The Spark.

Friday Night: a hot chocolate, a new playlist and a blank page.
I've been savouring the taste of art on my fingertips this week.

I got the itch to start sketching last weekend and, despite trying to "do the grown up thing" and tidy around the house, I pulled out pens and pencils and scribbled under the table.

Last Wednesday I received my parcel for The Sketchbook Project 2013 which sparked it.

Yay.

I also finally stumbled across a box that's suitable for Our Archer's buried treasure box that I've had written down on my to do list since the month he was born.

Then a Girl With a Bow casually mentioned that she wanted some some illustrations to accompany her writing. I've been a fan of her writing for a little while, and though I'm not confident my unrefined skills can do her justice, it's a challenge - and I'm well in need of a challenge.

The Importance of Adventure.

When I was eight years old I trudged determinedly through Mirkwood Forest. It was dark and foreboding and smelled of thick wet moss. Me and my companions leaped over ditches, hid behind trees and walked deep into the darkness for hours, eyes open all the while for giant spiders and dark Elves.

I can still recall the smell of the moss, and the sharp, heart racing fear when a dark rider appeared on the trail ahead of us.

The Forest was a neighbours property between my house and a friend's, and the Rider was my Dad, caped and silent, riding on his push bike so as to outrun us.

I know how lucky I was to grow up on acreage of bush and away from bitumen roads and shopping centers. It's why, when deciding to start a family of more than furry creatures, The Boy and I moved an extra half hour away from the city. A place with space. And bush. And streams. And climbing trees.

But I think even if I was raised in a block of buildings I still would have found my own adventures. Because I was encouraged to.

I ache to pass this on to my children. To be the kind of parent that mine were to me, one that stirs their imagination. Joins in with their games.

I long to introduce them to the world's I used to live in; I want to fly a Skybax with them, have tea with Silky and Moonface, celebrate their victories at Cair Paravel and fight bravely against G'mork.

I actively soak up every second of Our Archer's babyness... but one day he won't be my chubby baby anymore, he'll be a little boy and I can't help but lie awake at night, excited for the adventures that await us...

Nightly Text Wars.

I told Doppleganger that I would write mean things about him in my blog... so here we are:
You smell.

Father's Day.

Not ever an important event in my household growing up were the "hallmark holidays." My parents shrugged at the idea of Mother's, Father's and Valentines Day.
I liked that, for its individuality, but now I'm falling in with the crowd and choosing to celebrate them.
After all, it's just another excuse to do something arty.

I've insisted to The Boy that every year he will help with a handmade gift or card for me (until our little monster/s is/are old enough to use a glue stick unaided). A tradition I hope will follow my kids long into their adult lives.
For the first Sunday of this September, however, I did something a little different than "hand-made" but it still had that personal touch.

It felt good sink my teeth into a little photoshop after both my boys were tucked up in their beds.

I did this as a trial run as a thank you to itti bitti who I won an ERGObaby off of last month.

I love free stuff. I never win free stuff... guess I can't say that anymore.