It’s a …

boy or girl?

Because I’m more 40- than 30+ you always get some extra tests when you’re pregnant. One of those tests can also tell you the gender of your new addition…
I have never been the person who can handle surprises well (please people, NO surprise parties for me!) so yes, we wanted to know! Because even if I do know gender, the baby, its looks and character and everything else are still a big surprise. It just makes it a little easier to prepare. And with that I mean shop.

So if you’re curious too… It’s a….

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Dear Filippa Mae


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1.3.2016 at 7:09am she turned our world upside down. She made us a family of four. Filippa Mae. There’s no introduction that can express how I feel right now. Remember how I tried my stinking best to make myself feel a little more pink and glowy during pregnancy? Well, I’m afraid people have to hurt me to get me back to normal nowadays. Damn it’s pink up here. I even love staying up at night with only her. And I can’t be happier when J stumbles into our bed at 4am. I just lay there and have my heart eyes stare at my new family until I hear the birds sing. Yeah, I know, it’s cheesy and corny and extremely annoying. And it gets worse. The other night I was up nursing her and I wrote her a letter. A welcome letter to my newborn daughter. I’m going to share it, because I don’t want it to stay on my phone forever, only read by me. No, it’s hers (and yours, if you continue reading). Something with making her memories.

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Memo

memo

So there it was. That first moment when you fail as a mother in front of your own child. Somehow I missed a memo. I miss those all the time (that’s why I still wear non matching undies and combine black with navy). But it was never this disappointing. For her.

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Preg talk

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I know it’s dead boring but all I do now is being pregnant. So that’s all I can write about. Can. Want. Will. So it’s silence or preg talk. You choose and read on or not.

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Sunshine and glitter poop

sunshine and glitter poop

Me and pregnancy. A match made in poop heaven. I thought so the first time and I still think so this second time. I hoped it to be different because those cheerful pink ladies with perfect pink pregnancies make me jealous. Babbling about how good they feel, how much energy they have, how many kilometers they’ve run, how sexy they feel, how lucky their husbands are, how healthy they eat, how they could do this over and over again.

Me? Not even close. Not even near close. I hate to complain. I hate to have that feeling that I have to say “I know how lucky I am to be pregnant for a second time knowing that there are women who just can’t be”. But most of all I hate that I hate everything right now. But it’s the naked truth. Just like those scary stretch marks B found yesterday. Do men have those?

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Madelon vs. Vie: The look of love

Madelon vs. Vie: The look of love

So my friend… I think it’s time for a new challenge. It has been so long since the last one and I know you love them. For this particular one, I’m rather late. But not too late. And quite frankly, I think I need to take these extreme measures to make you.

You will hate me. And after a while, you will love me again. Or maybe not, but at least there will be no regret.

As you might have noticed, you’re pregnant. 

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Making their memories

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When people ask me why I blog and show parts of my life on Instagram I quickly cut off the discussion with “because I like to”. I’m afraid all the answers that get out of my mouth sound cliché. And stupid. So this is the easiest way to get them off my shoulders. And they do. Except for B. Once in a while he asks again. Or our conversations just get to that point where I start thinking about it again.

And I think I found my answer. Again. An answer that shows more than my ignorance or stubbornness. An answer made by hormones (sometimes they’re helpful). An answer to complete the answer I found before.

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I want to break free

I want to break free.

This Saturday evening, kids were in bed and I was doing the dishes because dishwasher was still broken while Mr. Husband was paying (many) bills it hit me again. Only extra hard this time…

What happened? How on earth did I end up here?

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Me time: a privilege or a necessity?

Me time: a privilege or a necessity?

The last couple of weeks I came across a couple of articles about the importance of ‘me time’ when you are a mother. Being you instead of just a mom. It made me think, no, it made me doubt my life and how I live it.

Yes, I need things for myself.
Yes, I would love to have more time by myself.

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