful and I can only imagine how frightening it would be with a baby.

Andy, who was the most reticent of us all about getting a cat due to his allergies, is head over heels.  He pops him in that Peruvian hat Boo is sitting on in the third pic and carries him around with him,  Boo purring like a maniac inside.  Boo loves Dave because he doesn't make a big fuss, he often chooses to nap on him.  Sarah can't stop cuddling him and is totally spoiling him with cooked beef and kitty milk.  And I'm just so happy he's here.

Get better soon little Boo.

1.  Checking out Charlotte Rust's house in Auckland (The Selby)
2.  Being told by our landlords that we can get a cat - YAAAAY! This little guy's a Devon Rex.
3.  Sarah's dahl and yogurt 
4.  Finding new vintage fabrics  
5.  Reading Gordon McLauchlan's 'Loving All of It' with the windows open to the rain
"Life can only be understood backwards but it must be lived forwards" Søren Kierkegaard
6.  All The Mountains blog seems to always introduce me to wonderous things.  This week I discovered Kiss my Spatula (5) and Irina Graewe's eclectic interiors (6) - awesome curation.
7.  Hearing Tiny Ruins for the first time as I drove to work, now a little bit obsessed - new album out 30 May Tiny Ruins - 'Little Notes' by SpunkRecords

Moved in to our new house and slowly getting our things out.  We have tons of artwork to be framed so the walls look a little bare and I have several furniture projects which include sanding and reupholstering so it's going to take a while before it'll feel finished.  But I love that we don't need curtains for our bedroom window as the big tree is all we can see and also love the overly girlie daybed in our studio - spent today lazing about on it - andy doesn't seem to care that I keep sneaking vintage floral cushions in! The main house is lovely too, amazing fire, lots of shelving for our books and a big kitchen.

Had Hannah, Kate and Andrew over for dinner and happy to find another good recipe; green lentil dahl with roasted eggplant sambal and grilled snapper.  Hannah made a beautiful fejoa crumble...YUM!  Now time for sleep with the wind rustling that big old tree outside my window.

1 - 5.  Spreewald in Berlin.  It used to be the place to go for East Berliner's.  Abandoned after reunification and left to rot while liberated Germans holiday-ed wherever they pleased.  I was very lucky to get entry and went and shot there.  You could almost hear the Oompah bands and smell the wurst but it had been empty for  20 years.

6. A truck stop a few miles from my home town. Always spooked me and I've never stopped there in fear of a Dusk til Dawn scenario.

My pics.
Models from www.naked-dance.co.nr (NB.link doesn't work - website seems to be gone? Please let me know if it's been relocated)

Paris is a terrible fucking cliche in books and movies, with all its despair and poetry and romance and death. But truth is, its a terrible cliche in the flesh. When we travelled around Europe as a family (I was nine), we didn't go to Paris. Toulon, Saint Etienne, Bordeaux but not Paris...Mum said something about a terrorist attack there. In hindsight, perhaps it was just too expensive for my parents to take two hick kids to one of the most expensive cities in the world. We were four kiwi's traveling squashed in a campervan and on a diet of canned tomatoes and packet spaggetti. Where would we camp? Passing its outskirts on our travels, Paris became a kind of mysterious city to me, somehow not of this world. I imagined it walled and sealed off to us and other poor travellers. Back in NZ I built my Mecca up; reading Hemingway, Miller, Nin, Proust, watching Les Amants du Pont-Neuf. My Paris was musty, filled with damp basements lit by candles. Cheap Bordeaux served in tumblers. Absyinthe fueled fights/sex/conversation. Grey stone bricks the size of double beds. Hunched old women in fur; glossy creme brulees; pastel macaroons; extortionately priced toasted cheese sandwiches at tabacs filled with haughty smokers. Every pause and gaze loaded with meaning, with yearning.

I made my first trip to Paris with Andy 11 years ago. He bought a bottle of cheap red wine, a 50c baguette and led me to Sacre Coeur at dusk. Such a fucking cliche. I loved it so much I thought I'd die.

"When good Americans die they go to Paris." Oscar Wilde

My photos of Paris

Pictures I took in Istanbul.  The guy selling tickets is blind.  People were feeding the pigeons and going to mosque.  The bazaar is up the hill and around the corner.  We'd spent hours choosing the right coffee grinder to buy and trying to find out prices of beautiful rugs without actually asking - we knew we didn't have enough money anyway.

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The earthquake in Christchurch was last week and the aftermath is horrific.  So many sad stories.  People gone, missing, dead.  The people who blessedly survived are now having to start again.  The stories on the radio are heartbreaking.  Several companies have announced that they won't be reopening leaving hundreds out of work,  combined with the thousands waiting to find out if they have jobs to go to and small business owners waiting to see if their insurance will help them find new premises, buy stock, equipment etc and let them keep paying their employees until this is possible.

I can't imagine being responsible for a family, for children, a mortgage and not know if I have work nor be able to find other work.  So many people have said "I'd just pack up and get the hell out of Christchurch" but moving away is an impossibility for most of these people right now, they have houses that can't be sold, kids in schools etc.  But they are the lucky ones, so many people have sadder stories.

You can donate here if you like:  www.redcross.org.nz