The Birth

You could imagine the feeling of entering the world for the first time. The Pain (yes i do write Pain here with capital P) the confusion, the unknown, the fear. It's kind of how it feels. Not the squeezing through a much too narrow genital area. But somewhat the work, the endurance of pain, just to come out on the other side tired and covered in crap.

And you've been on the delivery end. Twice. So there you are: blessed, grateful, healthy, sane and peachy. With a spankin' new version of you. And she really is a version of you. The only problem is that she isn't a better one.
She is ungrateful, egoistic, moody, cries constantly and never sleeps. And she has an obsession with eating. But she is a baby, and you on the other hand are not. So you endure.

Time passes, and you get no congratulations from anyone that you've notified. You are convinced they all hate you. And that new version of you. And you are still blessed, grateful, healthy, sane and peachy.

You work out, take care of yourself, sort through all your problems and take excellent care of your children and husband. Only you do not. You never scream, want to die, despair over everything or feel lost. Only you do.

You take your thin mini version to the doctor. She is small. She needs more. You must give more. They pet her, weigh, and study her head. However only on the outside. They ask you to see your therapist. Promises are made.

The next time you arrive, the mini is still thin. And you are still not. And you still must give more. The promises that were broken are asked to be kept. You say yes. But you don't.

Later you find that your ever loving hubby didn't actually send any notifications to your friends on your behalf, since none of them seemed to actually receive anything. You forgive him instantly, and don't blame, nor hate, nor loath.

But you don't know how to face them. Being all blessed, grateful, healthy, sane and peachy. So you don't. And the dreams and sleepless nights does not bother you. Nor does the total lack of friends.
Who needs friends when you have your awesome self and two versions of you.

The uneasy feeling you get. Its not from the Pain. It's not from the confusion. So you stay where you are although you know they will not find you. So you smile, you don't scream, you play, you try to redecorate your house. How many shades of gray? Apparently enough. But you don't leave.

So you are still  blessed, grateful, healthy, sane and peachy.
But you never were. You just are.

The garden that just wouldn't die

Well, it’s more the flowers in it that still linger. Somehow it was lost to them that without love, nourishment or water they will die. At last they have acquired the golden glow that usually precedes imminent death. But still nothing. And worst of all, it rained today. So now they will try to reclaim their place once more.

The way around the stroller jungle.

The old new Brio GO. Go where you say? Oh back to four wheels of course!

Forget three wheels. That is so last year. Actually three years ago. Bugaboo came along and told us that we needed to have four wheels, and the first two had to be so painfully small, that you would get stuck only if you passed a glance at an uneven surface. But the debate over the hugely popular Urban Jungle, Trend for Kinds and Quinny freestyle continued.

If you are a newcomer to the jungle of strollers, you might not just get lost, you'll get a bit exhausted.You might want to have a stroller that will satisfy all your needs (your stroller need anyways..)
We'll there is no such thing. When you ask the mothers of discussion boards, they will be biased by habit, trends, and their own choices.

If you live in a cold and horrible country like Norway, you'll soon find the need for more than one stroller. If you try to find a stroller that meets both your winter and summer needs, the stroller will fall short in both departments. Unless you are an easygoing, conservative, low maintenance kind of woman. However, most women are not.

You might claim that I am a victim in this. And then again, you might not. But I'm going for a Brio GO.

As the sun sets over an uneasy horizon, the silver piglet emerges once again. Although not as melodramatic as it sounds.

The piglet, not small and not pink at all, had turned from gold to silver. It was the natural, unholy way of life. Everything must decay.