This food tasted 100 times better than it looks in this photo. I’m on a week off so took myself into Dublin city centre for a day out. It. Was. Bliss. As I messaged one friend, it was like a weekend away. It was great to be more than 5km away from home, by myself, eating food I didn’t make and drinking a latte for the first time in a long time. It really is the little things that make me very, very happy.
Finding the loveliest set for the Mini Orchids to help with cooking prep.
A bunch of paper flowers, thanks to Eldest Orchid.
The results of a major playroom declutter and reorganisation, and the happiness of sending things to new homes.
The results of a major wardrobe clearout for Tiny Orchid, and the happiness of sending things to cousins.
An easy, cheerful read. I have a stack of library books to get through and this one really hit the spot.
To quote Marjorie, this post is no brief in favour of buying self help advice. Be it buying a book, buying it via social media or buying it from conferences hosted by people like Rachel Hollis. There is no quality control in this space. There is no filtering of expertise. Anyone can sell their truth, and tell you how you too can be just like them. Be that thin, successful, rich or happy.
I have bought books and consumed media in an attempt to “improve” myself. In college I bought The Rules as a deeply insecure 19 year old with no boyfriend. I have watched YouTube videos on how to put together a capsule wardrobe, or pare my closet down to 30 items, or enjoy life as a parent of a new baby. I’ve scrolled through Instagram perfection, wondering why I don’t look like that, why my home doesn’t look like that, or why my life doesn’t feel like that.
I’m a little (okay a lot) ashamed to say how easily I’ve been fooled by people who make their living online from telling you how to live. I haven’t spent a lot of money, but I have spent a lot of my time looking at people who confidently tell us all how to live, while making a lot of money doing it.
This past week this video has been on my mind a lot. I’m writing this while watching it again. I’m thinking of the women cleaning toilets, and getting up at 4am, and working hard, who might have spent their money funding an empire founded by someone who’s made a living telling us all how to “fix” ourselves to be more like her.
Its probably somewhat ironic to write about how someone isn’t an expert, because I’m fully aware this makes me sound like I feel like somewhat of an expert. I’m not. I’m just a random person with a blog and a small social media presence. I don’t have any special talent or wisdom to impart. I haven’t founded an empire, sold my “truth” or told anyone how to live. This post can be discarded by anyone who feels the Hollisation of the internet serves them.
These people are not your friends. They don’t have a community of which you’re a part. They are salespeople, first and foremost, and THEY NEED YOUR MONEY. Its up to each and every one of us to decide if they deserve our money.
I don’t think most of them do.
More art from Eldest Orchid, made from anything and everything.
A battered but beautiful street sign on my daily walk, reattached and useful despite the cracks.
New bedlinen. Bliss.
A chocolate cake because we didn’t have enough chocolate on Easter Sunday.
Drinks outside on our new garden table on the sunniest Saturday of March. A much needed treat after a busy week.
My sister sent me this picture the other day. I’m about four or five here, in my homeknitted jumper and Vivienne Westwood-esque skirt. I have a hairstyle I’m pretty envious of right now, given that my fringe has been lost due to hairdressing services being unavailable for months now. I can’t remember this photo being taken, but I do remember those trees and that house. We lived there until I was twelve and I still have fairly regular dreams about it.
This photo made me think about my life when I was this age, and how different my children’s lives are in so many ways. I’ve made some very different choices about how I parent. I’ve grown increasingly confident about these decisions as the years have gone by. Sometimes I wonder if I over-analyse the choices we’re making about our children, but I feel this is still better than just leaving things to chance or not analysing the decisions at all.
I’ve had to undo some of the things I grew up with, and add in some of the things I didn’t. I’m always grateful than himself and I were on the same page about so many of the big decisions around having and raising children before we even got pregnant. It seems to have made things a lot easier and we don’t disagree about how we’re raising them at all. It’s difficult to reject some of the things that as a child seemed solid and immutable, and rebuild some aspects of your decision making process and thoughts about things. But I feel better and more secure for doing this, and I think my children are better for it to.
And I never thought I looked like my daughter but it turns out I do. She is so very much more confident and sure of herself than I remember being at this age, and older. So I guess we’re doing something right.
Trying some new recipes to use up what we have and stretch out the time between visits to Lidl or Aldi.
Evening walks alone after dinner. I put my headphones in, listen to a podcast and enjoy the time and exercise.
Doing weights every morning. I only manage about 20 minutes but I’ve realised it makes the whole day so much better.
Back to our normal date night menu after a couple of weeks of indulgence. Yum.
Art, art and more art. I’ve become much better at ignoring the mess and dreading the tidying up, because the creation is the important bit.
Orchids on my budget 