A work in progress 

I often describe myself as a “work in progress “and I truly do believe that’s a good definition of who I am. Yet the other day someone said that by doing this I was putting myself down. 

Am I? 

You see as far as I am concerned I have a lot left in this life to learn. That’s not to say that I haven’t achieved a lot I certainly have, but there is so much out there left for me to absorb. 

I love the fact that the world is full of knowledge and life that I have yet to learn or experience. Places to visit, people to meet. Every one of these new moments crafting me into someone new. 

I cannot describe the joy I feel when my mind gets blown by something I never knew. By an emotion I have yet to feel. 

I absolutely love being a work in progress, it allows me scope to make mistakes and try again. 

Perfection is so overrated. 

You only have to look at the beauty of a broken jug to know that life is a celebration of imperfections.

I do not see the image of myself as a work in progress as a put down or a lack of confidence, far from it. I see it as an adventure, a adventure of a lifetime yet to live.

A story of moments, experiences and sensations.

I cannot wait.

Choosing not to write

Sometimes I choose not to write, not to throw my hat into the arena of comments and opinions. I virtually bite my tongue and stay quiet.


Not because I don’t have an opinion, I do, but I just don’t know enough.


I don’t know the real situation behind the headlines or gossip.


I don’t know the real people behind the photos or blog posts.


Being behind the computer gives us an opportunity to be.


A place where we can be ourselves and let our voices be heard.


But I ask the question, are we who we say we are?


Sometimes I read stories and blog posts and wonder, did that really happen?


Is their life really that perfect?


So many times we create ideas and ideals that people cannot or shouldn’t try and live up to.


Then we feel disappointed when we meet them in real life or the truth is unearthed.


But whose fault is that, have we created our own opinion or have they created one which isn’t true to what we now see.


So when the news headlines fill my screens or the television is full of the latest reality television show, I simply switch off.


I will not form an opinion of another from another’s words, I want to meet, feel and listen to their heart. 


Only then when I know the full story, 

Will I choose to speak,

Choose to write.

I have the Blues


I think I have a bit of the post conference blues.


At the Brit mums weekend I was Sara and I loved it.


As much as I cherish being mom sometimes I lose my identity under the piles of dirty washing and endless tantrums.


My job also doesn’t really give me a place to be Sara as a foster carer parenting is my job, which yes I love but hey where am I?


Maybe it just a case of the blues, that will soon pass over, or maybe its the inner me shouting a little louder than normal.


While we all love our roles of mother, wife etc we still need to remember that we are ourselves too.


To indulge in our passions be in it books, nights out, nights in. 


Whatever we desire, need.


I need to take this on board more. 


I need to not wait for those once a year weekends to embrace the woman inside.


This doesn’t detract from the roles I play it enhances them.


A happy mom makes for happy children.


A contented wife has a contented husband



So I’m make a new resolution (no its not new year) I’m going to celebrate me a little more, indulge me a little more, embrace me a little more.


I’m going to step out of the roles that have been defining me and learn more about the woman within.


I’m sure she is still there somewhere?


 Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale of all. Hans Christian Anderson

Believing in myself

Today one of my daughters told me off. I was moaning about how nervous I was for this weekends Brit mums live when she told me straight.


“mom if you don’t believe in yourself how do you expect others too.”


Bang, right in my face!


How true , here I am harping on about my nerves probably making you all think I’m some kind of sloppy wimp.


When the fact is that’s not true.


Ok I’m not an overly outgoing person but I can and do generally chat to anyone, anywhere.


I have spoken in public numerous times on different subjects and do actually really enjoy it.


I also liaise with professionals from all walks of life on a weekly if not daily basis.


I am the co-founder of a charity  Livvy’s Smile which is growing fantastically and have hosted and organised numerous events.


I’m also a writer both here and in other places including the Compassion UK Blog and fostering publications.

I’m also a mom to four incredible girls and a foster mom to one young man.

And to top it all off I’m also in the Brilliance in Blogging Inspire category final with Brit Mums, how about that.


So come on girl pull yourself together. 


One gigantic kick up the bum coming my way.


So from now on I’m stepping forward with a new attitude.


I’m going to start believing in myself more.


And in the words of  Babe Ruth


Don’t let the fear of striking out hold you back. – Babe Ruth



The parent’s guidebook didn’t warn me about this.

Being a parent isn’t easy. Yes you can buy books that guide you through conception to adulthood. Yet they don’t prepare you for the emotional impact of parenthood.

From the first moment you see this precious little thing you are determined to protect from all evil. To cherish and love with all your heart.

Fast forward 13 years that cute adorable bundle of love is screaming at you. Shouting that you are determined to ruin their lives. The question i ask myself daily is where did I go wrong?

Others have their opinions, my mom tells me I spoil them to much. My husband tells me I do to much for them. My mother in law tries to convince me all teenagers are like this.

Maybe they are all right.

I know I spoil them, I grew up with little I wanted them to have so much more.

Yes I do way to much for them, again I didn’t want them to have responsibilities like I had.

Yes teenagers are stroppy and moody it’s the influx of hormones that invade their bodies.

But the truth is my girls, my teenagers aren’t the one with the problem ( well maybe a few). I am.

When my daughter screams she hates me. My heart breaks, I take her words as gospel. I don’t see the teenage angst I just see she hates me.

I wait patiently at times for me to screw up. I accept that’s who I am.

It’s pathetic I know, I guess we would have to dig back to those childhood times to find the source of my issues but the truth is I am who I am.

And I really need to get over myself.

I need to accept perfection in motherhood is a myth. Maybe I have spoilt them, indulged them but one thing I do know is that I loved them with all my heart.

There does come a time when you have to step back at let them make their own mistakes. You cannot protect them from the lessons of life no matter how much you want to.

There is going to be times when my daughters hate me but I know there will be more times that they will love me.


Dig a little deeper

Losing a child is something that effects everything in your life. The way you see things the way you do things.

Yet accepting the changes to yourself is easy compared to watching your other children cope with the loss of their sister.

Today I’ve been struck again by how deep the wounds are.

Eden comes across as so happy, easy going and full of life. But the truth is far from this. Dig a little deeper and you fine a child angry at the world trying to cope with the heartache in her soul.

Her confidence is such a fragile thing and besides being there for her I’m not sure what else I can do. I’m lucky she is surrounded by people, friends, coaches who love and care for her. Though at times even this love isn’t enough.

Three years this November since Livvy passed yet tonight Eden told me it still feels like yesterday.

It was a simple thing today that brought the tears. A desire to prove herself to someone she admires. A determination to find herself where she was before her loss. To be who she was before the pain.

How do I tell her that we can’t go back. That the pain is something we have to face. It’s not fair I know it isn’t but as we all know life isn’t fair.

So many times I wish we could go back for our family to be whole.

The truth is we won’t be whole again. The missing piece is gone out of our reach.

I love my girls so much each tear that falls breaks my heart. I don’t know how to heal their hearts. My girls are so incredibly brave. I just wish they didn’t have to be.


Believe in yourself.

Didn’t get the email, not invited into the group, is the laughter about me?

I struggle daily with issues like this and the fault lies with nobody but myself.

My lack of confidence breeds paranoia.

How can I reach a point where what others think is not so important to me. Of course people aren’t going to like me but I’m sure that’s not the same for everyone. Gosh I hope so.

I find myself pulling away from situations where there are groups. I accept I can never be part. Why can’t I? I’m defeated before I’ve begun.

How do you become confident in yourself? Learn to love who you are?

I’m on a quest to find out. I need to learn self confidence, self belief.

Any suggestions welcome.