A portrait of each of my children once every week for 2015.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Kitty: As the first tiny flakes of frozen rain started to hail down on the patio she ran to press her nose to the door to watch the world turn a very tiny bit whiter than it was already and then pleaded to head outside.  She was just so excited by the teeny tiny amount of snow that we got and clearly she’s forgotten the snow we had the spring after Elma arrived it makes me all the more certain that one of these days we’re going to take the family on holiday to somewhere where it really really snows just to see what she makes of a foot or more of snow.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/600, f/2.8, ISO 640)

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Elma: Oh how that girl loves her blankie.  I knit it when I was expecting Kitty and used it for naps and as an extra layer on the coldest nights and did the same again for baby Elma.  And when it was time to start nursery that’s the blanket she took for naps.  And in the process it became more than just something cosy to sleep under but a comfort and a talisman of home.  It is adored, cuddled, carried around and dragged across the kitchen floor, and if ever she feels a little tired this is how I’ll find her; thumb in, blankie wrapped up in her arms and pressed to her cheek.  It must be time for a cuddle and a story.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/640, f/2.8, ISO 100)

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Pip: This is why I photograph my children.  Because this isn’t just a little boy looking at a camera, this is my son looking at his mother.  It’s the look is joy and contentment and relief all rolled into one, the look he gives me whenever I come back into the room; a look of pure love.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/50, f/2.8, ISO 100)

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Once upon a time it was a sunny morning.  It was also January and this means that sunny mornings are not to be wasted.  You might be forgiven for thinking that in a houseful of self professed explorers this should mean suiting and booting ready to get outside and go and find some mud to roll in and a flurry of wooly hats, mittens and the occasional scarf.

But no, for the end of the month was drawing near and therefore the presence of sunshine and the master of the house home from work means it’s time for pictures.  Even if one member of the family was still wearing a hat to warm up after taking Kitty to ballet class, and more than one other was sporting baby drool as less of an accessory and more of a full on style statement.

I love it when my Me and Mine or Siblings pictures come out all nicely posed with a pretty backdrop and everyone looking at the camera and if not smiling then at least looking moderately happy to be there.  I treasure those photos, and they are the ones that I’ve got marked up for framing, but I’m very well aware that they aren’t exactly our every day reality.

And so I hope that there’s room in the remit of family photos for the less than perfect, the photos where someone’s squinting, or talking (that would be me!), or pulling a funny face, or the ones where despite assiduous attention with the hairbrush only moments before, both girls look like they’ve just landed through a hedge backwards. Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Or when it suddenly becomes very obvious that my attempts to remove glitter glue from my patio windows has been largely unsuccessful!

But I think they show us as a family as our truest selves.  This is what family life looks like in my house if you pop round on a Saturday morning.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

There are cuddles as everyone tries to curl up on H’s very snuggly jumper, princess babies that are apparently essential to all activities for at least the next hour and a half, sucking thumbs, sleepy faces, funny expressions, a baby quite desperate to hold onto and taste everything that passes him by, and if you’re very lucky we’ll all have made it out of our pyjamas.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

This has been on the whole a very ordinary sort of month.  We loved celebrating Pip with our family and friends at his baptism but other than that we haven’t done anything tremendously exciting or made any great plans to go anywhere special.  It’s been a month of just being, of trips to the playpark, baking biscuits, tidying away Duplo, trying not to eat Playdoh, of long days working hard and evenings vegging out together.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Being the five of us together is my favourite kind of happy, everyone is relaxed and after a week of mostly parenting by myself it’s just bliss to be able to share it with H. In the grand scheme of things even though our tiny Pip is now a little bigger and a whole five months old we’re still really such beginners at being a family of five and still working so much out to try to balance all of our needs and find room for all of our wants, and that’s not without its trials, tribulations and sleep deprivation and I’m so hugely thankful that I’m not doing it alone.  It’s the moments when you can share your exasperation at the logic of small people, or exchange a wry smile at something they say, or one of those rare times when everyone’s playing happily and you look across at each other and feel like you might just burst with joy.

These are the moments that I truly treasure. Moments of my little family, in January:

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

And no Me and Mine post would be complete without another example of “what happens when I go upstairs to change Pip, leaving my camera set up and the remote trigger in the possession of one of my daughters”

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

H is clearly branching out on the modelling poses!

 

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Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Joining in with {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single of photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savour and remember.

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Once upon a time, long long ago, before I had stretch marks, bags under my eyes and three adorable children, I used to knit rather a lot.  Sort of obsessively. Rather as if I had oodles of free time in which to play with sticks and string.  And about five to six years ago my obsession dedication to that fibre art got quite specific.  I knit socks. A lot of them.  I knit socks for family birthdays, for H, and lots and lots of socks for me.  There were socks in beautiful multicoloured skeins of yarn that coiled and wrapped themselves around my feet in rich velvety swirls of colour, there were the plainer yarns used to knit up the most intricate patterns I could find, cables, lace, knots and leaves, the first pair of socks knitted from my own handspun, and a very memorable pair of pirate argyles, (that alas appear to have gone unphotographed).

And gradually my sock drawer got fuller and fuller and fuller to the point at which I phased out anything that wasn’t either hand knit or for sport.  Similarly H has work socks, sports socks and a beloved collection of fluffy socks that explode out of his drawer at the slightest opportunity.

But the problem with knitting all your socks is that they wear out.  And the problem with knitting all your socks within a 24 ish month period is that they all wear out more or less at once.

And so the casualties have begun.  Worn patches under the ball of the foot, stitches escaping from a hole in the toe and unravelling half way up the foot, odd stitches that you didn’t think were in any danger suddenly giving way mid way through the wash leaving you with a hole big enough to make thumbless mittens by the time you pull it out the machine.

I’ve darned more than a few but it doesn’t seem to extend their life expectancy by more than a couple more wearings before the bit next to the bit I’ve darned all falls apart too.  Clearly I would have failed darning if they’d taught it at school.  I think about throwing them away, and sometimes I even take them out of the drawer and put them on the top with a vague sort of intention to actually move them gently towards the bin, but they never get that far.   I think there’s just too much work in each pair for me to be happy just chucking them away.  I’ve thought about unravelling them and using the yarn for something else, probably a smaller pair of socks, or maybe some stripes, but as much as I like the idea, I also know myself, and I know that that plan is only going to end with a pile of socks insulating a corner of the studio while I cast longing glances at the untouched stash upstairs.

So this year I have a plan.  Well a plan of sorts.  Some of it is a little experimental (but aren’t the best plans always like that) and it starts with a little ruthless attention to the sock drawer.  Everything with a hole in it has come out.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

If it’s a toe up pair then they are no longer candidates for being a pair of socks.  The sock has to go on to pastures new, no plea bargaining allowed.

If I knit them cuff down and the hole is in the toe and there aren’t any other noticeable weaknesses then they’re candidates for re-knitting.  Which is this lot:

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Five pairs, most of them just need a new toe and I’m tempted to say that I’ve got until Easter to get them back into circulation, but don’t quote me on that one.  I have however put the green pair back on the needles for a new toe.  They’re special socks, the colour is called Lucky, I was wearing them for my first ultrasound with Kitty and during a lot of my labour and they’re on the save list for sentimental reasons alone.

And as for the rest of them. Well these are no longer classified as socks.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Which is where the experiment comes in.  I still really don’t want to throw them away. I love those socks, there are hours of my time knit into them, they’re made of yarn that I think is soft and warm and they’ve kept me cosy and warm for so many years.  And they’re beautiful.  Just rather well ventilated.  So the plan is to upcycle them. They’re going to be a blanket.  Or some of them is anyway.

My plan is to slice across the bottom of the cuff just before it expands into the heel.  The foot can’t be saved but the cuff could then be sliced open vertically to give me a square ish sort of shape which could then be crocheted to lots of other former socks to make a knitted patchwork blanket.  Not all the colours will work together and I’m sure some will fall apart somewhere along the line, but what about something that looks a little bit like this:

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I haven’t cut anything open or tried to crochet around all the raw edges so I have absolutely no idea how this is going to work out.  It could be brilliant, it could be utter madness, but having made the momentous admission that these are no longer functioning socks I don’t think I’ve got anything to loose.  It’s time to get the scissors out.

 

At the end of November H and I took a big deep breath and sent an email to Kitty and Elma’s nursery to withdraw Elma.  She had her last nursery day at the end of December and came home as happy as could be having had a lovely day playing on the trikes in the garden and doing something involving copious amounts of glue (the latter deduction based mainly on how much shampoo was required at bath time), entirely unaware that this had been her Last Day, while I tried not to get emotional at the fact that she was leaving key workers who I can remember loving and welcoming Kitty not so very long ago, and who I had been so happy to have be a part in both my daughters’ childhood.

It was one of those moments when you just have to cross your fingers and hope that you’ve made the right decision.

It was in part a decision motivated by finances; I don’t need childcare right now, I’m at home all day, and will be until the summer so to have any form of outside help is a bit of a luxury.  Kitty is eligible for her nursery grant and my employer continues to pay my childcare vouchers while I’m on maternity leave, but you don’t get any more childcare vouchers for having more children (sensible though that might be, and we’ll leave that soapbox for another day) and they only go so far.  And so it came to a choice.  Both girls could have one day a week, or Kitty could have two.

If one of them had hated nursery, had had to be peeled off me every morning or had come home bored and unenthusiastic it might have been easy to say “Ok you stay at home, you can go if you want to”, but they both absolutely love nursery.  Kitty settled in almost from her first day and is happy and comfortable and confident with all of her key workers.  They’ve taught her French nursery rhymes and she’s watched a chicken hatch, and a baby chicken poop on someone’s hand, and made more art than we can fit in our house and sung and run around all day long, while Elma walked in on her first day without a backward glance.  As long as there was toast in the mornings she was the happiest little girl in the room, usually giving her wailing companions a rather quizzical look over the breakfast table.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

But at the end of the day Kitty is four and Elma is only just two, and so we decided that it was most important for Kitty to have her two days.  I think if she were at home all day every day she’d start to climb the walls.  It sounds very super special snowflake I know, but she comes across as quick to pick things up and usually fairly confident and articulate and I can see how frustrated she gets when we have to do things at a slightly slower speed or at a lower level to allow Elma to join in, or because Mummy also needs to take care of Pip.  It’s probably a useful life lesson for her and I do try to take some time in the day to do things just for her, to play dominoes or her sandcastle game or anything else where there’s a risk of Elma running off with the pieces, but as Elma starts to drop her nap (alas) it becomes harder to fit in.  Those two days with her peers give her the chance to just be Kitty and not Kitty-the-biggest-sister, and as there’s at least one little girl in her preschool class who will (fingers crossed) be going to school with her come September I’m so happy that she’s going to have  one friendly face for her first day.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

And while Elma loved her nursery days we’re hoping that for her the benefits of being at home all the time will outweigh missing her toast, her favourite tricycle, her key worker and her friends (probably in that order).  I hope that in giving her more time at home she gets to be the big sister not the little big sister.  She will get, well not quite one on one time with Mummy, because no one gets one on one time with me at the moment, not even me, but certainly the chance to be the leader in our expeditions, the chance to think for herself, and to answer for herself and not simply echo her much adored and very vocal big sister.  She is by nature a very independent little thing and I’ve no doubt that when the time comes for pre-school and real school she’ll have no trouble finding her feet, but for now it feels right to pull her close and enjoy the last few months of her babyhood.

But that was our reasoning, not the girls’.  I worried that Elma would feel that she was being left out, that she would want to run on in to her toast every day and I’d have to comfort a sad little girl who couldn’t understand why she wasn’t being allowed to play with her friends any more; or that Elma would be fine but Kitty would feel as if we were pushing her out, as if we didn’t want her so we were sending her away, or that she was missing out on some day full of fun and chocolate ice cream every time she went to pre-school.  And I worried a little bit about Pip.  All through the autumn I loved those couple of days a week that I spent with just my Pip; I could entirely devote myself to him, to feeding him with no pressure to be done so that I could go and sort out sticky messes or trying to read a story with one hand, hold a baby with the other and work out how or whether we were ever going to have lunch all at the same time.  It was a treat and one I’m well aware many people don’t get, but I didn’t want Pip to loose that special time, or to simply be carted from pillar to post as I parented his sisters.

It also felt like the first time we’d made a parenting decision that was right but not necessarily fair, it’s an awkward sort of feeling, but one I suspect we’ll become all too familiar with as the years go past.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

And so here we are, one month in, and so many of my worries have come to nothing; Kitty still loves pre-school and sees it as something that she gets to do because she’s a big girl; Elma turned up to deliver Kitty on her first at home morning wearing a sunhat, carrying a little raffia basket and told everyone “I going shopping. But not Littee (her sister)!”, seems generally rather surprised to find some of her former colleagues in the hallway and is loving sole possession of all the Duplo slides and the swing twice a week.  And as she still naps occasionally, or gets utterly caught up in playing I don’t think I’ve lost out on my play time with Pip.

So far so good. Phew.

I’ve just read Slinky Malinki to Elma for the 3,427,968th time. Approximately.

And while I might be over egging the pudding slightly, it is true that it is still very much one of her favourites, and frequently requested at bedtime, and in the morning, and after lunch, and… well she hasn’t asked for it in church yet but it’s probably only a matter of time.

She’s quite fond of Sniff Snuff Snap (and I’ll always love it for memories of a tiny Kitty bouncing around shouting “sniff snuff snap! all came back!”) and the Hairy Maclary books are well read too – but they just don’t have quite the same edge.

So what on earth could rival Slinky Malinki? It’s obvious really: more Slinky Malinki.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

We were browsing Blackwells children’s department while waiting to meet a certain spaceman, trying to find something to entertain two small people in the queue and as a present for Elma to match the book that Kitty was about to get, and there on a shelf, next to the Slinky Malinki that we know and love and the Slinky Malinki that we have borrowed from the library more times than is probably reasonable, sat a new (to us) story of our favourite cat.

Well that was easy.

Elma carried it all the way down the queue, had her godmother read it to her several times, and I think she may even have asked Chris Hadfield to sign it – happily, as toddler-speak is largely only intelligible by mummies, I don’t think he noticed!

And as Kitty clasped her signed copy of You Are Here in the car on the way home, Elma sat with her bag on her lap patting her new book every now and then.

So often sequels can be a bit of a let down, the characters are as lovely as ever but they ran such a beautiful plot arc in the first book that there’s very little left to do with them in any follow up.  But this is not one of those. This is a sequel that is just as good as the original, of the sort that you love just as much as the original, to the extent that if you were ever asked to choose between them you would feel as if you had been asked to pick your favourite child.  But then again perhaps I’m allowing myself to become unduly influenced by the fact that the plot rather resonates with daily life in our house at the moment. Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

You see Slinky Malinki has found a friend in the form of Stickybeak Syd. And I don’t know who is egging on who but it seems that the sum of two champion mischiefmakers is more than the total of their parts. Together they realise that our Slinky can open doors. Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

And he does. In fact those two harum-scarums open just about every door in the house leaving a trail of havoc a mile wide.  Sound familiar to anyone?

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

But at last they open just one more door and find a surprise they don’t like waiting behind it!

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

As always Lynley Dodd’s rhymes and illustrations are just gorgeous, with such a lovely patter and a chorus that repeats throughout the book – and it’s lovely to see a Hairy MacLary cameo too.

So I suspect that it will be no great hardship to find myself alternating Slinky Malinkis whenever there’s a request for a story.

 

Space for the Butterflies: What We're Reading

What We’re Reading is a weekly link up of posts about children’s books.  That’s about as far as the ‘rules’ go; it can be picture books, baby books, books for older children or even young adult if you like; just come and join us to tell us what you’ve been reading recently.  The linky is always open for a week so there’s plenty of time to join in, or if you’d rather join in on Instagram or Twitter that would be wonderful too, just use the hashtag #whatweread and tag me (@cariemay on Instagram and @cariemaymakes on Twitter) and then we can all come and say hi.

And if you missed out last week, Jess’ Rosalie has been planning all of her adventures with the help of Out and About which has the most gorgeous illustrations and words that lead you across each page, around the duck pond and on to the next!

 

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Inside Kitty and Elma’s stockings were two little wooden figures, a pale rose angel with big curving wings for Kitty and a little girl in a bright pink dress playing the flute for Elma. We’ve had various blocks and rainbows and waves and all sorts of other things for making castles for a little while but no one to live in them so Father Christmas decided to rectify the situation.

Since then the castle making has really taken off. It used to be that I’d get the blocks out and start building something and only then would the girls start to come and put their stamp on it, but in the last month both girls have started to play much more autonomously. Kitty loves starting with a little loop of our moon houses and then building up up and up and Elma makes little lines of square blocks across the carpet that her little girl hops along.

They still squabble over who is going to get which bricks and if Elma takes too much of an interest in Kit’s latest building project she tends to be met with shrieks of protest, but then there are the times when they play quite happily next to each other, or work together to build one giant castle and I can sit there and know that for these precise 30 seconds of peace I’ve clearly got parenting nailed.

And I get to see what their imaginations can come up with all by themselves. This little castle is Kitty’s, built entirely by herself.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Or at least it’s Kitty’s at that precise moment, these castle are very fluid in their architecture and are constantly being added to until it all falls down and they have to start again.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

At that moment Kitty’s angel is tucked up safe and warm in the bedroom (the lower curved green roof pinched out of the middle of the rainbow), the bottom section of moon houses is her house and the top is her garden and a little roof over the top for her to stand under.  Moments later the roof had come off, a new wall was built and it started to look rather like a giant multicoloured octopus as slide after slide after slide was added around the edges.

And this afternoon, as Kitty drew, and I sat on the floor playing with Pip, I watched Elma as she leaned against the footstool arranging and rearranging different blocks, dropping the ones she didn’t want back onto the floor and trotting over to the bookcase to stand on tippy toes to reach for Kitty’s angel.  She was completely immersed in whatever world she was creating, unusually quiet and clearly so very content.  She broke off for supper but as soon as we’d finished she scuttled back to her building and was very loathe to leave it for bath time.  It was just wonderful to see her so focussed and involved in her play.

And tomorrow I’m sure there will be another castle.

When I decided to use this year to record not the children but the things that make their childhood I has a feeling that it would never be just about taking pictures of their toys.  With most of my Living Arrows pictures last year the picture was only half the story, and this year I think that’s even more true.  Because I could happily take a picture of their Duplo with the heading “Duplo, we really really like it around here” and it would be (a) true and (b) give a little hint at what we do on a Saturday morning, but I want these pictures and these words to be a little more than that; to record the stories that go with them; to complete the composition and fill in with words what has just stepped out of the frame.

And some day when all three of them are all grow up and we no longer have a play kitchen and umpteen boxes of bricks in our lounge I know I’ll look back on all of this with nostalgia and be glad to remember it.  And if I’m very lucky I might just have a couple of faces peeking over my shoulder to say “I remember those moon houses and the rainbow blocks” – even if it’s almost certainly followed with “you used to pinch them out of my castle when I wasn’t looking!”. Sisters, they don’t forget!

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I have an ex-bucket.  It was my mop bucket and over the years since we first moved into this house it has done stirling work in the matter of kitchen floors, the removal of mud from the hallway and all things that can be covered by the spine chilling phrase “potty training”.  But alas, the spout started to crack and the little squeeze strainer thing that clips onto one end reached the end of its natural life and started to shatter shards of plastic every time you pressed down to squeeze.  And so it was replaced, and I put the old bucket out by our recycling bins to await the day when I had time to take it down to the recycling centre to commence a new life as part of a bin bag or something similar.  That was, well let’s just say a few months ago, and over the course of the autumn it’s gradually filled with rainwater and the occasional leaf.

And what happens to water when the temperature dips to -5 overnight?

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Ice.  We prodded it, watched the warmth of our hands make little fingertip dimples in the ice, prodded it some more and wondered how thick the ice was.

So I took it around to the back garden, upended it and for moment, nothing. The three of us stood their watching silently and then with an almighty crash the weight of the water behind the ice won out, it shattered and with a whumph and a splash, leafy water and chunks of ice came flooding across the patio.  The girls, clad in wellies (and fancy dress naturally) got stuck straight in to this most wonderful new puddle while I (wearing Birkenstocks) scuttled hurriedly backwards.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

For Elma it was all about the puddle, she took a while to get around to the ice, but Kitty, with two more years of puddle experience than her sister, wanted to know a bit more.  So we poked at the spiky bits left in the bucket and picked up the big chunks lying on the patio and dropped them to watch them break apart as they hit the ground.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

And it was then that Kitty realised that she could make one of her dreams come true, she could be Elsa, she could indeed stamp her foot and have ice shoot out in all directions from under her wellyboot – even dressed as Snow White.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

I’d love to claim I’d planned it all out as a serious learning experience for the girls after serious and devoted research on the internet but frankly I’d forgotten about the bucket until I ventured out into the insanely cold and frosty morning to put the milk bottle in the plastics bag, and an old mop bucket isn’t exactly Pinterest worthy is it? Although Kitty’s nursery do have winter as their topic at the moment (they’ve built a great igloo out of cereal boxes) so perhaps I could claim to be linking in to that. Or not.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

I have no idea what Kitty learnt about ice, if anything.  I know Elma cemented her love of puddles, not that she needed any more convincing about their merits, and I learnt that if the kids are having a really ratty day I can make a great puddle for them to splash in by tipping a bucket of water over our back patio.

But most of all, it was fun. As anything that starts with curiosity and ends with a full scale performance of Let It Go is always going to be.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

 

 

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A portrait of each of my children once every week for 2015.

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Kitty: I have so many pictures of her smiling or hamming it up for the camera it’s unusual to catch her looking a little more contemplative.  And for all her great height, or the times when I see in her expression a flash of the future woman she will become, I love that this shows that there’s still an echo of my baby there, a reminder perhaps that despite the two little siblings and all the big adventures on her horizon this year, she’s still really so very little herself in the grand scheme of things.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/160, f/2.5, ISO 500)

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Elma: caught in one of those moments that make you stand really still and just watch quietly, not moving in case you startle them out of whatever world they’re playing in, while inside you just want to say “aww!”  She pulled my nursing cushion half way across the room to plop it up on the sofa and snuggle in to my favourite spot to get Dolly Charlotte all settled and fed.  I love that as well as being nursed herself, and seeing me feed Pip there are enough other people in her world that nurse their babies that she sees it as the default setting, and she takes very good care of all her dollies, even if in this case Dolly Charlotte actually belongs to Kitty.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/100, f/2.2, ISO 400)

Space for the Butterflies - an eclectic handmade family life

Pip: Oh my sweet boy.  You have a cold and so it’s been a week of cuddles and not wanting to let your Mama out of your sight, and that’s OK. We’ve had so much fun in the quiet moments this week though; you found your toes a little while back and you think it’s great fun to pull at them until your feet disappear into the legs of your babygro.  You tend to use a little foot grabbing as a precursor to trying to roll; you can get onto your side but no further at the moment; though I know it will come all too soon.

(Nikon D80, 35mm 1.8 lens – 1/200, f/2.5, ISO 500)

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