The Unexpected Surprise

It’s all been very dramatic.

Should I, or shouldn’t I?

Will I or won’t?

So many questions.

So many more grey hairs.

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This is not me.

Here’s the thing, though.

I miss you guys.

I miss all the Sunny Mummy days we shared.

So I’ve decided something.

And it’s big.

So big that my brain hurt from all the wondering…

Should I tell the Sunny Mummy gang about my new blog?

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As you all know, I’ve been writing a novel and, as much as I had longed to return to this space, writing about my life as a Mum just didn’t seem to fit, anymore.

But a new blog…

A new blog could complement my novel work.

A new blog could help my writerly voice grow and change for the better.

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So I leapt into the deep of it.

And for the first time ever in my online life…

I created a shiny, new blog with my name on it.

Not Miss Cookas’ name.

Mine.

Me!

I know, right.

Big.

 

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This is not me either.

What we had here, in this place, was so sweet.

So sweet, in fact, that I couldn’t shake the feeling I was cheating on you guys every time I posted on my new blog.

I just can’t cheat on you guys, anymore!

If and when this novel of mine comes to fruition, it’s you I want to tell first. Through this blog, you’ve helped me unleash my creativity; there’s no denying the enormity of that.

And so, I’ve decided to let you in, shed my internet security blanket, extend my hand.

Introduce you to my new home. Introduce you to me.

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So now it’s your turn to think.

Putting a face to the name might not be the right thing for you.

Maybe our Sunny Mummy Days have grown a place in your heart because of Miss Cookas.

Because of her beautiful babies. Because of her sweet and wonderful Mister C.

The new blog will have the same heart as this one…

But it will never be quite the same.

Let’s face it. How could anything compete with the baby in the herb garden?

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If you choose not to come along for the ride, if you choose to stay in this place, the one we’ve woven so beautifully together…

I’ll understand. And I’ll smile because Miss Cookas lives here, and this world of hers is all the lovely things.

But now, I fling my arms wide open to a bright new horizon.

I give you my face, my name, my words…my heart.

Come in, if you dare.

What a pleasure it will be to meet you in my new place.

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Ps: The new blog has my real name in the web address, so I’ve provided a link here. I’d hate to spoil the magic for those of you who choose always to know me as Miss Cookas. xx

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At last

Something wonderful has happened.

Fizz whiz and daffodil kind of wonderful.

Strawberry fields and apricots kind of wonderful.

Shall I tell you what it is?

Okay.

Ready?

Breathe.

And…go.

It’s a baby.

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We made a baby.

A baby who grew and grew and grew until…

She came out squawking.

A healthy, happy baby.

A bouncing, flouncing, cooing, smiling baby.

Ours, after all the frowns.

Multiple miscarriages.

Five, actually.

But now there’s a baby.

A baby!

A little miss to match our little mister.

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A smile to melt the pain.

And she’s so beautiful.

So deliciously beautiful that all I can think sometimes is…

Thank goodness.

Thank goodness we kept trying.

Thank goodness we pushed aside the pain for just long enough.

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Thank goodness somehow we were resilient enough.

To smile through the rain.

To laugh with our eyes.

To give it another go.

Over…

And over…

And over again.

Until at last there was Sun.

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Glorious Sun.

A baby girl.

Precious.

New.

So delightfully perfect.

Cottage Pie and the purple potatoes. Blogtober 26th.

Did you know that there are purple potatoes in this world?

They are called ‘Royal Blue’  potatoes.

But by golly gosh.

They.are.purple!

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White on the inside.

Purple on the outside.

Magic.

I’m in love.

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The only thing for it was to make a cottage pie.

The recipe did not require purple potatoes.

Rude. I used them any way.

First, I chopped up the cry babies.

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Then, the stinky one.

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Some white trees.

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Some skinny, orange fellows.

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And finally, some of this.

Parmesan.

Thank you, cheese gods.

Thank you.

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And then…

The moment.

A very proud moment.

Perfect potatoes.

Fluffy, delicious.

And not at all purple any more.

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