Reuben’s 18 Month Update

I think it’s time for a little update:

  • I think he’s pretty tall for his age. He’s 83 centimetres. But his waist is small (some of us have all the luck, ey?) so he is still in 12-18 month pants.
  • Reuben weighs 10.5 kilograms (23lbs), according to Matthew’s scales. Honestly, I have not took Reuben to a baby weighing clinic for about a year, it’s too stressful.
  • He’s developing language now. Says ‘mama’ or ‘mummy’ depending on what he wants. His baby babble is the cutest. I love hearing him trying to talk. Most of what he says is… Well, it sounds like punctuation marks and caveman grunts, like when he’s gesturing to something. It’s adorable. And sometimes, he strikes up a conversation and it’s lots of random syllables. I’m gonna miss that.
  • He still loves his baths! Apart from hair rinsing, that is far from his fave.
  • Speaking of personal hygiene tasks that Reuben just does not approve of; teeth brushing. That is a fight. A battle of wills. It’s awful. Any tips would be appreciated?
  • Reuben loves reading. I bought him a couple of books over the last few days. This is all I can stand of that prat; Peppa Pig.

  • Reuben is also discovering a love for creativity. Jokes. He adores destruction, chaos and launching things to kingdom come.
  • I’m quite sure that our attachment type isn’t what I wanted. I had hoped that he would have a secure attachment, but coparenting makes that impossible.

  • He has started having tantrums and pulls faces of disgust on a regular basis, mainly when he’s given something that looks suspiciously like a vegetable. He furls his eyebrows up and declares betrayal (by launching said food if we do not catch his hand).
  • Reuben loves anything with wheels. If it’s got wheels, he’ll play with it. If it’s not got wheels (or can’t be used as a weapon), he’s not interested.
  • All in all however, Reubs is a happy healthy boy and that’s what matters!

Reuben definitely had fun today though. We played with his cars on the balcony after breakfast, before starting on the chalks from IKEA. And after a long nap, we went and had Thai food (my first time as well as his) with Matthew and then had a little walk around in town. We got back late, so it wasn’t long before Reuben was tucked up in bed. He sleeps through the night (I’m very lucky, I know) and I’m up at 3am doing this post, like a fool. ūüėī

But… My gorgeous boy, Reuben. I can’t believe how he’s grown.

I’m so thankful that I get to be his “mumma” ‚̧ԳŹ

And thank you for reading!

Love, Rebecca ‚ô°


When He’s Away.

Sometimes, I think the ‘#mamalife’ is going so great. I’m practically in love with my own life. Everything runs smoothly, nothing bothers me, I work my way through my to-do lists and the sense of achievement fuels me to do more.


You know, when the washing is out on the line, the dishes are done,and the mess just tells you that your kid is having fun? Those days? Days when you get stuff done, and you can still get out, and make dinner later and everything is just great. When you’re absolutely rocking motherhood?

Yeah, those are the good days.

But we tend to be a little more hush hush about the bad days, don’t we?

Because sometimes, the washing is on the line, but the dishes are piling up in the sink. Sometimes, your child is having lots of fun but they’re also¬†really¬†pushing on those boundaries and you end up crying because you can feel your patience getting shorter. You do something in order to make it better, but then something breaks. You decide to throw your hands up in the air and leave it, only to realise¬†it hasn’t gone anywhere¬†when you’re exhausted that night and you’ve got no choice but to *at least* do the dishes. When pushing yourself to get into the shower, feels more like a chore than somewhere to relax and wash.


Today, isn’t either for me.

My son isn’t here, he’s with his Dad. My heart aches. I miss his sweet little face and the chaos he causes. I had plans for my kid-free time but as he’s coming back after one day instead of two, I don’t want to do them, I want to rest. But I just¬†don’t feel good.¬†I’m unmotivated and worn out from the rigmarole when Reuben was here. I was really rocking this motherhood gig for quite a few consecutive days… and today, I woke up feeling bad. I’m sad as hell. I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel quite pathetic.

I’ve been ignoring my feelings too lately. Pushing things that upset me to the back of my mind because I didn’t have the time to wallow, to the point that it’s all trapped inside. So maybe that’s the problem. But when Reuben’s away, I spend the majority of my time not knowing how to spend my time, and I feel most alone with my feelings, so I guess it’s only natural that it all catches up with me.

I guess what I’ve said, in a really long winded way, is that I can’t wait until my little dinosaur comes home and messes up our home. I can’t wait for all the rigmarole to begin, because I’m lost without those routines. I can’t wait to see his little face, and those big beautiful eyes. I miss his big cheesy grins when he comes and gives me a big tight cuddle around my head or neck. I miss his laughter. I miss his mischievous behaviour. I miss tickling him. I miss kissing his face. I miss being his ‘mummy’ or ‘mama’.

I want my break, it’s good for me. I’m a much better mother when I get a break. But damn, I just want my son back home already.

Thank you for reading.

Love, Rebecca xo




Feeling Haggard But Happy.

Lately, I’ve been in the habit of keeping busy. A little too busy in fact, since I was planning to write this post yesterday and failed. You know when you’re so tired you go cross eyed trying to concentrate? Well, that was me last night trying to string a sentence together. The familiar¬†what are words? what am i? what did i even do today?¬†fog filled my head and soon I was snoring rather loudly (as Matthew has kindly informed me).

But alas, another day has almost passed me by and things have occurred. Yes, even more things. I don’t even know if anyone likes these sort of posts, where I just write an account of my day or an event in my day, but I thoroughly enjoy documenting life like this. Also I’m happier than I was yesterday.

#mamalife #unkemptasusual

Okay so yesterday, the best thing was that I was super productive. You wouldn’t be able to tell if you saw the house last night (*cough* right now, at this moment) but I did so much. Like, I got someone out to assess the issue with the shower not draining, I rearranged and tidied the living room, finished writing up the first draft of my latest assignment, took the doors off the wardrobe, built an IKEA clothing rail¬†all by myself!!!¬†And I took Reuben to the park after all that.

The truth however, is that I wasn’t feeling good. I was so mad. I was really productive because I was trying to distract myself from how horrible I felt. I was so consumed with irrational rage and exhaustion. I just needed to get out. It didn’t matter that I was half way through sorting out a room, or that the dishes needed doing. The laundry could wait (I intended to do it later). The point was; I needed to get outside before I started screaming.

So, even though I had really greasy hair, I got Reuben and I out as fast as possible (we were both in our PJs at lunch time when I made that decision). I put my earphones in and took a walk to the park. I felt quite self conscious. I probably looked better than I thought I did. But all I thought was; let’s just concentrate on Reuben and forget about how I look, about how the flat looks and about all the things that are stressing me out.

The first thing I did was get Reuben out of the buggy. He loves pushing it along by himself, and it burns energy, such a #mamawin.


(These bags that double as safety reins are amazing by the way, I recommend!)

And then we slowly walked around the small lake. It was really nice to go around, pointing out ducks and flowers. I talked to him about why he couldn’t go in the water (because he did want to make a run for it a few times) and what bees do when we spotted one. Cutest of all, was when Reuben imitated a duck quacking with his hand when I asked him “where are the ducks?”.


And we stopped half way around for a little water break. I sat on the pavement so he could explore. I was fully expecting him to want to pick at the grass or something, which he didn’t.

And then I decided that we should go to the cafe for a snack and a drink. So that’s what we did next. After another slow walk, looking for ducklings in the reeds.


We shared a tuna mayonnaise sandwich and a kinder bueno together. Reuben had a large orange fruit shoot and I got a can of 7UP, which I poured the majority of into my water bottle. Reuben was really well behaved. Even in the toilet afterwards. He washed his hands (funny how that’s a fun activity when it’s new) and waited patiently for me to be done so we could set off back home.


My head was clearer by this point. Some fresh air, and having giggles with my son helped. Also I was stopped on three occasions by elderly people wanting to tell me how lovely Reuben is – which was really nice to hear. I smiled back and told them thank you. It was somehow hard to do that, in my head space, but I really appreciated it.

I gave Reuben a packet of ‘sweets’ (see above, they’re really not) and his fruit shoot for the journey home. There’s a steep hill out of that park, and since I’m still poorly and unfit, I was practically wheezing by the time I reached the top. It seemed really rude to be panting so much as I walked past a cemetery, as if it was somehow disrespectful, even more so when I saw a funeral was going on. I tried to hold my breath a bit, and nearly died in the process, so I won’t be doing that again.

For the walk home, I put my earphones in and selected some music I thought would help, and then went home and told Matthew what my issue was. He was so nice about it. We ordered food for tea (lots and lots of yummy Chinese food) and he helped me with Reuben’s bedtime routine. In fact, he was super helpful and supportive for the rest of the evening. When I was upset later that evening, he gave me some space and put on some rainfall sounds because he knows it calms me down. He also dried my hair for me after my shower. And then this morning, he took care of breakfast and let me snooze until half 10. And at half 10, I put Reuben down for a nap and went back to sleep until HALF ONE IN THE AFTERNOON! ūüėÄ Winner winner!


You’ll be glad to know that I have since done the dishes, scrubbed the bathroom floor, and various other tasks since then. But the room I’m currently typing up a post in, is an absolute dump due to the whole wardrobe-clothing rail, desk-boxes-drawers move around of yesterday. It’ll have to wait though, I need to make dinner. Now that Matthew isn’t feeling so good, I am making sure I am taking care of him like he took care of me last night and this morning. That’s what you do, isn’t it? Support each other ‚̧ .

So I think, it’s time to draw this post to an end (finally).
Thank you for reading another one of my posts! I really appreciate it.

Love, Rebecca xo

p.s. not long until I can upgrade my phone, i’m aware the picture quality is awful.

Going Insane In IKEA

Everyone knows that IKEA is a day out, right? That’s a well known fact.

Well, I should start going on actual days out because they cost a lot less money. Like, hands up if you get carried away in IKEA?¬†It’s only ¬£3… it’s only 50p… it’s only 80p…¬†And then suddenly, you get to the checkouts and you have to remortgage the house you don’t own yet. Rude.

But today, we went again. And this time, I went unsupervised.

I say this because I am a bit reckless with money sometimes and I need to be asked “do you really need this?” from time to time. It’s a futile endeavour to say this to me however, as I will put the item that I now know I do not need into the trolley out of pure rebellion. But I like when people TRY, okay? Because occasionally, maybe once every four days, I’ll consider someone’s suggestion.

Anyway, into IKEA we went and had some lunch. We buy a lot. I think people start to wonder if we’re sitting with the invisible man. “Who’s that extra meal for?” I hear people ask (they don’t).¬†It’s for us!¬†And by us, I mean Matthew primarily and me, if I so wish.


Today I got the quarter chicken, with chips (no mash available today), gravy (I didn’t want peri peri sauce) and sweetcorn. Matthew ordered meatballs and veggie meatballs (with similar accompaniments) and we also got baby food pouches, apple cake and cinnamon buns. So that’s plenty to share with Reuben, right?

He had quite a few meatballs of each kind, refused chips, ate some of my chicken (it was really nice), was utterly outraged by the taste of the pouch meal (it was nasty though), but devoured the banana pouch (thing?) in about 0.04 seconds.

Matthew went back to the car to rest whilst I took Reuben around the shop. I got a bit carried away. My aim was to get more ‘Drona’ boxes for the ‘Kallax’ units we have. But, my first mistake was looking at the artsy bits, and then I decided today was the day I was going to buy Reuben a quilt and the covers for the quilt. I mean, I can’t tell whether their toddler quilt covers will fit the Asda toddler quilt at home, can I? And then… well… it was downhill from there.

To be fair, I didn’t go as overboard as I wanted to. There were many times I realised I couldn’t afford that much more or that something was completely unnecessary, and the words “don’t be daft, you can’t keep shit alive” fell out of my mouth in front of several elderly folks as I perused the flower section (I was considering buying LIVE chrysanthemums!). Looking back, what I said was a bit silly… My child is still very much in one piece. This, of course, surprises me though because Reuben quite frequently tries to launch himself from things that are way too high! (Next time I get broody I’m buying a chrysanthemum and sticking it in a sleepsuit).

Soon, I was pulling a box from the warehouse section off of the racking and I was like “ooh, this is very adulty”. This is ridiculous since I used to work in one. I literally worked in a warehouse for about two years. But somehow, in IKEA, it was different.

My walk from the till to the car was the walk of shame. Not only did I need the toilet, but I had spent way more than I thought I had. I mean, I don’t think it occurred to me that I should add things up as I shoved things into the trolley, but… it definitely occurred to me as I punched my pin into the card machine. I really wanted to punch myself, let’s not make no bones about that.

It’s all okay. I’ve figured it out. We all do this stuff sometimes, don’t we? I have justified my actions to a tee. I mean, I literally spent a good 15 minutes justifying my impulsive spending to Matthew. He listened diligently until I became at peace with my actions. I thank him for that, I was not listening diligently to myself. Rage and discourse @ myself was happening inside.

So, would you like to know what I bought? I’ll tell you (since the picture below is blurry!).


  • 4 white ‘DRONA’ boxes (for Matthew’s Kallax unit)
  • 4 red ‘DRONA’ boxes (for mine)
  • 2 grey ‘DRONA’ boxes (for the TV unit)
  • 1 ‘RIGGA’ clothing rail (I am getting rid of the wardrobe)
  • 1 pack of white ‘SKUBB’ boxes (6 mini boxes in each pack)
  • 1 ‘LEN’ cot quilt
  • 1 ‘GULSPARV’ cot quilt cover
  • 1 packet of ‘MALA’ pens (12 per pack)
  • 1 tub of ‘MALA’ chalk (9 in each pack)
  • 1 scrubbing brush (these are 95p and extremely good quality)

We didn’t leave without Daim cake though. Thank goodness for that! Matthew handed me some change and I ran back in for it. The plan was to get some of that delicious apple cake they had in the restaurant but it was to no avail. There was none. I’m very sad because it was the best kind of apple pie I had ever tried. I love cinnamon-y things! Apple and cinnamon is a match made in heaven, don’t you think?

Anyway, since Reuben fell asleep in the car on the way home, he’s up late tonight, but I think it’s just about time to get him all tucked up in his bed (he’s still in a cot). And me, I’m going to get a nice hot shower and call it a night myself. The house is a tip again, but it can wait. I literally spent all yesterday cleaning and so today, I threw my arms up and announced my defeat when I noticed how messy it had got again. That’s life though, isn’t it? Sometimes you’ve just got to ignore the to-do list and take care of your sanity instead. I don’t recommend ignoring your bank balance when you go to IKEA though… that’s a bad idea.

I hoped you liked this post. Thank you for reading my incessant rambling!

Love, Rebecca xo

A Day At The Farm

On Sunday, we decided to have a day out at Temple Newsam Farm…


The first thing we did upon arrival was find a baby changing room, aka, the disabled toilet in the cafe. Or ‘tea room’. Anyway, in there, Reuben behaved pretty well when I was changing his the nappy but the difficult came when I wanted to use the loo. He kept trying to run off to the door, which he would have been able to unlock very easily had he gotten there, which would have left me in 1 or 2 uncompromising positions. Either seated on the loo, or standing up to try and get him, arse out at the very least. Neither seemed very appealing to me so I went to loo between stopping him from running off. I tried to distract him, I really did, but he was having none of it.

We didn’t bring the pram. That was intentional. However, we forgot the¬†ergobaby¬†and thus, Reuben would be walking or being carried. Like, actually carried. You see, Reuben loves to walk about outside, but it was a very long way for a very little boy (just from the car to the farm) so we did have to use our arms that day. And by ‘we’, I mean Matthew. Not that I didn’t try. It’s just Reuben much prefers to hang out with his buddy than he does with his Mama, which is rude. Very rude. 1/10 for manners. 17/10 for cute moments though. I love seeing the way they get along, it’s very heart-warming.

So, anyway, we went to pay for the farm tickets and then we were off for a walk around. Here are some pictures that I took on Matthew’s phone because the camera on mine is below par:


Like, honestly, we were already having such a good time. And that donkey, that pregnant donkey? I wanted to take her home and keep her in my garden. I felt so bad for her. It’s one thing feeling your unborn baby booting you, but my babe didn’t have hooves! Also, how cute are Reuben and Matthew together?


The park within the farm was probably the best bit. And trust me, I did try to be Reuben’s buddy but this what happened there:


Like, I really did try, okay? So I committed to being the photographer of the event from then on, ’cause clearly, I weren’t invited in Reu’s gang. Of course, there are lots more cute photos because of this.


Fun fact: I got on the other side of that see-saw and found it to be a very unpleasant experience and I hopped off at the nearest opportunity.

At one point though, Reuben fell into some nettles and got a rash on his forehead. It was then that we decided would would head back to the tea room for a bite to eat.


We did, by the way, actually go look at all the animals, but I didn’t take pictures of the vast majority of them. I feel like I never actually care to revisit them pictures. And I kinda felt bad for all of them. Not because of the farm itself (which I don’t *think* is a working farm) but just because I think they’d be happier if people weren’t staring at them all day. So taking photos of them, just didn’t feel right.

Anyway, we got to the tearoom I bought a tiny carton of chocolate milk for Reuben as a treat… that he didn’t want…. that was ¬£1.35 (what. the. fuck?), and then we decided to head back to the car to conclude our little day out.


But not before taking these lovely pictures did we get in the car and go hunt down some food as we were pretty hungry by this point.

It was such a lovely, lovely day out. I hope there’s plenty more of these to come!

Thank you so much for reading,

Love Rebecca xo

Finding Peace With Reuben’s Birth

This was really hard to write but it was something that I needed to do. And I’d just like to add in a little disclaimer; I am very thankful for the NHS and the care I received. I know that labour and delivery can be complicated and some times things need to be done that are not nice for the mother or the baby. I think midwives are amazing. I just need to come to terms with my experience. Thank you for understanding x

10th May 2019

Immediately after my appointment at the Breast Clinic (everything is fine!), I took a walk to a familiar building at the hospital. A building that serves as a bittersweet reminder. A place, and a time, that I need to find peace with.



The Gledhow Wing at St James Hospital, Leeds, houses a maternity ward. I ended up giving birth to my son in there. I still don’t understand why the Leeds General Infirmary sent me there after being in there for two days, but never the less, that’s where my waters were broken and that’s where I pushed my baby into the world.

So, here’s the thing, if you don’t already know. There are parts of my labour I found quite traumatic (not the Midwives fault), and there are parts of my experience in the post natal ward that I found really, really upsetting. There was some things that happened in there that triggered my PTSD and I still think if it wasn’t for the lovely Scottish Midwife who consoled me on the day we went home, I would have developed Post Natal Depression. I felt trapped, fearful I was failing, in a lot of pain, I had a midwife be quite nasty to me on a few occasions and as childish at that sounds, it was incredibly upsetting.

The thing about labour is that I knew that it is an unpredictable experience and as long as you and your baby are safe and well at the end of it, then that’s what really matters. But here’s the thing; even if you’re prepared for anything to happen, I don’t think you can even anticipate how it will feel when things go wrong. And I’m not sure why my experience in the post natal ward was so awful, maybe I was so oversensitive, but it affected me greatly. But I won’t delve into retelling that story here.

This is about me making peace with the past.

When I look at the Gledhow Wing building, it fills me with longing and heartache, for what might have been or could have been. Granted things could have been worse, but in many respects, things could have been better.

I would love to get those days back, those first days of my son’s life, but they have gone. And when I think about them, I could cry my heart out. I feel anguish and… I don’t know how to articulate it… I feel like something was stolen. An experience I should have had. The way it was meant to be. The heartache that it was so very miserable and painful. I am different now; I am more fierce and educated. I would be able to stand up for myself, but then, I was beyond vulnerable and I could not. Things¬†just weren’t right¬†and one of the midwives, in the post natal ward, was so horrible to me.

I’d like to forgive her.

I don’t know her name. I just remember her face, what she did, and how it made me feel. I don’t know anything about her. I don’t know why she was the way she was with me. I don’t know if she was like that with anyone else. It isn’t right. I don’t know if she was going through things that made her the way she was. I won’t condone what she did even if she was, but I forgive her anyway.

She was just one of them in there. Everyone else I came across was at least trying to help, was nice, was doing the best they could despite being overworked in an understaffed environment. I cannot only focus on what she did. I must focus more on what they did. They tried and that matters.

And recalling that morning that lovely Scottish midwife came and sat with me, as I was sobbing, and said everything right. She made me realise I wasn’t already failing at motherhood, that breastfeeding isn’t everything, that I would feel better when I got home, and if not, there was help out there. She consoled me. She gave me the permission I needed. It sounds daft but there was some shaming going on in there about the fact that I wasn’t producing anything as they insisted I was (trust me, I’d been expressing colostrum since I was 37 weeks pregnant), and my hungry child and I were in so much distress because of it. It was so hard. It was heartbreaking for me. But she made me feel better. I sent her a card with a very long note inside thanking her for what she did. As well as the midwife who was with me through the majority of my labour, she was awesome. She only slightly laughed at my worry that I might close back up if they turned off the syntocinon drip (when I was fully dilated) and I respect her for that. I would have laughed at me HARD.

But the midwife who was accusatory, who was mean on several occasions, who took my child from me in such a passive aggressive manner that I cried myself to sleep that night, who awoke me by thrusting my newborn onto my breast whilst I was sleeping with a sharp “he needs feeding” despite me wanting to give him formula. She who triggered my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder to flare up. I forgive you. I hope you’re better now.

But as I sit outside the building, and appreciate that many people were currently getting precious glimpses at their unborn child, that many people were listening to their babies heartbeats, that many people were in labour, about to meet their babies, or soaking up that new baby feeling. That’s beautiful. On the flip side, others were meeting heartbreak and that is far worse than what I went through. All the Hyperemesis Gravidarum, all the breadline struggles, all the labour trauma, and the experience on that ward… it was all worth it. I would much rather experience that stuff than that heartbreak. I knew the moment that they placed my son in my arms, that everything was worth it and I’d go through it again for him. He was worth it.

If I’m lucky. If I’m blessed. If I am, I’ll get another chance. I’ll have another baby. I hope it goes better than it did with Reuben. But I have to be thankful and adjust my perspective.

At the end of my pregnancy, I held a healthy baby in my arms. His face wasn’t wrinkled up like the babies I have seen on One Born Every Minute and he was beautiful. I was expecting a ten pounder, so a 8lb 6oz baby seemed very small. He was perfect. I felt the rush of love for him immediately. I breastfed him whilst the sunrise broke light over a brand new world. It felt like a new world. My son had been born, but I had been reborn as a mother. Life was changed forever and I was thankful and felt euphoria.

Despite regretting going ahead with an induction I knew I didn’t truly need, I need to let it go. It’s okay. I’d have gone through anything to have had my son born safely into this world and things could have been worse. So I am letting that go. I forgive myself for that. I’ve been so angry at myself knowing I MIGHT have avoided that trauma, but ultimately, it’s a might. There’s no good in focusing on ‘what ifs’. There’s no good in blaming. So secondly, I forgive myself for it. At the time, it was the decision that was right for me. I didn’t want to be pregnant a moment more with all the sickness and acid reflux, the pains and the endless discharge… all the fun stuff, you know. It was right at the time.

Forgiving, is hard, and sometimes, it’s something you don’t have to do. But for me, in this instance, I forgive. Myself and those who let me down. Because there’s no point in harbouring such negative emotion and focusing on what went wrong. For a good few months after his birth, my experience with Reuben’s birth was so painful to look back on, that I’d cry. I couldn’t even attempt to breastfeed without the memories rushing back and I couldn’t handle it. But that’s okay. Reuben’s thriving. I am doing my best as a mother. So nearly 18 months later, it’s time to let it go.


And this is how I have found peace with Reuben’s birth.

It’s okay.

Thank you for reading my post,

Love, Rebecca xo



Life Update

Hello to you!

I’ve realised some things lately. Life is evolving, as it should, and today, I just felt like¬†telling you (my lovely reader) about these self-discovery moments…

First of all, that I will brutally cut anyone out of my life if I feel it necessary to. Having lost and burnt bridges with people who really mattered, it’s become all too easy to shut people out. It’s a strength and a weakness to be able to do this. For one, I feel like I am self-reliant and independent which makes me self assured, but I am also at risk of completely alienating myself from everyone. Being okay with being on your own, does not mean you do not feel loneliness.


Secondly, I have found that living life outside of conventional routine is therapeutic as heck. It’s not really that appropriate for my sleep pattern, but it’s good for the soul sometimes, to just let your natural rhythm lead your life, and not the clock. It’s not completely possible to do this with a child but finally I feel myself letting go of the pressures to live like everyone else seems to on social media. I don’t actually function properly early in the morning, so I like to take that slowly, and spend the majority of my energy up in the afternoon. If you’ve ever seen me up and about early in the morning, please know that by 3pm, I have crashed and have become an emotional wreck by 7pm sharp.

The next thing is that I am not sure that I can stand distance learning anymore. My second year at the Open University is coming to a close and I’ve got one assignment left to do. I have 22 days to do it. Sounds like a lot, doesn’t it? Not really. And despite being aware of this, have I even begun yet? No. I have looked at the choices of questions to answer and all I can think is¬†fuck sake.¬†You might say my motivation levels have dropped considerably since beginning this module in October. I have no intention of starting my third of six years in October. The lack of support, doing a degree off your own back and trying to juggle it with every other responsibility is really, really hard. I’m considering going to an actual, physical university as soon as Reuben is eligible for some free childcare. I’ve no idea how that all works but beginning again, and having three years worth of work to do, is a lot more appealing than another four years of this rigmarole.

That’s about it.

I am tired but so excited to see Endgame later on today. I watched¬†Infinity War¬†last week and I have not stopped thinking about it. Apparently I’m going to cry (what’s new!?!?). Anyway, I think it’s time to go get ready to go the gym. I’ve missed it for two weeks in a row and I can feel the difference. I’m excited for the exhaustion endorphins to kick in!



Thank you for reading! I hope you are well.

Love, Rebecca xo