The Stuff That Stuck

Over the last few posts, I have been attempting to convey how and when the invisible cloud began to lift; how I went from one pretty dark year or so, to the light I increasingly sense now, with little more than a retreat in between. There are some big, obvious factors in this; namely, our…

The Hotline

“I’ve just realised you’re the Vicar’s wife!” Her eyes are wide and she wears half a smile, as she strides over to me in the midst of the Toddler Group. This kind of greeting has become more frequent recently, since Husband’s T.I. (and every other colleague) vacated the role, and he took on the leadership…

Smashing

A few years ago I wrote a deeply personal testimony about the significance of Ash Wednesday. Because sometimes I write deeply personal and significant things. This is not one of those times. This… well, this is just another anecdote from a day in the life of a Vicar’s Wife. And I sincerely hope it doesn’t…

Mum’s Day Off

Get dropped off at the same station I used to commute from, all those years ago. Look down the platform and remember countless mornings of Rightmove and JobSearchUK and howtogetpregnant dot com. Today, I’m off on a spa day, by myself, to get a little break from life at home with three adorable-yet-oh-so-exhausting kids. Say…

Sur-Thriving Church

I remember the big, bold letters catching my eye as I did the obligatory scroll before bedtime. “How to Survive Church with Toddlers!” It claimed. ‘Ooooh!’ Thought I, as I clicked away hungrily. ‘This should be good!’ It wasn’t. “There’s no snacks!” I called to Husband, brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “Ten whole tips on…

Laugh. Cry. Write.

Over this past year, my WordPress account has gathered an awful lot of dusty posts. Stories, musings, and miscellaneous happenings that I deemed relatively noteworthy, but just never found the time note. More recently, these sad and forgotten pages have been replaced by mere titles, and lately even photographs… Snapshots of marked moments that will hopefully, one…

Temporary Perks

As a disclaimer: this post will be pure, graphic, toilet humour. If you don’t like that- or are one of those people who purport that girls only poo rose petals and kitten fur; I suggest you stop reading now.

One Christmas

I remember my first ever Christmas away from the family home. I was 18 years old and my new, would-be-forever friend and I were on our northern, shoe string version of a gap-yah in the Far East; excited but devastated to be doing something so grown-up as spending Christmas on our own. Naturally, we had…

Big Church

We recently reached the stage where Toddler’s blissful afternoon naps equate to hours of late night stomping, sneaking and hysterics. As a result, this week marked the beginning of the ‘full day challenge‘; an attempt to keep her awake and entertained for the entire afternoon when she really could do with a nap. (This largely…