Friday 23 December 2011

Christmas is coming...

Finally. Finally I get a moment to scribble something down. Life for us has been so totally crazy. But dear husband has taken the children to his office today. Hurrah! They were so excited, and he was so hungover (ha ha!). 'Can't you keep Cici' (she's 2) he pleads. 'No, I'm having a break!' So here I am. I've done 3 loads of washing, washed my hair, booked tickets for the Christmas pantomime for my entire family, emailed the builder, emailed the estate agent, and now I can write this. I had intended to have a 'me' day. I don't know - take a book to the coffee shop and read decadently all morning, or go to the beautician and get a massage or manicure, or have a long lazy bath. But the reality is: presents need wrapping, food needs cooking (dinner party of 8 tonight), clothes need washing and packing, and someone needs to be here this morning so as not to miss Mr Amazon delivery (possibly one of the most annoying things at Christmas time is to have to got to the post office with one of those No One was Home notes).

Why so crazy? Well, the house sale was meant to exchange before Christmas. Our mortgage was supposed to be totally portable, until some new whipper snapper who has never dealt with us before, suddenly told us we needed to repay a rather large chunk. The rather large chunk needed to do renovations to the next property. To cut a long story short, it is all sorted now, but it took a lot of negotiating and someone different from the bank, who knows our history, to help out. So the survey was delayed, and the exchange is delayed. In the meantime, the people buying our house chose to do a full survey. The guy was here for 3 hours! Our house is in good condition, and there were a few tiny things that he picked up. Of course, the people buying it, have come back to us saying they want all these things rectified. These are not structural things, but tiny things that happen in old houses. So I said no. They can do it themselves, or at least I'll do it, if they pay for it. I've just got to the end of my tether having to be oh so understanding regarding the poor condition of the house we are buying, and yet kowtowing to the people buying ours... I'm waiting to hear back... 

Then there is Christmas! Christmas is a busy time in our family. I LOVE it. It is my most favourite time of year. The Christmas tree is up on December 1st without fail. This year I bought a plastic one for the children's playroom, and a real one for the sitting room. We wanted a 10ft one, so bought one of the old fashioned type ones that smell good but lose their needles (£30 versus £100 for a non-drop). It is standing tall, and looking fabulous, but if you are as to so much sneeze or even breathe near it, a shower of needles descend. My carpet now looks like green fuzz and I've nearly destroyed my dustbuster. But I don't care, it looks awesome! The rest of the house is covered in garlands and fairy lights, nativity scenes and christmas scented candles. I've even discovered a radio channel called Smooth Christmas, that plays Christmas tunes all day long. My aupair is about ready to shoot the radio (or me), but I love it!

And at Christmas time, come Christmas parties. I am officially beat. We hosted a party last Friday. Me and my great buddy made lots of canapes, and we served champagne all night. I wore my party frock and some seriously high sparkly shoes courtesy of TKMaxx (love a bargain), and everyone seemed to have a great time. It was a lovely mix of people, and everyone made a great effort to mingle. Bed finally beckoned at a rather champagne hazy 2.30am. The next day: DVDs and chilling? Oh No... Cici's 2nd birthday party: 15 ankle biters and parents, pass the parcel, musical statues, lots of screaming, and a very badly behaved 3 year old son. The glorious haze of champagne fading into a dull headache. Last man left at 6.30pm, at which we hurriedly shoved the children in bed and got dolled up for another party. Like torture - the taunt of the Strictly Come Dancing Final (did I mention we saw Harry and Aliona training at our local gym, swoon) and the sofa, rather than another party frock and perilously high heels.
Sunday, the official day of rest? No. Lunch party for Dom's sister's birthday. Eyes needing matchsticks to hold them open. Monday should have been recovery except the children, all of them, decided not to sleep. All night. It was like musical beds. Tuesday - Drinks Party. Wednesday - Birthday Drinks Party. Last night? Cooking for the dinner party tonight as Dom was out with work. We are exhausted!

But Christmas is coming! We will see all my family. We're going to the Panto for the first time ever with the children. We will go Church, eat loads, and open lots of wonderful gifts. It's a time of open fires and winter walks and family and friends. The children are totally enthralled by the magic of Christmas - it's a very special time. And did I mention? I love it!

Let me leave you with a couple of interesting shots:
Dom passed out under the Christmas tree at 3.30am after a boy's dinner. I turned the lights off and left him there of course (then went to bed giggling about how he'll wake up a stick his head right in the tree!).
Cici at her birthday party looking very crossly at someone eating her crisps. Like her mother, she likes jewellery.
And a close up of our tree.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE, I'll blog back in the New Year. 
Mx



Wednesday 30 November 2011

House Selling, Jewellery Selling and Christmas (nearly)

I've been a bit quiet as it's been so hard to get a minute to myself. Our house has been on the market for a while now, and we have seen a couple of houses we would like to buy: one within our budget but unlikely to make us a big renovation profit, and one out of our budget but likely to be amazing once done. So we have accepted a low offer on ours, to get ourselves in a situation to bid for the others. It's a bit like ebay but with mega-bucks. The stress of bidding against other people, not knowing if you are bidding too high, not wanting to get your hopes up, and the crashing disappointment when you don't get it. To cut a long story short, we got the one we can afford, we didn't get the one we can't afford. I guess on paper this makes sense, but I always believe in stretching yourself (if interest rates are likely to stay low, which I think they are), to then get yourself up the next big step on the ladder. Anyway, we didn't get the wreck with potential, but we got the lesser wreck with lesser potential. Which is still exciting: it has a bigger garden, and will be much easier to live in during building works (we couldn't afford to move out and rent).
In the meantime we have been squabbling with the people who have offered on our house. They have offered below the asking price, and yet expect us to leave them various pieces of furniture and all our curtains. I have said they can't have our furniture (it's amazing the excuses one has to come up with: it belonged to my granny, it was a wedding present... it's just bloody well mine so sod off), and I've said they can pay for the curtains. This has caused a total fracas, with emails shooting between the agent and their property finder, and finally resulting in them agreeing to a small sum. BUT, they have decided to come and have another look, to study the curtains in depth. So on Friday morning I am supposed to welcome them with open arms whilst they analyse my furnishings. That was not the deal! We are selling our house, not our possessions... argggghhh...

On a more friendly note, I hosted a jewellery trunk show today. This sounds very posh, but actually it was a friend of mine from uni who popped over with a suitcase of lovely jewellery, and various friends/mums from school got to look at the stuff and try it on whilst sipping coffee and eating biscuits.
In preparation for this, I stayed up till midnight decorating the house for Christmas and mopping the floors. It has to be said I am a bit of a Christmas fan, so the house is covered in fairy lights, garlands, nativity scenes, Father Christmases, and a large plastic tree in the basement for the children (rainbow lights, rainbow baubles, etc) and so on. I have been told to wait till December (ie TOMORROW!!!) before I can put up a real tree upstairs in the grown up room (white lights, and marginally less rainbow decorations). I lit the Christmas smelly candle, and my goodness I am feeling the joy! This combined with a successful jewellery sale, 2 sleeping children and an hour for me, I might even forget the house saga - momentarily...

This is a snippet of the children's tree, I'm loving birds this year!



Mx

Sunday 20 November 2011

Out during the week? - surely not!

The end of the week is nigh, and it's been quite a good one. Going out a lot is not something I've done much of since the children, but this week has been an exception...

Tuesday was the regular girls' night, which is never very regular. We ate at the most fabulous Thai restaurant (http://www.sukhogroups.com/), which never fails to deliver delicious food at reasonable prices. Well, reasonable until you keep ordering more and more because it is so tasty. It did me good to catch up on my friends' lives and talk about all those things most men find boring (clothes, jewellery, the children's school, men, hair removal).

Wednesday night was Book Club. I go to a book club organised by mothers from school. These are, mostly, women I see every day but don't know well at all. And the books chosen are generally quite high brow (I have taken to suggesting books to read, that way I've already read them and I know they aren't too taxing!). I always get frightfully nervous, drink more wine than anyone else (they seem rather partial to fizzy water on the whole, as I glug the wine to get over my nerves), and then I have verbal diarrhoea. As soon as it's over I curse myself for saying the wrong things, and hope I didn't make too much of a lemon out of myself. This week, however, was better than most: a) there were some new recruits who were really lovely; b) I'd chosen the book (The lessons by Naomi Alderman - good read); c) my great friend drank more than me. 

Thursday night I was fortunate enough to be invited to Fortnum and Masons for a private pre-Christmas drinks party/shop. Fortnum and Masons is one of the oldest shops in London, and is very elegant http://www.fortnumandmason.com/. The window displays are really breathtaking (see pics below), with Christmas ideas displayed in such clever and stylish ways (I always think being a shop window decorator would be such a cool job). It is also very expensive. We were invited via my husband's work, which means so were a lot of his clients. And if there is one thing I love it's client schmoozing. I find it ironic that book club can make me so nervous, yet talking to wealthy and successful individuals doesn't phase me at all. The champagne helps of course, but I think it's because it reminds me of the days I used to work in the City and had to face clients every day. So we had a wonderful evening, talking to interesting people, sipping champagne and strategically placing ourselves in the line of fire for canapes on the lower ground floor; then moving up to the ground floor for coffee and mince pies ("Mmm delicious coffee" I say, "How much is it?"... "£75 for a tin"... faint); finally reaching the first floor as I felt I ought to buy something, and a Christmas decoration would be a good bet. At £15 a bauble, we just made a sharp exit, thanking all the right people for a lovely evening, and jumped on the bus home.

Friday was a calm night in, DVD in front of the fire (X-Men, First Class - love a bit of hunky mutants!). Saturday, Strictly Come Dancing with Leonora, who is totally addicted and loves Holly Valance (I prefer Harry, but am warming up to Chelsee too). And tonight? Blog writing and X-Factor results, amongst a bit of ebay bidding for Irish dresses (Leonora is an Irish girl in the school Nativity Play. It was all so much easier when they stuck to the traditional characters: Stars, Angels and the odd Shepherd).

I shall leave you with a glimpse of Fortnum's windows - brilliant!




Mx




Sunday 13 November 2011

Remembrance Sunday - Granny's memories

Today is Remembrance Sunday. A sad day and a day of celebration. We celebrate our freedom. We grieve our lost ones. We remember. 
For the children, it is quite hard to comprehend. Leonora is studying the Romans at school, so as she understands it, we are remembering the Roman soldiers who rebuilt our towns. For the time being, I'll leave it at that, she can enjoy the innocence of childhood. At least they know it's a special day. And rather well timed, we came out of church and bumped into a Remembrance Parade, with soldiers from various regiments and a brass band. The children thought this was quite spectacular - Cici doing a little jiggle dance in her buggy, Leonora jumping up and down, and Johnny waving from Dom's shoulders. It was another example of the things the Brits do well, and in this case, so we should.

So for today, my little way of remembering was to ask Granny for some stories of the war and her childhood. I always find talking to her makes me realise how lucky our generation have been, and how much we take for granted...

Here are a couple of her stories:

When Granny was a little girl there was a lady in the local shoe shop who only had one hand. This used to bemuse her, as when the lady went to fetch shoes out the box, she would hold them with her stump of her arm. One night during the War she dreamt of this lady. The following morning she spoke to her mother about this, making light of her dream, and imitating the lady from the shop. "You are a wicked girl!" her mother laughed. Suddenly the telephone rang. It was Grandpa calling unexpectedly from North Africa. Calling to tell Granny he had had his hand blown off. Strangely Granny said she was almost expecting it. It was as if her dream had been a warning, so that in some sort of a way she was prepared for the news.


Before the War, Granny used to live in Westgate. She was a bit of a tomboy really, and most of her friends were boys. Out of this group of friends, her 'partner in crime' as she describes him, was a boy called John O. One day, a large group of them set out to have a picnic. Granny sat on the handlebars of John's bike, holding on to the picnic. As they cycled along the cliff edge, John suddenly lost control and they went over the side. Thankfully not the steepest part, but nonetheless the bike went bumping furiously down the side, with Granny still clutching the picnic and desperately attempting not to fall off the bike. When they finally came to a stop in a heap on the ground, with John declaring 'I bet you've broken the eggs', they got back on to their feet, brushed off the twigs, and went to join the others. Granny's wrist was a little sore, but she didn't want to miss out on the picnic. After lunch, the boys, who had brought a pellet gun and a target with them, practised shooting whilst Granny helped pack up. Suddenly a yell was heard, as one of the boys had managed to shoot John in the elbow. They all set off back home, Granny with her sore wrist and John with his sore elbow. 
As soon as her parents took one look at her injury, her mother declared "Oh goodness I never thought I'd have these problems with girls! Always in trouble!', whilst her father merely said 'You know you are going to be deformed for life, don't you?'. The next morning they decided it would be wise to go to the hospital and make sure everything was OK. There, sitting in the waiting room, was John with his shot-at elbow! 
It turned out that Granny had in fact broken her wrist, but fortunately there was no lasting injury! As for John, he was fine, and their friendship continued until the War... 
After that she never heard from him again. He, and 3 others from their group, never came home. 


On the topic of friends, Granny had one good girlfriend called Peggy. Peggy used to be totally bemused by Granny, "Bobby, I simply cannot understand it, you have all these boyfriends when you are not at all pretty!".
However, a man in the chemist once said to her "You have such a beautiful smile, you will break so many hearts."
I think the latter is more fitting. (Incidentally, Granny is extremely pretty, and always was, although I must admit, it's that cheeky personality and twinkle in her eye that really makes her who she is!)


Granny has a wonderful poem she used to recite as a little girl:

If no one ever marries me,
And I don't see why they should,
Nurse says I'm not pretty
And I'm seldom very good.

If no one ever marries me,
I wont mind very much,
I'll buy a little rabbit
In a little rabbit hutch.

And when I'm getting very old,
About twenty eight or nine,
I'll buy a little orphan girl,
And bring her up as mine!"

(I have found this on the internet, and for the full version, look at this link. Granny remembers it slightly differently. http://www.nataliemerchant.com/r/leave-your-sleep/lyrics/if-no-one-ever-marries-me)

As a little girl, Granny's mother had an elderly friend who was hard of hearing, so used one of those old-fashioned ear trumpets. Granny was asked to recite her poem to the lady, nice and clearly. So she went up to the trumpet, took a deep breath, and yelled ' IF NO ONE EVER MARRIES ME...'. The poor old lady leapt out of her chair in shock, and Granny was, yet again, in trouble.



So there are a few funny and sad memories, on this special day. It makes me think how every day we are creating our own memories. How important it is to enjoy our friendships, enjoy our families, and be thankful for what we have.

We are so grateful to those who gave up so much, and those who continue to give up so much, so that we can live in safety and peace.

May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, Rest in Peace.

Mx

Monday 7 November 2011

Bonfire night and the Tooth Fairy

If there is one thing we do well in Britain, it is Traditions. Bonfire night must be one of the best. 'Remember, remember the 5th November!'. We remember the night the 'Gunpowder plot', an attempt at burning down the Houses of Parliament in 1605, was foiled. Guy Fawkes, the lead conspirator, was caught and executed. So in a rather macabre fashion, we make a dummy Guy, stick him on top of a bonfire, and burn him! Usually this is accompanied by fireworks, and celebrations.
This year the 5th November was Saturday night, and we were lucky to get some tickets to the Hurlingham Club, which is a private member's Club in London (another thing we do well: members' Clubs). It is a great place, with lovely facilities for children, a gym, tennis courts, beautiful parkland, and wonderful buildings that host a large variety of events. Bonfire Night is one of their annual events, and they sell a restricted number of tickets to non-members.
Being a rather smart club, I was extremely worried that the children might be a complete nightmare and wail all evening. I managed to leave Cici at home, but in exchange for my brother's little girl, Arabella (a beautiful, funny, doll-like girl of 3 whom I adore). So Dom, my mother and I arrived with the 3 children, and met a queue of at least 30 waiting to buy glow-in-the-dark light sabres, and flashing star necklaces. Being a total rip off, we still bought them as it's very hard to refuse when every other child has one (and I thought they might be handy for seeing where they run off to, which they were). We then went to the bar, bought a very civilized glass of wine for the ladies and beer for Dom, and sat outside on the terrace listening to an electric string quartet (not your average Bonfire Night). The Guy was processed along to the huge bonfire, which was then lit, and filled the air with warmth and the wonderful smell of november fires. This was followed by a brilliant pyro-technics display, with men waving seriously large flames around in unison with the string quartet. The children were mesmerised. Then came the fireworks. By this point we had wiggled our way forward so that the children could see. Dom had Johnny on his shoulders, and we had lost him somewhere, so my mother and I watched together, with the 2 girls standing right at the front. They were magnificent. Set in tune to music, from classical to Queen, which stifled the bangs so the children weren't scared, you have never seen such an array of colours and sparkles and showers of shooting stars! Little Arabella managed to fall asleep on a kind stranger's lap (!), who had been lucky enough, or early enough to get one of the few chairs in the front row of the barrier. Leonora looked like she held her breath the whole way through, and mum and I stood arm in arm grinning up at the sky.
Topped off with a disco for 2-7 year olds (that I think I might have enjoyed that more than the kids - see video), we got home by 9.30pm with 3 exhausted but excited children, who behaved so well and did us proud!





On a totally different note, Leonora's wobbly tooth has finally fallen out. I was going to put a photo of it on here and then realised that it is probably only beautiful to me! The tooth was wrapped up last night in a tissue, and put in the little pocket of this special tooth fairy pillow she owns. 
 (You can buy one here:
Johnny was very upset about the whole thing, storming off, wishing that his teeth would fall out (he might live to regret that one!). The Tooth Fairy duly left her a £1 coin and took away her tooth. Most amusingly, she was very indignant about this: "I did not want real money! I wanted a gold chocolate coin!". The Tooth Fairy has taken note of this for next time (although there seems something inherently wrong with giving chocolate for your teeth falling out?).

Mx





Thursday 3 November 2011

Here comes the flood...

I've got a quick 15 minutes so I'm scribbling some stuff down. Today, as ever, is crazy busy.

My son Johnny is best friends with my sister Emily's little boy William. They go to nursery together, and Emily lives the opposite end of the intersecting road from me i.e. we are close. This means we often have lunch at each others houses - and today Em went off to pick up Willy's Fireman Sam outfit so I had him for lunch. I was busy concocting a delicious dish of bovril on toast, ham and tomatoes, when the two boys appear in the kitchen, DRENCHED. Not just a little bit wet, but totally soaking. Last thing I knew they were off to do a wee together (seriously inseparable). But they had been quiet, which is always a really bad sign... 
I run downstairs to the loo in the basement, and there is a FLOOD. A wave of soap filled warm water all over the floor, and what is worse, all down my new wallpaper leaving enormous streaks of watermarks. To remind you, our house is on the market. We have a viewing this afternoon, and it is the most impossible job trying to keep things tidy with 3 small children. "Arrrggghh!" (demented yell). I run back to the kitchen. Johnny is hiding under the (glass) table (he needs to work on hiding places). I'm sorry to all those who think I'm terrible, but he got a small smack on the bottom and a big yell. William rather unfairly just got a yell, but dishing out punishments is isolated to ones own kids (apart from the naughty step - that is universal). They were both ordered to eat their lunch right now, and not utter a word to each other. Oh the monkeys... the little furtive looks at each other, eyes twinkling, mouths twitching into a smile! Emily returns from the shop and is equally as cross, whilst I sit in the loo blow-drying my wallpaper. Back up to the kitchen, the Halloween Sweets are dramatically thrown in the bin by me. Still no remorse. (I have since retrieved them as I'd thrown away the tupperware box too). No pudding... No remorse... Finally, 'Right, bed!' I announce, at which point the threat of separation finally instills the conscience. 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry!' he cries, a little too late... 
It is now time to get him up, (he always has a nap, I'm desperately clinging on to my me-time) and I've got to hang his soaking clothes up, tidy up the mess (fancy dress - big thing in our house, and always, without fail, spread all over the floor), and get ready for the next viewing. Getting him up is the best, he is always so warm and cuddly and totally divine. Can't stay cross for long!

My little man looking very forlorn 
Mx

PS As an aside, Emily just rang to tell me that when they got home William said "Mummy you're just like me.... you've got really hairy legs too!"  Tee hee! Out of the mouths of babes!


Monday 31 October 2011

Trick or Treat!

It would be remiss to go without posting something about Halloween. My little Black Cat, smaller Wizard, and smallest of all, Little Witch have had a wonderful evening Trick or Treating with their cousins. 
We live in a great street with lots of young families, and an sprinkling of the older generation, who embrace all things community spirited. Halloween is one of those times. A little note is popped through the door indicating that Trick or Treating will take place between 5.30 and 7pm, and if you wish to participate, please leave a Jack-o-Lantern outside your door. We also live on a street with a huge mix of nationalities - one of the things I love most about living in London. When it comes to Halloween, you can always spot the Americans. Their houses are totally covered in cobwebs and spiders, with a selection of magnificently carved pumpkins lining their walls and invariably a skeleton or witch hiding amongst the mele. One of my friends reported that their American neighbour had built a graveyard in their front porch, complete with a door mat that groaned as you step on it! The Europeans are less adventurous, but perhaps more understated, with chic decorations and one magnificent pumpkin. As for the Brits, well we just do with what we've got. Usually a large selection of home made stuff, mixed amongst a few pumpkins varying from excellent to really rather rubbish (I speak here in general, not wanting to offend any Brit who has a penchant for decorating their house and/or pumpkins, or any American who doesn't!). However we excel when it comes to fancy dress. There's no getting away with a simple hat or a mask. No, we Brits have the whole chebang: full costume, hat, face paint, wig, accessories, perhaps some glow sticks, and a large bucket for sweets. Our street is renowned for participating on Halloween, and we always get children from all around the borough coming to us and the neighbouring roads. Booty is bountiful, and this evening the children, hoarse with the excitement of yelling 'Happy Halloween!' came home with even more sweets than we distributed. Rather amusingly, Cici (22 months) came home with the most - her little mitts clearly having been forgiven for grabbing handfuls - hardly surprising as she does come out with the cutest 'DaaDoo' (thank you). I love this time of year - everything is so exciting for the children and there is nothing better than seeing that joy on their faces (along with smeared chocolate and congealed lollies).

I also took the opportunity today to do something with the pumpkin. Every year we make the lanterns, and I wonder what to do with the left over pumpkin flesh. I had some defrosted chicken breasts that needed eating, so did a google search for Chicken and Pumpkin dishes and came up with the following:
It was very easy to make and tasted delicious, although the recipe does not mention salt, and I definitely think it needed some, so I added it to mine whilst cooking. Harissa is quite hard to find (Waitrose prob best bet), but if you added some chilli flakes I think it would still be nice. I was lucky enough to get some from a very foodie local friend of mine. I served it with rice, but it would be lovely with cous cous too.

Keeping in the theme of the evening, my little sister Lydia described it as "Entrails with Eyeballs and Flaked Frog Skin, served on a bed of Maggots". Picture below - you decide!


Mx

Sunday 30 October 2011

HALF TERM arrgggghh - Stage 2 and teeth

Finally it is Sunday evening, the children are in bed, Half Term is over.

Strangely, after the initial panic of 'how will I entertain them?', it has been a really good one. We were lucky enough to be invited to stay with one of my best buddies in her parents' house in Aldeburgh - husbands left in London. For those of you who might not have been before, Aldeburgh is a seaside town in Suffolk (north east of London). It is a pain to get to from the Capital, as you have to pass through the City (the confusingly named business district of London for any foreign readers) and take A roads all the way there: a journey that is short in miles and long in hours. But boy is it worth it! A pretty town teeming with lovely little shops and wonderful art galleries, with the North Sea running parallel to the High Street and deliciously fresh air blustering around you. It also helps that the house we were staying in is beautiful: deceptively large with stunning views across marshland to the sea. Our children get on very well, being similar ages, and they had a whale of a time. We visited the local sports centre with children's play area, the local farm (wonderful!) with animals to feed, rabbits to cuddle, and tractors to pull you along and we went to the (pebbly) beach to paddle in the sea. In the evenings my friend and I sipped wine and put the world to right. It was great, but exhausting. 

Returning to London late Thursday afternoon, the question in the back of the car arose 'What are we doing tomorrow?'... 'Play with your toys and do your homework!' I barked ... But actually we again had the good fortune of being invited to a Halloween party at a local gym with some of Leonora's friends. What is more, no parental guidance needed! (Don't get too excited, it means I got to do the washing.)
Friday slipped into Saturday, and bad behaviour from Johnny meant he missed biscuit decorating in fancy dress organised by a local shop (sometimes I love local shops!). Today entailed Church, checking out the local Farmer's Market, a fly by visit to the Fun Fair on the Green, me cooking a roast (sucker for punishment), pumpkin decorating ready for tomorrow, and a visit from uncles and aunts. I forget to mention that the clocks went back, so we had an extra hour in bed (theoretically. The reality is that the children wake up at the same time, and come and pester you to get up anyway). Fortuitous in my case, as I got to Skype my best friend in Australia, which was wonderful and a great reminder of the power of technology to cross Oceans and time.

So Sunday evening is here. However, I am feeling sad. We had a momentous moment at bed time. Leonora has her first wobbly tooth! She was so excited. Dancing around her bedroom like a maniac, and pulling all sorts of strange faces as she fiddled with the tooth with her tongue. But me, I feel like my baby is slipping away. Five and a quarter, as she likes to say (although more like a half) - she's growing up. And she's so desperate to be grown up, whereas I would love to reverse the years and do it all again. I know there will be many more special times to come, and I look forward to watching her grow into a fine adult, but I have a heavy heart today.

Mx

Not wanting to leave on a gloomy note, here are our pumpkins and my wobbly-toothed girl with her little sister at the fair today:






Thursday 27 October 2011

HALF TERM arrgggghh - Stage 1

The title says it all. It is Thursday evening of Half Term. Day 4, or, if like me you count the weekend, Day 6, with 3 left to go. This is the first moment I have had to update my blog. I'm sitting down, still in my outdoor boots, and actually I really need to pee (sorry too much information). But if I don't write this now I'll never get it done this week!

Half Term. Stage 1.
We are lucky enough to live in our amazing capital city, and therefore get to benefit from the plethora of incredible things there are to do if you get yourselves organised. After a weekend of recovering from the wedding and generally ignoring the children, on Monday I felt like I should make it up to them. Usually Leonora (5) is at school all day, and Johnny (3) goes to nursery till midday. So my normal morning consists of looking after Cici (22 months) and pottering around the house getting things done. The catch 22 of having the children at a school they love, is that when they are not there, they are bored. Every second of their morning is filled with exciting new things to learn, books to read, crafts to do, and a playground to play in. Do these schools realise what pressure they leave on us mothers during half term?! We need to entertain and engage our children non-stop from 9am to 12pm, with a tiny fruit snack break at 10.30am! I was rather hoping to fart about in our pyjamas till 10 and then play with some toys till lunchtime, but alas! 'I'm bored' I hear at 9.01am. Subsequent frantic googling for good, free things to do in London, and I schlep the 3 of them onto the bus with totally inadequate, unhealthy and unsuitable bribery/be quiet snacks in my bag (lollypops) and we head off for the Science Museum.
The Science Museum is a cool place. It is full of fascinating exhibits, and so much to learn. I would love to go another time by myself and really look properly at everything. My children are a still a little bit little to make the most of what's on offer, but they have a section especially for under 6s with a water play area, toys, and various funny things to pull and prod. Then they put on a really fun bubble show, creating large bubbles, bubbles filled with gas, and even encircled a volunteer in a bubble. The children loved it, even Cici, despite having to plug in a lollypop to stop her roaming around the stage. (Fatal move: coat sticky with lolly slobber, hair glued to face and entire buggy covered in superglue-lolly extract). (Even more fatal: no wipes).  At this point, the children were done, so we went for lunch. Confession: at Old Macdonald, as the children so sweetly name that high quality food establishment. I know, I know, I'm a terrible mother, but I swear they eat amazingly well most of the time! And I always order the fruit sachets in the Happy Meal rather than the fries!
So tummies full, brains taxed, bodies tired out, we got the bus home for nap time and I felt thoroughly proud of myself for giving them such an educational and fulfilled morning.

3.30pm, end of quiet time.... 'I'm Bored'....... arrrrrggggghhh!

Mx

P.S. I have a serious aversion to the phrase 'I'm bored'. The nuns at school used to say that a bored person was a boring person, and I'm so desperate to bring up my children as interesting, engaging individuals, not people that constantly need entertaining in order to enjoy life. Oh the challenges of motherhood!

Sunday 23 October 2011

Paparazzi family wedding!

I am feeling a little jaded today, with unexplained blisters on my feet and eye makeup still smudged around my eyes despite the makeup remover. My palate has that rather furry residue that no amount of teeth brushing or water drinking can help. And my bedroom looks like Hurricane Katrina's been there. I hate to admit it, I'm hungover.

But boy was worth it! We went to my husband's cousin's wedding yesterday. Nick is one of my favourite of Dom's cousins, really funny and kind hearted and not too shabby looking either. He has married the most strikingly beautiful Nigerian girl, Natasha, who is equally as lovely, and I think they will be really happy together (and if they are lucky enough to have children, they will be GORGEOUS!). 

Their wedding took place at the crypt in St Paul's Cathedral, and yes, it was in all the papers! You may have heard about the anti-capitalist protesters that are camping outside, which has triggered the closure of the Cathedral for the first time since the War. The protesters are actually peaceful, but according to one of the church wardens, they have had to close due to insurance liability given that the campers have gas cookers, cigarettes and candles etc. Which means an enormous amount of money from tourism is being lost - vital money to maintain the upkeep of this magnificent building. Nick's wedding hit the papers because it was allowed to go ahead, despite the closure. The ceremony took place in the CBE chapel, as Natasha's mother was bestowed this honour by the Queen in 2008 for services to business.

Upon arrival we had to step over a rainbow of tents, with a few whistles about our dressed-up attire, but thankfully the protestors were not particularly interested in us. The tourists, however, were a different story. Given the disappointment of finding the Cathedral closed, they were delighted to find a wedding taking place, the scrum of newspaper photographers leading them to believe it must be a celebrity wedding. This point only enforced by Natasha's glamourous relations who wore the family's traditional colour of purple, with huge scarves and bold headdresses. "Who are they?" we heard whispered several times, the foreign students rubbing shoulders with the paparazzi to take a picture with their mobile phones. At one point the groom had to point out that he would like his photographer to have the prime spot if it wasn't too much trouble! To top it off, there was a beautiful horse-drawn Young's brewery dray to take the bride and groom to the reception. So the tourists might not have seen the magnificent dome of the Cathedral, but they got to see history in the making instead.

The reception was wonderful. Held at the Plaisterer's Hall (a livery company like the Skinners, but originating from plasterers), it was interesting to see such a modern facade and a traditional interior: a fantastic venue for a wedding. Nick and Natasha were welcomed in for the delicious dinner by an incredible Gospel choir, which set the tone for the rest of the evening. After dinner, the "Chief" (tribal head from Nigeria) opened the speeches with heartfelt memories of Tash and her sisters as children. The best man was perfect blend of funny yet tasteful, the groom made his mother cry (in a good way), and the father of the bride made the bride cry (also in a good way). After seeing Nick do his choreographed first dance (bless), and the rather lovely second dance celebrating mothers (I think we should steal that tradition), it was time for everyone to hit the floor.

The old adage that black men can dance is so true! My goodness, the most striking British Nigerians shaking their stuff on the dance floor, putting all the white men to shame. Handsome, athletic and with such natural rhythm - even Tash's 5 year old nephew kicked ass! Me, being a fan of the odd boogie, especially when plied with copious amounts of champagne and wine, I decided to get in there with the Chief's son (purely in a boogying way), and spent the rest of the evening swooning over the Nigerian Adonis whilst Dom just raised his eyes to heaven frequently (one of the many things I love about him).
Carriages at midnight, and a rather disappointing fly-by Macdonalds only to find it closed (me, sober?) we arrived home with a beautiful arrangement of flowers from the table (I was allowed to take them!) and extremely sore feet (strange how you don't notice till you get home).

To conclude:
a) I am lucky to be married into one of the best families ever. I love Dom's cousins, aunts and uncles, I love his parents and I love him.
b) It was one of the best weddings I've ever been to. Traditional yet different, and a great DJ!
c) Drinking lots of water before bed is a good plan.
d) Why was I not interviewed by Sky News? I am feeling very put out!



Thursday 20 October 2011

Movies and musings

After putting the children to bed last night to the usual routine: wailing from Cici, 'Mouck, more mouck!'; time wasting from Johnny; 'You read me a story, and Daddy can turn out the light', 'I need a poo right now!', 'Where's my teddy?' (this teddy is 3 inches tall with a rattle in it), 'No Daddy! Mummy has to shut the door!'; followed by bossing from Leonora: 'Now Johnny, it is time to go to bed. Mummy has said so!', I finally sat down to a hearty bowl of beef stew and some TV. My husband is doing some financial exams at the moment, so he is studying every night and I am left to my own devices regarding choice of TV channel. Bring on the chick flicks!

Sadly last night there was not much choice, so I decided to watch a pre-recorded movie called 'Kick Ass'. Given the highly intellectual title and the movie description, I knew that this would be hardly be Oscar winning stuff, but I assumed at least a funny lighthearted film. Wrong. Call me old fashioned and hyper-sensitive, but it was so shockingly unfunny that I kept watching just a little bit more. The spotty teenage can't-get-the-girl so I'm going to be a superhero is introduced w*nking in the bin whilst thinking about his ageing teacher's breasts. Nul points. Of course, he is a totally hopeless superhero that just gets beaten up, so a child superhero, trained by her mistreated crime-fighting father, saves the day: stabbing, chopping legs off and slitting throats. Just what you like to see 10 year old girls doing. Another Nul Points. This film was rated a 15. And I know it was a spoof, but it was simply not clever, nor that funny. I can't actually believe Nicolas Cage (father of the girl) agreed to doing it. It left me feeling sad that this is the type of film kids today will be watching. This is the type of film children will be influenced by. What happened to Ferris Bueller's Day Off? or Back to the Future?!

On a more positive note, I went to the cinema on Tuesday with my 2 best friends who happen also to be my sisters. After the usual argument about salty or sweet popcorn (definitely a mix, bit of salty, bit of sweet), and a lot of giggling about whether we would be kicked out of our seats that were not the ones we'd been allocated, we sat down to watch 'Midnight in Paris'. I loved it! Owen Wilson (scarily like my husband if his nose were straighter and he had a British accent) plays an engaged want-to-be writer who is on a trip in Paris with his materialistic fiancee and her parents. He adores Paris and all that it stands for and dreams of the heady days of the 1920s. She hates Paris and wants to live in Malibu. One night, after a boozy dinner, she decides to go dancing with some rather pompous friends and he walks back to the hotel. He loses his bearings, and, as the clock strikes midnight, he is picked up by an old 1920s car. This throws him into the world of Hemmingway and Scott Fitzgerald, Picasso and Salvadore Dali. I won't tell you all as I don't want to spoil it, but it was so refreshingly different. Funny, engaging, and cleverly put together. A cracking cast (Owen Wilson, Carla Bruni, Kathy Bates, Adrien Brody and Rachel McAdams to name a few) and directed by Woody Allen, this is definitely worth a trip to the cinema. (However, do try and avoid the showing with subtitles - don't ask me how we managed that, but it was a little distracting!)

The irony is that 'Kick Ass' left me nostalgic for my teenage years, where 15 movies were a lot less shocking, whilst the lesson to be learnt from 'Midnight in Paris' was not to yearn for a former age, but to live the current age to the full. Amen to that (provided Nicholas Cage makes better movie choices going forward).





Mx

Monday 17 October 2011

A Breath of Fresh Air

Ever have one of those weeks when your brain feels foggy and you seem to be functioning on auto-pilot? You crave doing nothing. Mind-numbing TV, and even that's tiring. I think it comes from when there is too much crammed in, the 'to-do' list that we carry around in our heads seems to be getting longer and longer. When you never do anything but multi-task and yet there are still a multitude of tasks left to do. Last week, the straw that broke the camel's back for me was the pressure of keeping our house unrealistically tidy for potential buyers, and at the drop of a hat. By Friday, I'd had enough.

At this point, you need to be able to properly recharge your batteries, or you simply stop functioning (like my bloody awful landline phones that drive me nuts, conking out every time you pick them up). Luckily we were invited by some great friends to Dorset for the weekend. What a perfect and timely change of scene!

Picture this:
6 children, our 3 their 3, same sexes for the same ages - perfect
Sunny autumnal weather, and lunch outside on big squishy cushions - perfect
A fine bottle of rose (given the weather) - perfect
The surrounding landscape, lush and green, and picture perfect
An afternoon cycling, scooting and playing outside - perfect
Delicious supper, exhausted children, blazing open fire - perfect
A morning of pony rides and blackberry picking - perfect
A large family lunch, the children merrily scoffing hot dogs (BBQed) and sharing stories - perfect
A traffic-free car journey home, zzzing for 2 hours whilst husband drives - perfect!

And what of now? Children are asleep, homework done, washing done, bisuits baked, kitchen floor mopped, house immaculate, blog being updated and tweeked, and I might even get time to watch sky +ed Home and Away... Batteries Officially Recharged (even if To Do list is still gargantuan).

Mx

PS Here's a little video of me letting loose on the zip-wire at the park with Cici!

Thursday 13 October 2011

A Very Special Day

I had the pleasure of a phone call from Granny today. When first told about this blog, she had been a little concerned, despite flattered, that it would contain some stories about her and Grandpa. 'Will everyone on the internet get to read it?' she worried. An understandable reaction, but one that left a niggle with me, until today.

Today I had a gleeful phone call from Granny. 'Oooh would you like a little story?' 'Yes Granny' I smile. 'I'm only asking because you seem to be interested in this silly old information'. 'Yes I am, tell me more..'
So...

It seems that today is Granny and Grandpa's wedding anniversary. 70 years already, I'm thinking, surely we would all be celebrating? It turns out that Granny herself had forgotten, until Grandpa appeared with an especially large bunch of pink roses. He buys her flowers every week, and always has done, but these, he declares, are a 'special' bunch. Not for their official wedding anniversary, which is on the 28th April, but for their second wedding anniversary.

After having eloped on the 28th April 1942 (getting married in a registry office in Reigate, witnessed by a passing sailor and soldier), Grandpa was set to go off to North Africa, leaving from Scotland six months later, on the 14th October. Knowing that Granny is Catholic, and getting married in a Registry Office was not what she had imagined as a child, he wanted to make sure she felt really married, in the eyes of God. So when Granny arrived in Scotland to see him off, he decided to organise a last-minute wedding ceremony.

Bobby and John were married 69 years ago today, on the 13th October 1942, at 11 o'clock at night, by the Catholic priest at the Church of St Mary's, Saltcoats. A local doctor and his wife were witnesses.

First thing the following morning, Grandpa left to go back to war.



St Mary's (Our Lady Star of the Sea), Saltcoats, Ayrshire.

Wednesday 12 October 2011

Selling houses

Panic stations today as we have decided to give the house to another agent to sell on a joint agency basis. I thought all that stripping the house bare, shoving things in cupboards, cramming stuff under beds, and tipping bits in drawers was over, but alas not! Despite it being joint agency, they can't use the photos already take by the other agent, so this afternoon another photographer will be in. Rather fortuitously, my lovely cleaner is here this morning, so the hand prints smeared across the rather large amount of glass in this house (balustrades, walls, windows) will at least be rubbed off.

This is also the day I decided to finally get Leonora's little friend Sara to come for a playdate. Probably not the best idea considering I will now have 4 children in the house that I am trying to keep immaculate for the photographers. And I'm not really an immaculate person. I like children to be able to play, make a mess and have fun. But I figure if I rotate room usage, then then it'll all work out ok.

Yesterday we had a viewing with a really lovely family. It was the first time I felt like 'yes I wouldn't mind you living in my house'. And it was the first time I realised that I am going to mind someone else living in my house. We've already seen something else we like, and I know we will be happy there once it's done, but I've put so much into this place, and its full of so many happy memories, it might be quite hard to leave...

Mx

Monday 10 October 2011

Midnight feasts

I have just put my son to bed for his afternoon nap. At 3 and a half years old, that's pretty lucky. Well, what's really lucky is the fact that he stays there. I pick him up from nursery at 12, Cici is already with me as she doesn't go to nursery yet, and we go home for lunch. After some riveting meal like bovril on toast and cucumber, I put them both into bed. Cici still very much needs her nap, Johnny could go either way. But I need him to need his nap, and today it didn't quite go according to plan. I put him in bed, came down to add more to my A-Z baby tab, and there at the top of the stairs appeared a little naked boy, clutching his raggy, who declared " I have had a really long sleep mummy, I promise you, and now it is time to get up!" ... Hmm... Thinking on my feet I guaranteed him he could have a midnight feast if he went straight back to bed. So I wrapped up a fruit shortcake biscuit in a piece of kitchen roll, slid it under his pillow, and he has vowed to stay in bed till I go and get him, Knights Honour. Bless him. I love him so much I could burst.
Mx

PS Check out the baby section for updates...

Friday 7 October 2011

Hair and Skinners

Last night we were invited to the Autumn Dinner with my in-laws at the Skinners' Company. For those who don't know, the Skinners is one of the “Great Twelve” of London's livery companies that goes back some 700 years (other livery companies are those like the Mercers, the Haberdashers, the Plasterers). Descending from the furrier trade, it is like a special club, where members (the Master, the Court, freemen and apprentices) meet regularly. The main purpose is charitable work, and although the Skinners is not a charity itself, it does a lot of work for society. The different livery companies tend to focus on different areas, and for the Skinners it is mainly education and helping the elderly. (If you are interested, you can get more information on their website http://www.skinnershall.co.uk)

The dress code for the evening was 'Dinner Jacket', and the invitation said 6.30 for 7pm. 
My gorgeous in-laws, Dick and Jennie, were very excited that we were coming, and had agreed to come to our house first, where we would then take a taxi together. 'Book it for 5.45pm, so we don't miss the champagne reception' said Jen... Now anyone who has children will know that this is rather a terrible time to have to be anywhere. It was also my aupair's birthday and I had rather naively given her the day off. With my dear sister in law Belinda set to babysit for us after work, it dawned upon me that how exactly would I get to the City by 6.30pm if Belinda wasn't able to come over until 7? I can't leave 3 children under 5 to get themselves washed and ready for bed (although if I'd just shoved them in front of Nick Jnr with a large bowl of sweets I reckon they wouldn't have moved for a least a few hours). My Aupair is a person of grumpy nature at the best of times, so I passed the mantle to Dom and made him call her and ask her to come back home for a couple of hours. 
With this all set, I decided (why not?) to get my hair done. I never get my hair done. Highlighted occasionally - certainly not an 'Up-Do'. But I had chosen to wear my backless dress, and I hadn't been to a black tie event for about 5 years, so I thought what the hell. A last minute panic booking, and a quick trip to Tescos to buy kids magazines and sweeties, I arrived for my appointment - 3 children in tow. 

The thing about hairdressers is that they are a creative bunch. And never is it more exciting than when you get the opportunity to do an Up-Do. 'Classic' I said, when they tried to show me a Girl's World head that had been plaited and twisted and weaved into the most hideous style you've ever seen. After 3 rather handsome Italians blow-dryed and curled my hair all at once (best bit), with a lot of hair spray and cooing, the masterpiece was finally done. "What about these bits?' I say, pointing at 3 large sections covering my left ear that had not been pinned back. "Zis eez de tendreels! In Napoli and Parigi it is de new moda. I bin imageening your dress and zis eez perfecto wiz eet"... Ah... How do you disappoint a gorgeous little dark Italian whose been tugging your hair for 45 minutes? It would be like telling an artist to his face that you think his work is rubbish. So I left, tendrils and all, looking like an extra from Dangerous Liaisons, and hoping they wouldn't notice the large blob of supposedly out-of-bounds yellow felt tip pen right in the middle of their immaculate white sofa.

Assuming that my Lemon Drizzle cake with birthday candles over it and a card with some birthday money inside might soften the blow of re-calling our Aupair to work, alas I was mistaken, and was met with her worst of sullen moods, the one that has a way of permeating through the entire house, numbing any potentially cheerful ambience that might have been. Choosing to ignore this (she has been with us for a year, I am getting used to it), I ran upstairs to shove my frock on, slap some slap on, and hoping the dress might make the hair work. Thankfully it did.

Once in the taxi, I exhaled... We took the south-of-the-river route, which gives you simply the most breathtaking view of London in all her finery. The Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, the embankment, with cheerful little boat-restaurants boasting happy hour, and the river glistening in the sunny autumn weather. It makes you proud to be British.

The Skinners Hall is right next to Cannon Street tube station, down a narrow side road. It is a prime example of architecture in the City of London: a rather insignificant doorway that leads to a beautiful little courtyard, which in turn leads to a magnificent building, with stuccoed ceilings and panelled walls dotted with coats of arms and crowned with grand paintings.
Now, not having been to one of these dinners before I didn't really know what to expect. I imagined it to be rather full of old crusties who don't take much notice of what women have to say, with their neat and tidy wives who stand a courteous step behind, smiling meekly. How wrong I was! After diving for a nicely chilled glass of champagne, we immediately met some friends of Dick and Jennie. They were charming and welcoming, and obviously pleased to see us.
With a short moment to chat to each other, Dom and I were then interrupted by an older chap with a chin that betrayed his love of fine dining, followed by an attractive young man. Grandfather and grandson. What a wonderful pair! We spoke about all sorts of things, but what I loved the most was the affection I could see in young Zack's eyes for his characterful grandfather. And this spoke volumes to me. The Skinners Company is extremely traditional, and might, to an outsider seem a little old fashioned. However it is all about the young learning from the older generation, and the older generation learning from the young. It is a about giving to the community and trying to make a difference, whilst fiercely guarding it's history.

We had a delicious dinner, good conversation. There were no meek wives or arrogant men. There were young and old all sharing experiences. It was good, and I was pleased to have been part of it.


Addendum:
When I woke up this morning, the tendrils were still there. Not a good look with jeans. 

Thursday 6 October 2011

Good Job done

On logging on this morning I got quite a jolt when I read the headline of Steve Jobs' death. I feel so sad that such a terrific mind and entrepreneurial spirit has been taken from the world so soon. You only need to look at the number of comments on the BBC news website to know that I am not alone. 753 people have already left a comment, and I'm sure this will only increase. This passing of this man, that we didn't actually know and who by all accounts was tough to deal with, has had such a profound effect on so many people across the globe.

As I sit at my Mac, with my i-phone next to me, thinking about how many other people have got Apple products in their homes and workplaces it is clear what a tremendous success Jobs made of his passion, and on such a monumental scale. What an impact one person's dreams can have upon the world when they become a reality!

So I am sad for the untimeliness, I am sad for his family and his children whose grief will long surpass that of the world and I am sad that the modern-day killer that is cancer has once again taken another victim.

However I rejoice in a life that brought so much to the world, I rejoice in the example that he has given us all to follow our dreams, no matter how small, to stick to our guns when times get tough, and to believe in ourselves.

I am saddened, yet inspired. What a legacy to leave behind! To stir the ambitions of total strangers!

Rest in Peace, Steve Jobs, and God Bless.



Wednesday 5 October 2011

Battenburg and Penguins

It's already bedtime and I don't know where the day has gone. Mind you I spent most of it waddling round like a penguin, unable to bend my knees for fear of bringing on further muscle spasm. Walking up stairs is like doing squats, and if I sit down for any space of time, the agony to get up is unbearable. Everyone has been laughing at me, including my children (rotters) and I was intending on having a lovely muscle soak bath, but got caught up doing this instead. In all seriousness, I am in so much pain (can't even touch my thighs) I might have to buy some Deep Heat tomorrow.

On a lighter note, the children wanted to do card making and bake a cake this afternoon. It is our au pair's birthday tomorrow and birthdays are very exciting to anyone under 5. Johnny announced 'I'll have your presents for you', which I thought was particularly generous of him. Anyhow, I approached the 'Craft Cupboard' alias 'Mess Cupboard' and found some glue. It looked a bit black at the top so I assumed it had gotten paint in it during a previous outing, but on closer inspection realised they were large blobs of mould. How can glue go mouldy? Being me, I totally disregarded the mould, poured out generous amounts of glue into little pots, gave the 3 of them paper to stick on and paper to cut up, and waited for the results. Not bad: Johnny went for the cover-the-entire-paper-and-table-cloth-in-glue-and blue-paper-approach, Leonora the roll-up-pieces-of-pink-tissue-and-draw-rainbows, and Cici: stick In the Night Garden stickers on the paper (bit hit and miss). Nevertheless, our aupair will be pleased.

In the meantime I got out the new cake book my brother and sister-in-law gave me for my birthday, written by Wills and Kate's wedding cake maker (Fiona Cairns). I made the fatal error of asking Leonora which one she fancied making, and she chose Battenburg, because it's pink (5 year old girl logic: if it is pink it will taste nice). Of course I ended up still creating the masterpiece once they were in bed - actually quite a fiddly cake - but it will make a great accompaniment for tea with my in-laws tomorrow afternoon - that's if the children don't get to it first. What about our au pair? Well her favourite is Lemon Drizzle so it looks like the rest of the eggs in the fridge that have been lingering there a while might get used up in the morning.

That's provided I can actually move by then...

Mx

Tuesday 4 October 2011

Bottoms and noses

This morning, at 7.30am to be precise, I thought it was about time I kick started my fitness regime (sadly in decline over the last 5 years of children), so I wangled my way into my dear friend Sarah's personal training session. I was feeling extremely proud of myself as I skipped along to the park, did a few star jumps, and then... squat jumps up stairs, front and side lunges, burpees (why do exercises sound similar to gross things that come out of children?)... Then ping! Left buttock is no more! Seriously I felt it disentangle itself from the rest of my body. But not wanting to let the side down, I continued along, grinning (or grimacing?) inanely until the session was over. I now have a left butt cheek that has a constant dull pain and I'm walking a bit like Basil Faulty. If I'm like that now, what on earth will I be like tomorrow morning?

On a lighter note, my youngest Cici has developed a runny nose. One of those charming ones that leave 2 streams of radioactive green goo down your face. I have just had a mum over from school with her 17 month old, who is thinking about doing her basement so wanted to see ours. I could see the look of horror as before I had the chance to wipe the offending article, Cici managed to spread the goo all over her hand, and all over her favourite plastic Makka Pakka. Then miracle of miracles, she took this as her moment to show how good she is at sharing. Sharing snot. I guess that's just one of the hazards of childhood!

M x

Monday 3 October 2011

Still trying to make it look pretty

So the children are in bed, it's 20.19 according to my Mac clock, I have a large glass of Pinot Grigio and my dear husband (after cooking supper - lots of brownie points) has gone off to Band Practise (don't ask) (actually they are quite good!). So instead of watching my Sky Plussed Home and Away (in LOVE with Brax), I am still trying to make the blog look pretty. It is awfully confusing, and I keep just adding lots of pretty pictures as that's the only thing I've worked out how to do. The title is still on the left, and quite frankly I've had it with You Tube tutorials (although it is amazing how useful they are. I mean, all those lovely people who take time to film themselves doing useful things (and probably not-very-useful things, I haven't searched those yet). Perhaps I should film myself on 'How to spend hours making one's blog look not that great yet'? Watch this space! Glug, more vino.

My First Post!

Tee hee! I am blogging! Finally. If anyone is actually reading this, you might notice the blog is in a bit of a state... I'm not the greatest techy, but there is a cool site called Shabby Blogs, and you can download lots of little bits to make it look pretty. (Thank you Shabby Blogs - awesome site http://shabbyblogs.com/). My problem is that I don't know where the bits I download are going to end up; I don't know how to make the boxes smaller, larger, and generally move them around; and I've been farting around trying to make it look nice, instead of writing something. So I decided it can just look a bit pants for the time being and I'll write something. (No pressure). I've got 40 minutes before school pick up, my youngest Cici has just slipped on the floor and put her tooth through her lip - so after clearing that up and bribing her to stop crying with a sweet (bad mummy) - I am on line! Woo hoo!
As my profile says (well it doesn't yet, as I haven't got that far, but it will) I am a young mummy (at least I feel young, is 36 young? Probably not if you are anything under 25. I remember my mother's 40th Birthday party and I thought she was perfectly ancient) and I have 3 beautiful children: Leonora 5, Johnny 3, and Cecilia 21 months. We live in London and I am very happily married (and count my blessings every day). I have spent the last year doing up my house - now on the market - so at some point I hope to add some pearls of wisdom to this site regarding all to do with building, builders and the like. I am also hoping to set up a business with a dear friend of mine, but it's a bit hush hush at the moment. We have gone from idea to idea, but hopefully we will get there. Being a full time mummy is certainly a challenge in itself, but I used to work in the City once, and I just can't get over the fact that I'm not bringing anything tangible to the picnic. My dear husband always says raising the children is priceless, and I do 100% agree with that, but it would just be nice to go into Top Shop and not feel guilty about spending 30 quid on a top, because I earnt it. (Anyone else feel like that?).
And now I am also writing a blog! I love to write, I love my family, and I'm busy ALL THE TIME, so hopefully I might have interesting stuff to say at some point.
Over and Out for now, Milly xx