Parent's Evening

This used to be preceded by a stiff drink and followed up with a few more. Yesterday was a very different experience. For a start the English teacher told me that he thought my eldest son would probably enjoy reading Dave Grohl's ( Foo Fighter's drummer) autobiography . Does he have him sussed or what ? I was seriously impressed.
On to science . Apparently he'd just sat an exam in this without even realising it ( that's what I like - no sleepless nights revising and that's just me ) where he'd come top. Not only that but it was apparent to the teacher that he actually enjoyed the subject.
Next stop was his Learning Development teacher who's managed to find a very subtle technique to encourage eye contact, something that's always been difficult for him. She' was delighted with his progress and told him so . Don't think he's ever received a compliment from a teacher and I don't think he knew how to accept it .
By this time I was in a delirious swoon and wasn't sure if I'd entered some sort of parallel universe. No , we were in the school hall and I was hearing words like delightful, hard working and helpful. This miracle place is called More House School and I feel like the luckiest Mother on earth to have found it.

New School , New Start

Two months until my youngest starts at his new school . Not a natural progression from Junior to Senior school , more like a rescue plan.

He is very dyslexic and struggling to keep his head above water in class. My eldest takes things very literally and so must I because as I wrote that last sentence I could picture his little blonde head gasping for air above the waves in a storm grey turbulent sea. I'm thinking of his new school as an azure lake of with gentle ripples undulating on it's glassy surface. No-one screaming at him to READ THE QUESTION or CHECK YOUR SPELLING - just an oasis of educational calm.

He is bright , loving and has the most wonderfully sunny disposition and yet these skills aren't graded in end of term exams. If they were , he'd have graduated with honours . Instead he gets the occasional 'good effort' begrudgingly penned at the bottom of an arduous writing task.

One memorable put-down which I found in my eldest son's exercise book once read simply 'Must try harder' . Really ? Is his best not good enough ? Who must he try harder for , Ofsted ? a League Table ?

Should they ever read this , here's what I'd like them to come top of class in... ( I think that might be a split infinitive or something grammatically hideous which explains why I was so pants at English in school)

Knowing that they are loved and knowing how to love.

Kindness - that ability to know when someone needs their help and knowing how to give that help.

Generosity - I'd like to think that they want for nothing, emotionally. They need to understand that material possessions aren't essential for a happy and fulfilled life ... as they say ... the best things in life aren't things.

Honesty - “Honesty is the best policy. If I lose mine honor, I lose myself.” as Shakespeare famously wrote.

Understanding that what truly makes you in this world is not what life throws at you but how you deal with it.

You can't teach any of these things in a lesso but it would be nice to think that, in between the curriculum strictures and the straitjacket of today's education , a really good teacher could just now and then instill a few of these qualities along the way.

Spot the Difference

Conversation I had with my 14 year old not so long ago .... went something like this....

HIM: Why can't I have that video game ?

ME: Because it's not suitable for your age.

HIM: But everyone else I know has it !

ME: Just because everyone else has it doesn't mean to say you have to as well.

HIM: I can afford to buy it with my own money

ME: Just because you can afford it doesn't mean to say you HAVE to have it

HIM: It's NOT FAIR ! ( stomps off)


Conversation I had with my (soon to be 50) husband the other night.... which went something like this .....comments in brackets are what I'd have liked to have said. Comments not in brackets are what I actually said.

HIM: Why can't I have a sports car ?

ME: Errrr ( Just because everyone else has it doesn't mean to say you have to as well. )

HIM: But everyone else I know has one !

ME: Errrrr (Just because everyone else has it doesn't mean to say you have to as well.)

HIM: I can afford it

ME: Errrr.. ( Just because you can afford it doesn't mean to say you HAVE to have it - what about the lethal threadbare carpet on the stairs , the broken shower , the peeling paint on the front of the house ???)

HIM: Stomps off .


The difference is ... One of them IS a teenager and the other one just behaves like one.
Incidentally we had the exact same conversation about a year ago.

Other People's Lives

I've been working on a scrapbook album for the friend's of a friend's 50th Birthday . Her husband supplied me with the photos ( mostly of himself !) . There were a few gems in amongst them of their children. This morning I received a phone-call from a young man by the name of James - his father had asked him to stop by after school and pick up the album for his wife. An hour later a strapping 6 foot tall chap duly arrived on the doorstep all smiles and gawkish gait to pick up the album . Of course I only knew him as a grinning nappy clad toddler from the album ! I showed him a few of the album's pages and he howled with laughter at the photos of himself as a nipper. It was rather lovely to have this glimpse of a family through their ages and stages. It reminded me of what scrapbooking is all about - making connections between people , time and places and might explain why I love it so much....well that and all the shopping !

Breakfast in Bed

As I tottered downstairs this morning I was greeted half way by my eldest son urging me to return to bed. He disappeared into the kitchen and re-appeared with a tray laid out with a plate of pancakes , 3 china dishes filled with assorted tempting toppings and a perfect cup of tea. What a sweetheart !

Valentine's Day

Dictionary Definition :

val·en·tine (vln-tn)
noun:
1.a. A sentimental or humorous greeting card sent to a sweetheart, friend, or family member, for example, on Saint Valentine's Day.
b. A gift sent as a token of love to one's sweetheart on Saint Valentine's Day.
2. A person singled out especially as one's sweetheart on Saint Valentine's Day

My definition :

Guaranteed to be the year's biggest letdown ( after Birthday and Mothering Sunday). Usually manifests itself as cheap supermarket (or garage) purchase ( made after closing time therefore choice severely limited) . Restricted to half pound box of Quality Street/Roses ( ie. homogenous gift usually bought for unknown relative in the absence of knowing anything about them).

This year I got lucky and in addition to my carton of supermarket after closing hours chocolates I was left a £20 note on the kitchen table. I'm supposing that I should be grateful for this token of affection but it went on groceries . Hardly romantic but then nor was the gesture.

As usual , I have to listen to friends' tales of surprise treats , luxuries and heartfelt tokens of love. Maybe one of these years I'll awake to breakfast in bed and a red rose . Best not hold my breath though.

Mr Snowman R.I.P

As I drove through Bushy Park yesterday the most curious sight greeted me. I can only describe it as a Snowman's Graveyard. Witness to the myriad children building enormous snowmen the week before after the heavy fall of snow , these giant snow sculptures has spent the week slowly melting into shapeless forms , dirtied by the passing traffic. It reminded me of one of those bath fizz balls you get made out of bicarbonate of soda that fizz and melt in bath-water, leaving a cratered sphere as they dissolve.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for them , their moment of glory having passed . They were now abandoned and cheerless, minus their hat and pipe accessories and looking rather grubby . Mr Snowman R.I.P. I could almost hear the distant strains of Walking in the Air playing in the background.

Cybercrop

Sounds like something out of Doctor Who. I won't go into details but it's something you do online with fellow scrapbookers whereby you all take part in the same classes and challenges and and then post photos of your efforts online for others to look at. Here's one of my efforts above.

It struck me as strange that in this day and age , as overpopulated as we are , it is possible to live a life hermetically sealed off from the rest of humanity. You can't beat a good together with like minded souls for a natter and a good laugh ... as they say a day without laughter is a day wasted . Still it has something going for it this cyberworld - at least you can stay in your PJs and it doesn't cost anything. Although I was planning on spending what I'd saved by not going out ... online of course.

OK the novelty of snow has worn off but one good thing is that I've been forced to stay indoors which can only mean one thing ... more time to scrap !
I found these the other day - the sweetest little digital elements designed by one of my all time favourite scrapbookers - Ali Edwards. I suppose you're really supposed to use them digitally on layouts but I'm way to fond of real paper so I printed them off and added a couple ( one in pink and one in acetate ) to my latest layout of my youngest son. They're timeless though and so versatile - I can see myself using them time and time again . Thank you Ali !

Snow !

Look what we woke up to this morning ! No school for the children. Wonder how long we can live off baked beans before venturing to the shops !

Snow

I'm feeling childishly excited at the prospect of a decent snowfall overnight. Eldest son has the prospect of a lie-in tomorrow morning although poor old youngest will still have to go as he's only walking distance away. A good excuse for soup , slippers and the heating on all day. No doubt the country will grind to a standstill ... oh, come to think of it, it already has.

Watched Attenborough on Darwin tonight on BBC1. Amazing to think that we were still believing in Adam and Eve and all that a mere 200 years ago. The power of sophisticated graphics brought it all so well to life . I think I tried to read Origin of the Species when I was a teenager and don't think I managed it . Children today can have the whole theory of Evolution delivered to them in sparkling computer generated special effects on a TV screen in under 52 minutes. Staggering.

Flowers

The last time I received flowers from my husband was Mother's Day 2008 - nearly a year ago. Today I was choosing my '"Dine In for £10" selection from M&S ( lasagna, garlic ciabatta , profiteroles and red plonk in case you're interested) when I came across a bunch of pale pink tulips. I felt compelled to buy them. One hour later my husband walked through the door with a bunch of flowers from M&S - telepathy or what. Now I wonder if I gazed long enough at an online ad for the lovely cream Kitchenaid Food Mixer, would it have the same effect ? Unlikely but I can at least try.

In one hour's time I'm going to watch my youngest son play rugby.

That tripped off the tongue as if it's something I do every week . In fact this is the first time I will ever have done this. Most of the Mum's at his school can be heard to say this all the time - veterans of the touchline.

For us it's a first. He is 9 years old and this is the first time he has ever been selected to represent his school. He can run and catch a ball, follow instructions and knows how to give and take in a team situation and yet this is the first time he has ever been asked to demonstrate this. He may not be A team material but he doesn't have 2 left feet or a white stick.

If I ruled the world, or at least his school, I would make sure that every single child was allowed to feel that crumb of pride as they caught sight of a parent on the sideline, cheering them on in sub zero teperatures. That thrill of seeing their name in print on the fixtures notice-board , that sense of belonging , that they had made it through the selection process , that they were wanted. But no - survival of the fittest prevails and is alive and kicking in the public school system. If you are in the football team, you are likely to be in the rugby team, the cricket team , the swimming team, the badminton team , the athletics squad, the "look Mum I'm the best" team . And if you're not then you'll be left standing in the corridor wondering why you're never quite good enough.

Grand Designs

Yep ... usual couple - no kids then suddenly they get pregnant having shelled out nearly half a million on a landslide of mud with a half decent view. They then spend another half a million ( yeah like right ) on having a bespoke titanium plated, laser drilled, industrial sized staircase hand made by some master craftsman in the Orkneys ( which of course they then have to visit to make sure they've got the exact shade of metal right) whereupon disaster strikes and they blow the budget and think what the hell , we've always wanted a warehouse sized wetroom in the middle of the 'atrium' let's just blow another half a million and be done with it.

What I wanted to know was .... where were all the trappings that come with a baby ? When my boys were babies every square inch was filled with tubs of pastel coloured nappy wipes, ugly sterilising units and hideous primary coloured baby gyms. Presumably their baby is only allowed to have paraphernalia if it matches the shade of high gloss worktops they had specially commissioned for their kitchen. Poor kid ... no Thomas the Tank Engine for you , here's a copy of Architectural Digest to chew on.

Routine

Routine used to bore me rigid. Routine was bad. Now routine is good.

Having children makes you like this. From day one, before you've even left the hospital ( but just after they come round and talk to you about contraception) you're told that you have to get the baby into a routine or else everything will go pear-shaped. What they don't tell you is that everything will go pear-shaped anyway but you still stick to the routine.

Routine becomes a lifeline which enables you to make some sense of the shock of new motherhood. It quickly turns into a millstone round your neck but you stick doggedly to it, just in case discarding it causes everything to go even more pear-shaped. By this time you are so entrenched in your routine that to break out of it would send seismic shock-waves through your life , the ripples from which would stay with you until old age.

My routine is now characterised by what we have for dinner every night and what sports kit the boys need for school that day. So yesterday was not Tuesday but an amalgam of pasta bake and PE and today was chicken and swimming.

Tonight I'm breaking with routine and watching TV. Kevin McCloud returns with a new series of Grand Designs . This will presumably have been recorded before the comically named Credit Crunch and will doubtless feature a string of spendthrift, aspirational, design slaves who will whine at having to cut back on the granite toilet seats because their limestone flooring has gone over budget by thirty grand.

And in case you were wondering tomorrow is pizza and rugby.

Husband has just rung to say he won't be home for dinner , that he's going out with 2 colleagues to a Thai restaurant for dinner. I find myself wondering 2 things ....

1. What it must be like to come home to a meal all prepared for you any evening you want
2. What it must be like to be able to decide at the drop of a hat not to eat that dinner but to choose an alternative

I'm trying to remember back to when I was working and both the boys were little , about whether I ever just rang home and announced alternative dinner plans and I can safely say I never did. I'm also wondering what it must be like to drift from day to day without ever having to load up a supermarket trolley or wonder what on earth to cook or who might help the boys with their homework. All this wondering isn't doing me any good and anyway , got to go , I can hear the pasta boiling over downstairs.

I'm not cut out to do housework

I know this because every time I find myself scraping soap scum out of the shower tray I feel this tidal wave of resentment wash over me. It's the same when I wade through an interminable pile of ironing or drag the hoover round the living room carpet and see the clods of popcorn get sucked up into the void from underneath the sofa.
I worked hard , went to university , got a good degree , clawed my way right to the very top of the glass ceiling and still ended up as an unpaid housemaid. My husband meanwhile gets to talk to grown ups every single day , has good days and bad days but at least feels fulfilled , stretched, challenged. Gets to moan about how hard he works to bring home a salary. How challenged can you feel at tipping out the food waste into the re-cycling bin that stinks of last nights diner and the night before's and the night before that. Today I went to the supermarket. I tipped the same old products into the trolley , hauled them out onto the conveyor belt , tipped them back into the trolley , hauled them out of the trolley into the boot of the car , dragged them out of the boot of the car and into the fridge or kitchen cupboards. I'm getting bored just writing about it let alone doing it week in week out.
If I had daughters I'd tell them not to aspire to anything as it will all end up the same way . How depressing is that ?

It just goes to show...

...that if you use timeless classics and neutral shades then you can get away with decorating every 10 years , although you still can't get those ghastly dark stains above radiators to disappear. We decorated our living room over a decade ago with lovely Farrow and Ball colours and I collected a few antique bits and bob, nothing expensive - just flea market finds, to go on the mantelpiece. There's seagrass on the floor and some brown leather chests about the place plus a lovely rosewood writing desk that belonged to my Great Grandmother. Add a couple of taupe leather sofas ( only DFS so bargain prices ) and my one indulgence at the other end of the scale a ludicrously expensive square leather table from the Conran Shop which I bought back in 1988 ( well , I was working back then and still was able to use the phrase disposable income) and it really does still look good. I'm not saying that IKEA isn't good value but I can't help thinking that if everything was laminate and plastic it wouldn't half look awful by now. Tonight I'm going to sit in there with a glass of something nice and chilled , light a few candles and admire.

Just finished a Layout for Total Papercrafts called " Something Wonderful Happens When I Step Into My Scraproom" Sounds cheesy I know but it's true. It's the equivalent of a tree house when I was a child or my dad in his potting shed. I'm surrounded my lovelieness and pretty things. It's a bit like being in the best haberdashers in the world.... buttons, ribbons, pretty papers. Who wouldn't feel wonderful ?! I think the world would be a happier place if we all had our own 'scraprooms' to envelop ourselves in. A sort of flotation tank experience with pretty colours.

Ebb and Flow

More ebb than flow today . One step forward , two steps back. January blues ? No something , much deeper.
Just when you think you're balancing , albeit precariously , on a fine line with some degree of skill , something or someone comes along and upstes the equilibrium , My new word for 2009 was supposed to be resilience . How does that quote go ? If you can hold your hold your head together whilst other all around are losing there's ... or something like that... is a good modus operandi. I wish I were more resilient . One thing topples and then it's like a domino run , the whole lot comes crashing down. Still it could be worse ... it could be your first day on the new job .... as President of the US. Poor bugger . Who'd want that job ?