Sixth form style 

So my daughter has just finished her GCSE’s and i was expecting her to relax and have a few weeks not thinking about school, tests etc etc. Erm no she is now driving me mad talking about her style for sixth form. You see she finally gets to escape the uniform she has hated for the last five years. The lovely burgundy blazer that can never be removed even in the hotest weather and the white blouses that never ever fit right.
Yet whilst she hated the uniform it was a comforting place to hide within. Everyone having to wear the same does stop the judgement, well a certain amount of it as anyone who has a child in senior will concur that teenagers will find any reason to argue and tease.

So sixth form is a big deal for my baby girl. Its a time for people to see her beyond the uniform. Its exciting and scary at the same time. She has to find her own style in the confines of the prescribed restrictions.

She is excited but nervous.

Last nights conversation was regarding her bag. For many years due to the number of sporting activities she has done she has always had to have a backpack of some sort, one large enough for sport’s gear, school books and drinks etc. So returning back to school with no sports obligations she can now  look at all styles. She is now wondering what would be best “Tote or Backpack for college?” 

Whatever she chooses Im just hoping 6th form will be the where my girl can find her place. The place where she realises how beautiful and amazing she is whatever she is wearing and she learns that her style is whatever she wants it to be.


Writing when it hurts

Sometimes I get scared to write, scared to allow the truth to flow through my fingers. I preach about transparency and owning my truth yet at times my reality frightens the crap out of me.

Right now I feel on the edge of cliff I can see the rocks bouncing down the sides disappearing under the waves and I wonder how long this ridge will hold me. I can feel the erosion burning up inside of me, my will, my strength slowly crashing towards the water.

To say there is a lot going on in my life right now would be a massive understatement, the stress of exams on my girls has been worrying. Watching them tie up their hopes and dreams in pieces of paper is heartbreaking. Their value should not be decided by a cluster of standardised tests.

But this is the truth of life isn’t it?

We search for our own value in others judgements, others tests, others expectations.

I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t wish to turn myself inside and out by the expectations my anxiety has created or those that don’t matter.

I cannot be all things to all people and cannot or will ever be perfect, yet i live each day berating myself for just this.

See this is maybe why I should have stayed quiet, yet a wise woman told me that truth can heal and that truth can set you free and that I needed to continue to write.

So here is my truth, the strive for perfection is an never ending quest, yet it also the biggest load of bull I have ever been told.  Perfection is a farce, something that can never be achieved, never be obtained. You see perfection comes with chains where truth comes with freedom.

Its ok for me to admit I am overwhelmed right now, to admit that anxiety is eroding my soul. That I want to run away from the world for a while or to simply just find some peace to calm my mind. It’s ok to admit I’m human, I hurt, I cry and at times I will break.

This is my truth.

Happy 21st to my firstborn

My baby is 21 today, how did that happen? Obviously i’m using the term baby figuratively but honestly how can it be twenty one years since i gave birth to my first born.  My beautiful entrance into motherhood came with lungs to challenge the strongest of divers, she came kicking and screaming and has lived her life at full speed ever since.

My blond haired mommy’s shadow has turned into an amazing young woman. I’m so proud of this girlie, she has just completed her degree and has already accepted a place on a masters. Her dissertation was so incredible and whilst her degree may have placed a lot of stress on her liver I love her thirst for knowledge.

This girl does drives me insane at times, she returned home this weekend for a few hours before flying off for a few weeks travelling around Europe, in those few hours she needed to wash and dry her clothes, pack her bag, complete her graduation paperwork and accept her place on the Masters, oh then of she mentions she hadn’t organised travel insurance. I promise I nearly strangled her. How she manages to achieve anything at times surprises me but i do love her carefree ways, well unless you count the other night.

Watching her grow up has been a gift I always remember her auditioning for her primary schools talent show. The shock on her teachers face when this powerful voice came from this little quiet one. She has been surprising people ever since, never underestimate the Kennedy. She has shocked many with her strength and determination and her sheer audacity to achieve her goals.

Right now my baby girl is in Vienna. probably drinking way too much but Im sure she is packing everything into her days.It’s weird not being there to celebrate her special day with her, not getting my birthday cuddle but I’m so excited for her to be off doing what she loves, travelling the world immersing herself into the history and culture of the places she visits.

Have an amazing 21st Kennedy, never stop surprising the world. Never stop being carefree and loving and living life to the full.

Love you to the moon stars and back again, my sweet frustrating first born Kennedy Mary xxxx


Today has been a strange day i have placed my heart in places of vulnerability, places of pain, in hope of peace.

The realisation that to truly heal one has to allow oneself to feel.

To wait in expectation of the agony to know the rewards of joy.

Grief is an state of expectation, the cost of love or the reward of love.

The irony of that statement, pain the reward of  love.

The honour of love.

How often i find myself lost in the darkness of grief. 

I struggle to remember why it has to hurt so much?

Why my soul cries out?

Then a memory rises to the edge, allowing me the freedom of remembrance, 

the joy of loving


the trust of forever. 

Joining in with five minute fridayWrite for five minutes on the word of the week. This is meant to be a free write, which means: no editing, no over-thinking, no worrying about perfect grammar or punctuation.

Giving up blogging. 

I was ready to give up blogging. Preparing myself to put down the keyboard and walk away. I was tired of fighting to be heard in an ever increasing mass of voices. Exhausted by the endless distractions of reviews and  giveaways. 
It began to feel like a collective gaggle of the same old same old.

It didn’t feel like it used to. The pressure of statistics and keywords and SEO was drowning out my voice. It was as if my authenticity didn’t have a place.

I’m sure I wasn’t alone in this as i had slowly seen writers disappear from the ether. Returning to the privacy of their journals and the silence of their mind.

I was so close to joining them, so close to deciding enough was enough and allowing my blog to come to end. I couldn’t seem to grasp reasons for continuing or being able to validate the time needed.

I casually mentioned this decision to my husband who for some reason has never understood how the blogging world worked or to be honest never worried about the how. I told him I was tired of chasing opportunities, receiving emails that were insulting to my time, my worth. He was rather surprised at my thoughts and told me he would miss my words. I thought the sentiment was sweet but was it enough to continue when about five minutes later he turned to me and asked. ” why did you start blogging in the beginning”.

Why in 2008 did I feel the urge to share my words?

I remembered my first blog posts, I never wrote them worried about readers or views. I never had concerned myself with the number of shares the post recieved or the keywords it held. In fact at that time i didn’t even know of SEO (not much progress on that anyhow). I wrote to share my life, to share the struggles and the joy of raising a family. To be transparent in the life of a mom of a child with disabilities, the fear, the heartbreak but mostly the laughter. The achieving of moments that we will cherish forever. The can do’s  and the never say never’s.

My blog is a wonderful journal of memories. A incredible source of my heart. Yet how and why have Iet myself become so jaded and lost?


Somehow along the way I had started judging myself against others. Distracting myself from my truth with judgement and envy.

Why do my photographs never look that good?

Why couldn’t i explain that better?

Why didnt I get invited to that event, asked to apply for that opportunity?

Why and how became “you aren’t good enough”,your words suck and everyone is happier, prettier and generally better than you.

Every word I was writing was filled with fear of judgement. Every photograph waiting to be mocked.

I realised that comparison was stealing my joy.

I had a decision to make, I could stop right here, right now or I could reclaim my joy.

This new home is my declaration of my joy.

This new blog is my celebration of my renewed love of words.

This blog is mine, it’s a place where I will capture my moments. 

Where I will celebrate the adoption of my beautiful new son, where I can journal his wonderful life and our journey together.

My blog is simply that,my blog.

It’s my heart in words.

How can I compare it with others when no journey is ever the same?

The blogging world is changing at a rapid speed and that’s ok, life is and always will be ever evolving.

I will seek validation only in the happiness of my family.

My blog

My truth

My heart.