Happy Birthday to ya, happy birthday...

Having children puts you in really weird positions, ones you could never imagine BC, not just even imagine but even begin to contemplate as a tiny germ of a possibility. First off is the mad bad world of baby groups - talk about culture shock, those places are seismic on the psyche. And yet they lure you back time and again as adult conversation with brain numbed ladies who are as worn out and sleep deprived as you is oddly seductive when weighed up against the alternative of no conversation at all. If you're very lucky you'll even get to know other mothers names and not just that of their offspring, I spent months knowing people as 'little Ethan's mum' or the lady from playgroup with the small baby. And if the gods are really smiling on you then you'll meet mums (friends BC are obviously excluded from this) who you genuinely like and could actually be friends with outside of the whole baby deal - that is a rare find and one to be treasured. I can count them on one hand so am either really anti social or incredibly discerning.

So, as my wee ones gained a few years it felt like progress to leave behind playgroups and that whole weird baby centric world that I took part in without being part of - it felt like I'd done my tour of duty. Why did no one warn me about  kids parties then? Oh horror I may have finished one tour but there are clearly a lot more on the way and I'm just not ready for the terms of combat. Now my wee man is older the parties have got more complex and we've just done the first of the 'don't know a soul here, not even the child who invited us' parties. Weird doesn't even begin to describe it. Being back at work I just don't meet other mums at the nursery, we all drop them off and scoop them up at random times dictated by the whims of employment. So, Saturday we're all gathered in a room and 80 % of people seem to know no one especially well so bond over 'lifestyle snap' - oh you wear prada - me too - lets chat - that sort of thing. The other 20% do know each other and form tight cliques which permit no outsiders. Lifestyle snap in that particular time and place was never going to work in my favour; so it was with relief I spotted the availability of vino plonko for grown ups, filled up a glass and secured a seat by the window so I could at least see the outside world and remember it existed.

cupcakes at dawn - the arrival of the status party

Now while I admit to imbibing a few glasses to get me through I can honestly say I was amazed - nay shocked - at the enthusiasm with which the yummy mummies hit the bottle. As cheeks got pinker, hips got looser (oh yes sir I can boogie so long as its ooh-ooh-ooh I want be like you-oo-ooo) and perfect smiles slipped away to reveal the frazzled souls beneath. One particular lady who upon arrival was cradling her darling and cheering on spotty-frocky-wocky-doodah-clownface an hour or so in dashed past me gently shrieking 'I will thrown him out the window' as her darling one made off with the birthday present stash that wasn't his. That was nice. We're all the same under the designer frocks.

Still it was hard work. Kids, cake and party tricks all equate to total mayhem which is not eased by the social stonewalling of parents with agendas. Maybe seeing the Rum Diary the night before had tainted my reasoning but it was a challenge not to stand up and shout 'what kind of fuckery is this?' Hunter would have been pleased I'm sure, not convinced the other grown ups would have seen the funny side. Thankfully not all kids parties will be thus - with friends the deal is entirely different and you don't even need a glass of vino to get through it as I discovered on the Sunday. So hurrah for that. The landscape of parenting may be shifting again but at least I know I can always rely on my friends for a good time.

What would Angelina Jolie do?

There are those mums that tell their kids "I don't want anything for mother's day." Who are they kidding? I mean really you spend all year being on hand for cooking, cleaning, hugging and playing, listening, making and general all round providing. Isn't it nice, just for one day (okay let's make that two days as your birthday must come under the same joyous rule book) to kick back and be indulged? Call me selfish if you will but I like to wallow in the 'me-me-me' of this glorious hallmark holiday. Come on, they don't call it Mother's Day for nothing now! I will bet my last chocolate in the box that even a jet set A Lister like Angelina Jolie welcomes the chance for her brood to show some mommy-love.

From People magazine website - Angelina and her babies. All mommies need a pampering...

With the wee ones being a tad too wee to actually understand what this day is all about I have to manage my expectations a little but big tall hubby helped them deliver a day to treasure. Now when I say I want something, I mean bare minimum a card. And did they deliver? Oh yes they did. Wee boy came home with the sweetest card ever from nursery (it is good to know that he loves me because I make him smile - AND - give him chocolate) and both made gorgeous cards with a little handicraft daddy-help. You can't beat handmade when it comes to cards; all that budding creativity on show and it costs next to nothing. Indulgence can come cheap.

Not quite as secret as secret squirrel but lovely none-the-less.

 

Of course the chocolates and flowers didn't go amiss - although wee boy blew any surprise factor by announcing first thing, "Daddy has secret flowers and chocolates for you mummy." Well, not so secret now are they? Bless. But a little mummy-me-me-me-ness does not have to involve presents (welcome though they are), nope what made my day was the constant stream of hugs and kisses from wee boy and toddler girl flagged with the cry "Happy Mother's Day", and big tall hubby's willingness to take on all kid-duties from dirty nappies to bedtime stories for the day and cook me dinner into the bargain...and to do the dishes after. Now that is what I call a pampering.

Getting crafty

I blame Blue Peter. All those letter holders and Easter bunnies from toilet roll tubes and cotton wool got to me at an early and impressionable age. When it comes to make and do I'm your gal. If it involves a bit of sticking and painting all the better. Crafts have always been my bag; sometimes I actually make bags (see www.folksy.com/shops/cockahoopcreations) but I'll turn my hand to many things, collage, cork-boards, knitting, sewing and papermache-ing. Yup I'm the annoying woman in the shops who stands and declares "£20 for that? But I could make it myself." There are times when this is true but there are also those things that I really shouldn't bother trying; it'll only end in tears.

Cork-boards made from old corks and old picture frames look fantastic and make a lovely present.

Lately I've found that attempting crafty activities with the wee ones is also likely to end in tears. Usually when toddler girl has upended the glitter over wee boy's masterpiece thus rendering it useless and bin-bound, until I can convince him that a glittery dinosaur train driver (abstractly rendered as a greeny/purple splodge with yellow highlights) is actually quite brilliant and deserves as spot in 'the gallery'. I blame another childhood TV show for the creation of 'the gallery', Hart Beat (I think) the one with Morph anyways. Don't be misguided, the aforementioned gallery is actually just the wall by their beds but they like it and it saves on wallpaper.

Clearly despite watching too much TV in my youth I've come away with a creative ethic so it isn't all bad. With that in mind I do let the wee ones enjoy a bit of Mister Maker on cbeebies and quietly catch a bit of it for my own viewing pleasure.  Although these days I'm a tad more advanced in my handmade output there is something compelling about all that water based paint and pipe-cleaners.

It does save a fortune, making your own stuff. Take birthday cards; I've saved masses of images from magazines, fliers etc and I collage cards for friends and family. Sometimes it takes ages to find just the right thing but that's cool; I like that the card they get has been properly thought about and is utterly unique. And the wee ones like to experiment with card making too; we get out the card, glue and cut-outs and have some family fun. Okay I confess sometimes mummy does get a wee bit cross when small hands try and sabotage her work but on balance it is all good. Whether or not the cards recipients like it as much as we do is another thing! But they seem well received; then we do have very polite friends.

So it was a real treat to find this ladies blog (http://annwood.net/blog/) with the free templates for some of her wonderful creations. Thanks to a lovely friend for passing this on as Ann Wood is a talented woman and I fully intend to have a go at those tea-cups. They'll make perfect containers for sweet treats. How glorious is that - combining two passions, cooking and crafts to produce individual gifts that will (hopefully) look amazing while costing a fraction of a shop bought version. Yup arts and crafts are sure way to beat the recession blues and have fun trying too.

If you've got a creative talent tucked away then bring it out, dust it off and share a photo in the comments box below...

Boxing clever

This year I have come to the conclusion that Boxing Day is far superior to Christmas Day. There is less stress, less mess, no fuss and a whole lot more relaxation with all the treats left over from the day before. Apparently it is so called due to the boxes people got - some say servants got gift boxes from masters, others argue the priests opened the alms boxes to the poor and yet another suggestion is that the Romans collected money in boxes to pay for the people to have their games. I see the theme there - boxes. All good stuff.

We had lots of boxes in our house too. Empty boxes with the contents scattered in death inducing fashion all over the place. Not a single room was safe from small bits of plastic, nuggets of wood or wheeled things. Thank goodness we elected to conduct the day from the safety of the sofa or someone could have been hurt. Although we did manage a small jaunt to the beach for a pebble dash with the wee ones; nothing better for working off the mince pies. Life beside the seaside is wonderful in winter. No tourists crowding the place leaving wide stretches of beach free for the locals to enjoy. Okay it is a tad on the chilly side but the view is worth it; nothing says hope like an endless horizon. There is such promise where the sea meets the sky, perfect for the closing days of the festive season.

Not quite as we saw it Boxing Day but Brighton Beach in winter is amazing.

And it has been a funny festive season this year. Christmas had ping-ponged from our place to up north and then back down again. Our feasty preparations swirled like snow as health and weather took our plans and shook them upside down. In the end by the time it came to the big day we'd sort of lost momentum. I say 'we' but the small ones maintained full throttle until around 4pm on Christmas day when they hit melt down; almost literally given the amount of chocolate consumed. Tall hubby and I rode out the day on wine and adrenalin; we cruised on the kids craziness but after they hit the hay we found ourselves fading fast. So it was a relief to wake up on Boxing Day full of festive joy and that special Christmas buzz that makes all things merry and bright.

The real fun in Boxing Day comes from the left overs. All that mad over spending is swapped for thrifty concoctions involving beat up roasties and mashed sprouts. We opted for a goose this year and I just didn't know how it would taste the day after; some things don't work the next go round, thankfully goose isn't one of them. I dry fried it with a bit of garlic, shallots and smoked sweet paprika with a dash of cream; totally yummy with a bit of bubble and the chili roasted beetroot on the side. Tomorrow the plan is to stir fry it with some grated ginger and orange for a noodle-tastic dish of leftover delight. And then that goose will be well and truly cooked.

The goose got fat and we ate it all up!

Now that the frenzy of Christmas is past we can fully enjoy the rest of  this festive season. There are treats-a-plenty to be over-consumed and presents to be explored, TV specials to veg in front of and friends to swap xmassy stories with. And let us not forget the grandest of all grand finales - New Year's Eve. Ah yes, the Christmas spirit is flowing now...Merry Christmas one and all.

Such fun.

Hey-ho here it is, 38, all bright and shiny new. Birthday glamour has a habit of fading fast but why limit yourself to just one day? The meter only clicks over once a year, let's stretch it out for as long as we can get away with eh? Gone are the days when big tall hubby and I would pack up and abscond from life as we know it for a few days; ideally somewhere sunnier. Traipsing off with wee ones in tow simple doesn't have the same fun-factor. Alas the birthday holiday will have to wait 'till there are a few more years on the clock; then the world can once more be our oyster. But do not despair! Oh no, we may be stuck in Blighty  but there is fun to be had despite the chill.

What a spoilt baby-mama I was this year. What is a birthday without a spot of fizz? My champagne tastes were indulged to the max with a sparking breakfast and presents in bed. Didn't spill a drop - can't say the same about the bacon sarnie crumbs though...Oooh presents - I just love them but what I love the most is the messages, cards texts and facebook posts that show people remember and care enough to say 'happy birthday'. It might be winter but I was all a-glow. Maybe it is just me but post babies the teeniest fleck of sentimentality gets me right in the middle.

Big tall hubby wouldn't let me cook a thing all day...so it was lunch in the pub and dinner too! ;-)

The last time we went to see Seth Lakeman play there was a baby in my belly that kicked up a fuss and made dancing a crazy fantasy. So to go see him again on my actual birthday was a treat beyond all imagining - and I have quite an active imagination. Did I dance? You bet your sweet shiny dancing shoes I did. The first gig for us since toddler girl came on the scene; methinks there will have to be a few more now the genie is out the bottle. What is it with Brighton crowds though? Was I hiding the behind the bar when the dancing ban was issued? The rebel movers and shakers seemed to naturally gather front stage right while the rest of the crowd admired the music while standing stock still. Weird.


by tarnished_glitter

Way back in the day I used to review bands, and in the spirit of me-past I must throw in a good word for the support act. Delta Maid is worth wrapping your ears around if a Scouser Dolly Parton with a roughed up Paloma Faith tingle gets your lobes flapping. She's got an amazing voice, a real country sound with a contemporary edge. If the world loves Duffy there is surely room for this lady on CD racks across the land.

And there is still more to come. Oh yes. We've had a night out, a friendly photo shoot afternoon and a Friday home dinner date with lashings of wine (healthy eating plan? Oh yes, that's next week....)Our adventures in fun-town will continue with a Sunday roast with friends to put the final touch on this year's celebrations. Then and only then will I officially be 38 and ready to rock on with the year. Rock and roll baby, rock and roll...

Strength in numbers

Six adults, six children and one large cottage complete with heated indoor pool. It sounds like a fair deal on paper. One adult per child and six of the ankle biters to amuse each other would surely mean adult supervision could be kept to a minimum. The pre-hol dream was of lazing by the pool with a glass of vino sharing banter with like minded pals. Alas not fair reader. Take those six children and multiply the effort per child by ten and you're just hovering in the right ball park. Not that you would want to go into that ball park - 'tis chaos in there. Us poor adults were run ragged day after day as the mini-us ramped up the energy levels with the sheer excitement of seeing each other every single day combined with the unknown delight of their very own swimming pool, right in the middle of the house. A small miracle before their very wide eyes.

It took two days of constant group vigilance to end the game of 'bounce on the big bed furthest from the grown ups'. While we've all indulged in a bed bounce now and then this game had the edge and that edge came in the form of clothes flinging - all over the room. In the end we conceded vigilance was not enough and wedged the door closed with a chair. That did the trick.God love 'em.

Do not be deterred though, a group holiday has its perks. First and foremost we got to hang out with friends for a whole week, sharing the pain of tiny-tots crazy hour and the fuzzy glow of witnessing group baby hugs and toddler love-ins. Plus the grown ups sank more than a few bottles of vino, local ales and fruity ciders each evening resulting in our own group hugs - love-ins however were strictly a private affair. And we got to play Pictionary!Oh yes we know how to rock. It's a game that needs at least four semi tipsy (or ideally totally trollied) players and in an increasingly baby-centric social circle it is hard, nay almost impossible to get the right conditions to play. So what a treat it was to whip out the board and sharpen those pencils. I mock ye not. And I didn't even win.

Purse-wise a group hol is a top idea too. 'Tis way cheaper than B&B's or hotels and probably on a par with camping without the wet weather worries or hassle of pitching. Economical and social - a match made in heaven. Not to forget the built in babysitting service. Priceless.

Not having children of school age helped too, we snuck off post summer hols and shaved a fortune off the rental price. Ah bring back the 70's when you could whisk kids out of school any time you liked. If this double dip recession continues I foresee my small ones having bouts of flu around Oct time requiring a full week off school to recover. Honest headmistress, they have a temperature of 39 (this global warming business has helped enormously with the late break - in T-shirts on the beach in Oct? Oh yes).

Is a group holiday with multiple wee ones a good idea? Yes. Would I do it again? Yes. I'll just remember to wedge the door shut on the first day next time. 

Gone but not forgotten

Goodness me time does have the wings of a 747 in a hurry. It has been 9 long months since I last updated this site, long enough to have another baby (no-no I haven't). The two are plenty enough for me and as my absence from this shows rather time consuming.

So how's the battle to keep the troops happy on a budget? Well it is ongoing and rather like a British summer, occassionally glorious but patchy in places. I read an article in the Guardian about a woman who, for a change, as an experiment, on a whimsy, decided to try and entertain her wee boy for a WHOLE week spending not more than ten English pounds. Her conclusion? It is rather exhausting and more than a tad tricksy. Welcome to my life lady. You take that week, multiply it by 52 and then get back to me. Oh and add another small child into that equation while you're at it. Exhausted now?

So before I sound all bitter let's get back to business. The blogging business. I hereby do pledge to keep this blog up on a weekly basis. One post a week is my promise. What I can't promise is that there will be no typos or slight rambles although I'll do my damndest to avoid them but that old 'tired beyond reason' excuse will be the culprit if they do crop up. Forgive me.

Righteo-ho. So long, farewell and keep scrimping till next week. Over and out.