Kids

I have 3 children . Two of them are aged 9 and 14 . The other one is 49 , soon to be 50.
I remember seeing a bib in Mothercare once that read " I don't know what I want , but I want it now". I wonder of they do it in grown up sizes ?
My husband bought himself a Manopause car earlier this year. Guess what ? It didn't make him happy but then at the moment , I don't know what would. If I'd known that his mid life crisis was going to be classic textbook then I'd probably have got my money's worth out of my own menopause. Sadly though I didn't do any of the ranting or raving or tantrums that you read about in women's magazines. I have been known to say " Is it me or is it hot in here" but that was about it. HIndsight is a wonderful thing.

Comments

Apologies to anyone who may have left a comment on here and wondered why it hadn't appeared. When I logged on tonight , there waiting for me was a list of something called unmoderated comment. All kinds of lovely people had left all kinds of lovely comments and there they all were , all lined up and waiting to be 'moderated' by me.

They were all perfectly nice comments and didn't appear to require any form of 'moderation' at all . It all sounded terribly Big Brotherish. Anyway ... consider yourselves all duly moderated now. There's obviously a whole etiquette to this blogging malarkey of which , until now , I've been blissfully unaware. I'm still struggling with a whole new Facebook vocabulary ( although I quite like the sound of poking whatever that is) so it may be some time before I conquer the art of bog etiquette.

In the meantime, keep leaving the comments. It's lovely to think than in some small way my little blog is leaving some kind of impression out there in cyberspace. And could someone please enlighten me as to how you can 'poke' someone on Facebook and more importantly why you'd want to ?

The Joys of Half Term

By all accounts therefore this should be a short piece.

Actually I do really like these short school holidays , mostly because we get a week off the mayhem that is a schoolday morning.

Instructions such as ... Don't forget your breaktime snack .... don't forget to brush your teeth..... Don't forget to pack your homework ..... Tuck your shirt in , have become abbreviated to SNACK, TEETH, HOMEWORK, SHIRT - this last one said with a world weary sigh of exasperation that only comes with having repeated the same instruction over many years to no effect.

On the first day of the half term, the phone will inevitably ring and the caller will be told that Mum can't come to the phone as she's still in bed. By the second day the X box has usually overheated through constant use. Day three comes the guilt , I really should take them somewhere educational, inspiring, uplifting or all three. On day four a meticulously planned day out up in town is executed involving trains, tubes, snacks , searches for toilets, a London attraction or two, more snacks followed by exhaustion and a fractious train ride home. Vast amounts of cash will have been handed over in the pursuit of 'Having a Good Time'.

Sometimes we do actually have a good time. Yesterday was a classic case ... managed to park next to the station, didn't have to wait too long for a train, navigated our way effortlessly to Leicester Square ( my attempts at the educational element - teaching the bots how to read a tube map fell on deaf ears) , found comic book heaven in a shop called Orbital a minutes walk from the tube, dined at Inamo - a wonderfully hi-tech eatery in Wardour Street with interactive tables ( thanks for the recommendation Mary Anne) and took in China Town on the way home including the wonderfully tacky China Town market - a haven for lovers of kitsch ( that includes me) and then home. Not a cross word was exchanged and we didn't lose youngest son's brace for a change.

Friday is usually a chance to re-group ie. spend nothing for at least 24 hours and allow the bank balance to get over the shock. Then comes the weekend usually spent locating lost items of sports kit, and wondering how to fill the next 48 hours on a tight budget. The children start becoming a little fractious - fed up with eachother and me and counting down the remaining hours of freedom.

School holidays aren't cheap but you can still have fun without financial pain - this afternoon's trip is a bike ride to the Woodland Gardens , a pack of home-made Chocolate Brownies and a shady spot to finish my book before our Book Group meets again on Tuesday. The boys, in theory will spend many happy hours splashing through the streams and climbing trees. The reality is that someone needs the toilet for a pooh ( no WCs at the Woodland Gardens) and there will be an injury of some description with no plasters to hand. However at least it won't have cost an arm and a leg , maybe just an injured arm.

I used to get £50 from the shiny money machine in the wall where the boys used to think you got money for free, at times , I think they still do. This used to last a few days. Now it only seems to last a few hours. As the old saying goes ... Money Talks ... Mine says Goodbye.

The moral of the tale ? Marry someone rich.
Only joking , what I really meant was marry someone VERY rich.

Eye Candy

These beauties arrived today . They're business cards from a company called MOO and they're free ! The marketing ploy worked, I'll certainly be ordering some more.


And then these turned up ... all the way from Singapore. Now I know I could buy some crochet hooks and all different colours of wool and a book about how to crochet but then where would I put it all , where would I find the time and it would cost a whole heap more than the few dollars these cost and these ones actually look like flowers whereas mine would no doubt turn out like knotted clumps. Mind you they're WAY too nice to use on a scrapbook page . Think I may just have to turn them into a brooch or two. Not only that but they were accompanied by a sweet hand written note thanking me for supporting her home craft business.

Retreats

As their name suggests , they are an opportunity to retreat from daily life, step back , breathe out and do something you love. I think they should be available on the NHS. A delicious way to restore balance to your life and restore your faith in womankind. I've just returned from Scrap A Jack's retreat in Stratford, What a wonderful way to spend 3 days ... in the company of some of the loveliest people you could wish to meet , playing with pretty products and learning new techniques. Not only that but you come home armed with layouts about the people you love... it's the gift that keeps on giving as they say. I'm still enjoying the memories , the laughs, the inspiration, the sight of all those decorated bras in the challenge to raise funds for Shenna's Moonwalk in aid of Breast Cancer ( Well done Sheena - you are an inspiration) and the way Mary pronounces GORGEOUS ... a new catchphrase in our family. Thanks everyone for making it such a lovely weekend.
And is if all of that wasn't enough ... I got to do it all over again at Scrap Revolution's Retreat this weekend. More inspiration, laughs, stoic stories of people overcoming obstacles and difficulties in their lives , a never ending supply of toffee ( thanks Kate) a dozen fresh eggs to bring home ( thanks Emma ) . A real tonic .
Roll on June and the Scrapa GoGo retreat. I'm feeling very guilty that I've had the opportunity to indulge to this extent ( although I was 'working' if you can call it that ... way too enjoybale to be called work ... at one) but then it's a lot cheaper than therapy.

My husband's mother died today. After a long illness she passed away, finally, in her sleep, thanks to the wonder of morphine. Although we'd had 14 months to prepare for this,since the onset of her terminal illness,it still takes you by surprise and wanting to have said more in the final weeks.
The boys' reaction was as you might expect for their respective ages - incomprehension mixed with disbelief at the finality of it and the dawning that they will never see or talk to her again. Lots of questions, fear mixed with curiosity as to what happens to the body . I was pleased that they were able to talk freely and openly about it and weren't afraid to ask questions. I feared though that my answers were ill-prepared and unsatisfactory although I did attempt to answer them with honesty. It's a fine line though between truth and not wanting to distress them.
I will remember her as being the most wonderful matriarchal figure in the nicest sense of the word - loyal wife, wonderful mother to 3 children, doting grandmother to 8 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. Stoic, resourceful , razor sharp wit , modest, a great sense of duty and humility and yet very much her own person and able to hold her own. Glamorous, generous, cheerful and a great friend. She treated me like her own daughter for which I will be eternally grateful, having lost my own mother way before her time. Who could ask for more ?

New addictions

Yoghurt and cycling.

Did I ever think I'd say either of those things in the same sentence as addicted ?

I'm just hoping that the fact that I'm eating my own body weight in fat free yoghurt doesn't mean I'll go off the stuff. Adding the Food Doctors Omega mix of seeds helps. It takes twice as long to eat the stuff so you feel fuller quicker or something like that.
This evening I felt quite twitch by about 6pm because I hadn't been out on my bike. I'm not talking full body lycra , cycle helmet , water bottle stuff , just a gentle amble through the park perched on my ladylike bike that has a lovely wicker basket up front and now a new bell which I felt obliged to ring just to test that it worked.

There's a kindly camaraderie amongst fellow cyclists that makes you smile inanely as they pass by. A sort of nod to the fact that you've discovered what they've known all along. Even my gel saddle seat is beginning to feel quite comfy or maybe my backside is just hardening up.

I hope this new love affair continues at least for the summer. Can't imagine peddling through a lashing rain storm in November , but whilst the birds are singing and the trees are in full bud , it truly is rather exhilarating.

Eating Less

Seems to be working. Makes sense really , the less you eat the less your body expects. My body is still screaming CHOCOLATE at me but only occasionally rather than incessantly. The next hurdle is trying to stop my life from revolving around mealtimes. Everyone in our house is always hungry - comes with the territory I suppose - teenage boys. Everything seems to involve food. If I'm not preparing it then I'm planning what to do with it , shopping for it or clearing it away. The kitchen is filled with the stuff - fridges, freezers, cupboards, wastebins. It's everywhere . There's no getting away from it.

As my husband left for work this morning and asked what I was doing today I replied "Sainsbury's" to which he said " Have fun". Does he think it's some kind of club or something ? Possibly, as he hasn't stepped foot inside a supermarket since I don't know when.

Change

As I labelled up all of youngest son's news school uniform last night, I realised that this would be the 3rd time I had done this for him.
We've been through white, black, red collared and now red polo shirts for gym, a rainbow array of coloured rugby shirts and football jerseys and every conceivable style of school bag from vinyl book folder to industrial sized backpack. We started out with cute black pumps from Woolies and have now reached the stage of trainers the size of small boats.
God willing this will be the last new school we'll ever have to get used to. New buildings, new route, new classrooms, new friends, new mums, new teachers - all change , yet again.
As I watched his little blond head bobbing along the corridor heading off for an induction talk in the refectory, I marvelled at his stoic smile as he waved goodbye, a long way from home, then turned and headed back to the car. In the quiet of the front seat I shed a quiet little tear at the newness of it all . You see - some things never change.

This is why...

.... I never let my husband take photographs of me. This is as
good as it gets.

Do these sorts of things happen to other people or is it just me ?

Most people would remember their trip to the Royal Horticultural Society's Wisley Gardens with a certain fondness .... maybe for the riot of colour sprouting from the herbaceous borders or the neatly manicured lawns.

I will remember it for the hour I spent knee deep in other people's baked beans looking for my youngest son's brace which we'd inadvertently left on the cafe table only to be cleared unwittingly by a member of staff after we'd departed.

Half way back up the M3 , youngest son asks me if I remembered to pick up his brace. About turn to Wisley. An hour later, having trawled through 18 bin bags full of food waste destined for something called a macerator, I emerged semi triumphant having found only half of it.

Half an hour later I'd managed to locate the other half back out on the cafe terrace. As I punched the air in triumph a loud cheer erupted from the remaining diners. Head throbbing and covered in tea leaves I re-joined the rest of my party waiting patiently in the car park. Fortunately I was allowed back in the car despite looking like a tramp and smelling like a school dinner.

Two days later I was still finding stray tea leaves. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to eat another baked potato with baked beans nor visit Wisley without breaking into a sweat.

The Teenage Years

I've just listened to a radio 4 programme about horror stories from parents of teenagers and thanked my lucky stars that I'm not having to endure what some of these poor mothers are having to survive.
As the programme ended my 14 year old arrived home from a sleepover at a friend's house, greeted me with a smile and asked me how I'd slept last night and was I having a nice day . Aww ... bless.
Minutes later he sheepishly asked if I'd mind driving him and some friends to Thorpe Park. This boy will go far. I only wish they did GCSEs in charm and the powers of persuasion.

Ozzie GP

Well done Jenson !

Last Day at School

I've had 4 of these now in total. In the last 10 years the boys, between them, have left their respective current schools 4 times. That's 4 lots of tearful goodbyes, 4 lots of hand written letters to the special teachers, 4 lots of leaving cards, 4 lots of walking out of the school gates for the very last time. I could write a book ( or a blog) about it now that I've had lots of practice. Doesn't get any easier. At the time you make the decision to consider leaving one school and moving to another, you don't realise that although you're doing things exploratively, tentatively , the decision is already made and the writing is already on the wall. Once you entertain the idea that your child isn't at the right school for them you might as well start drafting the goodbye letter and planning a trip to the new school uniform shop. The deal is done, in your head at least.

I know this is the right decision for my youngest but I just need to witness the living proof that will come after he has one term under his belt. I need to go the first terms' parent's evening and be told that he's doing well and more importantly has settled well and is happy and has made friends.

I'm hoping that this is the last time I have to go through this. I watched through the open door of his classroom this morning as his classmates gathered round and presented him with a teddy dressed in the full school uniform as they signed his shirt with good luck messages in felt pen and saw his happy smiling face and realised that wherever he goes to school he will always be loved. He has that sunny disposition that will carry him far in life. My happy chappy.

Mother's Day

Always a bit of a mixed bag. It's been 23 years since I've been able to send my Mum a Mother's day card and even now when the shelves in gift shops are groaning under the weight of Mother's Day paraphernalia, I still tend to 'choose' something in my mind to spoil her with . I think back to the smiles she always proffered at my child like gifts of breakfast in bed - usually luke warm tea made from the hot tap in a doll's plastic teacup. When I was older and had pocket money, my tasted broadened and a trip to the local chemists would usually produce something like a Bronley's soap in the shape of a lemon . I thought that was the height of sophistication .... wonder if they still make them ? Then as a teenager I would spend a Saturday at the shops usually finding something eclectic from Habitat like a white acrylic jewelry box - SO trendy and would probably fetch a fancy price in the retro section of ebay these days.

I'm feeling well and truly spoiled. The boys brought me up a tray this morning with a copy of Hello magazine, a box of Thornton's Viennese Truffles, flowers, cards and the loveliest book from Theo called 'Thank You Mum for Everything'.
I'll leave you with this from it ....

"Thank you for fitting your life to ours. Thank you for making us feel that nothing that you have achieved is worth more than our love'

Beautiful isn't it ?

Double Standards

We're supposed to be buying a house. It is a stone's throw from the boys' new school. Apparently the decision rests with me as I'll be the one stuck there more of the time. Husband meanwhile will be OK becuase during the week, rather than commute up to town every day, he'll be able to stay with his father who, wait for it ....has just put in an offer on a house round the corner from us where we're living now. Apparently this is supposed to have no impact on our decision as to whether to move or not.

I think I'm living in a parallel universe. Especially so as when H told me this and the fact that precarious bridging loans are involved, I dared to suggest that bridging loans and an unstable housing market were a very bad combination I was rebuffed with a " What do you know" type response.
Days later his father's solicitor warned him that .... a bridging loan and an unstable housing market was a very bad combination. Was she rebuffed with a "what do you know" fob off ? No. H wanted to phone her and thank her for such sound advice. Living proof that my opinion counts for nowt.

Meanwhile youngest son is doing last night's homework on the EU. Rather than teach them about the political and social consequences that face us as Europeans, they have to fill out a chart listing facts such as currency , capital, language and national dish amongst other things ! Average inside leg measurement wasn't listed as one of the facts but might as well have been.
23 websites later I'm still struggling to find the national dish of Latvia . I'm tempted to suggest roast guinea pig and see if his teacher notices.

Must go. Have to decide whether we're moving house or not but I have far more pressing concerns . If anyone knows what the currency of Lithuania is , could they let me know ?

Hobbycrafts NEC

Got up early , made sandwich, drove 2 hours up the M40 the NEC and spent the happiest day meeting up with team mates Sheena and Rosie - that AND some shopping for stash . What a great way to spend a day. I spend an awful lot of time wondering how on earth I'd spend my time if I hadn't discovered scrapbooking.

Buying and Selling

Just trying to get these 2 in balance - the idea is that I sell more than I buy , well that's the theory.I love the Marketplace on UKS and have listed some items today. Whilst some of these are duplicates or just plain surplus to requirements , the photos always serve as a catalogue of a mis-spent trip to a scrapping shop. Still one scrappers trash is another's treasure. So if you feel like buying any of these pop on over to http://www.ukscrappers.co.uk/boards/forumdisplay.php?f=4 and check out my stash crimes !

On a happier note

The sun is shining, the homework has been done and I have an afternoon of scrapping to look forward to. Just need to find my desk under all this mess and play with some pretty paper. Sometimes my head is full to bursting with ideas I want to try and then I get sucked into something online and before you know it an hour has sped by and nothing has been achieved. Maybe I should put one of those parental locks on my own Mac !!

Weekends

Does everyone spend their weekends doing interesting things ? Seems so.

Mine are spent finishing off ironing ( what do I mean finishing , it's never ending, there's no beginning and no end) keeping the children away from screen based entertainment ( hopeless case) and urging our family to get up off our backsides and go somewhere , do something, anything. But no. Here I am again , 7th day out of 7 within these 4 walls.

These days , excitement comes in the form of a 12" x 12" box delivered to my door containing a few sheets of pretty patterned papers. I'm finding it sad that happiness should come down to that. Tragic even. Maybe that's just an indication of how trivial my life has become.

Once upon a time I had a life. I had a career that I'd worked hard for that was well paid. I could shop at the drop of a hat , travel , spend on a whim, enjoy life, go places, see things, experience life. I was well respected for what I did , got promoted, met challenges head on, considered options, embraced change, overcame difficulties, made friends , lost friends but lived.

Now I stay home. I still shop but only at the supermarket, travel but only on the school run, go places but only if it's for someone else, meet challenges head on but only if it involves homework or finding lost sports kit , consider options.... Sainsbury's or Tescos, overcome difficulties .... can I be bothered to get out of bed today, make friends .... usually through school and I'm usually known as my children's mum , then every time we change schools, lose them again . I don't think this is living.

I must stop reading my own blog , it's making me even more depressed.