When you look for sth here

Tuesday, 31 March 2015


It's quite interesting to notice a change in language, and in attitude people use and show when their relationships are getting tighter.
Obvious, I know. Yet, there's something genuinely fascinating in an effort we are ready to make when we are starting to talk to someone. Not sure whether it just aims at impressing that new acquaintance of ours, or because it's part of our New Year's resolution to stop being so inappropriately modest...
The result is, we want to be admired by someone we don't yet know. So we put our best smile on, we reveal the best vocabulary sets we have ever known, we even add a bit of non-flirting charm. We try.
Why then, it's practically never the case with the closest ones? We use simple words, we don't dress to impress at home, and the charm... well, it's best kept. Hidden. For another stranger who happens to be passing by.


Monday, 30 March 2015

1:43 to nightmare

It used to be an insane hour to me. At a quarter to 2 o'clock at night I would be fast asleep, happy to dream, cuddled, hassle-free.
Only after I joined university, that hour was witnessing my passion to read (I hardly ever remember learning something so late at night, but reading - yes, that was usually the case;).
Then, obviously, the coming-back-from-parties hour came on scene. Quite late in life, I agree; but you know, everyone's different. Until then, I didn't know birds are awake in the middle of the night.
Now I know it again. Not too often, though. Throughout my motherhood years (sounds like few ages, where in fact it's no more than 6 years) I developed a pretty clever ability to reach that deep sleep phase within seconds. To the detriment of my husband's night dreams. Obviously.

Sunday, 29 March 2015


When I was genuinely young (light-years ago, that was; and yes, I know, this is actually to describe distance, but I like the sound of it, may I?;), I used to think I would be a mega specialist in something. I didn't know exactly what that something was, apart from its spectacular and profound nature, breathtaking when you hear it.
15 years later (there you go...), and my understanding of a career is much detailed. I want to be in peace with myself, I want to be not in pieces after a day of working, I want to feel fulfilled but still have time to feel myself up with good laugh, good read, and sound amount of sleep. Much more comprehensive, isn't it?:)

Thursday, 26 March 2015

Sine wave

I honestly feel like on a sine wave slide now. Actually (my 6-year old girl's favourite word;), by 'now' I mean the last 11 years. Welcome, the theory of relativity, here is your true believer. When I was a teenager, 11-year period equalled eternity. 20+ years late (and I'm quite modest here;), the same amount of time is nothing but a passing moment in time...

However, I was To touch on my emotional and physical yo-yo effect I witnessed first-hand over the last decade.

Looks like my ability to see things clearly and prevent occasional freak-outs is subject to strong variations, stronger than any statistical average womanist behaviour ever revealed (by the way, I strongly believe that statistics is one of the best lies widely tolerated in the world today; showing a graphics in different dimensions tells us a completely distinct story. I know, I've been there;).
Being a Libra, stability and balance should be my middle names. What's ironical about it, is that when I see the ideal image of me (not the one in the mirror, the one of my mind and soul), I am indeed well-organized, my brain is clear of distractions, I am focused on my aim, I know what to do, I show love and understanding to everybody around, I am patient beyond belief, and so on.
When you look at real me, I have short phases of being like that, feeling like I'm on top of the world, when everything, literally everything goes smoothly, the world loves me, and I love the world back.
For most of the time, I am a mixture of a witch and outrageous vixen who knows best, has no mercy to tiredness, expects everyone, literally everyone in her family to understand her moodiness, and love her; as a result she might, but only might, show some acceptance back. 

I heard that in terrestrial civilizations such personality type is called a mum.

Woman - definition

When she watches youtube videos late at night on how to perfectly cover dark circles with a concealer. Instead of simply going to sleep earlier.

Tuesday, 24 March 2015


I used to use handbags when I was a corporate ant. It was a place to hide a bag of jellies, to keep lipstick and mirror I would never use during the day anyway, to have a purse, phone, some tissues,  moisturizer, and tons of store receipts I would clearly need at random occasions.
With motherhood on, I no longer needed all these. I had a pram, a changing bag, a 'food-and-drink-and-mum-let's-take-something-sweet' bag - no place for a handbag, no hand for a place to keep my mirror and receipts.
Few months back, when we were going out, I was on a verge of taking my handbag out of the deep dark corner of my closet. One look from my husband, and I resigned. After months and months of not using something, it would most probably get lost on DLR quicker than expected anyway, forgotten, sad and lonely...

Why do women need them? Is this some kind of a gender manifesto? I'm a woman, this is my handbag? I use pockets in my jacket to keep my hands warm, not to tuck thousands of thousands of little items men usually take with them, all 100% useful and indispensable? Is it just a needless reminiscence from the days you would never ever leave your home with no hat on, handbag being your first second best friend?

I guess there's a huge misconception around body care, image care, and importance of public view. Some think these are children of the recent years. In fact, we are witnessing the most careless approach to our appearance since the Stone Age.

Handbag to me is a symbol of an organised - yes, I mean organised;) - way of living, with necessary items in place when needed, put nicely in a packaging matching my outfit, taking away the stress of not having something important with, making me feel secured, self-confident, ready to conquer the world with a smile, and - yes;) - lipstick on:))

Sunday, 22 March 2015


Yesterday it was a really lazy day. Over half of the family wandered around with no specific purpose in mind. Others ;) digged into social media, and I also felt a complete lack of necessity to clean up.
When I shared that thought on one of the forums I was meticulously following, one of the other members responded almost immediately, with the following quote:
'who cares?'
Actually, she was quite right. Even though others replied with consolation, and said I was not alone with that feeling, that first blunt reaction made me really sad.

And then I realized how fragile we all are. A person I have never met, who doesn't know me at all has obviously no interest in my feelings. That's understandable.

Staying strong, believing in yourself is difficult enough; exposing some of your thoughts and sharing them with the world makes you potentially weaker. And, when you get a rude but honest feedback, you may fall.

I know I'm dramatizing here, but thus us just where it can go. For me, the whole experience lasted just few minutes, and left me with the best statement I could think of: it's me who cares! And for me, that is more than enough!:)

Friday, 20 March 2015

Challenging the obvious

Yesterday, on our way back home from school, we discussed the existence of various languages, and the actual need for that. My SuperGirl doesn't like it.

It's definitely refreshing to look at the world through the eyes of a 6-year old. 

Sometimes we take things as they are, accepting them as they are, not questioning the fact whether they actually should be there. Only when you stop for a while (not literally, although that might help), you start to see things differently. 
And rather than working around, you come up with a quicker cut-through option.

Not sure yet how to get over the variety of languages, other than learning them. But I believe I live with someone who might find the answer:)

Thursday, 19 March 2015


I just read a very interesting article about popularity of blogging (ekhm), and the tendency to reveal as much about oneself as possible. Looks like I'm in.

Then again;), I thought about it a little more. I do not - definitely not - share every single detail of my life with the public. I obviously make mistakes, loose temper, do things I know I would regret later on (and indeed I do). And I do not necessarily wish to have that revealed. Which proves my vanity, of course. But also touches on natural fall for creating an image of myself, ideally much better than the actual me. At least I find it natural.

I used to work closely on confidentiality, sensitivity, and privacy of data. Potentially, that makes me super-cautious when talking to strangers about my life. However, I find it totally fine to discuss the age of my children with another mum I have never seen before in my life, just met on a train station and noticed her little baby tucked in a carrier. Empathy wins with reason. But it makes me feel better. Not so alienated.

I guess there is a fine line between talking too much and being an isolated human being. And blogging, sharing most private details on Facebook, or Twitter did not create that. That fine line has always been there; only now we get instant access.

It all goes down to me - so modest, I know. But I mean my strong will, ability to judge whether it is safe and reasonable to write about something; whether it can make someone more vulnerable now, or in the future; whether it still means nothing but cuteness and fun in few years time. Finally, if I just want to get the attention. Even for the price of humiliating the closest ones.

Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Easy peasy

Says my SuperSpiderGirl when I explain something to her she already knows.
Yet, when I ask her to do something, the enthusiasm and the speed of reply somehow dissapear...

It's funny and lovely to see how kids develop. And only when watching some random video shot 2 years ago I fully realize how they grow, physically and emotionally. And it makes me happy and scared at the same time. As long as I am not jealous, it's all right, isn't it?...

(Who am I kidding, I am jealous, fortunately not all the time, that would be a complete nightmare. Sometimes I see how they get on with something without me, and I feel that unease, that unreasonable sensation of lost property. And sometimes it takes a while to remember what my aunt used to tell me - a truly wise woman - that you never own your children; you raise them and let them go.)

As we grow, we loose that effortless ability to judge things quickly. It is easy, or it is not. It is black, or it is white. As a 6-year old, we have no problem in making decisions (ok, that's a bit too far, at least when it comes to deciding on breakfast meal in our house:). As a 37-year old, we use 'buts' and 'laters' all the time.

It just came to me: we overthink. Kids don't do that. They go with their gut, with whatever they learnt, with their first instinct. And - in most cases - they don't look back.

Time to follow their footsteps. Find, reveal and let go of that inner child of mine. And make that little me decide from time to time. Easy peasy! :)

Tuesday, 17 March 2015

A cat, a swan, and a lady-to-be

Yesterday in the early afternoon I was yet again proving that my time management is just one big space for improvement. In short, I was running late (Which is what I should have said rath than elaborating semi funny description of my weakness... just like this sentence;).

I was passing the canal, and saw 2 swans fighting / planning future together / checking what impression they make on their fellow teammates.
There was little reaction, actually, apart from the little brown cat. He was sitting like a beautiful statue, looking at the birds with no interest. In fact, his regard was more in the lines of: 'Whoever of these 2 looses, I'm the winner tonight'.
(Yes, I was late. But not oblivious:)))

I wish I had half of his self-confidence. It would make planning things so much easier...

Really, there's no need to dig endlessly into hundreds of profound tips given by experienced business professionals. All you need to do is look around. Fierce competition, organised approach to planning, vision in place to take you to next level - this is all in the nature already...

Monday, 16 March 2015

Singing in the rain

I used to be a helplessly enthusiastic singer.

Not a professional, performing gigs across the universe, making crowds cheering and clapping. I was an amateur, the bathroom-mirror-is-my-audience type of performer. This goes back to my early youth, and how successfully I followed the footsteps of my parents in that zone.

For quite a while now, I seemed to stop. Obviously, I sang lullabies and kids type of songs: cheerful, opptymistic and happy, sometimes beyond my own will. And beliefs. But nothing above.

The truth is, and it is always the case, in everything you do, you have to believe in it. Otherwise, it's not worth the fuss.
Since I stopped believing in myself, I stopped singing. It only occurred to me now, when I am slowly becoming to recover, and reveal, and share what I think with all who are bored so much with everything else in the world, that they kindly share their time with me, reading these scribbles of mine;)

The result is, I sing now. Again. There is still space for improvement, as it is not from the bottom of my heart. Nor from the top of my lungs either. But I'm getting there - dear neighbors, beware!;)

Saturday, 14 March 2015

The space is ours

Recently my SuperSpiderGirl became interested in the exploration of Space. Clearly, Earth is not enough for her.
Us to blame. I'm definitely not in love with changes, yet we move every few years. Looks like steadiness is not our cup. Of coffee (tea is enjoyed, coffeine is required to live;)

We went to London Planetarium 2 weeks ago, for The Dark Universe show, which my SuperSpiderGirl found fascinating at the beginning, and a bit boring towards the end. I want to think this is due to the suggested target audience, a bit older than her... The MiniMan seemed to confirm that, as he found it fascinating at the beginning ('Wow', 'Taaa', 'Yeyy'), and completely lulling towards the end. I want to think this is due to the soothing darkness during the show...

Tuesday, 10 March 2015

I wish I could fly

Again, nothing original here. So many people dream of flying. This is becoming quite boring, actually. But not for me. Since my no-longer significant acrophobia, I would love to experience that overwhelming and liberating act of flying.
I used to be terrified of height. Not that I couldn't use stairs. Actually, living in a house throughout my childhood and adolescence, I was more afraid to use any lifts, imagining all the possible falls and disruption of engine services. Very helpful indeed.
I was just afraid to go higher than I could safely jump back to the ground. So, I decided to overcome this by falling in love with mountaineering (and with a hiking lover, but that came later). And it helped.

Yet, I still feel tangles between my body and my inner me (not sure if it makes sense, well, it does to me...), when I see a picture of someone standing at the very edge of a high cliff, not supported, careless, and happy.
Looks like I'm jealous. And that's probably true. So, out of jealousy comes my dream of flying.

For now, this could only be fulfilled by a one-time only free falling. Since that's not something I'm interested in for the moment, I will stick to visualisation of me, non supported, careless and happy in the air. It should de-stress me, too, which is kind of like a positive side-effect to the whole story I'm trying to see in my mind's eye.

Like I said, I wish I could fly...

Saturday, 7 March 2015

A mirror, a name, and a lady

It can be enchanting (Snow White could be a good example), flattering (if anyone finds one, please contact the author of this blog immediately), or ruthlessly revealing all the fine lines.
No need to say, I'm in the third row.
Fine lines - what a ridiculous term, indeed. I get the point, fine as the opposite to deep, and synonym to delicate, but - seriously - is there anything fine about them? Really?
I wonder how it all happened, the invention of this term. There might have been some lady, well-positioned in the society, who happened to look in her mirror (and I believe there were not so many of these floating around anyway), while she was preparing for some royal ceremony she was inevitably invited for. And she said something like: 'Oh, my forehead, there are these... lines...'. And then, one of her maids said something similar to: 'oh, no, milady/lady/countesse (whatever), they are fine, really'.
And, there you go. The hastily given reply became a notion. Inappropriate, frustrating, and economical with the truth.

Thursday, 5 March 2015


I am one, no doubt. I smile and say nice things to people when I feel like I would like to tell them to go to hell instead. It's when they cross my path uphill in a park, chasing their cute little doggies, and I am fighting against gravity with my napping toddler in his buggy. And a little bit of shopping, no harm when he is asleep. And a cup of takeaway coffee, because it's so much easier to balance everything with one hand available, isn't it? Someone tells me I'm wrong, he's obviously mistaken.
But they say sorry. Actually, it's more of a mumbled 'ory', but its enough for me to smile (as much as it is physically possible, since I'm still struggling in an upward direction, so in fact it's more of a grim), and say 'it's ok'. When it's definitely not ok, I'm angry and would love to plan my route better rather than carelessly following the sun.
So, I am a hypocrite. When I say I am too tired to read a third goodnight book, and ask to have the lights turned off instead, and gaze at the ceiling with a mini solar system (the latest souvenir from our visit to the London Observatory), chatting about the planets and how it would be to go to the Moon.
In reality, I could have read that book, but I just didn't want to. So, it was a lie. I lied. But at the same time I expect my children to be honest, and tell the truth. At all times.
Oh, mother...

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Material girl, material boy, and material mother

Things in bulks surround me, they make me feel overwhelmed, and they limit me more than I wish. Despite my sincere attempts not to carry every single piece of baby/child-related equipment when on a walk, I end up with, well, things in bulks.
I honestly wonder how other mums manage to survive their everyday lives with buggies clear of stuff, just one almost-designer-type of bag happily hanging over, and they are able to have their take-away coffee, and talk to someone on the phone, and giggle, and push their lovely child(ren), who are clean, happy, and contempt.
Me, in turn, I am usually the visual representation of a more-is-less motto (yes, it was deliberately meant the other way round, unfortunately). The school bag, the nappy bag, the snacks bag, the library bag...
Not that I'm jealous, just wondering.

Since children do copy their parents, and that's, in essence, how they learn about life and habits, I seem to be caring for future materialists. At least they may develop their analytical abilities to the full, explaining everything around us with no spiritual input required. Just things.

In result, I believe the others look at me with pity. While I care about it less and less (another obvious sign of aging...), it seems to result in unusual kindness and sincere support when I least expect it. Like the other day, we were walking through a foot tunnel underneath Thames, only to find out that the lift at the other end was not working. Then, a truly decent and incredibly nice guy suggested to help us (no flattery here, I have a husband who I happen to, you know, admire and respect, and love; even when I do not express this with everyday boxes of chocolates, bunches of deep-red roses, and shirts ironed flawlessly). I ended up carrying my happy mini man in his buggy with a man I have never seen before in my life, all the way up the 100+ stairs to the street level.

Miracles do happen...