Babyrambles

What my 2 year old did while my back was turned

2012-02-01T09:35:00.000Z

And my back wasn't turned for long. It was just while I was secretly eating biscuits in the kitchen. Well I've been punished now haven't I?

Does my daughter not realise her mother is still recovering from illness? And now has a stinky cold and cough on top of her already well established ailments? No she doesn't because she's two and doesn't care about such things.

Anyone who's feeling broody and is considering having a baby: just remember they grow into a two year old.

Why reading with small children is painful

2012-01-27T13:51:00.000Z

Are you allowed to admit to stuff like this? I know books are important for children and I can see how our hard work reading books with the children is paying off. They love books. But the whole thing is strenuous and painful isn't it?

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if my children were happy with my choice of book. But despite my best efforts in getting them interested in children's classics like Winnie the Pooh, the boys just want to read Star Wars. Have you ever had to read a sticker book as a bedtime story? We have the Star Wars Lego sticker book and the Star Wars Lego dictionary as regular bedtime reads. There is also a Star Wars book which actually has stories in it, they're about the six episodes. But quite a few people die in these stories and have their hands chopped off by light sabres, leading me to wail, "Kids, can't we just read The Gruffalo?"

Then there's reading with my two year old. She loves books. She pulls them out of the bookshelves and spreads them all over the floor so everyone trips over them. She posts them under our duvet and insists on sleeping with so many there's hardly any room for her in her cot. Reading with her goes something like this:

"Duck,"
"Nearly darling, it's a chicken,"
"Duck,"
"Chicken,"
"Duck,
"Chicken,"
"Chicken,"
"Well done darling it's a chicken." She turns the page,
"Duck,"
"Darling, it's a chicken remember?"
"Duck,"
"Chicken,"
"Red,"
"The chicken is brown darling,"
"Red,"
"Brown, can you say brown?"
"Red."

And then she loses interest, folds up the book (usually with my fingers still in it which hurts when it's one of those board books) then throws it as far as she can across the room, "Nother one." Why do two year olds have to throw everything? Then we have to read nother one then nother one then nother one.

Maybe I was just as bad as a child. For a long time my favourite book was the Ladybird book on Teeth. I was obsessed with it. I remember my parents' slumped shoulders and defeated expressions when being asked to read it night after night. I don't know what happened to that book, maybe it was accidentally 'lost' or fell apart from being over-read.

I was once principled about bedtime stories but saying no to reading a Spiderman comic one bedtime led to such screaming and kicking of legs, when I wanted the children be calm and go to sleep so I could pour myself a glass of wine and watch X Factor in peace, that I relented.

Reading with your children is a necessary evil I think. Maybe I'm being a bit negative. It can be enjoyable if it's a book I like and everyone's sitting quietly and listening and not talking over me or pulling each other's hair or climbing on top of each other. And let's not forget it's a nice time to bond with your child without distractions (although they distract each other).

And I think if I work hard at it now, the quicker they'll learn to read and be able to read books on their own. In the meantime I'm becoming on expert on Jedis, Sith Lords, bounty hunters, Wookies, starfighters, Geonosians and the rest. So maybe I'm learning something useful too. Star Wars could become my chosen Specialised Subject on Mastermind. Mastermind is one of those things on my list to do before I die. Along with running the London Marathon.

How I lost my confidence

2012-01-23T10:54:00.000Z

Illness is disempowering. And hospital is a disempowering place. I'm not a confident person but over the years I've learnt how to fake confidence. This can work quite well until something comes along to knock it.

Lying in a hospital bed waiting to get better sounds straightforward, but it isn't. Spending a length of time in hospital (more than three or four days) can start to mess with your head a bit. In fact it changes everything.

In hospital you lose your identity. It's unavoidable. Suddenly you're a patient in a place which is looking after thousands of other ill people too. You become part of the system. You're the patient in Bay 1, Bed 2 on such-and-such ward. When I was very ill in intensive care I wore a hospital gown instead of my own nightwear and the only belongings I had to hand were my phone and toothbrush. I had a bag somewhere which I couldn't get to because I couldn't get out of bed. The only thing I needed out of that occasionally was my phone charger. It's strange how much of our identity is the 'stuff' we have around us: useful things, sentimental things and clothes. Just things which remind us who we are. Points of reference.

The outside world was where my identity lay. As a patient I was a tiny little frail thing lying in bed and people were surprised to hear I had three young children. I didn't look capable of either having them or looking after them. And you know you've lost your identity when some medical staff speak to you in a loud patronising voice as if you're a small child. Elderly people are often spoken to in this way as well, it must drive them mad. Only a few nursing staff did it, but it shouldn't be allowed. No one should be spoken to as if they're stupid.

In hospital you lose your dignity. Most medical staff do their best to be respectful of this but there is no dignity in bed baths and having to use a bed pan or commode. Most of us dread the thought of having someone else do all our daily care for us, and it's not a nice experience. Obviously it can't be helped if you're ill, but it's an uncomfortable thing to deal with.

In hospital you lose your looks. Illness isn't kind to our faces and bodies. When I first saw myself in a mirror after the first week I had to look away quickly again. It sounds a cliche but I didn't recognise myself, I honestly didn't. The weight loss gave my face the appearance of a skull. With dark haunted eyes and hair which had a complete mind of its own. How can you manage your hair when you're very ill? Well you can't.

In hospital you become a medical curiosity. One morning five extremely fresh faced medical students appeared by my bedside. Clearly they'd been told there was a nice example of a severe pneumonia case in Bay 1, Bed 2 which they could go and look at. I've never been adverse to medical students practising on me as they have to learn somehow. And they did ask permission. But I still felt like a curio.

So this loss of identity and dignity and the stress of being ill in the first place knocked my confidence a lot. Breathlessness meant I found conversation difficult so I became very quiet and actually out of practice when talking to people.

A little confidence returned to me in hospital as I got some of my independence back. As I learnt to get myself out of bed, start walking and finally go to the toilet or use the shower on my own the sense of liberation was overwhelming. Just small things which I'm now taking for granted again.

This loss in confidence is temporary and I'm re-gaining it again. I'm re-learning the tricks of pretending to be confident again. But it comes with an anxiety I've not experienced since my teens and early twenties. The thought of doing anything other than sitting about at home makes me anxious. What if I fall ill when I'm out and about? What will happen? How do I talk to people again? Conversation is still quite hard, I get tired and can't think as quickly as I used to. And now and again people still talk to me as 'the ill person' which requires a different tone of voice and sympathetic face. It's like when you're pregnant, some people always talk to you about your pregnancy and you're not really a full person any more. Human nature I guess.

So if a young (well they called me young in hospital) and fit and healthy and fairly assertive woman can feel like this after a stay in hospital. What must it be like for vulnerable people like the elderly or people with long-term illness? Having to be in and out of hospital and becoming part of the institution in this way each time must be soul destroying. Maybe people who go through this develop a coping mechanism.

In the long term I think my illness will boost my confidence because I got through it. It's the old saying 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. Maybe we all have to be knocked down a bit in order to build ourselves up more. It just takes time. 'Frustration' is my over-used word at the moment. But for as long as there's progress in recovery then I can console myself with that.

Digging out some old photos

2012-01-20T10:33:00.000Z

Here are some old photos. And I mean old because they were taken before we had a digital camera and I've had to scan them in. Our box of photo albums was in the loft and I haven't looked through them since we moved house almost six years ago. There are a lot of them, the box was too heavy to lift and husband had to get the albums out of the loft individually (while swearing a bit at my annoying requests).

I don't know what made me want to look at them all of a sudden. But it's fun indulgent nostalgia for my own selfish reasons and there are lots to look at yet. Here are some which have stories attached.

September 2001
When you spend your wedding day posing for pictures it's nice to find an impromptu unstaged photo. I don't know where my new husband is in this picture, I don't remember it being taken and I don't know who took it either. Either they were three feet tall or sitting on the ground. Actually I seem to be standing there all on my own so I'm not sure what's happening. After the wedding we asked people to send us copies of their photos and this is one of them.

Early September, 1997

I'd forgotten about these photos. They were taken a couple of days after Diana died. I was working in central London at the time and decided to wander down after work and see what was happening with the grieving crowds. I didn't consider myself as part of the mass outpouring of grief, I just wanted to see what everyone else was doing. Maybe that was the reason everyone else was there too. These photos were taken in The Mall and people were just standing around and looking at the flowers as if they were lost at what to do. Like I was too. These aren't good quality photos at all but they do capture a strange moment in history.

August 1999

You can tell by the way I've taken this picture that I was proud of this car. I've no idea why as it was already eight years old then and used to break down a lot. According to my rubbish writing in the photo album this was camping in Brighton. I don't even remember camping in Brighton. Before the children arrived husband and I used to go on regular camping trips and drink too much and wander around the camp site in the dark giggling. This could have been the camping trip where the couple camping next to us tied their very large dog to a tent pole holding up the porch and the dog ran off taking the porch with it. But all the old camping trips have rolled into one now. Nice to see we had some sun on this one, you'd have thought I'd remembered it for that alone.

Can you recommend a good book for me to read?

2012-01-16T09:48:00.000Z

One benefit of enforced sitting about is having some time to read. I've read the books I had lying around but now I'm stuck for something new to read. So I'm after ideas.

I've just finished a couple of books by Lee Child which are fast paced, easy read crime stuff. Before that I re-read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier which I've read lots of times because it's one of my favourite books. I've also recently finished Crown and Country by David Starkey which is a history of England's Kings and Queens. So I've got mixed taste. I like geeky non-fiction (history or science) and I like fiction with a strong plot. I don't read much chick lit but if I'm missing out on a good chick lit book I'll try it.

My all time favourite books include Wuthering Heights, The Help, Lord of the Rings, Bleak House, The Secret History, The Day of the Jackal, The Handmaid's Tale and the list goes on. I like biographies of interesting people too and I'd have to be paid quite a lot of money to read anything written by a sleb.

I've been in book clubs before which are good for making you read something new. The problem is ploughing through a book you're not enjoying very much. And also getting it read in time.

So please suggest something new for me to read or it might have to be a book on the history of the classical world which I've just started and might be a bit heavy going right now. Even though I'll be well informed by the end of it.

Oh and I forgot to mention I'm reading a lot on Star Wars, Zing Zillas and In the Night Garden too. That's because I'm ordered to by the smaller people in the house.

A sign has appeared on the children's bedroom door

2012-01-11T12:03:00.000Z

It says:

"doant ener this Room No Gerls alowd monsds and aleayens and Gragrs lerck arownd."

I don't know what a Gragr is although I think I can work out the others are monsters and aliens. The aleayens and Gragrs were added in as an afterthought which explains the word order.

I'm not sure about the anti girl sentiment. Why do boys and girls hate each other until their hormones kick in? Little Girl (or Gerl) is ignoring the notice and still goes in the boys' room anyway. It results in screaming and shouting (and occasional violence) each time.

I love bedroom door notices, they seem to be a rite of passage in childhood. I think I need to write one we can put on our bedroom door, I just need some ideas. Clean ones.

When life gives you a second chance

2012-01-06T10:53:00.000Z

I always thought that if my life were saved then I'd be kissing the ground with joyous thanks every day for my second chance. But I'm learning things are more complicated than that. I wasn't prepared for the psychological part of recovery.

Being faced with the possibility you might not survive what you're going through is a type of trauma. My illness was so sudden I suppose the nearest comparison is a serious accident. It's an experience which takes time to adjust to. I know life can be unpredictable but I sort of blindly and stupidly assumed I'd be around until I was 85. Potentially getting no further than 37 was a difficult discovery.

I don't really know what a flashback is. But I've found there are triggers which set off a dark memory I chose to forget when I was very ill. For some bizarre reason watching a Harry Potter film triggered something unpleasant and forgotten. From now on I'll stick to U rated stuff like Finding Nemo. Taste and smell do weird things too. Wearing an oxygen mask for a long time leaves a distinctive taste in your mouth and now and again I can taste it again. For no apparent reason whatsoever. With that comes memories of things I wanted to forget at the time.

Actually this week has been better which is why I'm blogging about it. And I'm hoping that some of these things I wasn't prepared for will wear off soon. But I know (because I've been told) that it's a long process and when those dark moments come back I guess the best thing is to acknowledge them. And talk about them (to anyone who's interested in hearing about complete gloom).

There are lots of other emotions to contend with: frustration, irritability, impatience and anxiety. One of the strongest emotions is guilt. Most mums suffer with guilt and illness manages to pile it on even more. I feel guilty for being ill and the effect it's had on my husband, children and family. I feel guilty that I can't properly be me, I feel guilty that I'm a half-person who's often grumpy and can't do much or go anywhere.

So that gratefulness is hard to find at the moment. But it's not all doom and gloom. There are happy moments too and I'm at my happiest when I'm laughing with my husband and managing the energy to do normal day to day things with my children. Just enjoying the simple things in life. And maybe that's being grateful after all.

Twenty twelve?

2012-01-01T13:13:00.002Z

Or two thousand and twelve? How are we saying it? I've heard a few twenty twelves on the radio and TV already today.

Twenty twelve sounds quite snappy, it's quicker to say. Americans have been saying it for some time, it just seems to be Britain where we insist on saying two thousand. I think I'm going with twenty twelve. After all last century we always used to say nineteen instead of one thousand nine hundred and ninety seven and so on.

Although in Germany they used to say that, neunzehn hundert sieben und neunzig.That's a mouthful. I wonder what they're saying for 2012. What are the French doing?

Forget that, it's twenty twelve for me. And if I seem to be the only one saying it and therefore sound a bit of an idiot I'll quietly revert to two thousand and twelve.

Happy New Year.

The ups and downs of getting better

2011-12-19T20:00:00.001Z

I'm sorry my last post was a bit difficult to read. Writing it helped exorcise some of the things which happened. Reading it probably wasn't much fun.

The intensive care unit provides a follow-up programme over the course of a year to help people who've been treated there. Apparently 90% of patients suffer nightmares and hallucinations and some people can suffer for a long time afterwards. So I'll definitely be going to the appointments. My time there seems blurred now but every now and again something will trigger a memory I'd completely forgotten.

The rest of my stay in hospital was easier and positive in many ways. I was moved to a respiratory ward where I shared a bay with five other women. Some had serious health problems and some had been in hospital a long time. One thing struck me instantly: I didn't ever hear anyone complain. There was a strong camaraderie between us: illness was something to be shrugged off and joked about. Anyone having a bad day would just say they were looking forward to the next day being better. In the outside world we like to moan about everything: nothing worth watching on the telly, temporary traffic lights and changes to Facebook settings. But in more adverse situations things are different. The nostalgic part of me likes to think that's what things were like in the Blitz. Although that could be nonsense.

I was so happy to be home, but I knew it would bring challenges. Seeing the children again was overwhelming but I knew my absence would make things hard. Fington is still struggling. Suddenly his Mummy went missing for nearly two weeks and now she's back. I can tell he's worried about becoming close again. He's behaving badly and it's hard.

There have been moments I've started feeling sorry for myself and that's a trap I know you shouldn't fall into. Hearing the children playing up because everything's different and lying upstairs in bed powerless to do anything about it is hard. But then illness is hard and recovery is hard. Who said life was meant to be easy?

And I'm going to get better. Sometimes people don't get better. Being ill like this has changed my life forever and it's stretched me to my limits. How does anyone cope when they don't know if they're going to get better? When they get told they won't? How do their loved ones cope?

Thank you to everyone who's commented since I've been back. I keep meaning to reply to the comments and visit some blogs. I thought I'd spend lots of my recuperation time online but it hasn't worked out like that. For some reason illness has left me with the concentration span and endurance of about 20 minutes. I've tried some half-hearted online Christmas shopping but just adding stuff to a basket and trying to enter a card number is exhausting. I'll need to lie down on the sofa when I finish this.

What happened in intensive care

2011-12-14T19:08:00.000Z

I'm wearing an oxygen mask and struggling to breath. My lungs feel like broken rocks in my chest. My heart is pounding like the hooves of a galloping horse. People surround me, they put needles and wires in my arms and ask me questions. When did I start to feel unwell? Where is the pain? Can I rank the pain on a scale of 1 to 10?

I tell them 9, with 10 being childbirth. The pain is in my shoulders, back and chest. It's excruciating, I can't lie down. I sit propped up in a bed with machines beeping around me in the semi-dark. I can't move. My brain is on fire. I can feel the heat and hear the crackling of flames raging through my head. Around me I see little statues made out of wire: animals, a ballet dancer. I see faces. They're on machines and boxes. Cats dart underneath my bed and the curtains. I can see one of my own cats curled up on the floor nearby. Nice of him to visit me in my hour of need.

I know I was taken to intensive care at midnight because there's a clock above my bed. By 4am I want some peace, they let me rest for a bit. An hour later a tight mask is put onto my face to force oxygen into my lungs. It's like being strapped to a wind tunnel. I panic, I'm told to try and relax, it will only be on for an hour while air is pumped into me. I'm told I may have to be sedated and ventilated to let my lungs heal but they'll see how I get on. A feeding tube is pushed up my nose, it reaches the back of my throat and I gag. It coils up at the back of my throat so it's pulled out again. Luckily I escape the tube.

The next day things are calmer. I still can't move, but I can cough. I have to cough. My lungs are full of brown sludge and I need to cough it all out. I'm given a suction tube to help take all the gunk away. For the next few days I sip water, cough up sludge and take small naps. My temperature soars up and down as I fight the infection. It's impossible to sleep properly. Sometimes my body sleeps but my burnt out mind refuses. I can hear everything going on around me but I can't move or respond.

My husband, mum and sister visit. Their familiar faces are a lifeline to me in a world of medical equipment where there's no daylight. There's little difference between night and day. One day I'm told there's a general strike. Another day I'm told Advent has started. It all seems like another world. I try my hardest not to think about the children.

I'm vaguely aware of other patients around me. I hear them cry out in pain and fear. I hear patients fitting and vomiting. I hear someone being resusciated. One afternoon someone dies. Being in this place reminds me how poorly I am.

But I'm lucky being in this place. Had I lived at another time or in another country I wouldn't have made it. I'm getting the best medical care possible and although I'm scared I know I'll be okay.

At the end of the week I'm transferred to a high dependency ward. My time in intensive care is over. I still need an oxygen mask, I'm still bedbound and I've lost so much weight I can see my bones through my skin. But I'm on the long road to recovery. I feel slightly better each day. And as my bed is put next to a window I'm overjoyed to be able to see the metallic grey December sky.

Finally I'm out of hospital

2011-12-12T11:03:00.000Z

I've just spent twelve days in hospital, four of them in the intensive care unit. "Severe pneumoccoccal pneumonia" is what it says on my notes. Pneumonia. That's what I've had and I didn't know anything about it. I thought it was something heavy smokers or people with poor health got. Doctors told me I was unlucky.

I was busy with everyday life when I suddenly felt very cold and shivery. I went to bed and stayed there. That was on Thursday 24th November. A nurse at my surgery the next day told me I just had a virus. I stayed in bed all weekend. I got worse. On Monday 28th November I was admitted to the Royal Berks Hospital in Reading with restricted breathing and low blood oxygen levels. By that evening I was critically ill in intensive care.

I came home again on Friday 9th December. Now I'm a weak and helpless patient in my own home. I can do very little for myself, I can't look after the children. I spend most of my time in bed. My husband and family have stepped in and coped amazingly doing all the things I used to do. I've been told my recovery will take a long time. I won't get back to my former self until next Spring. That's fine. I'll be patient because I've got through the worst of it.

It's hard to make sense of what's happened, it doesn't seem real. My life has suddenly been turned upside down. It's been hard on those around me. It's been hard on the children. I was involved in every aspect of their lives and then I was suddenly taken away from them for nearly two weeks.

I've kept this blog for over two years. And now it feels more important to me than ever. It's a place where I can write about what's happened and try to process it all. It's hard to talk much to anyone because it makes me breathless. But I can find some energy to type.

So I'm sorry this blog post isn't festive or cheery. But it's my life right now.

Overall, this is a positive blog post. It's positive because I survived a critical illness. And I will get through the rest of it.

And the most positive part of this story is how my family have rallied round and shown such selfless love and care. I'm not unlucky, I'm actually very lucky. And I've had a stark reminder about what's really important in life.

What my brain is saying while I'm on twitter

2011-11-21T12:18:00.000Z

Oh look I've got three seconds to myself, I'll have a quick look on twitter. Just need to wait while Hootsuite loads up. Jeez it's slow. Why do I use this software? There was an actual reason a long time ago and now it's just become habit.

Hooray I've got into twitter now. I don't recognise half these people in my timeline, when did I follow them? Oh hang on there's a name I recognise. That person is always on twitter whenever I look at it. Either they have a nack of being on twitter whenever I am or they're forever tweeting. How many times have they tweeted I wonder, let's have a look. Wow that's a lot. That person is clearly on twitter constantly.

I don't know what to tweet, let me have a think.... hmmm... something banal about coffee. There we go. And I'll reply to that tweet about cats there.

Oo I've spotted an interesting looking conversation, I'll click on 'show conversation'. Yes that's why I use Hootsuite now. It allows me to be nosey. Oh look at that. Those two are having a falling out judging by that conversation. And there's a link to a blog post there too, let's click on that. I do like a bit of controversy as long as it's never my blog involved... Well I never. What an interesting read. I'm not adding a comment though. No, staying well out of that one.

Now back to twitter... look there's someone having a rant. And look at their language too. I bet they're as polite as anything in real life. They're quite annoying, I think I might unfollow. Actually I won't for now. What if they use that unfollow website or whatever it is and find out I unfollowed them and take it personally?

Herumph. No one's responded to my coffee tweet yet. Or replied to that cat tweet conversation yet. Am I invisible on twitter or something? Why do I use it again? Not actually sure.

I don't really recognise anyone in my timeline now and they're all chatting together like some sort of online coffee morning. Going onto twitter can make you feel very left out can't it?

Look someone has tweeted me, oh it's just spam. Shall I report them for spamming? It means logging into actual twitter which is even slower than Hootsuite so I can't be bothered.

There's a begging tweet. I really hope no one gives that person a new pushchair. Yes we're all short of money but begging for a pushchair on twitter is desperate in my opinion. Okay I'm officially annoyed by twitter now I think I'll have to go and do something else.

Oh, I've just noticed three people tweeted me and I didn't reply. They must think I'm ignoring them. Is it rude to reply to someone two days later?

One day I'll get the hang of twitter. I've only been on it for over two years.

I loved this post about twitter by Hot Cross Mum, she's as baffled as me.

Why Victoria Beckham's shopping trips are very similar to mine

2011-11-18T10:53:00.000Z

I've noticed that when Victoria Beckham goes on a shopping trip with Harper Seven, it's just the same as when I go on a shopping trip with my little girl.

Victoria always seems to be carrying Harper, presumably she has people to carry her bags for her whereas I have to hang mine off the back of the pushchair. Recently the pushchair tipped over backwards in a shop while Little Girl was still in it. She didn't hurt herself because she was padded by the sheer bulk of bags hanging off the back. She was helped by two shop assistants because I was chasing Fington round some other part of the shop at the time. Victoria Beckham's shopping trips probably aren't like that.

If people were to write about my shopping trips, the write-up would be very similar to Victoria and Harper's shopping trips. Here's a recent account of Victoria and Harper, and I imagine an article about me and Little Girl would read something like this:

"Emily and her daughter didn't turn any heads as they shuffled around Next. Perfecting the ungroomed look, Emily's hair was scraped back in a trendless scrunchie. Her bang-off-trend battered boots bought from Nine West five years ago had seen better days and although she could just about squeeze into her skinny jeans, the look was ruined by a shapeless hoodie top which retails at £15 from a well-known supermarket.

"Emily's daughter is undeniably gorgeous (even more so than Harper Seven Beckham), so why her mother decided to dress her in shabby jeans which were too short and a yoghurt stained top is anyone's guess. And the wild untamed hair needs a good brushing. You'd think toddlers scream when a hairbrush is in the same room as them.

"Overall Emily gets the thumbs down on style from us. Being deprived of time and sleep is no excuse we say. Forget yummy mummy, this sorry state is in the slummy mummy camp until she gets her act together."

Maybe I'm not that similar to Victoria Beckham after all. Is that a surprise to anyone?

Image credit

What do you find in a three and a half year old's bed?

2011-11-14T11:26:00.000Z

I attempted to change Fington's bedsheets yesterday. I knew he had a lot in his bed, but I wasn't expecting it to be this much. This is a week's worth of stuff. No wonder he climbs into our bed some nights, it's because there's hardly any room in his own.

Old habits die hard, he was also storing stuff in his bed when he was two if you remember. Worryingly there's more this time. How long is it going to continue for? What will I find in his bed when he's sixteen? Actually don't answer that. I really don't want to know.

So what was in his bed? A plastic sword, several Mr Men books, one of Little Girl's hair grips, several comics, half the Hotwheels track, a range of Lego, some overdue library books, Buzz Lightyear, a shaker he made at pre-school, several Beast Quest books, a Transformer foam missile launcher, a Santa hat, a plastic arrow, a wand, a pencil sharpener shaped like a shark, a fake plastic iPod, two moneyboxes (one with coins in), a guide to birdwatching, a wooden rocket he painted himself, his dressing gown, an Armouron helmet, a cuddly monkey and a broken plane. And two sketchbooks.

I forgot to take a photo of the teddy which is almost the same size of him too.

No sign of the Greek dictionary this time.

Needless to say Fington was very upset when I emptied his bed and once the clean sheets were back on everything got piled into his bed again.

Oh well, keeps it off the floor I guess.

Hi I'm a plastic coin

2011-11-10T11:13:00.000Z

And I like to hang out in all kinds of places. You know when you're doing the laundry and you hear some kinda clanking in the washing machine? Yeah that's me. Having a spin. And my buddies. Yeah there's a whole gang of us and we like to go on our adventures.

You know when you're putting on your shoes or welly boots and there's something in there already? That's us again. We know we kinda freak you out because when you feel something in the toe of your shoe and you don't know what it is you whip your foot out again real quick in case it's something bad in there man. Like some creepy crawlie or something. Heh heh. But it's just us guys.

Sometimes we like to hang out in your bed. Hell even I don't know how we get in there but we just do. It's eleven thirty at night and there we are freaking you out again because you felt something weird in your bed man.

A year or so ago I used to like chilling out in the baby's mouth. Hey that weren't my fault man, she put me in there. Sometimes she put two of us in there. One of my greatest fears is travelling through a digestive system but that ain't happened yet thank my lucky stars.

Some of my buddies weren't so lucky a while back. They thought they'd get a kick out of being posted through a gap in the oven door. Problem was they didn't figure the oven would get turned on. The smell of melting plastic was heart-breaking man. I saw them get their half melted bodies poked out of the oven with a skewer. It's a sight I'll never forget. Man it was tough.

And you know what? I reckon one of them plastic coin pals of mine is still in that there oven. Because every time it gets turned on the smell of burning plastic fills the house again. They're gonna need to get a new oven man.

If I had to choose my ending, I'd pick going up the vacuum cleaner any day. They say it's quick and painless. One whoosh and you're in there man. With the pieces of Lego and broken off bits of crayon. That's my choosing. If I had a choice that is. Cos, hell, I'm just a plastic coin.

How the world could become a much more exciting place

2011-11-08T11:04:00.000Z

The world is so much more exciting when seen through a three year old's eyes:

Fington: Who's in charge of this country?
Me: Ah now that's the Prime Minister. He's called David Cameron
Fington: That's a funny name, ha ha. Is he a goodie?
Me: It depends who you ask
Fington: Does he have a sword?
Me: No
Fington: Can he do magic?
Me: No
Podge: The Prime Minister doesn't do fighting
Me: No, he gets other people to do that for him.

Wouldn't it be exciting if the Prime Minister did do fighting? If David Cameron did fighting, had a sword and could do magic he'd get my vote any day.

What a boring world we live in.

I think I'm meant to say this photo belongs to the Home Office, I do hope I'm not in trouble for what I've done to it.

Seven harsh lessons learnt on a holiday with small children

2011-11-02T20:22:00.000Z

1. That you can plan all you want to make a four hour flight bearable but if easyJet delay it by over three hours your children will ensure you, and the rest of the passengers, sorely pay

2. That parting with almost 70 euros to spend a day at a water slide park doesn't mean you'll get your money's worth. Expect 'Mummy I'm cold' after twenty minutes despite the weather being scorching hot

3. That trying to eat out as a family will lead to the two youngest children refusing to eat, the youngest of those attempting to run off all the time and both of them wailing and crying. So much so the waiter says, "You make trouble for your mother. Your poor mother."

4. That encouraging your children to pack all their favourite toys into their Trunkis before the holiday doesn't mean they'll play with any of them on the holiday. Instead they 'make trouble for their mother'

5. That a two bedroomed apartment is too small for a family of five and having the one year old in a travel cot in your bedroom basically means hardly any sleep on what is meant to be a relaxing holiday

6. That attempting to find a 'Crocodile Park' in the mountains of Gran Canaria with a crap sat nav gadget on a phone and an even crapper map with out of date road numbers is not best attempted with three impatient small people in the back of the car

7. That easyJet's Family Friendly Scheme is a load of b*******

I'm in danger of sounding a bit miserable here. Actually we had lots of fun on holiday too. Check out these amazing sand dunes in Playa del Ingles in Gran Canaria. And the weather was incredible too. Nothing like a bit of sun to make everyone happier.

Is it worth attempting a holiday with small children? It's hard. Just like trying to do anything with small children is hard. But I think it's just about worth it, even when Fington says, "I don't want to go on a holiday with a plane in it again." So maybe it's Center Parcs next time. On second thoughts maybe not, there's a horror story or two there as well.

When a child's painting becomes complicated. What do you do in these situations?

2011-10-21T17:25:00.001+01:00

I helped out at Fington's pre-school this week and while I was there Little Girl painted a lovely painting. Well it was some splats of paint on a bit of paper. And she painted the easel, and her hands and face too. We put the painting to one side to dry and I made a note to take it with us when we left.

Home time came and I walked over to the table of children's artwork (aka paint splatters). In front of me was a mum with her son aged around 4, "Did you paint a picture darling?" she said to him. No answer. I moved in to pick up Little Girl's masterpiece but the boy picked it up before I could get there. "You painted that did you darling?" The little boy nodded. I was just about to interject and point out he had my daughter's painting in his hands when the mum heaped such gushing praise on him I was stopped in my tracks.

"Oh you clever boy! What a lovely picture! I'm so proud of you!" He got a kiss and a hug and my 1 year old daughter's painting was then shown to a relative / friend who also heaped praise and hugs upon the boy who hadn't painted it at all.

After all this gushing it didn't seem right for me to say, "Actually my toddler knocked that one up earlier, can I have it back please?" It somehow seemed harsh to spoil their genuine joy and pride. A family caught in a moment of unbridled happiness and I couldn't bring myself to ruin it.

After all, Little Girl hadn't really remembered she'd painted the picture. She had no attachment to it. Maybe it was okay to donate it to the family who would probably go home and proudly show it to daddy, put it on the wall and treasure it forever more? I can imagine the mother finding it in thirty years time and showing it to her son saying, "I remember the day you painted this darling. You were four years old, look how advanced your paintings were at that age. How come you never showed any interest in painting again?"

Husband wasn't entirely supportive of my picture donation, "What? You just let them have it? That was her picture!"

So was I right or was I wrong? Should I have snatched the painting back and burst their bubble? Or let them believe their son had artistic abilities? (albeit of a 1 year old's standard).

Jo Yeates: too much information?

2011-10-19T10:01:00.000+01:00

I think there’s too much detail in the reporting of the VincentTabak trial. Just yesterday there was a headline about Jo Yeates' mother crying incourt. Why is that a headline? Hasn’t her mother been through enough already?Why is something like that deemed newsworthy?

I suppose I’m like most people, I’ve been following thetrial in the news and have been reading about the evidence. But when I read adescription of the photos of Jo’s body I felt uncomfortable. And it feelsuncomfortable writing that. It’s too much. We don’t need to know it. I don’t thinkit’s in the public interest and there’s comes a point where the feelings of Jo’sfamily and friends need to be respected. And Jo herself needs to be respectedtoo.

As a culture we have a fascination with murder. Stories ofan innocent girl dying at the hands of a brute have featured in literature andart for hundreds of years. Crime is a huge genre and it’s hard to switchthe telly on in the evenings without coming across a murder storyline. It’s whyCSI is so popular, and the rest of them. Hundreds of TV programmes aboutmurder: too many to mention. And books too.

I’m wondering if our love of detective programmes and crimenovels desensitises us. The reporting of the moments of Jo’s death and theaftermath is almost like watching or reading a crime thriller. We take it all in and feelshocked by the depravation and horror. We almost crave it. But there’s animportant difference: Jo was a real person.

I think it’s time to limit what the press can say aboutmurder trials. I support a free press but I think the media should only report what’sin the public interest when it comes to people's personal lives. By all means say what happened and let us know how longVincent Tabak is banged up for. But spare us the details, it’s not fair. I honestly don’tknow how I’d be able to carry on if something like that happened to mydaughter.

A three year old's interpretation of Bruno Mars

2011-10-18T10:51:00.003+01:00

Fington likes to sing. Out of nowhere where will come his three year old version of an Olly Murs, James Blunt or JLS song. It doesn't help that the radio is on a lot of the day and he just picks these songs up. Podge is quite a fan of JLS (he calls them 'the JLSs' as if each member is a JLS in their own right).

This morning Fington struck up with, "Hey baby, fink I'm gonna marry you," which I managed to identify was Bruno Mars (because I'm young and cool and know these things).

After a lot of Bruno Mars singing Fington then said, "Mummy that man thinks he's going to marry a baby! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!"

He has a point, bit weird isn't it?

When does the glamorous bit of life start?

2011-10-12T10:10:00.001+01:00

I always assumed my life would one day be glamorous. That all the hard work would one day pay off and life would be somehow become luxurious and decadent. Diana Ross in her Chain Reaction video was the embodiment of glamour in my eyes. All those costume changes. It stood to reason that one day I too would be standing on a podium in a sequinned fishtail dress.

But as I crouched by the side of a busy road this morning poking dog poo out of the tyres of the pushchair with a stick I started to doubt my assumptions about life one day being glamorous. After all, I'm in my late thirties now and there's not been a hint of glamour in my life so far. Will I ever wear a sequinned dress or is it going to be mainly drudgery from here on in?

When you're at home with small children or when you're doing a dull job, you live in hope that one day your lifestyle will become incredibly exciting and glamorous. That one day you will get invited to amazing parties, wear beautiful clothes and spend winters luxuriating in St Tropez.

It's probably clear to anyone reading this that I do live in a dream world most of the time. But just a little bit of glamour would be nice wouldn't it? Whether it's the old style Hollywood glamour of Marilyn Monroe or the modern uber-cool glamour of Kate Moss - I don't mind really. Either would be nice.

And don't tell me glamour doesn't really exist, that it's just a facade or an illusion. That would dash my hopes even further. I'm living in hope you see.

Photo credit

Mumsnet campaign for better miscarriage care

2011-10-10T14:22:00.002+01:00

I'm blogging about my miscarriages to support Mumsnet's campaign for better miscarriage care which has launched today.

My first miscarriage was eight years ago. I was nine weeks pregnant when I saw my GP after some slight bleeding. The first thing he did was tell me off for turning up on a Friday evening when scanning facilities were closed until Monday morning. I felt like apologising for not timing my miscarriage better.

The sonographer was perfunctory: "Unable to detect a heartbeat, looks like development stopped at seven weeks. A missed miscarriage." I then sat in a busy waiting room to wait to see a doctor. After a while, I began to cry. I don't normally cry in busy waiting rooms, I tried to be strong but the sadness overwhelmed me. We'd tried to get pregnant for a year and now our baby was lost.

Finally someone noticed I was upset and we were moved to a private room. After an hour's wait a doctor came and told me I'd need a surgical procedure. She handed me a leaflet called the Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception. Not a baby any more. Just Retained Products of Conception.

The procedure was day surgery in the maternity wing.Whoozy from the general anaesthetic I waited for my husband to pick me up while I watched new mothers leaving hospital with their babies.

My second miscarriage was sixteen months later. I had repeated scans due to bleeding. Finally at eight weeks I was told the heartbeat had stopped. This sonographer was much more sympathetic: she was apologetic (even though it was hardly her fault) and have me a hug.

Again I waited for a doctor for over an hour in a busy waiting room. I managed to stop myself crying this time. The doctor seemed to be a trainee, much younger than me (I was thirty at the time). She recited something she must have read in a textbook. Apparently the bleeding and pain would be like a heavy period. I felt like telling her she was talking rubbish at the time. For the next few days I lay in pain on the sofa at home.

Lots of women have miscarriages. My care was in a very busy hospital which deals with many women having miscarriages every day. There's little time for a sympathetic word. I still remember the sonographer's hug now. She stood out as someone who had showed me some care.

The rest of the time I was just a patient going through the system. Only one person found time to say a kind few words to me. The other medical staff didn't know what to say. Maybe they don't see it as their place to provide any emotional care.

For women going through pregnancy loss, emotional care is more important than their physical wellbeing. But few medical staff give this consideration. Your body usually recovers quickly from pregnancy loss, but the hurt lasts forever.

I hope the Mumsnet campaign for better miscarriage care can improve services for women going through pregnancy loss. The Mumsnet Miscarriage Code of Care lists five points to improve care of women going through miscarriage.

These are:
- Supportive staff
- Access to scanning
- Safe and appropriate places for treatment 
- Good information and effective treatment 
- Joined-up care 

If you support this campaign, why not add your voice too?

I'm left out of the Secret Parenting Club

2011-10-06T13:21:00.000+01:00

I've long suspected there's been a Secret Parenting Club I'm not part of. The one which knows birth can be horrendous, breastfeeding is almost impossible and being at home with a newborn can drive you to the brink of sanity. The Secret Parenting Club doesn't tell you these things. You have to find out for yourself.

And the surprises continue throughout your parenting journey. Almost six years in I like to think I know what I'm doing. But it turns out I don't because I'm not part of the Secret Parenting Club.

I found this out when Podge finally realised he doesn't magically know how to swim, he has to have lessons to learn how to do it. So after much persuasion he eventually agreed to be booked onto swimming lessons. Not being a member of the Secret Parenting Club I assumed I could just phone up and book. But no. I phoned up and was given an advance date I should book on - 3rd October.

So on Monday 3rd October I phoned to book swimming lessons but there was no answer (not a member of The Club you see). So I decided to go down to the swimming pool itself. Once there I hung around at the reception desk while other mums walked past me and joined another queue. Eventually a sleepy looking swimming pool bloke in flip flops shuffled up to me and pointed me in the direction of the queue.

The mums already queueing were clearly a member of the Secret Parenting Club. They all knew you had to go to the swimming pool in person at an allotted date and time and stand in a certain queue. And there I was joining the back of the queue even though I arrived there before them. I suspect the swimming lessons were all booked up by lunchtime, lucky we got a slot. Just as well I used my brain eh?

Why don't members of the Secret Parenting Club want to let me in on their secrets? In fact I think one did a week or two ago. I managed to glean that the waiting list for Beavers is about five years long and by the time your child gets a place they're pretty much too old for Beavers and have to go to Cubs where the waiting list is eight years long. Okay, I'm exaggarating a bit, but I think I did well to find that out.

And members of the Secret Parenting Club always know when it's dress down day and never have to whisk their child back home from school in the morning to get changed because their child is the only one in school uniform. What's that you say? Read the school newsletter properly? Pfft.

Win £500 off your next family holiday!

2011-10-05T13:48:00.001+01:00

This is a prize draw we're running over at Childfriendly. I've been working for Childfriendly for 18 months now and we've come up with this prize draw because we want people to tell us about their summer family holiday, and in return you can win £500 off your next one!

To enter you just need to write three 100 word reviews of a day out, holiday or place you've eaten at. It can be a cafe, restaurant, pub, soft play centre, farm park, theme park, family holiday resort, self-catering cottage or just about any day out you've had with the children recently. With summer just behind us, we're thinking people will have had lots of days out they can tell us about.

After you've written three reviews for entry into the prize draw you can then get further entries by writing one review each time. This means 1 review = 1 entry. And there's some time to do this too, the prize draw is running until the end of the year.

There are a few other incentives for adding reviews to Childfriendly and you can read about them here. And we'll also be looking at entries as part of our recruitment process for local editors.

If it sounds interesting then you can find out more on Childfriendly.

The hammock looks nice in that picture doesn't it? Could do with one of those right now.

Tell-tale signs I may be middle class

2011-10-03T11:57:00.000+01:00

My husband laughed at the washing up liquid recently. Not content with a bottle of Fairy, I'd picked up a bottle of Waitrose's Ginger and Lime washing up liquid. I didn't give this a second thought until my husband commented and I realised it's exactly what my middle-class mother would buy.

It demonstrates a sort of faux middle-class thriftiness: buy the supermarket brand because it's cheaper but actually it's a supermarket not known for being the cheapest because you don't want to compromise on quality after all. And as for Ginger and Lime: well middle-class people like things quirkily fragranced.

There are some other tell-tale signs: my favourite snack is pimento stuffed olives. I don't usually eat crisps, but if I do they have to be some baked, pricey brand with some nice quirky middle-class flavour such as port and stilton. I'm a little bit fussy with wine too, I pretend to be thrifty by always buying something which has been reduced from £10 to £5 or £6 and I always have to read the label and nod knowingly as if I understand it all.

Waitrose Essential (their 'budget' range) tea bags are not good enough. I need to get their stronger, better quality range. In fact Marks & Spencer tea bags are better still, although loose tea will always have the edge. Last week I cooked oven baked beetroot risotto with beetroot I grew in the garden. That's so middle-class it puts my teeth on edge.

I like to think I'm classless. We gave the children classless names so people wouldn't be able to make an instant judgement on their background. I don't like judgements. I like to think we can all just rub along together without anyone thinking about backgrounds. But life isn't like that.

I can't help it because my upbringing was achingly middle class. My parents listened to Radio 3 and Radio 4, ITV was rarely allowed on the telly and the only time a tabloid newspaper found its way into the house was when my Dad bought The Mirror to read about Sarah Ferguson's Texan millionaire toe sucking scandal. We did middle-class pursuits such as playing the piano (and we have a piano in our house now) and Mum always cooked Delia Smith recipes because you 'could never go wrong with Delia'. With some recent Nigella flops I'm coming round to my Mum's thinking now.

The list goes on. Oh and books. It's important to have a house full of books apparently. 'Not many books in their house' was a comment sometimes made by my parents and that would be scathing judgement passed on the owner of that book sparse house. Our house now is full of books. So full we don't have enough space for them all. Not practical really.

I'm making my parents sounds like terrible snobs. They weren't really. Well, okay, ever so slightly they were. A sort of Basil Fawlty level of snobbishness. That came with the generation I think.

I have to acknowledge that I may be middle-class and like to buy strange flavoured washing up liquid from slightly upmarket supermarkets. But I'm open minded: I actually quite like Argos. My Mum refuses to ever set foot in there. Isn't it reassuring to see each generation becoming slightly more classless? Although this mum does not go to Iceland.

Photo credit

Has Justin CBeebies lost weight? And other random search terms

2011-09-29T11:13:00.000+01:00

I don't normally completely nick other blogger's ideas. But Jo Beaufoix's post Tiny man in a cage about weird search terms on her blog made me laugh lots the other day. Here's my version. It's not as good as hers. Despite that, here are my thoughts about the people who came up with these search terms.

can you visit mr tumbles house? - no idea but I would love to

cbeebies presenter gay - curious or outraged at the thought? Can't work this one out

caring for an octopus - are you allowed to keep an octopus as a domestic pet? Going to have to google that myself now. Unless an aquarium carried out this search, then it would be okay. Although they should know what they're doing already.

crap+cars - is crap meant as an adjective or noun here?

fotos de morten harket - oh yes we all love fotos de morten harket, especially from the 80s

i hate soft kids - they're probably not that keen on you either

justin cbeebies has he lost weight - not sure. If he has it's subtle

men who hate educated women - yes we've all come across those

naked justin fletcher - not keen on that image. Not that they would have found one on my blog thankfully. They must have been disappointed

what happen to jane march - well exactly. What happened to her? *quizzical face*

леденец - I hope that doesn't translate into something rude

who should i leave the children for - well we all have bad days. I wonder who they found in the end

women eat in office - it's better than them being chained to the kitchen sink I guess

You'll have noticed the frequent references to CBeebies here. My blog's search terms are full of them. And I love the renaming of Justin Fletcher to Justin CBeebies. I think that should be his official name now. There are a lot of Mr Tumble fanatics out there. And Katy Ashworth is popular too but those search terms weren't clean enough to put here. Poor girl.

My sad and lonely world of social media

2011-09-25T13:15:00.001+01:00

I logged into Klout yesterday to stop the annoying e-mails they keep sending me and I was greeted with this message popping up in my face.

It's a travesty isn't it? But not to worry, as this message suggests I can make my score go up again by spending all the hours the Lord Himself sends mindlessly typing pointless pap into Twitter and Facebook in an attempt to regain my lost point.

Messages like this signify everything which is wrong with the online world (look they even said "1 points" instead of "1 point"). Why create a drama about something which is meaningless in real life? Does 99.999999% of the world's population even know what Klout is? I doubt it.

I suggest a re-wording of this message to "Oh no! Your Klout Score fell by 1 point, but never mind you could actually just get on with your real life instead and go and eat some cake or play with your children."

And then I got an e-mail yesterday from PostRank saying this:

It's just as well I can maintain a positive outlook on life isn't it? I'm telling you, some of this stuff could bring a weaker woman down.

I've no idea why I get these daily e-mails from PostRank, I need to go in and turn them off. But I'm scared of doing that now in case an even harsher message pops out at me mocking me for having plummeted on some make believe scoring system.

The world's a cruel place isn't it? You're never good enough it seems. Must try harder, must try harder. Or I could ignore my e-mail for a few days. That's a better option.

Some people get better with age and Gary Barlow is one of them

2011-09-22T11:07:00.000+01:00

Not looking bad is he? I like to consider myself an Early Gary Barlow Adopter. Back in the early 90s when all the girls were screaming about Robbie and Howard and the others, I was quietly appreciating Gary Barlow.

In the early years of Take That, Gary Barlow was the slightly tubby one and there were rumours he'd had to be airbrushed in occasional pictures to make him look slimmer. How mean.

But I always preferred Gary because he was the most creative one. The others wrote a few songs but he wrote most of the stuff. And played the piano. And maybe many people thought he was a bit dull and a bit 'nice' compared to Robbie's bad boy antics. Not me.

And see how my loyalty has paid off! Gary Barlow not only looks way better at 40 than he did at 20 but we are also seeing a more interesting Gary Barlow on X Factor. He does grumpy! I do love a grumpy person. It shows personality. Turns out Gary Barlow isn't dull after all. In fact he's great, but then I always knew that.

I've always thought people have an 'optimum age' where they're at their best. Some people look great at 25 and go downhill after that. But I like a person who starts off mediocre and comes into their own at around the age of, well, 40. They've matured well like a good cheese, fine wine or a spreading oak tree.

And if you're still not convinced, this is Gary Barlow in a Christmas song competition in 1986 when he was a sapling. Bless him. Definitely got better with age.

Photo credit

Would I lie to you Mummy? Er, yes

2011-09-20T14:24:00.000+01:00

Yesterday lunchtime I got a call from the school office. Could I go and collect Podge because he wasn't well? I raced up to the school and was a little bit suspicious when Podge greeted me with a broad grin. He didn't look very poorly.

Back home, he lay on the sofa for half an hour watching telly. And then he was miraculously recovered. So recovered that only moments later I had to tell him to stop jumping off his top bunk bed (I swear he'll go through the floor one of these days). Yesterday Podge discovered how a little porky pie at school can result in your mum picking you up early.

It's been noticeable recently that Podge's fib telling has reached new heights. After school last week he came rushing out of the classroom with a Lego minifigure which apparently his teacher had 'gone out to Tescos' to buy him because he'd 'done good reading'. The Lego minifigure resembled one I'd caught him trying to smuggle into his book bag a few days before,
"Are you sure that wasn't yours in the first place and Mrs X confiscated it and has given it back to you just now?"
Podge was offended I suggested such a thing.

On Friday evening a fib got even more elaborate. Podge was doing a strange robotic walk around the house and tried to convince me that both his legs and one arm had been replaced by robot limbs because he'd accidentally cut them off after he and his friends had been allowed to cut trees with a chainsaw at school as a reward for 'doing good reading' (have you spotted the reading theme?).

Where do small children get their ideas from? If I'm in a good mood, I find Podge's fibs quite endearing. If I'm grumpy I start worrying he's going to grow into a compulsive liar.

I remember my parents used to scare me off doing these things by reading me Hilaire Belloc's Cautionary Tales for Children. Matilda Who Told Lies was a memorable one, you don't want to know what happens to her. And neither does Podge. But I'll get a copy just in case we need it.

Why it's scientifically impossible for my house to be tidy

2011-09-16T10:31:00.000+01:00

I once read that you can never have all the planes in the world on the ground at the same time because there isn't enough space in airports for them all. This means you have to have some in the air at any given time.

I don't know if this aeroplane fact is true, but finding myself in a rare moment yesterday of having washed and dried and folded all the clothes in the house I realised I was doing myself a disservice. I can't fit them all in the drawers and wardrobes. It's actually better that there are a few half-dirty piles of clothes somewhere (too clean for washing machine, too grubby for wardrobe), and a 'waiting to be ironed' pile (a long wait). And in a 'convenient place in case we need it' pile. And in a 'at the bottom of the stairs waiting to be taken upstairs' pile. And so on.

It's no good getting all the clothes nice and clean and folded, some clothes need to be in circulation at any given time because there's no room for them all to be stored.

And I've noticed it's the same with mugs. I need one in my hand with coffee in it, and at least one used mug in each room. Otherwise if they're all clean and dry they don't fit in the cupboard. The same goes for toys, children's artwork, random and important bits of paper with numbers on and just about everything.

There's either too much stuff which needs to be stored or not enough storage for the stuff. One or the other. And this is why our house is untidy. It's full of stuff in circulation. And this is the excuse I have ready and waiting for husband when he gets back from a week away this evening. It's not me being untidy, it's just the House's Stuff and Storage Mismatch. A known and recognised scientific state.

What's that you say? Maybe it's time for a clear out? Tra la la la la I'm not listening, my fingers are in my ears tra la la la tra la la la.

If I were inspected by Ofsted

2011-09-13T10:39:00.000+01:00

Would I pass? Here are some of the criteria which I think need to be met for early years childcare in a domestic setting.

Take necessary steps to safeguard and promote the welfare of children in the setting
Oh yes I do this all the time. I won't mention the time my five year old opened the front door without us knowing and we then found his one year old sister about two hundred yards down the street.

Adults looking after children must have appropriate qualifications, training, skills and knowledge
None. Zero. Zilch. Was clueless about children until mine were born.

Children’s behaviour must be managed effectively and in a manner appropriate for their stage of development and particular individual needs
I count to five, shout, threaten to confiscate toys, shout and er... shout. Occasionally the naughty spot is used. My one year old laughs in my face when I tell her off. Do I need to get Supernanny in for her yet?

Ensure that adults looking after children, or having unsupervised access to them, are suitable to do so
Erm, well it's mainly me. And my husband at weekends. Are we suitable? Who decides?

Promote the good health of the children, take necessary steps to prevent the spread of infection and take appropriate action when they are ill
Well I get them to wash their hands when I remember, and I clean occasionally. My appropriate action when they are ill is usually Calpol and then wait and see what happens.

Staffing arrangements must be organised to ensure safety and to meet the needs of the children
Well it's mainly me. A ratio of one to three. That's okay isn't it? Doesn't feel like it at times. Could definitely do with more staff.

Outdoor and indoor spaces, furniture, equipment and toys must be safe and suitable for their purpose
The garden shears I left lying in the garden probably aren't safe. Neither's the stuff regularly left on the stairs. I found a pair of scissors in my three year old's bed the other morning. If the children didn't have such fearless climbing habits they wouldn't fall off things quite so much. I do warn them, but do they listen?

Plan and organise systems to ensure that every child receives an enjoyable and challenging learning and development experience that is tailored to meet their individual needs
Ah yes, I order my five year old to read his school reading book every day and he never wants to. If I ever suggest anything fun and educational to do the children moan at me and ask to put on the telly.

Maintain records, policies and procedures required for the safe and efficient management of the settings and to meet the needs of the children
Now come on. I don't even have time to drink a cup of coffee while it's still hot.

Ten years ago today

2011-09-11T09:13:00.000+01:00

I travelled to work on the bus and saw a large group of mourners. There were so many that some were in the road slowing the traffic down. Their black clothes seemed at odds with the bright sunshine that morning.

I ate my lunch at my desk around 2pm, I tried to get on the BBC News website but for some reason it wouldn't load. When it finally did there was a breaking story that a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. I tried to find out more but the internet was slow as news sites were rapidly updating their stories.

Someone put a TV on at the far end of the office. The scenes were from a disaster movie, I couldn't believe they were real. I felt cold and shivery. Exactly two years before my future husband and I had stood at the top of the World Trade Center on a sunny September day. A friendly New Yorker, who thought we were Australian, had taken our photo there.

Everyone gathered around the TV and watched the first tower collapse in stunned silence. "They would have evacuated everyone wouldn't they?" I said to the person next to me. What a stupid thing to say. It was some vain hope that things weren't as bad as they looked.

I was meant to go to a meeting. I went along but everyone was distracted. The meeting was short. Phone calls and e-mails fizzled out. We all went home early.

Last minute wedding plans were forgotten that evening as we watched the horrific pictures again and again on our TV screen. They were so shocking but we were compelled to watch. We couldn't believe what was happening, we were frightened about what would happen next.

My thoughts are with the families and friends of everyone caught up in 9/11 ten years ago today.

Can you get your dog out of my face please

2011-09-09T09:30:00.000+01:00

Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. And I have to be very careful what I say here as many friends, family and neighbours have dogs. Most dog owners handle their dogs perfectly and are very respectful in how they manage them.

We've been to a lot of parks over the summer (we didn't go away on holiday at all, but it's okay I'm not going to start grumbling about it). Lots of parks means lots of dogs and a few encounters with dog owners who seem to think everyone else loves their dog as much as them.

"He's only being friendly!" said a woman the other day as her excitable dog knocked over my friend's son (he wasn't hurt). Other common sayings include, "He's just saying hello," "Don't worry he loves children," and "He's never bitten anyone in his life." One of the best I heard was a few years ago when I saw a German Shepherd leap onto a toddler in a pushchair, "Don't worry he'd only lick her to death," said the owner to the horrified mother as she yanked him back. Licked to death? Better than being mauled presumably.

Why do some dog owners think my children want to play with their dog? I've taught my children to be wary of dogs and they are. I know most dogs are fine but when you come across a dog on a walk you really don't know whether it's a nice dog or not. Of course the owner says the dog is nice, because they're the owner and they're biased. "He loves being around children," is another one. Possibly. But my children may not necessarily love being around him. If a dog owner asked permission first that would be better.

Some dogs are quite scary to my children because they're big. My children are only little so I can understand where they're coming from. They love puppies and little dogs but a medium sized dog to us is tiger sized to them. Or even pony or horse sized.

And there are people who let children be in charge of the dog. Except sometimes they're not in charge, on two occasions this summer I saw a child being dragged along by a dog they were meant to be walking. Completely not in control at all.

And the 'he would never bite' thing: dogs are animals, not machines. It doesn't matter how docile, loving, cuddly, wuddly and gentle a dog is there can be a rare moment of unpredictability. Like humans (although, admittedly, we are more unpredictable than dogs). There is always a risk a dog will do something unpredictable, even if it's a teeny tiny weeny risk. You can't ever say your dog would never bite because you honestly just don't know. Most dogs will go from cradle to grave never having bitten a person. But the element of unpredictability is still there.

Recently the children were on their bikes in the park when an enormous, barking dog ran onto the field. I felt a bit scared. The owners threw balls for it, called to it when it strayed too far and put it on the lead whenever my children went near. The dog didn't bother us at all. Responsible dog owners. I like them.

As for irresponsible dog owners: don't you agree that one of the lowlights of parenthood is having to clean dog poo from the treads of your children's shoes? It enrages me.

101 ways you don't want to be woken up in the morning

2011-09-07T10:48:00.000+01:00

The children get up early. Between 6 and 6.30am. We have a Gro Clock which tells them to get up at 7am but they ignore it. They're not meant to bother us before 7am but they ignore that rule too. They get round it by making out that every early morning request is urgent.

"Mummy, can you help me get into my Sportacus outfit?"
"Mummy, this came off my Lego helicopter can you put it back on please"
"Mummy, can you tie this snake around my waist like a belt?"
"Mummy, I can't flush the toilet"
"Mummy, can you help me put on my Halloween cape please"
"Mummy, I need a wee"
"Mummy, I want socks on"

Then there are the early morning scraps which need sorting out. And husband is very good at generating early morning 'leave me alone' vibes so the boys never go and bother him about anything. Always me. Dad only gets involved when acceptable noise levels have been breached.

Let's not forget this horrendous way to be woken up a few weeks ago.

And then at the weekend at about 6.30am I was woken with,
"Mummy, there's a spider in our room,"
"Hmph,"
"So we caught him and he's in here,"
"What?" I opened my eyes to see a small pot rested on a piece of card about three centimetres from my nose, "The spider's in there is he?"
"Yes, can you put him out of your window please."

So I took the pot, shuffled over to the window and realised I was largely in a state of undress and that the spider was actually a very large spider. So in a barely clothed, slightly panicky moment I pulled open the curtains and wooshed the spider out of the window.

I'm hoping no one was really around near our house at 6.30am on Sunday. If they were then they probably got an eyeful. Next time I'll make sure I have a t-shirt handy. Seems you need to be prepared for anything.

innocent’s Design a Lunchbox Challenge

2011-09-06T23:05:00.001+01:00

innocent invited us to take part in their Back to School Lunchbox Challenge. They sent us a lunchbox filled with innocent goodies which the children loved and some stickers were included to customise the lunchbox.

First of all, here's the customisation of the lunchbox. This is by three year old Fington and one year old Little Girl. Podge didn't want to take part in this for some reason because he's five and seemed to have more important five year old things to do. So this is why the design is quite random but you can see they liked the fish and hand stickers.

And here is the sort of thing I like to put in the children's lunchboxes. Podge takes a packed lunch into school every day and Fington is taking one into pre-school twice a week.

The children have sandwiches (usually ham or cream cheese) and sometimes I add in some mini breadsticks or crackers for extra carbs. I usually avoid crisps, Podge doesn't like them and Fington only has them as a treat.
I like to put in lots of fruit because the children are hopeless at eating vegetables. Luckily the boys like eating fruit and dried fruit is good too as it helps with the 'five a day' quota.
Sometimes I put in a yoghurt, the squeezy tube ones are popular with the children at the moment.
I usually put in a chocolate biscuit for some energy, but recently I've started making muffins as I've discovered they're quite easy to make. The one in this lunchbox is a banana and raisin muffin and I'm going to try an oat muffin recipe too as I think these will be more filling and healthier than chocolate and provide some slow-release energy too which should last until the end of the school day.
As for drinks - well I had to include an innocent smoothie didn't I? The boys love smoothies and fruit juice. We've recently tried innocent's juicy drink which is spring water and fruit juice. I often dilute fruit juice at home so it's less harsh on the teeth and is more thirst-quenching too. Podge always has a water bottle with him at school, although he needs more encouragement to drink from it!

Thank you very much to innocent for inviting us to take part in the Back to School Lunchbox Challenge!

Win the brand new Trunkisaurus and a set of Trunkisaurus chums!

2011-09-06T10:09:00.001+01:00

Here's an amazing chance to win the brand new Trunkisaurus and a set of Trunkisaurus chums! Trunki is launching its new Rex and Rox Trunkisaurus range this month and your child could be one of the first to own one. The Trunkisaurus chums are a pencil case, wash bag and wrist purse which match Rex and Rox perfectly.

This competition is running on my site Real Parenting.

Trunkis are 3 in 1 ride on suitcases which are perfect for your child's belongings on a short break or holiday. Trunkis have proved a big hit with families over the past couple of years and prehistoric Trunkisauruses Rex and Rox are now joining the range. Just watch out for those sharp teeth!

Last week the Trunkisaurus viral was launched, to enter this competition you'll need to head over to Real Parenting and answer a question based on the video. Competition closes 19th September, good luck!

Do you leave your children in the car on their own?

2011-09-01T02:55:00.000+01:00

We went to the local retail park this week and we walked past a car which had two children the same age as my boys sitting in the back. They were strapped in their seats and looked happy. I won't pass judgement on whoever left them there as they may have rushed into one of the shops just for two minutes.

But it was difficult to tell which shop because the car these children were sitting in was in the middle of a big car park, surrounded by other cars and lots of shops. There was no knowing where their parent or carer was. And maybe it was just for two minutes, but what if it was for twenty?

Call me paranoid, but I drag my children out of the car for even the shortest of stops. I can't bring myself to leave them in the car in case someone crashes into the car (rare I know), the car blows up (very rare but it has happened) or they start fighting (very common).

If you leave your children in the car, do you lock the car at the risk of them setting off the car alarm or do you leave it unlocked at the risk of someone getting in? Someone I once knew used to leave the children in a locked car and they routinely set off the car alarm. It used to really annoy me and when I commented on this to another friend she said she did the same and didn't care if the alarm went off.

I might leave the children in the car when I pay for petrol at a petrol station, but only if there's no queue inside. If there is a queue the children are all traipsed across the garage forecourt which probably isn't that safe in itself. It's actually easier for my husband or I to take the car out one evening to fill it with petrol without children.

I leave the children in the car if they're asleep when we get back from somewhere. Then the car is on our drive and I leave the front door open so I can see them.

Official advice is probably to never leave your children unattended in a car. And I think legally it could be neglect if your children are left there over a certain length of time as this doctor found out.

Once your child reaches the age of being able to undo their own seatbelt as Podge can then it's probably not safe at all. Some cars only have a little switch instead of a handbrake which a child can easily mess with (the new SEAT Alhambara has because we test drove it recently. And then bought an old secondhand thing).

And I don't leave the children in the car on their own because the chances are high they'll start fighting with each other. Especially Little Girl and Fington who are currently arch enemies (I'm hoping they'll grow out of that one soon).

I can imagine many parents would rather leave their children in the car then take them around a shop. I can understand that. My children hate shops. They run around in them, ignoring me telling them to behave, and slide and skid around on the polished floor annoying everyone around them apart from the occasional old bloke (old blokes always seem to find my boys entertaining no matter what they're doing, old ladies are less impressed). In fact I often end up having to avoid shops altogether. Not a bad thing as it saves me money.

So how long is it acceptable to leave your children in the car for? Or should you never do it? And should I have reported the registration number of the car I saw to the police? Is it that serious?

Tracing my Grandpa's footsteps at Tangmere

2011-08-30T11:44:00.000+01:00

My Grandpa could have been a blogger. He wrote about his life in a series of exercise books. Reading his words, I can tell the Second World War had a big impact on him, as it did on most people of his generation.

Grandpa was in the RAF during WWII and during the summer of 1940 he was at RAF Tangmere in West Sussex. This base played an important role in the Battle of Britain and Grandpa's squadron was drafted in to help out during Phase 1 and Phase 2 of the Battle of Britain. He was 19 years old.

RAF Tangmere is no more, but there is now a museum on the site in some of the old huts and we visited yesterday. Grandpa was an Armourer in 145 Squadron. He got up at sunrise to warm up the Hurricanes and Spitfires and to equip them with the ammunition they needed for their sorties. Here is some more in Grandpa's words:-

"When wearrived at Tangmere the station was very full, in fact all the groundstaff ofour squadron occupied tents which were erected in the grass areas surroundingthe barrack blocks. A tent housed about sixmen and their kit in comfort, they were designed to hold more.

"Therewas a lot of activity on the airfield which was due to the retreat of Allied Forces in France.My tent was gradually evacuated as airmen found vacant beds in barrack blocks.After a week or two I had the tent to myself and was quite contented in there.One day however some interfering Orderly Officer ordered me to findaccommodation in the barracks....

"I was inA Flight and we operated a shift system, every third day we would spend all ourtime at dispersal. At dispersal there were long wooden huts and our armoury wassituated at the end of one of these. In the main sections there were iron bedsbut the armourers had a couple of beds in our own section – surrounded withthousands of rounds of ammunition...

"When itwas my turn on duty I preferred to sleep outside the hut on a trestle table, nomattress, just one blanket on the table top and two on top, on top of this Iput an engine cover to collect the heavy dew. We would get up at sunrise –somewhere between 0330 and 0400 hours and warm up the Spitfire engines.

"Weworked in pairs, one on the starter trolley and the other sitting in thecockpit to open the throttle. It was a strange experience sitting in thepilot’s seat with the roar of the Rolls Royce Merlin engine as one opened thethrottle.

"The pilots wouldarrive from the Mess as soon as it became daylight. We would take it in turnsto go to the dining hall for breakfast. The pilots had their breakfast sentfrom the Officers’ Mess.

"Tangmere, whichwas a peacetime station, had very good facilities including a large NAAFI. Ican remember it very crowded at nights, very stuffy due to the blackoutcurtains, and everyone singing ‘Roll out the Barrel’.

"In July or Augustour squadron was moved from Tangmere to a new satellite airfield atWesthampnett. In fact it was simply alarge field, presumably some hedges had been removed, with no buildingswhatsoever. We slept in bell tents and serviced guns under canvas. I canclearly recall cleaning machine guns in petrol working through the night.

"Once a week wewould return to Tangmere for a bath, I had just returned from a bathing tripwhen Tangmere was attacked by Junkers 88s and Stuka dive bombers. I waschanging my underwear at the time and dived into a trench in my underpants. The ground shook and heaved and the noise wasappalling, soil fell into the trench from the freshly dug sides.

"This raid was acomplete surprise as far as our squadron was concerned because our kites wereon the deck...

"The squadron wasmoved to Scotlandbecause we had lost so many pilots in the air battles, mostly over the channeland Selsey Bill at this time, and new arrivals needed training."

The attack on Tangmere which Grandpa describes was on 16th August 1940. He was one of the lucky ones, thirteen people were killed and twenty injured. Grandpa's squadron lost a lot of pilots during the Battle of Britain. I can't imagine what it was like preparing the planes for men who never returned.

Our visit to Tangmere yesterday left me in a reflective mood. The museum is a lovely place to visit and I felt a connection to the place. As I read about 145 Squadron among the exhibits everything tied in with what Grandpa had written. Both these accounts have given me an insight into a world which is hard to comprehend these days. Yes it's in our minds when we read about our servicemen and women in Afghanistan and elsewhere. But seventy years ago, similar things were happening in our own country. It's hard to imagine.

The children are too young to understand, although Podge loved the story about my Grandpa diving into a trench wearing nothing but his underpants. The boys understood their Great Grandpa had been there and they loved seeing the planes in the museum (Fington called them Spitplanes).

It's a very cliched thing to say, but visiting a place likes Tangmere makes me feel humbled. Understanding more about what my Grandpa did in WWII makes me feel humbled too. Last week I was grumbling about modern life and a day like yesterday helps me realise what I have to be grateful for.

That said, my Grandpa was the biggest ever grumbler about modern life. He died four years ago and I'm very grateful for the record of his life which he left us. His own part in history.

Win £15 to spend on Clothing at Tesco's Back to School range

2011-08-30T10:04:00.002+01:00

Thank you to Clothing at Tesco who have sent us a box of Back to School goodies including much needed trousers and shirts for my five year old and some pens and stationery which all the children have enjoyed playing with. We also received Clothing at Tesco's Back to School Lookbook which shows their entire range.

It goes without saying that buying everything for when the children go Back to School can be pricey, so here's a chance to get £15 off an order on Clothing at Tesco's Back to School range. To enter just leave a comment and let me know if you're looking forward to your children going back or whether you'd rather it was still the holidays (personally I've got to the stage where I'm looking forward to them returning...)

I'll pick a winner at random from everyone who comments by 5pm on Thursday 1st September.

Chocolate squares made with leftover biscuits

2011-08-28T21:10:00.002+01:00

I scoured the internet for a recipe to use up leftover biscuits and couldn't find one I liked so I made something up. Actually it wasn't because I had leftover biscuits but because I'd overcooked some gingerbread men which no one wanted to eat. So you could use either leftover slightly stale biscuits or disaster biscuits like the ones I had.

Ingredients:
200g leftover biscuits
50g raisins
50g chopped nuts (you could substitute Rice Krispies or Cornflakes)
Handful of white chocolate chips (optional)
250g cooking chocolate
50g butter
4 tablespoons of golden syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla essence

How to make it:
Break up the leftover biscuits into a bowl and mix them with the raisins, chopped nuts and chocolate chips (Little Girl enjoyed helping me with this bit).

Next, break the cooking chocolate into chunks and warm it in a bowl on top of a pan of simmering water with the golden syrup and butter. Stir until it's all melted and add the vanilla essence.

Then, add the dry ingredients to the melted chocolate and mix well.

Put everything into a greased baking tin (I used a pyrex dish) and press it down well.

Put it into the fridge to set, this takes about forty minutes to an hour.

And here you go. It's for people with a sweet tooth (ie me).

You could even add in some mini marshmallows to this, or some other chopped dried fruit.

I do believe this is the first recipe I've ever blogged about. I'm almost a domestic goddess.

What happened when Jane Austen went to soft play

2011-08-24T11:58:00.004+01:00

Yester morn, four hours after sunrise, we journeyed our wayto a soft play centre. The inclement weather having decreed that we should pursue our day’sentertainment within doors. Upon arrival, lo! Such a din! I vouched I couldbehold each and every infant and child of the parish within the soft play facility.

A young dark-haired woman, who I determined to be of between 19 and 20 years ofage, informed us our payment should be lower as this very day was TwoQuid Tuesday. Once we had relieved ourselves of six pound sterling we were grantedentry to the premises. Within a short period of time my young charges haddiscarded their footwear and were availing themselves of the most extensiverange of padded play equipment.

I took charge of my youngest and did accompany her amidstthe throng of activity and playfulness. On occasion I felt obliged to scold a wayward child forforceful or over-exuberant behaviour which happened a detriment upon my children. In these such moments I did ponder the whereabouts of thesaid child’s parent or guardian. Previous visits to soft play centres haveaccustomed me to the nature of certain persons who make themselves unavailableto the needs of their children. It saddens me so to see soft play foundlings!

Once an hour of our time had passed I did inform my children we should leave the soft play centre. And this did cause much disquiet, dischord and distress among them. However I was very much forceful in my decision as the din of the soft play centre had caused me great pain within my head. And if the pain had been permitted to continue I should have been forced to consult my physician and therefore been rendered verily unsuited to further mothering duty that day.

It wasn't really Jane Austen writing this it was me! Lol. Am I right in thinking that when the film Sense and Sensibility won those Academy Awards several years ago, a number of people across the pond were wondering why Jane Austen hadn't shown up to the Oscars? People like that might believe she wrote this blog post.

Actually even they wouldn't.

Picture credit

Modern life is rubbish

2011-08-22T11:58:00.000+01:00

As I mature in years, I'm finding more things in modern life to be grumpy about. This is normal right? Does anyone else get extremely bugged by the following?

Bar staff - when did they lose the key talents of being ableto total up rounds of drinks in their head and remember the order in whichcustomers arrive at the bar? In my bar serving days you couldn't work behind abar unless you could do these things. Nowadays bar staff just serve theloudest / pushiest / most attractive customer first and spend ages with some key thing in the tillpressing various buttons, mistyping it and having to do it again. Then tell youyour round of two measly drinks is ten quid.

Technology - twenty years ago people were saying thatadvancements in technology would mean we could all work a three day week. Whatmade them say that? They should be punished for getting our hopes up.

Clothes shops - why can't you buy clothes in a shop nowwithout staff asking if you'd like to enter a competition, leave your e-mailaddress to get a reduction online or sign up to the store credit card? I can tellthey feel uneasy asking me because as they go through their patter I have athunderous expression on my face which informs them I just want to pay and getmy noisy children out of the shop.

Stripey cars - what's with the cars with two large stripeson them? Not racing cars, I'm talking normal road cars. When I first saw one I thought it was for maintenance purposes. Maybethe car was about to fall apart and was being held together with two largepieces of tape? But no, apparently it's for aesthetic reasons. Together with acoke can exhaust and strange coloured headlights. Why invest so much time andmoney into making a £500 Peugeot 306 look even crapper?

X Factor - how can it possibly get any bigger, louder,better or more hyped up than previous series? Apparently some episodes aregoing to be three hours long: that's bum numbing. How much more money can possiblybe spent on it? And they always say the new series will 'have some surprises instore'. Usually the 'surprises' turn out to be a bit of an anti-climax don’tthey? It's only a singing competition for chrissakes.

Supermarket staff - why are the people on the checkouts toldthey have to make smalltalk with the customer? I can tell they're not theslightest bit interested when they ask me how my day's doing or what I've gotplanned for the weekend. And I can't be bothered to discuss these banal planswhen I'm trying to pack the shopping into bags and keep three small, bored childrenunder control. And because I have children supermarket staff make the mistakeof thinking I'm interested in hearingall about their children / grandchildren. They've found that hook for somethingto talk to me about because they've been told they have to talk to me. Or atme.

Annoying signs in cars - we don't need to know there's ababy on board thanks. Recently I was stuck behind a car with a sign saying'Warning - shopaholic on board!'. This annoyed me for three reasons:

- The use of an exclamation mark implies the sign is funnywhen it isn't

- Shopaholism is an addiction. Should we be laughing at anaddiction? Should we? Hmm?

- Why do I need to be 'warned' there's a shopaholic onboard? What harm could they possibly cause me or other road users? Does being a shopaholic mean you're a baddriver? Or prone to violent bouts of road rage? Maybe it does.

Perhaps the sign is there to warn the emergency servicesthere's a shopaholic on board so they can make them a priority if there's aroad accident. And when they get to the car the person inside says, 'no I'm notthe shopaholic that's my partner but I accidentally left the sign in thewindow' thus wasting everyone's time. Okay I'm rambling off on one now. I'll do the rest of my grumbling in private.

Review: Hiku and Colours by Top That Publishing

2011-08-22T11:08:00.000+01:00

We've been reviewing two new books from Top That Publishing. Hiku by Nicole Snitselaar and Coralie Saudo is a cute book with lovely illustrations. Hiku is a little penguin who gets annoyed when his large family come to visit. Only when he hides away from them does he realise how much they mean to him. I really love the pictures in this and an extra bit of fun with the book is trying to spot Hiku among the sea of penguins on each page. There's a subtle difference and once you spot it you can play the game of trying to find him with young children.

Colours is a sticker activity book which encourages children to find the right stickers for each page. There are a few pages for each colour so it's a great introduction to colours for young children. There is also some colouring to do in the book, a few other activities and some smiley faces your child can reward themself with.

Both these books are best for 3-5 year olds. My three year old loved both books. My five year old is nearing the age of six and although he likes the Hiku story he's starting to move onto other things now. The sticker book is a great activity to do with my three year old, it helps us spend one to one time together which can be hard to manage when there are three young children in the house.

I can recommend both these books for pre-schoolers. Thank you to Top That Publishing for giving us a chance to review them.

Writing for free

2011-08-18T11:50:00.002+01:00

Bloggers love to write for free. That's the general assumption isn't it? Because you keep a blog then you're happy to write for free.

Apparently.

In recent weeks I've a had a number of online and offline chats with bloggers about being paid nothing to write. I'm writing this both as a freelance writer and as someone who's running a website. I don't like being asked to write for free, but I also don't have much budget to pay people to write for my site Real Parenting. It's a tricky situation and I can see both sides of the argument.

Writing for free can benefit aspiring freelance writers who want to build up a portfolio of work. It's easier to get work published when you're not being paid for it and it can earn you recommendations too. Editors and stingy owners of websites need a lot of convincing before they'll part with any cash. But every person who writes for free is making it harder for writers to find paid work. If editors know they can get people contributing for free then they're not going to seek out someone they need to pay are they?

Here's how I approach contributions on my site:
- I can pay a very below market rate for some commissioned articles
- At the moment I don't have money to pay for any more than that
- As the site matures (it's only eight months old), there will be more income to pay for more contributions and all the money the site makes is ploughed straight back into it.

I've actually no idea if this is a good way to run things. But I would never ask anyone to write for free. If someone offers to contribute an article for free then I'll take them up on it if they're a good writer. We then agree on what they want to write and then I leave it to them. I would never specify a deadline to someone who's giving their time and work for free. I would never expect them to write any more than they offer to write. I'm very lucky to have had some really talented writers contributing to the site and I could never dictate when and how they should do that. Their time is valuable.

I'm hoping all this can change in the future, that's what I'm working on and I'm determined to be able to reward good writers with a good market rate. I don't like only being able to pay a token amount for commissioned work. After all, the writing will be a key part of the site's success. I'm hoping that before long everyone will be paid properly for the work they do for Real Parenting. It's frustrating because I can see how the site could already be so much better if I could pay some good writers a proper market rate now. However I also know that you need a lot of patience with these things and if I'm determined I'll get there one day.

Recently it's been worrying to see a number of approaches to bloggers by websites asking for their regular contributions for free with some vague promise of promotion based on flakey traffic predictions and a blinkered idea of that site's profile. I work for a range of websites (including Childfriendly.co.uk which I am an employee of ). And I experience firsthand the huge amount of work and time which needs to go into a successful website. Some bloggers are being approached by sites to write for free and these sites actually have a lower profile and less social media presence than the bloggers themselves.

Bloggers are sensitive types and we're easily flattered. If someone e-mails us saying, 'you're a talented writer would you like to write for my site?' or similar then it often works.

Occasionally I still write an article for free. Maybe a guest post. But then again I have written a few guest posts recently which never saw the light of day so I'm going off the idea. Recently I was asked to write about twenty 'guest posts', ie for free. I don't think I even replied to the e-mail.

Most of us contribute our time for free at some point or another. Ultimately we think it's worth it. But we all need to have an idea of our self-worth and it's counter-productive to give too much of your time to someone for nothing in return. On the flip-side, it's hard trying to make a website successful on a very limited budget.

Overall I think people just need to have respect for each other. People who run sites should have respect for people who write for them. And bloggers / writers need to have respect for their own work. After all, many websites fold within their first year and many blogs just keep on going and going...

I was woken at 6.20 this morning by this

2011-08-16T13:50:00.003+01:00

"Mummy, I just did a wee in the toilet but I didn't manage to lift the toilet lid in time."

Too early in the morning for that sort of mopping up.

But I had to do it there and then because the in-laws are staying.

Now I remember why baby classes are pointless

2011-08-15T09:50:00.000+01:00

When Podge was a baby we went to every baby class going. More for my benefit than his. Baby massage, baby swimming, baby music and dancing stuff and so on. I was there desperate for some adult interaction and he was there not interested in doing any of it.

I was reminded of this when I took Little Girl to a recent baby music class. While all the other children her age were clapping their hands and dancing in their own little way. She was off wandering around the room, putting her hands into things she shouldn't and shrieking "No!" (her favourite word) whenever I tried to sing or dance or get her involved.

Why don't my babies like to join in? Her brothers were just the same. Baby massage with Podge was a joke. I made the mistake of doing it just when he'd mastered rolling. All he did was constantly roll around and be on his tummy when he was meant to be on his back and vice versa. He wailed in the swimming classes at the activities we had to do, he just wanted to do his own thing. Tumble Tots was fine as long as he could climb all over the equipment whichever way he wanted to and he refused to sit down or do any of the songs. It was just stressful. When a few of the women who worked there started getting stroppy with him for not doing it right (and he was only just two), we left.

Many women (and they always seem to be women) who run these things can be a bit stern. They're sweetness and light when they're doing the activities but there are often disapproving glances at the child (ie mine) not joining in. And disapproving glances at the mother (ie me) for seemingly letting her child run amok.

I found if I tried to make my child join in then they would screech and wail and disrupt things, but if I left them alone they would be quite happy occupying themself at the back of the room until the woman running the class would say, "Your son's going to pull those chairs on top of himself if he's not careful." So there wasn't really any point in being there.

Baby classes have never really suited my children. I've heard that some classes take a laid back approach with the non-compliant, un-malleable babies but we never found one. I know some babies and toddlers get a lot from these classes, but they seem to pass mine by.

With Podge I remember worrying this non-compliance meant he wasn't going to fit in at school, that he wouldn't pay attention there either and would be going off doing his own thing all the time. But when he went to school he was suddenly ready to join in and get on with things. He's been fine.

I feel bad that Little Girl and Fington haven't done baby classes like Podge did. Lots of people say, "Will you be taking her to some baby classes in September?" when Fington's at pre-school. It makes me feel I should be doing it. That baby classes are a necessary rite of passage for a baby or toddler.

But after Little Girl's recent bout of rebelliousness I don't think we'll bother. It will probably be stressful and expensive and I'll be better off taking her to the park. Until she's old enough to say what she wants to do.

Do you remember Thumbman?

2011-08-12T10:38:00.000+01:00

Ha ha ha. He was that brief internet phenomenon a couple of years ago. If you've no idea what I'm on about then have a look at this picture. And if you do know what I'm talking about then have another look anyway because it's funny.

Next time you get a wrong angle in a photo just reassure yourself it will never be as bad as this angle on Thumbman. He's probably a drop dead gorgeous bloke really, just the wrong angle made him look like a thumb.

My fear of age inappropriate toys

2011-08-10T08:28:00.000+01:00

As I watched my 19 month old daughter brandish a light saber longer than herself the other day I realised she rarely plays with any toys for her age group. It's a far cry from when her oldest brother was a baby. When he was her age I would shriek with horror if anything with a 'not suitable for under threes' label was within his grasp.

When Podge was little I read somewhere that you should never give your child a toy which is intended for older children because your child would become upset and frustrated with it and lose their confidence. Maybe there's a shred of truth in this. At the time it made me ensure he had age appropriate toys only because I was scared stupid my child would lose all his confidence due to some minor toy mishap on my part. Toys for older children were to be feared. If a toy had that symbol with a crossed out baby's face on it then I would pack it into a box and get it stacked away in the loft quick before it leapt out and tried to throttle my child or psychologically warp him forever.

When I was pregnant with Fington I panicked about the age inappropriate toy dilemma. Once the new baby was shuffling about and crawling what would I do about the potentially fatal age inappropriate toys his older brother would be playing with? The thought kept me awake at night.

But when the time came, I actually didn't notice too much. Once Fington could move about it was clear he wasn't interested in large plastic beepy boopy baby toys. He just wanted to play with the little toy cars and trains his brother had. Luckily he didn't put things in his mouth too often, he seemed to grow up and copy his brother quite quickly.

Little Girl was grasping age inappropriate toys from the age of three months. We had a vague rule that Lego had to be kept out of her way and now and again I had to retrieve a Mini Figure from her mouth. And plastic coins from the toy cash till. She had quite a fondness for pencil sharpeners too: I had to remove them from her mouth on three occasions.

In just over four years my parenting changed beyond recognition. I went from a mother who had a meltdown if her son picked up an age inappropriate toy to one who hardly blinked an eye when her daughter was chewing a pencil sharpener.

The daily mayhem of motherhood has dulled and blunted my reactions and senses. Something has to be really important to be... important. The daily grind has made me too busy to care about age inappropriate toys and their potentially lethal effects. I don't mean to be flippant about choking hazards (I still cut grapes in half for my five year old...) but worrying about toys destroying my children's confidence is needless I think. Children play with toys in the way they want to, so if it is a toy meant for an older child they just find a different way of playing with it.

After all, Little Girl is way too young to be pretending she's Luke Skywalker when she plays with the light saber. She just uses it to whack her brothers with.

Life in Tottenham

2011-08-08T07:48:00.000+01:00

The riots in Tottenham don't surprise me. I lived there as a student sixteen years ago and life there appears to have changed little since. Over the years parts of London have gentrified, but some parts never will.

When my friend and I moved into a maisonette over a shop a neighbour said, "What are two nice girls like you doing in a place like this?" He called himself "Fred". He was a drug dealer who squatted in the flat opposite us and had spent of his life in and out of prison. He warned us away from the local pub where gangs dealt in guns. We were living there because it was cheap and we'd had to find somewhere to live in a hurry.

Some of the windows on our place had bars on them. We backed onto a cut and shut garage run by "Sam". At night youths would bring round high performance cars, we could hear their engines revving and their alarms going off. Most of the garage's work was carried out at night. When I looked through the bars of my bedroom window and over the cut and shut garage I could see people buying and selling drugs on the corner of the road. They didn't bother doing that under the cover of night though, they did at all times of day.

I suppose we were a bit naive living in that area, not that we had a lot of choice at the time. But we learnt to run home from Seven Sisters tube station late in the evenings and we worked out that wearing a hoodie and adopting a Tottenham swagger made you less approachable. People approached us a lot. Strange men would knock at the door with strange questions. Men would stop us in the street or get in a phone box with us. We learnt to be rude and dismissive.

One day we walked to the local Safeway to buy some food. The street in front of it had been cordoned off. "You can't go in," said a police officer. "But we've run out of food! Can't we just duck under the tape?" "No you can't, someone's been stabbed."

The shop underneath our flat closed and after a while windows were blocked out with newspaper. We could hear people in there. Fred told us they were running a porn magazine business.

We never came to any harm when we lived in that part of Tottenham. And it would be wrong of me to paint it as a despicable place. Like most parts of London it's vibrant and lively and there's a strong local community. There was always a good turnout to the local churches on a Sunday and great excitement whenever Tottenham were playing at White Hart Lane. I liked the little food shops where you could buy a range of ethnically diverse food. Plantain? I'd struggle find that within 15 miles of where I live now.

Living in the inner city for me was an experience and something I knew would always be temporary. It opened my eyes to another world but my background, education and the opportunities offered to me meant I would always leave. I can bring my children up in a leafy village in the home counties. Mothers in Tottenham have to raise their children hoping they won't be dragged into the background of criminality which exists in the inner city. And at the moment they have to go about their day to day lives when buildings and cars in their local streets are burnt out and shops have been looted.

I never saw a police officer in Tottenham. Other than when the stabbing took place. I got the impression that the blatant drug dealing and car stealing was tolerated, the authorities didn't have the time or inclincation to do anything about it. No one seemed to care and I still don't think they do now. When someone in an area like this is shot dead by the police, it's no wonder the authorities are figures of hate. I'd like to think it would change but I don't think it will.

Photo credit

Should ten year olds be modelling in Vogue magazine?

2011-08-06T10:54:00.000+01:00

French Vogue magazine is featuring a ten year old model. If she were modelling children's clothes maybe that would be okay. But she's not. She's heavily made-up and dressed up like a model in her late teens or early twenties.

There's been some 'outrage' over this in the media. And understandably so. Why is a ten year old being dressed up like this? We all know little girls like to dress up but usually that's a natural part of childhood and is done in a childish, fun way. To dress a ten year old girl like a grown woman and photograph her in that way is freaky.

In fact it's sinister.

We're grown used to high fashion models having pre-pubescent body shapes and now Vogue has taken it one step further by actually featuring a pre-pubescent model.

What can possibly be the message Vogue is trying to send out here? I don't understand it, other than it sparks controversy and gives the magazine publicity. Which is even more worrying when you consider there's a ten year old girl involved.

This makes me question how much choice this ten year old had. Perhaps she enjoyed dressing up and being photographed. But she couldn't ever possibly consider the implications of this photo shoot. She's too young to understand.

I don't think children should be pushed into situations like this when they're too young to understand what they're being asked to do. As a society we should protect our children and let them be children. And, as a parent, I find these photos really worrying.

A conversation between five year olds

2011-08-04T13:17:00.002+01:00

The boys were playing on a fallen tree at a National Trust place we went to yesterday and I earwigged on Podge's conversation with some girls,

Girl (arms folded and eyes narrowed mistrustfully at Podge): "I'm five and three quarters"
Podge: "I'm nearly six"
Girl: "Do you go to school?"
Podge: "Yeah"
Girl: "What year are you in?"
Podge: "I'll be in Year One after the school holidays and I can write and I know what ten times ten is. One hundred."
Girl: "What's ten plus ten?"
Podge: "Erm..."
Girl: "Twenty. Anyway stop talking to us you're ruining our game"

Older boy of about seven turns up

Older boy: "Ladybirds have landed on me fifteen million times"
Podge: "Ladybirds have landed on me sixty million in times. In fact one hundred nine thousand times"
Girl: "That's not a proper number"
Podge: "Yes it is, and the highest number is goo goo" (I think he meant Google)
Older boy: "No one knows what the highest number is"
Podge: "Anyway I can walk on my hands"
Girl: "I can do cartwheels"

I think I've actually had conversations like this myself in my adult life.

Earlier that day some very nice National Trust Volunteer ladies were showing the boys how traditional scales with weights worked. The boys played with them for ages.

Podge: "I've got some Lego scales at home"
Nice National Trust Volunteer Lady: "Have you? You like Lego do you?"
Podge: "Yes, I like Star Wars Lego"
Nice National Trust Volunteer Lady: "Star Wars Lego, you can get that can you?"
Fington: "And Darth Vader had a fight with Luke Skywalker and chopped his hand off"
Nice National Trust Volunteer Lady: "Oh"

Probably slightly worrying for Nice National Trust Volunteer Lady to hear a three year old speak like that. It was because I found a Star Wars clip on YouTube for them without realising that's what happened in it. Nice National Trust Volunteer Lady probably went home an enlightened lady.

A new look - here's looking at you kid

2011-08-03T23:28:00.003+01:00

Is a new look worthy of a blog post? Probably not. But here I am looking at you in my blog's new look. Let me know if it makes you feel uncomfortable. I'm making a few changes after my blog crisis a week or two ago, what was really interesting when I wrote about that was how much people seemed to respond to the name Babyrambles so I'm keeping that for now. I might change it at some point but I don't know what to so I won't at the moment.

Camp Bestival in pictures

2011-08-01T18:04:00.000+01:00

We had an amazing weekend at Camp Bestival. I could write loads about it here, but the pictures do a better job.

Camp Bestival is held in the grounds of Lulworth Castle, Dorset

Which band is drawing a crowd like this? Oh, it's Mr Tumble

We bumped into the lovely Pippa and family from A Mother's Ramblings a few times and a big thank you to Dairylea for inviting us to Camp Bestival. We had a brilliant time.

Camping with three small children. Wish me luck

2011-07-28T18:17:00.002+01:00

That's what we're going to be doing this weekend. If you listen carefully you might hear my knees knocking together as I contemplate it.

I'm sure we'll be fine, we just have to forget the regimental routine and tune in and drop out for a few days *cough*.

We're going to Camp Bestival which is very exciting. No one minds wailing children at a family orientated festival do they? After all it will be so noisy with lots of kids running around, no one will notice ours being loud will they? They noticed ours being loud in Giardinos in Basingstoke yesterday. I had to gulp back scalding cappuccino and leave with a burnt oesophagus. In the car on the way there Fington said, "Do you have to be quiet in Basingstoke?" and I stupidly replied, "No, that's just at the library." (where we'd been the day before).

I'm sure we'll forget to take all the important stuff. I'm sure there'll be swearing as we try to find somewhere to pitch our bungalow sized tent. And I'm sure there'll be swearing as we try to put up our bungalow sized tent as three children run off in three different directions.

And I'm worried about the toilet and shower situation.

But hey, Justin will be there! Mr Tuuuuummmmmble... I'll be dragging the children off to see him and be actually the most excited person in the family about seeing Justin.

So I'm going to be calm this weekend and not let anything stress me out. I'm going to tune into my inner hippy self (which I think is possibly there) and enjoy it. Oh, and I'm not taking the laptop.

A big thank you to Dairylea who have given us a family ticket. If the food queues are too long maybe they'll have a few cheese based products on hand for us?

Couldn't find a better camping photo than this one in the time allowed, I will be depressed if we have to wear woolly hats

Review: Hansel and Gretel Fairytale Play-Doh

2011-07-28T12:17:00.003+01:00

The boys have been playing with this Fairytale Play-Doh set: the Story of Hansel and Gretel. It's a cute little set which includes two pots of Play-Doh and two moulds to make the shapes for the story. The story is also included with the set.

The Play-Doh colours make it almost look edible! There's brown for the gingerbread man and pink for the sweets. You can also use both colours to make the witch.

When the boys (aged three and five) first opened the set they began by following the storycard and making everything as suggested. Once they'd done this they then started making their own stories with the characters. When they first opened this set they played with it together for a whole hour (with occasional arguing). And since then they've played with it again a few times for a good period of time.

I love these new fairytale story sets from Play-Doh because they provide a guided activity for children to follow and then they are inspired to come up with their own games. The moulds are lovely and create nice little characters. Sometimes when the children are faced with a lump of Play-Doh they don't know where to start so using these moulds means they can instantly create something fun. The Fairytale sets also help them learn a traditional story too.

The Play-Doh Fairytale creativity sets come as Little Red Riding Hood and The Three Little Pigs as well as Hansel and Gretel. Each set comes with 105g of Play-Doh, a storybook style play mat, character figures and plenty of accessories.

Play-Doh will always get a good review in our house and I can really recommend the Fairytale set as a gift or something to keep the children entertained in the holidays. My two boys honestly love it.

School's out and it's time to declare war on pens

2011-07-26T13:11:00.000+01:00

So that was that. Podge has had his first full year at school. He wasn't interested in reading and writing when he started and now he can do a bit of both quite well for a five year old. His end of year report was fine and apparently he needs to learn when to stop talking and let others speak. Tell me about it.

The start of the summer holidays puts many mums in a strange mood I think. Especially those of us who are going to be spending far more time with our children for loooong six weeks. We all think of lots of new and exciting and stimulating things to do with the children and then get crazed ideas about what we're going to sort out. I'm going to sort out all the toys (apparently), whether I actually will or not is another thing.

But I will sort out the pens. And pencils and crayons. I've already rounded them up. Look.

How did we end up with so many? Most of them don't work or are blunt. And it doesn't matter how many pens you round up and hide, Little Girl will still find a fully functioning felt-tip pen from seemingly out of nowhere and draw over her clothes, the walls or her brothers (sometimes all three of those if I've got distracted).

And I'm sad because there will be less CBeebies this summer. Podge has outgrown it and knows how to press '601' on the Sky remote for 'Cartoon Neckwork'. He's always given a strict time limit for that channel because most of the stuff on it is trash. And it has adverts. Yesterday Podge came running into the kitchen full of excitement,

"Mummy, if you put Finish in the dishwasher it gets rid of really tough stains. And all the plates and dishes come out really shiny!"

I'm almost tempted to buy it just to keep him happy. It would make the school holidays run more smoothly.

Thank you

2011-07-22T21:26:00.002+01:00

To everyone who responded to this post about my blogging crisis. It's been really helpful hearing what other people think. It's been reassuring to hear other bloggers go through the same. And your advice has actually made me have a re-think. I'd convinced myself that a complete restart was in order but people's comments have helped me realise that maybe it's not necessary.

It's so easy to suddenly not like what you're doing and want to scrub it out and start again. But since writing my post and reading your comments I've realised that what I've been working on is quite valuable after all. So my blog will change a bit as I start to try out the new ideas I have. Maybe I've been constraining myself with my own way of thinking, it was good to be encouraged to see things differently.

This has reminded me why I blog, it's a shame people like this think it's something else entirely. Ah well, you can't expect everyone to understand can you? But it's lovely when they do.

I'm now off to reply to the comments, I can be a bit slow with that sometimes. It's been a busy few days, end of term and all that.

The Dairylea Campaign for Simple Fun

2011-07-21T17:34:00.004+01:00

I've been asked to be part of the Dairylea Campaign for Simple Fun which has launched today. The Campaign aims to help parents and children enjoy traditional fun and games after recent research suggested 84% of parents feel childhood these days is more complicated than in previous generations.

The reasons for childhood being seen as more complicated are the dominance of technology, parental anxiety about letting children play freely on their own and the pressures of a busy school life. Dairylea's Campaign for Simple Fun aims to encourage families to enjoy simple games as part of their busy lives.

Initiatives in the campaign include opportunities for families to win fun simple prizes and days out over the summer. And there will be three monthly prizes of £4,000 to go towards a community play project. And I'm very flattered to have been asked to help judge one of the winners!

Radio DJ Sara Cox is helping to raise the profile of the Dairylea campaign and help has also been enlisted from childhood expert Tim Gill who is offering his advice on play. He'll be holding regular discussions about play on the Dairylea Campaign Facebook page.

There's also a section on the Facebook page where parents can apply for the Dairylea Community Fund for a play project in their local area.

Dairylea have released some videos with Sara Cox and Tim Gill explaining more about the campaign and providing some ideas on simple games to play.

Blog crisis

2011-07-20T11:04:00.002+01:00

I'm having a blog crisis. Not one of those 'I don't know what to write' crises but one where my blog and I seem to be going in different directions. 'Babyrambles' sounds, well, quite babyish now.

I came up with the Babyrambles name almost three years ago when I started my blog on Mumsnet. Fington was a little baby and Podge was only 2 so it made sense. It carried on making sense when I had Little Girl. But now she's 18 months old and, although still a baby in many ways, she's growing up fast. And there aren't going to be any more babies in this house now. Definitely not.

For a while I've been wanting to change my blog's identity. The name of my blog feels a bit constraining. And it's an old debate, but I'm not sure about the 'mummy blog' thing any more. I enjoy writing about parenting and I'll still do it but do I really want to be still be writing a 'mummy blog'? For some time I was well and truly in the mould and I was enjoying it. But things feel like they're changing for me a bit. The mummy blogging world is ever changing, I don't know where I want to be in it.

I don't want to start a completely new blog as I'm proud of this one and the past couple of years of posts document a journey. I want to hang onto them. So I'll continue hanging around on this blogspot.com url as well.

But it all feels like a new look is needed and a change of name and a new identity. And I won't be spending any money on it as I don't have any so the 're-branding' will just be my own amateurish efforts. So I want my blog to change, but to what exactly? I don't know yet. I almost rashly changed everything a few weeks ago but I think it needs some thought so I'm glad I talked myself out of it.

And then I think, maybe people won't read something different? Am I too associated with 'Babyrambles'? If my blog becomes something different will it work? I have no answers yet, but I do know Babyrambles doesn't really feel like me any more.

I'll let you know when I've come up with something (and no, I'm not doing Childrambles).

Book review: Diary of a Mummy Misfit by Amanda Egan

2011-07-16T14:48:00.005+01:00

Amanda Egan has self-published her Diary of a Mummy Misfit as an eBook which she describes as “a humorous look at London's prep school gate stereotypes and the chasm between the Haves and the Have-Nots.” It’s chick lit meets mummy lit and Amanda kindly sent me a copy to review.

The book is a diary following a year in Libby’s life as her son, Max, starts a private school and she finds herself trying to fit in with the ‘Meemies’ – the status obsessed mums at the school. During this time Libby faces the ups and downs of trying to fall pregnant and financial problems when her husband, Ned, loses his job. Libby meets Fenella who turns into a trusted friend when they have to lock horns with the Meemies (with nicknames such as Gestapo, The Gnome and Letchy).

This paragraph sums up the feel of the book:-

“Could never see Fenella as ‘one of them’. She has all the necessary trappings – the plum in the mouth, the house, the car, the clothes, the holidays, and, most importantly, the super successful hubbie. But she lacks the major two essentials – taking yourself too seriously and firmly believing that the world revolves around you.”

The style is casual, written authentically as a diary (or blog!) would be. This book is chock-full of witty observations and is humorous in its detail. And it’s quite believable too, all of us can recognise a character who is caught in a world she feels out of place in.

I don’t usually read chick-lit, I’m actually quite blokey in my reading tastes. I’m a sucker for a strong plot and I didn’t find that in Diary of a Mummy Misfit. But it’s not that sort of book: because it’s a diary it’s a narrative so you would read this to savour the detail and humour along the way. And you read on because want to find out what happens to Libby and her family.

I found it took a little while to get to know Libby, I indentified with her straight away because she's an outsider and many people know that feeling. But actually getting to know her takes a little longer.

At times I found myself uncomfortable with a sharp ‘them and us’ division which is a strong theme of this book and some of the Meemies seem stereotyped. But this is where I’m in danger of taking the book too seriously. Amanda herself describes this book as ‘tongue in cheek’ and that’s the way it should be taken (this is a non chick-lit person here you see).

Overall this book is quick, light-hearted read and ideal for summer reading. And if you’re a regular reader of chick-lit I’m certain you’ll enjoy it.

And I have to say I have huge respect for Amanda for writing this, publishing it herself and doing all her promo herself. It’s tough to get a book written and read and I wish Amanda big success in doing that.

Diary of a Mummy Misfit is available on Kindle from Amazon.

And if you don’t have a Kindle you can still download Kindle software for your PC or smartphone.

Amanda blogs at Mummy Misfit.

Another best ever free toy

2011-07-15T11:09:00.000+01:00

Here we go again. Some of you will remember the Best Ever Free Toy which Little Girl found. A dead mouse.

Turns out Little Girl is good at finding free toys. Better than any other child I know actually. On Wednesday I was in the living room with Fington and Little Girl was in the garden. She came in (bypassing the living room) and went upstairs.

I decided to check on her and, yes, she had another small dead animal in her hand. A baby bird this time. A baby blackbird I think.

Once again she wasn't willing to part company. She was cuddling it under her chin (it was quite soft actually, and worringly warm) and screamed the house down when I tried to remove it from her. I swear she's actually a cat with this obsession for dead mice and birds.

I was bit handier with the camera this time though. Not only did I take a picture of the poor unfortunate thing on the kitchen roll I prised it from Little Girl's hands with. I also got a picture of her holding it as she ran around upstairs.

This is where blogging mums differ from 'normal' mums. The latter would have whipped it out of her hand instantly. While the former thinks, "hang on I'll take a photo for the blog first".

The winner of the PacaPod Sequoia changing bag competition!

2011-07-14T17:53:00.002+01:00

Thank you to everyone who entered the PacaPod changing bag competition, we have a winner!

Chosen at random was Muddling Along Mummy!

Lucky Muddling gets to carry around the brand new Sequoia changing bag. The rest of us aren't jealous at all. No, not one little bit...

Overcoming rejection

2011-07-13T10:33:00.001+01:00

Not many people know that six years ago I finished writing a book. I'd been working on it for about a year. I sent it off to some agents and this is what happened.

So what happened then? Well I had three children, started blogging and started working part-time as well. Oh, and I lost all confidence in ever becoming a writer.

Well I've decided to try again. My book needs a re-write. I think the original ideas are good but there's some work required. And anyway I've had a much better idea and this week I started work on book number two. At the moment I have lots of ideas and confidence in the story. It won't take much to knock my confidence. Very little in fact. But I've written nearly 1,000 words and I'm happy so far. Only about 60,000 - 70,000 words to go but it's okay. I have plenty of time (well actually I don't but I don't want to put pressure on myself).

So there you go. You probably didn't know I'd written one book and had started another. Many bloggers are frustrated writers. Almost boringly commonplace isn't it? If you're really lucky I might let you have a sneak peek. And if you don't like it just repeat one of the responses above. 'Due to huge pressure of work' you may need to be 'highly selective' with the bloggers you read. I'll understand. I've heard it before.

Are you a grumpy parent?

2011-07-11T13:30:00.004+01:00

Before I actually became a parent I envisaged running through long grass laughing with my children. I imagined us all singing and dancing together and collapsing on the floor in laughter. I imagined long, fun-filled days where I could enjoy being a big kid again too.

Not really like that is it?

I'm not saying we don't have fun as a family because we do. But most of the time I'm grumpy and these are the reasons:

Non-compliance: if my children just actually listened to me once in a while and did what I asked them to do then I wouldn't be grumpy. When everything becomes a battleground: from getting dressed in the morning, getting out of the house, mealtimes, getting to bed in the evening - I become grumpy. Yes, yes, yes I know there are probably all sorts of nice parenting tactics I could use to get round this non-compliance and I try some of them, but, there's this thing called patience which is only available in limited quantities. And when my 18 month old does nothing but run away from me the minute I want to do something with her: I get grumpy.

Tiredness: I haven't had enough sleep for nearly six years now. That makes me grumpy. I run around most days feeling tired. Yes, yes, yes I could go to bed earlier but by the time we've finally got all children successfully asleep and eaten and tidied up from the day I actually want some evening time. And we all know that whenever you go to bed early those are the nights all the children take turns to wake up.

Lack of time: years ago I used to have lots of time. Now I appear to have none. There are always 1,234,456,234,254,346,234,566 things to do. There are to-do lists on top of to-do lists on top of to-do lists. The pressure of getting stuff done in time makes me grumpy.

I can imagine a life coach coming across this post and offering their services and saying something like, 'hey you're just a busy mum that's all and with a little bit of planning I can help you reorganise things a little, find patience and time for you children and most importantly make time for the most special of all people - You." Grrrr... that makes me feel irritable just thinking about it.

So these are the main reasons I'm grumpy. And irritable. And I know the cure: just lying on a beach for two weeks with nothing to do. That would sort me out.

Twenty years ago I was 17

2011-07-08T10:55:00.001+01:00

A birthday often makes me feel ~~self-obsessed~~ introspective. And I'm in disbelief (I don't know why really I just am) that it's now twenty years since I was seventeen.

Twenty years? What have I been doing in that time? Well I can tell you what I've been doing but it doesn't seem to be twenty years worth of stuff.

Twenty years makes me think of Cathy's ghost roaming the earth for twenty years waiting for Heathcliff. I'm a big Wuthering Heights fan. When I first read the book I was in my teens and couldn't imagine what twenty years felt like. But I can now, sort of.

Twenty years since I first drove a car. Although it's only nineteen years since I first had a drink *huge cough*. Twenty years ago I was coming to the end of my first year in sixth form. Doc Marten boots, leggings from Miss Selfridge and baggy t-shirts. We didn't dress tarty in those days. Not many people did. That's something which has changed in twenty years. Find an old episode of Blockbusters, I looked a bit like a contestant on that although not quite so geeky thankfully.

So in this rambling post about twenty years I can remember some of the music from 1991. That summer of turning seventeen. I'm not actually nostalgic about being 17. Being 37 suits me much better, that teenage angst was too unbearable. But here are two songs I remember from the time. One which sounds as fresh as it did then. A timeless, seminal anthem which is one of my all time favourites.

And the other one was number one in the music charts for thirteen feckin weeks that summer and made a lot of people (unfairly) hate Canada. Who was buying it? (I still have rage issues about it as you can tell).

I'll let you decide which is which.

I've just discovered I can't embed the second one so if you want to punish yourself you can go to YouTube and remind yourself what it was all about.

And if you're too young to remember all this then you must be forced to go YouTube and listen to it endlessly like we had to that summer.

Win the newly launched Sequoia changing bag from PacaPod

2011-07-07T10:52:00.000+01:00

I've been carrying around a PacaPod changing bag for the past six weeks and I love it. Here's my review if you're interested to find out more.

And you have a chance to win a gorgeous new PacaPod baby changing bag worth £130! The Sequoia is a very glam changing bag indeed: it combines practicality with style. Two things which are very hard to combine as we know.

And the PacaPod is clever. We’ve all been there: a simple trip to the shops with a baby or toddler can seem like a camping expedition with so much gear to pack. That’s why I love PacaPod's bags, because hidden inside each stylish bag is an ingenious 3-in-1‘baby organising system’ to keep you cool and in control. Tucked neatly inside the bag are two detachable ‘pods’ for baby feeding and changing items, so it’s easy to pack (and find!) items on the move. Simply unclip the pods and attach to the pram, or use individually as a mini cool box or toddler rucksack. As I mentioned in my review, these bags are great for disorganised people like me.

PacaPod bags are available from www.pacapod.com and from John Lewis, Mothercare and leading independent nursery retailers.

View the Sequoia for yourself!

To have a chance of winning this new very stylish changing bag from PacaPod please leave a comment on this post telling me the most common thing you forget to put in a changing bag (mine is a change of clothes).

A winner will be picked at random from the list of comments after 5 pm on Wednesday 13th July. Good luck!

Win £25 to spend with Little Beau!

2011-07-06T11:32:00.001+01:00

I've been working with Tim and Gemma at Little Beau for almost a year now. Little Beau sell 'gorgeous things for small people'. This includes clothes for babies and young children, toys, toiletries, nursery furniture and soft furnishings.

Little Beau have just launched their summer sale and currently have 25% off all baby, girl's and boy's clothing. Popular brands include Mini A Ture, No Added Sugar, Petit Bateau, Aunty Ollie and WOW Toys among others.

Here are some of the products I like in the sale, and delivery is free:

City Wrap Purple Dress, age 1-3 years, reduced to £23.99	Mini A Ture Grasshopper Tshirt, 1-2 years, reduced to £13.49
Petit Bateau Pink Sleeveless Vests, age 6 months, also available in blue, reduced to £9.74	Olisa Summer Hat, 0-6 months, reduced to £11.24

To see the full range of Little Beau's summer sale you can visit their site. You can also find them on Facebook and Twitter too.

And I've joined forces with Little Beau in their competition to win £25 to spend with them. I've just started a monthly round-up for my Real Parenting site and it needs some readers! So to enter the competition please sign up to the monthly round up and we'll pick a winner at random from the list of subscribers.

Important: your e-mail address will only be used for the Real Parenting monthly round-up which will be sent once a month only. Your e-mail will never be used for any other communication from myself, Real Parenting or Little Beau or passed onto anyone else. The only exception being we will use the e-mail address submitted to notify the winner of the competition. You will be able to unsubscribe from the monthly round-up if you wish. Competition closes Friday 15th July and a winner will be picked from the list of subscribers on that date.

Sign-up here to enter the competition, good luck!

We've given up

2011-07-05T07:30:00.001+01:00

And bought a people carrier.

It's one of those things I never thought we'd have to do. The comedian John Bishop has a stand up routine about people carriers and how you realise you've given up when you buy one.

Buying a people carrier is one of those crushing inevitabilities which I've noticed comes with parenthood and advancing age. Like no longer being able to handle your drink and wearing sensible shoes.

Twenty years ago I was convinced I'd do something alternative with my life. My car of choice was either going to be a beaten up campervan or a psychedelic Rolls Royce like John Lennon's. But instead it's a Ford S Max.

A Ford S Max has three individual seats in the back which you need if you have three small children in enormous, in fact oversized, car seats. In our day the three of us could bounce around in the back of a Renault 9. Not any more. Not in the safety ~~obsessed~~ conscious world we live in.

I'm slightly excited about the fact there are two further seats which you can put up in the boot space (and still have some boot space left for a pushchair). Yes I am actually slightly excited about that. If I can fill up the car with people I'll feel like a minibus driver. That's the pinnacle of people carrier excitement. It's what my life has come to.

Our new people carrier is perfect for our lifestyle and the children love it. It's functional and practical and does everything we need it to.

I feel a longing for some impracticality in my life. Things have just got way too sensible.

But I feel everything can be solved now Podge has discovered a way to get lots of money,

"Mummy, I know how you can get money quickly and easily,"
"Do you darling?" (ears pricking up)
"Yes, you go to a website and I can't remember the name of it but it ends in 'slash TV'."

He's clearly seen a trashy money loaning ad on a trashy Sky channel because he knows how to use the Sky remote now.

Never mind. He might come up with some better ideas so I live in hope.

Here's John Bishop talking about people carriers

A scary toilet moment

2011-07-01T12:10:00.001+01:00

Like many houses our downstairs toilet is near the front door. Like many small children Fington likes to visit me when I go the toilet and talk about things such as biscuits, cars and Lego. Yesterday this was happening when the doorbell rang,

"I open it Mummy!"
"No!" I yelled so loudly that the person at the door would have heard.

For what seemed like an age I was on the loo with Fington out of arm's reach threatening to open the front door so that whoever was there would be able to peer in and see me on the toilet. "Mummy why not I open the door?" "Because I'm on the toilet darling, please don't open the door," "But I open it!" "No! Please, please don't open the door."

Talk about stressful. I used to have a proper importantish office job and I used to get stressed about that at times. But I don't think many things are as stressful as trying to negotiate with a small child to avoid yourself being seen on the toilet by an unknown person. It's one of those things I never thought I'd have to do.

It's my birthday next week (thank you) so I asked the boys what they were going to get me:

Podge: "Smelly socks"
Fington: "Byootiful fyowers"
Podge: "Massive house"
Fington: "Byootiful pink fyowers"
Podge: "A pink vase with beautiful flowers on it"
Fington: "Byootiful purple fyowers."

I'm looking forward to the massive house present.

Lots of people have asked how Little Girl's operation went. It went perfectly although having to hold her down crying as they held the mask on her face to administer the anaesthetic was very traumatic. But the op was quick and she was eating and ready to go home within half an hour of being back on the ward. Already Little Girl's hearing seems better and she's just started trying to copy some words we say so fingers crossed she'll start to catch up soon. She's got a hearing test in August so we'll find out then.

That's not my toilet in the picture by the way. I'm not a fan of the those toilet seats which are missing a bit at the front, are you?

Review: Top That Publishing books

2011-06-30T09:59:00.001+01:00

We've been sent some books to review by Top That Publishing. We've been reading Hullabaloo! by Gordon Volke and When I Dream of ABC by Mr Henry Fisher.

The illustrations are beautiful in both these books. It's stating the obvious to say pictures are important in children's books, but I'll say it anyway. The illustrations have lots of character and detail to them.

Hullabaloo! is a rhyming story about the animals making a hullabaloo at the zoo. The story builds on itself: each page introduces a new character which is then repeated on the subsequent pages and so building up the rhyme (there's probably a technical term for this type of story but I'm not sure what it is).

When I Dream of ABC lists each letter of the alphabet and links it with an animal, person or object. Eg D is for Dragon and G is for Giant and so on.There's also a fun description for each, eg:-
"The ocotpus likes two things, tickling and swimming. Because they have eight arms, they are very good at both."

Both books are quite long. Luckily my children have a good concentration span so they don't tend to lose interest. However as a parent reading these books, they can be a lot to plough through. The nature of Hullabaloo! is that it's repetitive. We know young children love repetition and I believe it's recently been suggested that repetition can really help develop a child's language skills. But reading out a long repetitive book can be a bit of a task at times. The children love Hullabaloo! but pick your moment to read it - if you're overtired or in a hurry it might be a bit too annoying.

When I Dream of ABC is also long (well there are 26 letters in the alphabet). But this doesn't strike me as a book you'd sit down and read in one sitting anyway. It's the sort of book you can dip in and out of. My children are the perfect age for this book with the five year old practising his alphabet and reading some words and my three year old starting to recognise his letters. It's a book which children can also pick up and look through by themselves.

Thank you very much to Top That Publishing for sending us the books and we're looking forward to reading more!

Do you want to be a better blogger?

2011-06-28T07:30:00.003+01:00

You see I don't. I'm not saying I don't need to improve at blogging. My blog could look better, my posts could be better written, I could promote my blog better and I could be better on social media and at networking. Everything about my blog and me as a blogger, and a person in general, could be better.

But I don't want to be a better blogger. Being better implies I have to learn new stuff and maybe change the way I blog. And I didn't really set out to do that when I started blogging.

The quest for self-improvement is a natural human trait, I can see why it's evolutionarily necessary. And in the Western World multi million pound industries have been built around making ourselves look better, work better, be better in relationships, have better homes, bring up our children better and so on.

So it would be stubborn and self-defeating of me to say I never want to be better at blogging because there's a danger no one would visit my blog any more and I'd be forced to get better so they came back. After all most writers want to be read, otherwise what's the point?

But because I'm always trying to be better in all aspects of my life: being a better wife, mother, friend, family member, being better at my work, etc. I quite like the fact my blog can be my own space and outlet for self-expression which isn't subject to the same pressures. After all, nothing is dependent on my blog. It's not really important. I think it's more important for me to spend time on being a better mum. And just writing that last sentence already makes me feel guilty for not being good enough at it in the first place and maybe not making enough effort to be better at it.

I've no problem at all with people who want to get better at blogging. And I have no problem with blog posts and workshops which help you to be better at blogging. Lots of people want to be better bloggers and that's fine with me. We all blog for different reasons. And as a blogger I do need to make sure I'm up to date with developments in social media so I can make the most of them for my blog. Is that actually an attempt to make my blog better? I don't know now, I'm starting to get confused.

This isn't one of those 'I blog for me and no one else and I'd still write my blog if no one read it' posts. Because I don't feel like that. And I can sense there's some contradiction in what I'm saying. I like my blog to be noticed and to be visited, who doesn't? Recognition is nice. And in a competitive blogging world you sometimes have to be competitive which means getting better.

I think I don't want to learn how to be better because it becomes a distraction. Blogging for me is about writing. That isn't true for everyone and I don't expect it to be. But for me it's writing. And starting to get into incorporating SEO, installing plugins, blog redesigns, self-hosting and so on would be too much distraction for someone who's very short on time in the first place. And I worry that learning too much on how to improve will make me start to change how I blog.

Why I do not want to change how I blog? Well because how I blog at the moment is me. It's personal and reflects who I am. I don't want to analyse or think about it too much. I want to write and hit 'publish'.

I think whether you want to be a better blogger or not depends on how you feel your blog works for you. My blog doesn't always work for me, but it is who I am and I'm a far from perfect person like most people. I like an imperfect blog, I'm drawn to other imperfect blogs. Anything too polished and perfect scares me a little.

Now and again I think there's quite a lot of emphasis in the community on how to be better at blogging. Maybe it would be good for someone to write a post or arrange a workshop on 'how to maintain your blog's Status Quo'? (anyone get an image of tight jeans, white trainers, ponytails and repetitive songs with the same three chords in then?). No it wouldn't work.

So for now I'm not getting better. I'm staying as I am. Sorry about that.

CyberMummy: big and overwhelming

2011-06-26T15:38:00.001+01:00

Yes I was there at Cybermummy 2011 yesterday and spent the entire day overwhelmed by it all. Not in a good way or a bad way, it was just all a bit too much for someone unaccustomed to spending much time with over 400 other women (and a handful of men).

I had visions of myself enthusiatically working the room and instinctively knowing what to say to people. I thought I'd be able to meet everyone I wanted to. I thought I could plan what I was going to do. You'd have thought attending CyberMummy last year would have prepared me.

But instead I found myself drifting around not really sure what I was doing. Listening to something here and there, tagging along with various people here and there. Looking back I was out of my comfort zone at CyberMummy.

I was very flattered to be asked to read this blog post at the Crowdsourced Keynote session. But when it came to it I was terrified. The other bloggers made it look easy, although they were probably just as scared. I was going to say something chatty before I read the post out, but when it came to it I couldn't. Literally a blogger in headlamps. And if you want to see what that looks like, look no further than the picture of me here.

Did I take any photos? No I forgot. That was another thing I was planning to do and didn't.

Thank you to all the bloggers I had some great conversations with yesterday and thank you to Jane aka Northern Mum and Holly from It's a Mummy's Life for seeing me on the street laden down with CyberMummy swagger and giving me a lift in their cab. We had a good curry afterwards too (although the service was snail paced).

Last night I hardly slept a wink. I missed my husband and babies too much. Pathetic isn't it?

What a big day, well organised with lots going on. There could have been a bit more food but never mind there was plenty to drink. Sarah Brown and Rachel Johnson were really engaging speakers.

A big, big thank you to Lego Duplo for sponsoring me at the event.

CyberMummy is a great experience. This year it was a big experience. I've used the word 'big' a lot in this post. That's because it was.

Wimbledon: I'm not a fan

2011-06-22T13:16:00.001+01:00

It's a British sports tournament but no one British ever wins Wimbledon. Well I'm sure they did once, but I'm nearly 37 and I don't remember a British tennis player winning it.

The over-enthusiastic support of British tennis players is embarrassing. At any given time we usually have one British 'hopeful' who's usually male and never wins it. There was something awfully embarrassingly misplaced about 'Henmania': groups of, usually, women screeching about a dull tennis player who never changed his haircut and never won Wimbledon. Those shrieks of 'Come on Tim!' as the opponent player was about to serve and which the umpire would have to say 'quiet please' and therefore delay everything were just annoying.

How can a British player fail to win Wimbledon with so much home support? You hear stories that actually there's 'too much pressure on him to win so he can't'. Is that what real sportsperson-ship is about? No it's not. Rubbish excuse. Pfft.

Don't get me started on Murray's Mount (previously Henman Hill and Rusedski's Ridge) where lots of wacky fans gather and screech. Just plain irritating. I want the next British 'hopeful' (yes, we're always hopeful) to have a surname beginning with X. Try and create some alliterative hill-like feature out of that one.

I've no doubt a day out at Wimbledon is a good laugh. I might just enjoy it if I had a chauffeur driven car to take me straight there, didn't have to queue and had a reserved seat. But telly coverage is dull. All the old tennis stars (few of them British apart from Henman) are wheeled out again to offer their expertise. And who more suitable for a sport which is regularly rained off than John McEnroe? The man can talk a leg off a line judge. I once tuned in to see play had been rained off and there was nothing else going on but John McEnroe and his stories about Wimbledons of the past. Snore.... Although isn't there a roof on one court now?

I haven't really watched much Wimbledon since that epic lengthy semi final Henman versus Ivanisevic in 2001. I 'celebrated' my birthday watching that. And Henman didn't even have the audacity to win at the end of it.

I know tennis can be a bit tense and exciting at times. Like most sports. But I just can't get into it. All the serve, volley, matchpoint stuff leaves me cold. Maybe we just need some good British tennis players - male and female - to inspire. Why can't we do it? Just why?

Meanwhile each year we hear we have the 'best chance yet' of a British player winning. Good luck Andy Murray, someone wake me up after the men's final and let me know when he's done it.

An interview with Mr Tumble!

2011-06-21T09:31:00.000+01:00

There's been great excitement over at Real Parenting where Molly from Mother's Always Right had a chat with Justin Fletcher aka Mr Tumble! He gave us an exclusive interview and chatted about his new show coming up on CiTV, Olly the Little White Van, which airs on 26th June.

It's no secret I'm a fan of Justin so it's great to have a chance to feature him on the site, if you're a fan too go over and have a read!

Why I need a good old fashioned tape recorder to be a parent

2011-06-20T07:00:00.002+01:00

There are some phrases I have to say hundreds of times a day. There's a danger I might lose my voice. To help me I need an old fashioned tape recorder like the one I used to have before I threw it out thinking I didn't need it any more.

These are the phrases I would record onto my tape recorder and play throughout the day to save my vocal chords:

Sit on your chair please
Sir on your chair properly please
Do you need a wee?
Can you put your school uniform / pyjamas on please
Stay in your bed please
Please don't sneak toys into your book bag they'll get confiscated
Can you do a wee before we leave the house please
Stop jumping on the sofa please
Can you not hit / push / scratch your brother / sister please
Can you play / share nicely please
Can you eat three more mouthfuls please
Don't put your hand in the bin / toilet please (mainly spoken to 18 month old)
Please can you get into / get out of the bath
If I have to ask you again there won't be a bedtime story
Do you need a poo?

My voice feels tired just writing this.

Photo credit

Tomorrow my little daughter has her operation

2011-06-16T21:36:00.001+01:00

As I write this I'm watching Born to be Different on Channel 4 which has been following a group of children with mental and physical disabilities over the past ten years. I've watched the programme during that time and have always been amazed at how the parents deal with difficult operations and treatment which their children have to go through.

Tomorrow Little Girl has an operation to hopefully improve her hearing, she's going to have grommets put into her ears to clear the fluid which has been sitting there since last year. It's a very straightforward, routine operation. It's nothing really.

I'm nervous because the operation requires a general anaesthetic. I'll be with her when the anaesthetic is administered and then I'll have to go off to the parents room where there's a coffee machine and telly. And then wait. It should only be 40 minutes. As I've said already, it's nothing really. Absolutely nothing compared to what some chidlren, parents and families go through.

How do you cope when your child has a serious illness and needs complicated treatment and / or surgery? I've absolutely no idea. Because handing my child over to a surgeon for 40 minutes tomorrow for a very simple procedure is hard enough.

I'm lucky that my children are healthy, I feel silly for being worried about tomorrow. But Little Girl is so little. She turns 18 months old this weekend. She seems so small. But she needs to be able to hear properly and we're lucky that something can be done about that. Why am I so worried? I don't know, I guess it's just part of being a mum.

Post-script: thank you very much to everyone for your lovely messages. Little Girl did so well, the operation went smoothly and she was full of beans within an hour of having the anaesthetic and op. Amazing. It was very hard holding her down while the anaesthetists put a mask on her, I was in tears at that point. But we've already noticed a difference in her hearing so it's all been worthwhile. It's lovely to have the stress and worry out of the way now.

Win a family break with Hoburne Holiday Parks!

2011-06-15T10:53:00.002+01:00

This is a big, exciting competition which I've launched over at Real Parenting today! The site is six months old this week so we're having a competition to celebrate. First prize is a family break at Hoburne Holiday Parks, and other prizes are a set of five children's DVDs and four sets of the construction toy Bloco.

This is a photography competition so to enter we're asking people to submit their photos of what 'real parenting' means to them. Personally I get a bit bored with seeing perfect looking parents and children in parenting books, magazines and websites. So I think a bit of realism is needed and we can see what real life, and real parenting, is actually like through your photos.

The lovely Tara Cain at Sticky Fingers has agreed to judge the competition because she knows a good photo when she sees one! The closing date is 6th July.

For full details on how to enter and terms and conditions please head over to the Real Parenting site. Here's some more detail on the prizes:

Win a Family Break with Hoburne Holiday Parks

Real Parenting has teamed up with Hoburne Holiday Parks to offer one lucky family the opportunity to win a short break for up to four people at one of its seven stunning Parks, Hoburne Bashley in Hampshire. Set inside the boundaries of the New Forest National Park in Hampshire, Hoburne Bashley provides the ideal setting for a peaceful get-away to an activity-packed, fun break for the whole family. Facilities include heated outdoor swimming and paddling pools (mid-May to mid-September), indoor leisure pool with flume, sauna and steam room, nine hole par three golf course, crazy golf, licensed club with season long entertainment, adventure playground, nature trail, indoor soft play area, football field, tennis court, amusement arcade and popular Sammy Seahorse children’s club. Some facilities have a charge.

For more information or to request a Hoburne Holiday Park brochure please call 01425 277661 or visit www.hoburne.com.

Win a Set of Five Pre-School DVDs

Win a fantastic selection of five pre-school DVDs. The prize includes the newly released "Why Lion Roars" and "Why Elephant Has A Trunk" from the hugely popular Tinga Tinga Tales programme which brings to life tall tales of how your favourite animals came to be the way they are today and opens up a fantastical world of colour, characters and transformation. Your little one can also enjoy as part of the prize Postman Pat Special Delivery, Guess With Jess "How Do We Need To Grow Beans" and "Why Do Bees Make Honey".

This is the first time Tinga Tinga Tales has been released on DVD, launched in 2010, Tinga Tinga Tales is already a massive hit with parents and children alike and continues to grow in popularity each month.

Win a Bloco Construction Set

We've got four sets of the Marine Creatures Bloco construction toy, worth £19.99 each, to give away. The award winning Bloco from Maps Toys will keep both boys and girls entertained for hours. The Bloco Construction Toy collection uses high-density foam designed into unique and colourful shapes. Each piece can be linked together and rotated to any angle using the special Bloco connectors. The Marine Creatures set includes pieces to build six different sea creatures: two sharks, an octopus and three different types of fish including a scary piranha. Find stockists at Maps Toys.

What do you keep in your bra?

2011-06-13T07:00:00.000+01:00

Apart from the obvious? Call me sheltered and naive but it never occurred to me that anyone would keep something else in their bra until I saw a woman put her hand down her top the other day, pull out her ringing phone and answer it.

I was incredulous. Maybe because, as a smaller chested person, there isn't actually any room in my bra to keep something. It's never occurred to me to tuck a phone or other personal item in there. Is it something women do a lot? Have I been on this planet almost thirty seven years without realising that most women store their belongings in their bra?

When I mentioned phone in bra woman on twitter @MrsCordial told me that she keeps her slim phone in her bra and occasionally keeps her car keys and money there. And @abigailwarren told me that she once had a babysitter who used to put the money she paid her into her bra. So there you go. Seems bra storage is quite common. Maybe some women keep a packet of cigarettes in their bra? Lighter in the left cup, fags in the right.

I suppose bra storage is quite secure if you want to keep your valuables close to your chest. And I suppose underwear is often used to carry around illicit drugs. As a student I used to keep my money in my Doc Marten boots on an evening out so maybe that's not too different.

Have I been converted to storing things in my bra? Er no not really. Although I think a bra designer could design a bra with pockets on. Maybe that would be handy? Have I hit upon a great idea there? No, seems it's been done already.

Photo credit - do you think she has a phone in there?

Our own made up Octonaut crafts

2011-06-10T13:42:00.001+01:00

This isn't a crafty blog. Although I pride myself on having a slight creative spark, my children aren't really interested in crafts and I'm too impatient to bother persuading them otherwise. But now and again we have a creative burst of craftiness and you can't go wrong with an Octonauts theme as my children are obsessed with Octonauts.

I recently made this Octo Alert out of a paper plate:

Then Fington coloured it in

We then sellotaped it to the wall (we gave up on the paintwork long ago) and you can press the Octo Alert, make the 'Boowup boowup boowup' sound and command, "Octonauts to your stations!" I had slightly too much fun doing it really.

Then we visited this nice site where you can print off lots of Octonaut pictures to colour. It's in French (does anyone know what nationality Octonauts actually is?). And I cut up lots of bits of paper and tissue paper and foil for Fington to stick onto the pictures.

So after all my Octonaut-related efforts Fington was entertained for about five minutes. Not bad eh?

For more Octonaut crafts check out Bringing up Charlie's Gup C

Review: Mamas & Papas Trip buggy

2011-06-10T12:22:00.003+01:00

Mamas & Papas kindly sent us their Trip buggy to review. So we took it on holiday to Cornwall with us where it got a thorough testing!

The Trip comes with a hood and colourful padded seat lining. There are a range of different colour themes to choose from. There's some detachable storage space underneath the seat and a shoulder strap for carrying the buggy when it's folded. When a family of five go on holiday you need a pushchair which folds very compactly and the Trip does that. It folds smaller than our existing (and worn out) stroller.

The Trip buggy is very light and although it has small wheels typical for a buggy, we still managed various terrain with it:

Meeting the pigs on the farm with Granny

And chilling out on the beach (behind the windbreak!). This picture shows the Hamster Bags which we attached to it to increase storage space (not a Mamas & Papas product).

The only downside with the Trip is that it doesn't recline. Occasionally on a day out it would have been nice to recline the seat a bit when my daughter got tired.

I think the hood is very good for a buggy and offers plenty of shade and cover. I like the fact that the Trip buggy is lightweight and compact. It's very easy to take around with you and I like the padded seat cover although it might get a bit sweaty in very hot weather. It's easy to take out and wash.

I think the Trip buggy competes very well in its class and I love the range of bright colours you can choose from. The price is reasonable too at £59.00. I think it will last my daughter well and my almost three year old likes to jump in it too now and again. It's easily suitable for a child aged up to four (actually my five year old fits in it as well but I refuse to push him anywhere!).

Thank you to Mamas & Papas for giving us a chance to review the Trip buggy. Mamas & Papas stock a wide range of other travel items such as pushchairs, prams, baby carriers and car seats.

Why I'll always have a love/hate relationship with twitter

2011-06-08T07:00:00.001+01:00

Twitter annoys me a lot. The other day I said to husband that if I didn't have a blog I probably wouldn't use it. It must have been on a very grumpy day as twitter can be fun too. I've come to realise that people use twitter in different ways. And expect different things from it too. I think it's the gap between other people's use and expectations of twitter and mine which annoys me.

I go on twitter a reasonable amount because I also use it in my work. But I don't actually tweet very much. I joined twitter in August 2009 and have only tweeted just under 7,300 times. That's nothing, some people who have been on twitter as long as me have tweeted 30,000 or 40,000 times and more.

My daily tweet rate is 10.8 tweets a day (7,271 tweets at time of writing divided by 670 days for geeky people). It seems like a reasonable amount, roughly once an hour between 9am and 8pm?

I find myself reading tweets on twitter but not actually saying a huge amount myself. I'm not a big talker anyway so that figures, but I suppose it seems a bit odd to be on twitter quite a bit and not say much. Sometimes I can't think of anything to say. I'm definitely a twitter reader rather than a twitter tweeter.

Twitter often annoys me because my timeline is full of people with not much to say either but still saying it and I'm sitting there reading it anyway and most of it is banal and meaningless and I get cross with myself for even being on twitter because it's the biggest time waster ever. For people who don't actually have a lot of spare time in the first place.

Twitter is really annoying, but it satiates my nosey needs. I use Hootsuite which shows people's conversations so you can have a read through of what they've been chatting to each other about. Rarely is it interesting but before I know it I've wasted ten minutes reading other people's chat about how their child's swimming class went or which blogger they had coffee with.

Twitter can be very funny too, some people are very witty on twitter (can you call them twitty?). Often I'll laugh at what they've written and then rarely find the time to tell them I think it's funny. They probably unfollowed me because I didn't interract with them. Did you notice that trend? People unfollowing people they didn't interract with. Personally I don't think you have to interract with someone you're following, if you find them entertaining then they can entertain you in your timeline without a lot of input from you can't they? And vice versa perhaps?

This is where people use twitter in different ways and expect different things from it. Some people will only follow people they want to talk to regularly, whereas others will follow anyone they find vaguely interesting whether they chat with them or not. And some people do #teamfollowback or something which means you should always follow back? I tend not to if they're using that hashtag.

Auto DMs when you follow someone are quite annoying. A welcome message is okay I suppose but one asking me to look at their blog or site is a bit annoying as I would probably have looked at that anyway before following. These days I don't go seeking out people to follow, but I tend to follow back other bloggers or people or companies who look interesting. When I follow I sometimes get a message asking me to tweet them to demonstrate I'm real, I feel like tweeting 'you followed me first, so maybe that suggests I'm real?'. It confuses me that message. I used to respond to those messages with something but then I didn't really know what to say and felt like a numpty and probably got unfollowed.

Have you ever tried to wean yourself off twitter? I've had a few breaks. For the first few days of a break I struggle to stay away, then I manage it for a few days which feels great, then I get inquisitive again, then I'm tweeting again and before I know it I'm annoyed again. But I've also been made to laugh and had a few good conversations too.

I think twitter is a fascinating world, lots of people are on it but many aren't if that makes sense. There are many things you find out first on twitter. I think twitter definitely means different things to different people. Some rely on it to communicate with friends, some people don't get the hang of it at all, some people use it to moan on and some people appear to do nothing else but tweet their stream of consciousness. Which is all fine by the way. Horses for courses. For me twitter is like a friend who I find entertaining and annoying at the same time. Sometimes I want to meet up and have a chat and at other times I want them to bugger off.

Why Cybermummy is going to be a non-event

2011-06-05T19:43:00.001+01:00

Less than two weeks to go until Cybermummy now, but I don't have high hopes. There's lots of buzz about Cybermummy and there are plenty of blog posts on how to enjoy the day and make the most of it. But most of it is pointless advice because no one is going to be up for it on the day.

Why's this? Because there are pre-Cybermummy events being planned that's why. Instead of an early night before the big day, bloggers are choosing to party. That Sandy Calico at Baby Baby is one of them. Yep. Shocking isn't it?

My advice to everyone partying the night before: you will peak too early my friends. Come Saturday morning you'll have to drag yourself to Cybermummy with the hangover from hell and meet cheery fresh-faced people like me who have just arrived. Actually I won't be fresh-faced as I'll have got up at some unearthly hour to get there on time having probably been woken in the night by one or more children. So I'll also require matchsticks for my eyes and lots of coffee.

Cybermummy is going to be full of people either with a hangover or knackered because they had to get up early. Or both. Not looking good is it? A non-event.

And just as you've managed to find the energy to get through the day, there's worse to come. You'll have to listen to my droning voice as I read out one of my blog posts for the Crowdsourced Keynote Session. I've been chosen especially to test the stamina of the attendees. If you can get through it you'll win a prize.

So if you're planning a night out on the evening before Cybermummy, you might want to re-consider (this post hasn't been written out of any slight envy that I won't be there the night before you understand). I wholeheartedly recommend an early night and a mug of Horlicks instead which is exactly what I'll be doing in the evening afterwards *cough*.

And a big thank you to Lego Duplo who are sponsoring me on the day. I don't need to worry about what to wear as it will be a Lego Duplo t-shirt!

And if you missed Cybermummy last year, here's what it was like.

Review: Lego Duplo police station

2011-06-05T09:02:00.000+01:00

We've been sent this Lego Duplo police station to try out. It comes with a helicopter, police car, motorbike, a couple of policemen and a robber. The building instructions include two formations: one for the police station we built in the picture and a second for building it into a tower.

My almost three year old played and played with this when I built it for him, and when his older brother came home from school they both played with it without too many fights. There are enough characters and vehicles to share between two children and naturally they were inventing lots of cops and robbers style stories. We also built some of our other Duplo buildings and vehicles and made a mini town which also had a fire station and farm in it.

The police station is well designed and thought out and the different characters encourage role play. The children are really interested in the emergency services at the moment: police officers and fire officers are appealing role models for young boys.

Lego is always going to get a good review in our house because the boys love it so much. My five year old has moved onto smaller Lego and is currently fascinated by the Ninjago range. That said, he still really enjoys playing with Duplo and has done since he was around 18 months old. Our Duplo collection has lasted that time and has lots more years of play in it yet.

When we get a new Duplo set it's always built following the instructions and after that it's pulled apart and built in lots of new ways. This is why it appeals to my children because they love creating their own worlds and games with Duplo and Lego.

Even though we have quite a bit of Duplo and Lego now, the boys keep the blocks very separate. The blocks in the two ranges fit together but the children never play with them like this, I think the difference in scale means they prefer not to mix them. There's no doubt that Duplo helped my five year old move onto Lego and both ranges have helped him develop great dexterity. It's amazing how he can put together really fiddly bits of Lego now.

Lego Duplo are kindly sponsoring me to attend Cybermummy, I'll be writing more about that very soon.

A week in the life of a Mummy Borough Councillor

2011-06-02T07:00:00.002+01:00

This is a guest post by Rachel Eden, who writes Rachel Eden's blog. My blog hasn't really featured politics before (apart from this very highbrow post I once wrote), Rachel is a Labour Councillor and has a baby daughter. Despite politics being male dominated it does seem to be better than most jobs for combining childcare and work.

I am a Mummy blogger, but if you read my blog you probably wouldn’t know it. I’m a councillor and ‘local politician’ and use my blog to communicate what I’m up to and what my views on various things are, However I decided early on not to talk about my family life. I figured that one day my baby will be a grumpy 13 year old and won’t appreciate having been used for political purposes.

However it’s been impossible for her to avoid being involved in politics ‘off-line’.

I was elected to Reading Borough Council last May and experienced a surprising moment when being interviewed by the local press “Do you mind me asking if you are pregnant?”. I was 7 months through at the time! Since then Little-One has been a fixture of my life and thus on the odd occasions when she isn’t with me one of the first things that residents in my ward, council staff and fellow councillors say to me is ‘how is she?’

Being a Mummy can cause inconvenience: when Little-One was going through a ‘mummy-ish’ phase and still needed milk frequently I actually had my husband waiting in the public gallery with her for me to nip out to feed her during the meeting. Council staff have got used to me wheeling the buggy into the Civic Centre and attending briefings while dancing her up and down.

But there are many advantages. I see my role as a councillor as being part of the community not some grand person in a fancy robe (although some councillors wear them for ceremonial occasions, I don’t!). Little-One is the perfect introduction – the Children’s centre in my ward tends to call me out of the 3 councillors representing the area “Because you are a mummy too”. I’m also made very welcome in the local schools. I recently visited some schools with film makers for a school visit and the children were nearly as interested in the baby as they were in the BAFTA. More seriously I think facing the challenges that parents face every day means I’m more empathetic and understanding of the problems that families are facing at the moment – whether it’s child tax credits, worries about children’s centres, school places or anti-social behaviour.

So what does a typical week look like? If you’re reading this you are likely to be a parent too. So you know there is no such thing. I thought it might be interesting to list out what we’ve done in the last 7 days though. Little-One came along to almost everything.

Friday 21^st – Singing in the library, coffee with two party members, official opening of a play area in my ward (see picture – the local mums and I did quite a bit of campaigning to get it!), delivering leaflets advertising our councillors surgery

Saturday 22^nd – Roving councillors surgery in the morning, knocking on doors talking about concerns (Little-One with Daddy), lunch with fellow councillor, our partners and Little-One

Sunday 23^rd – Church/crèche, lunch with friends, emails and calls while Little-One goes to park with Daddy!

Monday 24^th – Messy play at Children’s centre in the morning, email/calls and speech writing along with playing and singing at home, evening party meeting while Daddy baby-sits

Tuesday 25^th – Pop into the council offices to talk about a couple of things, Grandma comes to visit, school governors meeting at 4pm, while Grandma looks after little one. Evening off – Grandma baby sits while go for a walk in the park with husband (excellent – first time just us two for over a month!)

Wednesday 26^th – Toddler group at church in the morning, mad trip up to London to see Granddad (he’s on a conference and only had an afternoon free), Annual meeting of the council in the evening (Daddy babysitting) – appointed Cabinet member for neighbourhoods and housing

Thursday 27^th – Quiet day, phoning round, being rained off for going to the park. Both of us bored!

Friday 28^th – Important calls in the morning, Aunty M visiting along with Great Grandma. They take LittleOne to the park for half an hour and I write this!

So there you have it. A nice mix of parenting, being active in the community and dealing with the administration of the council. I think probably anyone who can cope with being a parent could do it if they wanted to, although they would need a very patient husband or some other form of support. Little-One is so used to it she gets fed up on days we don’t have a council related activity.

I wouldn’t change it.

Someone asked me on Monday “How are you going to manage all this?”. I bit back the temptation to say “The same as I’ve been managing it for the last year” and said “I have a cleaner come in every two weeks and I think Mums just learn to get on with it”. She thought for a moment and said “Yes, I suppose we do. I used to say ‘as long as there is food on the table and everyone has clean knickers we’re OK’.” I thought this was a good motto. She added “I’ve kept it up even though my kids have left home and I’m retired!”

That’s the spirit!

I blog at Rachel Eden's Blog and tweet @rachelede.You might also be interested to know that there is another mum of small children on Reading Borough council: Cllr Sarah Hacker @CllrSarahHacker

Nitty Nora

2011-05-31T07:00:00.001+01:00

Here is a guest post from the very talented Scribbling Mum. In this post she talks about the scourge of nits, something my children have managed to avoid so far (or maybe I've not noticed they've got them).

That's nice, I bet you're thinking, our lovely Emily invites you to guest post on her blog and you rock up with a post on nits. What a lovely guest, I wouldn't invite her round to mine for a cup of tea.

But, right now, it's in the forefront of my mind. I am seeing the creatures in my sleep. The very thought of them is making me itch. I caught sight of a Sugar Puff under the dining table and for a split second thought it was a gigantic nit, escaped from the safety of toddler hair follicles and transformed into a gigantic beast.

This is a new one for us, for my two daughters anyway. I myself have childhood memories of hanging my head over the sink whilst my Mum combed my hair and tapped the metal comb on the white porcelain bowl, icky little things falling out. The nit nurse that used to visit school regularly and pick through our heads like a friendly gorilla. And my teenage niece has had the most persistent nits in the world, my sister tried everything, nuked them, combed them, but they only returned stronger every time.

That reminds me of someone that I met once when I was traveling in Costa Rica. I forget her name but she was a slightly crazed Canadian scientist whose project for that year had been quite simply to try and kill cockroaches. She spent her days pulling legs off them, torching them, suffocating them. I still can't understand why that sort of research was needed but I think it made her a little bonkers. She had that slightly mad twinkle in her eye and who can blame her.

I digress.

It was poor Little P that hosted our first nit, louse, or whatever you call them. It caught my eye at the beginning of the week and I picked it out without a second thought, assuming it was a little bug that had landed on her on his way past. But on closer inspection it looked a little different so I had a rummage and found little black flecks around her wee head, eggs maybe or were they nit poos? I don't know and I don’t care, whatever they were I knew something was up.

Nits has meant yet another new chapter to learn from The Book of Parenting. I’ve studied for the Tantrums, Sleep Deprivation, Sibling Bickering and Farting About At The Dinner Table exams and scored A+ on them all with only a few re-sits. But Nits? Jeez, no thanks.

Miss L rather meanly ribbed her sister. 'I am five. I have never had nits in my whole entire life.'

'What are nits, Mummy?' Little P, an innocent chubby two year old little spark with wispy white hair.

After consulting with some friends who had had experience, I started the conditioner, comb, treatment, comb process. And like any good mother I’ve now taught my child that if she get nits she’ll get chocolate. But, I mean, how else am I supposed to keep a two year old wriggly toddler at peace whilst I part and comb, part and comb, part and comb? With chocolate of course. And equal helpings of praise and threats. It’s never the best start to your morning, hosing down your kid and combing out small parasitic insects out of her hair.

Interestingly, nits seems to be another subject that can show you where other mums plot on that wide and varied parenting spectrum. My attitude was fairly straight forward, unashamed and honest. She’s got them but I’m treating them. I wasn’t about to hang bells round her neck and walk in front of her shouting ‘Unclean! Unclean!’ but I did tell people because it seemed only fair.

When I told some of the mums at the nursery doors they took a visible step back. Like they could get them from me by just standing too close. One play-date cancelled which seemed rather extreme as we saw them at playgroup the following day. Did these people look at me differently now? They didn’t actually think we were dirty did they? Is there still a stigma with nits?

For now we’re done. All combed out and nit-free. But I’ve now got a nit comb in my medicine box and we’ve no doubt not seen the end of this latest chapter. And with school starting in August I’m sure Miss L’s smugness won’t last long. That’ll teach her.

Photo credit (and by using this photo I'm by no means implying that the family pictured bear any resemblance to Scribbling Mum's family)

Family trip: five stages of grief

2011-05-29T09:00:00.001+01:00

This is a guest post from Jody at allaboutlastweekend. Jody is a New Zealander and mum of four who lives in Oakland, California, having also spent fifteen years in London. She's well travelled (does that sound a bit obvious?). Here Jody talks about the angst of the family holiday. We all remember those days when holidays used to be relaxing, seems like a distant memory now...

We are in New York City with the kids for eight days. After 13 years of vacationing with kids I know this to be a family trip - not a vacation. On vacations there is childcare or kid's clubs. Allowing patches of appreciative and refreshed togetherness. But on this trip we will be together 24 hours a day. As soon as we arrive in New York, I mourn the vacation I dreamed of. And, as with losing anything beloved, I enter the five stages of grief.

1. Denial: this can't be happening to me.

I envisioned the six of us skipping through Central Park, engaging colourful characters in witty repartee. Dinners feature more quips - "Oh touche!" - and appreciating sophisticated cuisines. The kids are electrified by the myriad of museums.

Instead, the kids' whining is almost constant and the only time they look up from the ground is to roll their eyes. The meals are torture, with Cy, six, juggling cutlery, fries and salt shakers. Tallulah, nine, groaning over the prospect of eating anything that doesn't originate from whitecarbcity. Harley and Jackson stir the pot.

The apartment we are renting (VRBO) is immediately dispiriting. For the most part it's clean, but the rugs and industrial carpets look marked and every room is dark and depressing. Two of the kids wake up in the morning badly bitten from something. We realise the trompe-l'oeil (murals) and chandeliers are completely different from the one in the photos (left) on VRBO site. Ha! We are in the wrong apartment! And thus.... in the wrong life. If we were in that other trompe-l'oeil apartment, which was quirky but inspiring, we would have better behaved kids and a super time.

2. Anger: wanting to get even, apportioning blame.

Kevin gets the brunt, until I remember that I was the one who wanted to go to New York for eight days. Who now to blame? I become incensed by the omnipresent garbage bags in the streets. The streets are filthy and I'm constantly tripping over tiny fluffy dogs and nearly stepping in their shitsu. And then there's my swollen ankles. Who can I write to???

3. Bargaining: attempting to make deals with God, begging, wishing.
We'll never be wasteful again, never buy bottled water, always pack our lunches. Just please make our kids behave.

4. Depression: an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness.
After entering the third security line for the Statue of Liberty, by now Cy was punching everyone at arm's length and Harley and Jackson were scrapping over the last piece of gum, earning us disgusted stares from everyone.

I just can't go on, I said almost tearful. There's no way out, replied Kevin, except ...through Liberty! Then, said I - Liberty or die!

Kevin and I nodded, agreed in our pact. We slid on our audio tour headphones and ....dully stared ahead for the next hour, playing the tape over and over and over.

Summoning all my energy I mouthed silently: The statue is the width of two pennies. Two pennies, he mouthed back weakly. The statue took six months to go blue. Six months, he mouthed back.

"We're not even up in the pedestal, don't listen yet!!!!" the kids kept yelling. Can't hear you, we sighed...

5. Acceptance: finding the good that can come out of the pain.
The Natural History Museum has an exhibit about the Race to the South Pole between the British Robert Scott and the Norwegian, Amundsen. The Norwegian was less likable, but won. One interesting nugget was that Amundsen did not tell the crew their final destination - the South Pole - until they were well on their way. Now how did that go? "Guys, listen up, we're not going to Rio after all..."

We learn from Amundsen - don't tell the crew too much. Our day ahead? Who knows? Before we would list everything: "the Whitney, lunch in the park, a show". Any itinerary that did not include a suggestion that we might visit the M&M centre in Times Square was met with howls of disbelief.

We found walking through the parks was painful for the kids but put a soccer ball in front of them and they would run after it for hours.

We finally accepted our fate: a diner with a TV such as Big Daddy's always makes for serene family dinners.

Bonding comes at unexpected times. We signed up for a walking tour of Greenwich Village. In London where we used to live, walking tours were conducted by raconteurs or "resting" actors who dress up as one of the lively bods that lived there. The New York Times had declared Joyce Gold "the doyenne of the city walking tour" according to a line in her brochure. But we quickly discovered she was not a good yarnspinner or a "dag" (great laugh) as we kiwis would say. She explained at length that she conducted private tours and at what price and declared a 10 min break to buy water, which was annoying. And she was sweating so profusely I feared for her safety.

Peeeeeyeeew, whispered Kevin after a while... this stinks! I had to agree with him and Cy. It was booooring! Facts but no illumination, no funny anecdotes - we could have read a guide book more easily. Grabbing the kids' hands, we raced off laughing.

In the safety of the shadows, Tallulah said: "Oh I thought it was rain, but she actually dripped sweat on me!" Each of the kids sparked up: "Yeah me too... eeeheww!! We laughed for hours about that one.

Sometimes it's the least expected things that make the fond family memories. And if it takes an encounter with a moist and rather dull tour guide, then so be it.

The difference between one small child and three

2011-05-25T07:00:00.001+01:00

We've had a few days out recently. And on those days out husband and I have enviously observed parents with just one young child. It wasn't so long ago when we had just the one. Not that I regret having any more (although Podge said to me yesterday, "I'm cross with you for having two more babies, you should have had just one which is me"), but life with one is easier.

This is what it's like when two parents are visiting the playground with one small child:

"Ahh, doesn't he look cute?"
"Take another photo"
"He needs to be careful on that roundabout. Be careful darling! Oh look he sneezed, how funny!"
"Luckily I have a pack of tissues handy"
"Are you okay if I sit on the bench and drink my coffee darling?"
"Of course, have a rest. It's hard work having one child. I'll take some more photos."

And this is what it's like when two parents are visiting the playground with three small children:

"Are you watching X on that climbing frame?"
"I wasn't, I thought you were,"
"No, I'm trying to look out for Y and Z. You could at least check X is okay,"
"Well you'd better get Z then, she's run off over there,"
"How did she get there? Watch it! Y is about to come off the roundabout!"
"I thought you were watching Y?"
"I need to go all the way over there and get Z though don't I?"
"Look at the state of X's nose, have you got a tissue?"
"No,"
"I'd love to take a photo of Y right now he looks so cute. When did we last take photos of the kids?"
"Can't remember,"
"Wow, X stinks we need to change her nappy. Did you pack one?"
"No,"
"Neither did I. I keep forgetting one of the children is still in nappies,"
"Are you okay if I sit on the bench and drink my coffee darling?"
"What? And leave me looking after the three of them? You must be kidding."

If you have two small children then it's probably inbetween these two scenarios. And if you have more than three small children you need staff to help out. In fact I need staff to help out as it is.

Review: baking with Green's Cakes

2011-05-24T21:58:00.001+01:00

We've been doing some baking with Green's Cakes. As someone who is quite hopeless at baking, the Green's Cakes baking mixes are a fairly failproof way of producing something. We tried the Thomas and Friends pack which comes with cake mix, icing sugar, edible toppers, sprinkles and bun cases. The pack makes twelve buns.

All you do is add an egg, some butter and some water to the cake mix. Here's two year old Fington giving it a stir.

Our mixture was quite runny so the buns were a little bit soggy and didn't rise too well. My top tip is to add the water gradually rather then pour it all in one go.

It's easy to make the icing with a bit of water added to the icing sugar, here are the boys icing the buns.

They really enjoyed this bit, and putting the toppers and sprinkles on. Here's the finished result, not quite as good as the picture on the box but all made by the children.

Despite some sogginess and imperfect looks, the cakes were really tasty. We'd definitely use this pack again as it's a quick and easy way to do some baking with the children.

Mad Mums has launched!

2011-05-24T10:15:00.002+01:00

I've been working with the lovely Iveta Tancheva of Mums Like You who has founded Mad Mums. And it launches today! What is it? Well it's a site which brings bloggers, brands and PRs together for campaigns.

If you join Mad Mums then you can:

be first to find out about campaigns for our clients. These can be product reviews, giveaways, paid posts, paid tweets, banner ads and more
be among the first to try innovative products for free
get invited to exclusive blogging events and experiences
get prizes for competitions on your blogs

There's a great prize draw for the first 100 bloggers who sign up to Mad Mums, head over to the site to find out more. You can follow on twitter too @madmums

I'm bored with Pippa's bottom

2011-05-20T07:00:00.001+01:00

Three weeks after the Royal Wedding and people are still talking about 'that bottom'. Just why?

I heard on the radio that there's been a 60% increase in people asking for buttock lifts since the Royal Wedding with many people requesting a 'Pippa'. Not sure how much truth there is in that. And I'm receiving press releases about products which can supposedly give you Pippa's bottom. Sorry, but the only person who can have Pippa's bottom is Pippa herself.

I want to make it clear I'm not bored with Pippa. Not at all. I'm sure she's a lovely person who's found herself, and her bottom, thrust into the public gaze.

Can everyone stop talking about Pippa's bottom now please? That includes me too. Let's talk about something else. Like Kate's eyebrows. I thought they framed her face perfectly on the big day. Nice to see brows are back. I may just book a visit to the salon and ask for some Kate Brows.

Photo source

Would you like to guest post on my blog while I'm on holiday?

2011-05-19T19:32:00.001+01:00

>> Your blog post here <<

I've never asked anyone to do this while I've been away before. We're on holiday during half-term (28th May - 5th June) so instead of letting my blog collect dust I'm offering to open it up to anyone who would like to write a guest post on it.

Yes that's it >> right here <<

If you're interested then e-mail me with your post idea on babyrambling at gmail dot com.

Someone will e-mail won't they? I'm nervous I've opened up my blog and no one will take me up on it....

The best ever free toy

2011-05-18T07:00:00.003+01:00

This is a bit gruesome. But then children often are gruesome. Recently Pants With Names did a great blog post on free toys. Sorry Pants (actually her name is Emily, like mine) but my daughter recently found the best ever free toy.

A couple of weeks ago she and Fington were in the garden while I ~~messed about on Twitter~~ caught up on some work. I thought I heard Fington saying his little sister had a mouse but I didn't think much of it until he'd said it about three times. I looked out, and sure enough, Little Girl was happily walking around the garden with a mouse in her hand. A completely dead mouse. She was singing to herself and wriggling her hand making the rather long dead tail waggle about.

Have you ever tried to prise a small deceased rodent from the very tight grasp of a one year old's hand? It's difficult. Especially when you know that dead things can sometimes, well... burst. Enough said.

Litle Girl was not happy. She screamed and fought and clung onto her dead cuddly friend as hard as she could. Eventually, after a long battle, I managed to get the dead mouse out of her hand. I don't think I've ever held a dead mouse before. I didn't hang onto it long. It went into the dustbin and Little Girl's hands were scrubbed relentlessly with extra strong antiseptic antibacterial sterilising stuff (well... a bit of soap).

There was so much upset afterwards that I was tempted to give the dead mouse back to Little Girl. Maybe it's not such a problem letting your toddler play with a dead mouse? If they're happy, why not? Do mice carry anything? I know they constantly urinate but other than that dead ones are a good free cuddly toy I think.

All I wanted to do was listen to James Brown

2011-05-16T07:00:00.006+01:00

Faced with some housework at the weekend, I decided it would be more fun cleaning the toilet listening to a funky bit of 'Get up offa that thing' by James Brown. So I reminded myself how easy it is to buy music these days and all I needed to do was download James Brown from iTunes and then have him streaming from the PC to the radio. It would take five minutes. Not like the old days when you used to have to go into town and buy a tape from Our Price - eh?

So I turned on the PC and opened iTunes. Did I want to download the latest update? Oh go on then. That took 20 minues and the computer had to restart itself too.

In the updated iTunes I went to the store and searched for James Brown. Over 200 search results. So that took a while working out exactly what I was going to download.

I decided on my choice of James Brown but my debit card had expired. This meant I had to root out my new card and change the payment details.

Finally I bought James Brown and had to wait for him to download.

Once he was on the PC I tried to stream him to the internetty radio thingy downstairs. It didn't work. Even though it had worked earlier that morning.

So I decided to update my iPod instead. I plugged that into the PC and had to wait for it to do all its synching.

I put my iPod into the iPod dock downstairs where it plays through the stereo. The stereo refused to work properly.

I went into the garage to get second iPod dock thing which is in there for when we use the running machine (which isn't often).

I dusted off and set up the secondary iPod dock thing and hooray! Papa's got a brand new bag.

How long did it take me to listen to James Brown? One hour. One whole hour to download a bit of music and listen to it.

It would have been quicker to go into town and buy a tape from Our Price. If either of those things existed any more.

Ain't it funky.

How Bounty can help you name your baby

2011-05-14T12:16:00.003+01:00

Bounty are well known for releasing their annual list of top baby names. The top three boys names are currently Jack, Oliver and Harry. The top three girls names are Olivia, Ruby and Lily.

Whenever I come across a list of top baby names, I always start looking to see where my children's names are. None of them are in the Top 100 which is surprising I think. When we named our children we wanted them to have fairly unique names but we didn't want them to have names which were too unusual either. I think we managed to get the balance right in the end, and it explains why none of the children had their name confirmed until they were about a week old.

Family don't like it when it takes you a while to name your baby. "Has the baby got a name yet?" was a continuous question until we confirmed it. Some people are quick to decide and we weren't. Luckily I feel happy with the names we picked, I know some people who felt they were a bit too rash in deciding on a name. Probably because they had people endlessly asking them if the baby had a name yet.

On Bounty's baby names site you can look up the meaning of each name. By coincidence both the boys' names are of German origin (and no they're not called Hans and Wolfgang). Little Girl's name is apparently Hebrew. I like the meanings of names, they're usually quite flattering.

My own name, Emily, wasn't hugely popular in the 70s when I was born. But it's been very popular in recent years and is currently fifth. I've just looked up its meaning on the Bounty site and apparently it's "From the Latin for 'imitating, rivaling'". Having said name meanings are usually quite flattering I don't understand that one. But it's a nice name I think and that's all that matters.

So if you're pregnant and deciding on names then you'll find Bounty's site very useful. There's a random name generator on there too. I just tried it and it suggested the name Dennis which makes me think of people aged over 50. But then older names are making a comeback. And I was just trying out the random name generator by the way, I'm not expecting again if that's what you're thinking. No way.

Look up baby names on Bounty.

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Finish up your Weetabix kids, Maggie Philbin will be here in a minute

2011-05-13T19:31:00.000+01:00

This is what I found myself saying to the children shortly before Easter. I got a phone call from the local radio station asking if I'd like to talk to Maggie Philbin about breastfeeding and would it be okay if she came to my house?

So having completely failed to persuade any other mums to join me (yes, you know who you are...) I quickly hoovered, cleaned the loo and attempted to get my head in order so I could make some sense at 7.20am. Maggie arrived shortly after 7am and she and the sound engineer were with us until 10am. We did two 'hits' each hour on the breakfast show talking about breastfeeding, partly inspired by the Is Breast Best? documentary on BBC3 the previous week and partly in reaction to a local authority reducing its funding of breastfeeding clinics.

Well I'm not sure if I made any sense whatsoever but having breastfed three children I suppose I've notched up some experience. Although I'm pro-breastfeeding and think every mum should get the support to do it, I also think mums shouldn't feel guilty if they can't master it or don't want to do it. So I think that's the gist of what I was saying. The word 'pressure' came up a lot in our conversation.

The children were mainly well-behaved although Fington did start wailing about wanting to let one of the cats in while I was trying to talk live on air. Luckily BBC Radio Berkshire were happy for the 'family atmosphere' to be present in the background.

It was a little bit surreal chatting to Maggie Philbin in my living room, and I chickened out of mentioning I used to watch her on Swap Shop because she would probably have found that annoying. She had some really interesting stories about how she balanced breastfeeding and her work. She was working within weeks of having her daughter because she didn't have any maternity leave, but she could take her daughter with her into work so she once breastfed in a meeting (behind a carefully designed screen so she didn't feel self-conscious) and used to attach herself to a large electrical breastbump while in make-up.

So we had a good chat about breastfeeding, birth and babies and probably made Adam the Sound Engineer feel quite uncomfortable. It got easier for him when the conversation changed to cats. And the Royal Wedding.

It was great to meet Maggie Philbin and she made it very easy to chat so I didn't feel uncomfortable or too nervous in the end. Hopefully people listening found it interesting too.

Armouron: it will make your kids look scary

2011-05-11T11:38:00.001+01:00

A few weeks ago we were sent some Armouron to review. What is it? It's brilliant! It's foam armour which looks tougher than it is. It arrives flat so you peg it together with fasteners (or 'snapperons') and create an armoured look. How scary does it make a two year old look?

His older brother wore it round the supermarket during the school holidays and actually frightened some people. He made one bloke jump when he suddenly appeared from behind the freshly baked bread section. It's not the sort of thing you normally see in Waitrose.

Armouron has lots of exciting add-ons for the helmet and body armour which I'm certain we're going to be buying very shortly. And although you get weapons such as daggers with it, they're made with very soft foam and bend when anyone is poked with them (which happens quite a lot as you can imagine).

I'd quite like them to make Armouron adult sized too *cough*.

Running - perfect for nosey people

2011-05-10T07:00:00.000+01:00

I'm one of those annoying people who's just taken up running. It really isn't as good as it sounds. I found some trainers under the bed which appear to belong to me but are way older than any of the children. I don't own running kit, I'm just digging out random t-shirts and tracksuit bottoms which have only ever been worn to slob around on the sofa in.

Despite this I'm dragging myself out onto the streets to try and run because I've booked myself onto the Great South Run which is 10 miles long. Eek.

As I'm plodding around the green lanes of (what is now officially) Middletonshire, I feel quite pleased we no longer live in a place where people syphon petrol out of your car while you sleep or you have to run home from the tube station once it's dark. None of that any more. Where we live now is all quite green and jolly and painfully middle-class.

It's the perfect place to be nosey. As I puff past gardens I'm peeking in to see what people are up to, what they've planted and what's flowering (oo what a lovely laburnum!). I'm checking out the length and width of the driveway, how many cars it has on it and how shiny they are. I'm guessing how many bedrooms each house has and the number of reception rooms. And I know some of the inhabitants too, 'that's so and so the scary woman from the WI', 'there's the bloke with the Lotus obsession' and so on.

And there are other things to look at too such as sheep, horses and the occasional goat. And chickens. Chickens are trendy round here, it's official. Everyone is getting chickens.

The houses which go up for sale are interesting. Seeing a new one go up makes me run home extra fast so I can check it out on Right Move and see the interior (they're asking how much?).

As for the running and getting fit and in shape, I expect you're interested to know how that's going. Yeah it's fine.

I'd love to say that's a picture of me in the starting blocks but it so isn't

Super Injunctions: should celebs be entitled to privacy or should they behave themselves?

2011-05-08T22:30:00.002+01:00

Gossip is more exciting these days now we have social media. There's an anonymous and slightly lawless edge to it which makes twitter accounts like this one and blog posts like this one possible.

I don't know whether there's any truth in these accounts and whether they'll still be live when you read this. But we do know that there are a number of well-known people who have paid through the nose to stop the press publishing stories about them misbehaving. Some have felt forced to step forward, such as Andrew Marr, and it will be interesting to see if the identity of anyone else will be confirmed.

I find these super injunctions strange because they've been taken out by wealthy individuals to prevent publication of something which could damage their career. If the terrible deed could damage their career then why did they do it in the first place? I think if I were catapulted into fame overnight then I might pay more attention to how I conduct myself. Why would one high-profile person have an extra-marital affair with another high-profile person knowing how devastating the impact could be on their families and jobs? Or do they just rest in the knowledge that they're wealthy enough to take legal action to prevent anyone finding out? Can famous, rich people behave how they want to?

Maybe I'm being a bit harsh and celebs, like the rest of us, are 'just human' and make mistakes like we all do. And if you're a showbiz personality then does it matter what you get up to in your private life? Maybe it doesn't but then these people must feel it matters otherwise they wouldn't take out a super injunction.

I think what a celeb gets up to in their private life matters according to how they conduct their public life. So if someone is posing on the cover of OK Magazine with their family and talking about how perfect their life is when in reality they're playing about with some co-star then I think it's in the public interest to discover they're misleading people. I think anyone who promotes family values and clean living as part of their public image should make an attempt to live up to that. And anyone who earns a living making moral judgements about others too.

Be what you claim to be is what I think. And if you're not prepared to do that then you have to face the consequences whether you're famous or not. And trying to cover up your mistakes with money seems a bit seedy to me.

Writing this has given me some unexpected respect for people such as Amy Winehouse, Courtney Love, Naomi Campbell and so on. People who are badly behaved and don't seem to care who knows it. Good on them.

Review: Disney Club Penguin Puffle Nests

2011-05-08T21:57:00.000+01:00

We've had a go at making these yummy treats using a recipe and ingredients provided by Disney Club Penguin. Essentially they're Rice Krispie cakes but with a little difference - you make some 'Puffles' to go in them.

I have to say the boys aren't overly enthusiastic about baking. They'll do a little bit but they usually find something else to quickly distract them. Here's five year old Podge helping with the chocolatey stuff. Mixing Rice Krispies into melted chocolate and then putting them into cases.

While the cakes are setting (and they set very quickly in the fridge), you make the Puffles. These are made out of Regal Icing which is very easily rolled and shaped (and it's tasty too!). I've not really used Regal Icing much before and having seen how easy it is I'm getting lots of ideas for decorating cakes in the future. Each Puffle has a pair of eyes and a happy smile. And the clever bit is you can draw features on with a pen containing liquorice sugary ink.

There was little enthusiasm for helping me make the Puffles but the boys loved eating them. They were fascinated by them. You need to keep them quite small because if they're too big the whole cake could become a bit sickly. I wasn't very good at making the Puffles and they do need a bit of time. In future I'd actually do this myself one evening when I had the time to do it properly. If your children are older though they would probably love to help with the Puffles.

Here's the amateurish looking but yummy finished product. The recipe makes a lot of cakes: you use 300g of cooking chocolate and 120g of Rice Krispies. This could easily be halved if you want fewer. I think we had about 30 cakes from these quantities.

Thank you very much to Club Penguin for teaching us how to add a new twist to a classic recipe!

What is the Meaning of Blogging?

2011-05-06T07:30:00.000+01:00

I've been blogging a few years and I still don't fully understand why. I understand the Meaning of Life. I've got that one sorted, I might tell you in a blog post one day. But I still don't think I understand The Meaning of Blogging.

Why do it? A common answer is, "It's an online diary." But isn't a diary meant to be private? Another answer is, "It's cathartic, it's like a form of therapy." Yes that's a good one. But only when you're blogging anonymously like I did a couple of years ago. Once you've been blogging a certain length of time, people start to discover you're doing it. Before long everyone you know is reading and those cathartic blog posts are very limited because there are many things you can't write about any more.

A lot of people don't understand blogging. In fact most people don't understand it. Recently a few bloggers were annoyed by some negative views of blogging on a forum. You often hear negative opinions about blogging. Many non-bloggers assume bloggers are self-centred and egotistical and only writing about what they had for their dinner.

Blogging seems like a strange thing to do. "I like to be part of the supportive community," is what many people say. Yes this is another good reason. Except it's a community riddled with angst. Bloggers are very friendly with each other but many compete with each other too. Charts and lists and awards cause upset. There's nothing wrong with them but many of us don't cope with them very well.

The blogging community is full of contradictions. And bloggers are full of contradictions*. We write about something which anyone in the world who understands English can read, then we're distraught when someone disagrees with us or leaves a rude comment. So why do we put ourselves out there in the first place? Well we don't really know the answer to that one.

And it's easy to feel left out of the community. If you don't join in with blog hops, linkys, memes or general mutual appreciation then there's a worry that you'll be sidelined. I've nothing against doing these things, I just don't find the time for them. They're a bit too 'planned' for me. My blog is never planned (which any PR politely asking me when I'm going to finally get a review sorted well knows). I do worry that not taking part in community things will mean my blog is bypassed like Radiator Springs by the freeway in the Disney Pixar film Cars. I often worry that my blog will become Radiator Springs to the strains of James Taylor singing, "The lights don't shine any more..."

Many bloggers are writers. We're either established writers or aspiring writers. The urge to write is like an itch which needs scratching. Blogging is a quick and easy way of expressing yourself without the pressure to get it spot on and perfect. I think this is one reason I blog these days.

And blogging can be a springboard to other things. But that isn't a proper reason to blog I don't think. There's something a bit disingenious about a blogger who is blogging just so they can do something else. That doesn't seem to be in the spirit of things.

Where's blogging going? Is there any desire to crossover into other parts of the internet? The parent blogging community seems very insular. I think your blog has further reach if you write about hobbies and interests such as cooking, crafts and gardening. Many of us would like non-bloggers to read our blogs. That means making sure your content has wide appeal and to be something which non-bloggers would read. Writing about blogging (as I'm doing now) is probably not going to appeal to non-bloggers. In fact it won't at all. Maybe I should just discuss what I had for dinner last night instead.

I think readership of blogs will always be limited. The majority of people don't understand blogs or read them. Blogging is niche. I write for sites which have between 100,000 and 200,000 visits a month. That's fairly normal for a website. A blog's readership is doing exceptionally well if it can average 200 visitors a day (roughly 6,000 a month).

Anyway bloggers don't care about stats do we? Naaaahh (another slight contradiction perhaps).

I have to say I'm less sceptical about commericalism and blogs these days. Over time my most popular blog posts have been reviews and I think many PRs are quite rightly viewing parent bloggers as influential. Most bloggers write well, are opinionated and good at expressing themselves. My most popular post of all time is a review of a pushchair. People visit my blog every day to read it. If Mothercare have made a few sales as a result of that or even hits on their site then it's a PR job well done. There are lots of parents out there looking to see what other parents think about products before they buy.

I think a good quality in a blog is longevity. If you can consistently keep people reading and come up with good ideas then you have my respect. In addition it helps to be motivated, thick-skinned and able to keep plugging away when things get tough. And, in the words of Kipling, to "Keep your head when all about you are losing theirs."

So at the end of this post I've no idea what The Meaning of Blogging is. But I enjoyed rambling about it anyway.

* I once said I'd never blog about blogging ever again. There you go. Full of contradictions.