{i carry your heart}

Yesterday, I heard it. Quick and quiet, an overture to the slow bass of my own heartbeat, there was another heartbeat. A little eight-week-old heartbeat.

And so, with that little sound-byte of proof, I'm happy to tell you that we'll be expecting another little family member at the start of December. A winter baby -- a baby to we'll be counting down for through advent, a baby to knit for!

{life in the slow lane}

When I was eleven, I was forced to run the 800 metres for Sports Day. I had (mistakenly) believed that if I left it long enough to sign up for an event, I'd be able to relax on the field all afternoon, sunning myself and making daisy-chains, watching others compete. And so the nice events, the javelinning and the shot-putting and the jumping-over-or-into things, all went to my cleverer (and less cunning) classmates.

I had no idea that the race would prove so prophetic of my entire sprint-or-crawl pace of life.

On race day, I ran, flat out, for a hundred metres, and then limped and panted and groaned until my breath returned. And repeated, and repeated, until the finish line, where I promptly fainted into a sad little heap.

So here I find myself, double as many and more years later, making mad, short dashes to achieve something, some distance. Long nights of frantic sewing -- my own personal sweat-shop. Nights-upon-nights of commitments. Weeks of sprinting this life alone while Justin is travelling for work. Social and personal sprints. And then inevitable collapse. Regain of breath. Repeat. Repeat.

Now, predicting that it'll take a few weeks or months to regain my breath as we stumble through the first tiring leg of a new adventure, I finally feel at peace with the slow, crawling pace. While all motivation to sew or create has disappeared, (to be replaced only by motivation to crawl into bed, whatever time of day it is) I've fallen back in love with the steady and undemanding pace of words. To read and write fiction, it seems, is the way to be occupied. An unread novel by a favourite author, so patiently waiting on the shelf, read in bed. A writing challenge set by an old friend, slowly worked upon.

Of course, this means giving up on some of the more energetic goals. In January, we'd set ourselves the goal of running a 5K this year, without walking. It was supposed to be achieved this last weekend, at the Run for Compassion, but the goal of not walking was quickly replaced by the goals of not falling down dead and not being sick on the road. But it still felt good -- an accomplishment, in a different way -- to walk across the finish line, alive, exhausted, and keeping pace with a toddler making her first run.

Whenever I can't stand my own mental booing, though -- the voice inside that says "Keep running! You'll lose! Faster! Faster!" -- I watch this video (via Cloistered Away) and see the power of crawling across the finish line. And remember the clapping, and the guidance, and feel thankful for the people who stand and cheer, even for those who walk the race.

{this week in review}

 

*  An Easter egg hunt with small friends. One pink egg, safe in her basket, Tilly called it a day and went to splash in the puddles.

*  A new white, white, completely white raised bed, built from scrap wood from the garage, and vaguely inspired by this tutorial from Ana White (via Pinterest). Hello, personal supply of tomatoes and courgettes.

*  February's quilt finally bound, finished, and delivered. A Valentine's-inspired quilt in April... but who doesn't love hearts for spring, too?

*  A last-minute Easter brunch planned. Nothing says happy day like waffles. Lots of waffles.

{ideas of a geometric kind}

Angular, modern, minimal, simple -- these are the designs I'm drawn to at the moment. A new quilt, a just-for-us quilt, is brewing.

{bird feeder fail}

Have you always wanted to use every bowl and utensil you own, all at once, and cover your kitchen in corn syrup and birdseed? Yes! Try this -- make bird feeders with three toddlers. 

Tilly's friend, Selah, was a pro at mixing and cutting out the animals, while little Radley enjoyed banging the measuring spoons together, and Tilly tried her hardest to sneak mouthfuls of the birdseed from the spoon, while exclaiming "Yummy!"

We got to try out our new IKEA woodland creatures cutters -- lovely hedgehogs, bears and moose, and, of course, a Dala horse -- which took on a more abstract quality when created in birdseed. Sadly, the recipe I'd found (from here) wasn't very good, or we measured wrongly, as our menagerie of feeders never hardened. Twenty-four hours later, slick and shiny with grease, their heads fell off as I slipped a spatula beneath them.

The food was still enjoyed by the birds, but as sticky blobs and crumbling hunks, scattered on the grass, rather than prettily hung in the trees.

With three-quarters of a bag of birdseed still left, we'd love to hear about your (successful) homemade bird feeders, if you've got any, and give them a try...