I was doing a bit of work on my blog this morning and found myself reading back through my first couple of months of posts – December 2009 and January 2010. I was all ready to cringe with embarrassment, but actually they weren’t bad.

What was clear straight away was just how personal they felt; too personal if anything. The posts were short, (like this one), but they were like little glimpses into my mind; reading them I felt almost like an intruder, stealing a peak into my family life. They felt a little bit sad, and although funny in places, they lacked the tongue-in-cheek style humour that has developed over the years. There was a sense of loneliness, particularly during the first month, of having been on my own as a parent, emotionally if not physically, for a long time.

What I also noticed was how quickly I seemed to get into my stride. Even over those first few months I could sense myself growing in confidence, moving from stories of Christmases alone with my children and stolen moments of quiet in the early mornings to complaining about the children’s disgust at being asked to wear coats in January.  View Post

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Today I have another guest post from my boyfriend. My sister and I decided we should from now on refer to him as Rupert. He is not called Rupert. If you like the cut of his jib you can follow his ramblings on Twitter.

Standon Calling festival camping

“Have you ever been to a music festival?” Jo asks.

“Of course!” I scoff.

A few seconds later, I look up to see if Jo is observing me for signs of a caveat to my reply.[I was.]

“Really?”

“I’ve been to the Proms”. I add. “And the Three Choirs Festival. They’re both music festivals”.

I’ll say it for you. What a dick. [A little harsh.] View Post

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I was sat working this morning with the kitchen window open. I could hear children outside playing the street and it gave me a real feeling of spring. Then some small boys started kicking a football repeatedly against my wall and the images of daffodils and gambolling lambs where replaced with an urge to throw a bucket of cold water out of the window at the offending footballers.

Still, for a minute there I was very nearly full of the joys of spring and was beginning to imagine the spring time adventures Belle and I might have, skipping hand in hand through a flower filled meadow, pretty summer dresses flapping around our knees, the air thick with the sound of her laughter.*

A mummy can dream can’t she?

To continue the fantasy, I spent a happy hour browsing Melijoe.com (whilst Belle played on her laptop upstairs), dressing up my springtime family in the latest spring trends for children. And yes, before you say anything, I do know what the spring trends are.**

Spring fashion trends for kids at Melijoe.com View Post

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After revelations last week that Bee has been to Wookey Hole, I thought she might also be interested to know, (although I think she does already), that her first proper outing, aged about a week old, was to Glastonbury.

I’ve always liked Glastonbury and although I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly spiritual person there is something about it that draws me in when I’m feeling a little restless or like I need to recharge or refocus. It has a soothing effect on me, calming me and making me feeling more positive about things.

Like with all places you’ve been visiting since a child, certain rituals and routines become established, and a visit to Glastonbury for us always means lunch at the Blue Note Cafe. I’m pretty sure it’s not the best cafe in Glastonbury, but it’s just where we have always gone. As a child, I particularly enjoyed asking for the code for the toilets and going out to the courtyard, around the corner past the dragon holding a ball, and feeling like a spy, inputting the numbers on the metal panel.

Things to do in Glastonbury View Post

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I have joined the gym.

It would be safe to say that I didn’t get on terribly well with my experimental running, so I wondered if classes might be a better option for me. I did quite a lot of yoga and pilates when I was off on maternity leave (about 27 years ago) and got on well with the class format. I struggle normally with self-directed exercise – after 10 minutes or so I think ‘f**k it’ and go and buy an ice cream instead. Once you’re in a class though you’re stuck there, you can’t leave half way through – ‘Sorry, it’s not that I’m not enjoying it, I’m just popping out for a Magnum.’

So, I joined the Nuffield Health gym, just around the corner from me. I like that it’s within walking distance – I’ve never quite seen the logic in driving somewhere to use a treadmill.

Because the gym is linked to Nuffield Health, there is a strong health element to it so you aren’t just shown around a pongy gym by a stocky man in tight shorts and then left to get on with it, you’re given a proper assessment of where you are healthwise before you even get into the gym. This is good because not only does is give you a bit of extra incentive, but it also gives you a different way to measure your progress; not everyone joins a gym because they want to lose weight, so being able to see if things like your cholesterol and blood pressure have improved too is really useful.

So, the dreaded day arrived. I have managed to convince myself over recent years that I am one of those slightly chubby yet relatively healthy people – sure, my BMI may not be 20, but I eat plenty of nuts and seeds dammit, and I don’t drink much alcohol, or smoke. I drink plenty of water and nibble on the odd oily fish. I wasn’t too worried.

I was in for a bit of a shock. I think the only indicator I actually did well on was my waist to hip ratio and that’s really only because of my massive bottom rather than because I have a dainty waist. In all other areas, there was definitely room for improvement.

Let’s check out the results shall we? View Post

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Ah, those heady days, responsible for no one but yourself, spending your mornings lying in bed until Supermarket Sweep was on and then rolling into the uni bar early evening for some much earned rest and relaxation. Oh to be 18 again!

Regular readers may be looking suspicious at this point.

“Hang on a minute,” I hear you muttering, cogs turning, “didn’t you have a baby when you were 17?”

Yes, I did. My 18 year old self did still watched Supermarket Sweep, but in the company of a small yet perfectly formed toddler. At 18 I would have been finishing off my A-levels and looking forward to a year off before university, during which time I would hang out with Bee, (the aforementioned toddler), work part-time looking after the two small, hyperactive children who lived in a pub down the road from me, and take GCSE drama, just for the giggles.

One of the things I would say to myself at 18 would be ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing going swimming on your own with a baby, a three year old and a seven year old with ADHD when you CAN’T EVEN SWIM? Are you mad?!?’ It’s sheer chance that no one drowned, but a good example I think of how at 18 we feel indestructible.

To me at 18 though it was simple, I had all of these children to look after and I didn’t want to spend all day hanging out in a flat above a pub – it never occurred to me not to take them all for a day out on my own to Wookey Hole caves. (Yes, the smallest two were terrified and I did have to carry them both.) View Post

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Two events have occurred in the last week that have made me wonder about a sideline business writing people’s online dating profiles for them. I’m sure there would be a market for it – no one I know (apart from me!) has enjoyed writing a dating profile for themselves.

Firstly, I had lunch with a woman I met recently at a networking event. She showed me her current profile and I offered some tips. Essentially I told her, (hopefully in a nice way), that her profile was a bit dull and basically said the same as everyone else’s.

Let’s get real here, who doesn’t like socialising with friends, Sunday lunch in a nice pub and curling up on the sofa with a film and a bottle of red wine? If you’ve ever spent any time on online dating sites you’ll know that about 97% of people say these exact same things. I suggested instead that she try to think a little deeper and be a bit more specific – what books had she read and why did she enjoy them? What music is she listening to and how does it make her feel? Essentially you have to tell people what makes you tick as these are the details that people connect with. Yes, you risk putting some people off, but by keeping in generic you miss the chance to really appeal to anybody.

Later in the evening I had a message from her:

“Jo Middleton you are a genius. I have rewritten my profile and just uploaded it. Three new messages have come in in five minutes. I am laughing out loud. You are a star.”

Obviously that’s going on my testimonials page when I get the new business website set up. View Post

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family holiday in walesWe’ve been to quite a few holiday parks in Wales – can you tell from the picture? – and so we are old hands at knowing what to pack. Here are nine essentials:

1. Clean pants

If you ever go anywhere without packing clean pants then there is something wrong with you.

2. Credit cards

For when you run out of pants. In all seriousness, I do tend to think that as long as I have remembered a credit card I can always buy the things I forget. For some reason I always forget a hairbrush, wherever we go. I think it’s because I normally keep them in the kitchen rather than in a sensible place with all of the other toiletries. View Post

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And there you were thinking it was all about the chocolate. Wrong! Easter is a time of new beginnings and giving thanks, which means it is the ideal time to start preparing for the arrival of a child. (If you’re pregnant that is, you shouldn’t just be expecting one to turn up.)

pregnant tummy

So, what can you do over the lovely long Easter weekend to start your antenatal preparation?  View Post

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This weekend we went up to Bristol for the afternoon. I took my big camera with me so that I could take some pictures and felt very grown-up walking around, snapping away; like one of those cool lifestyle bloggers who always has adorable shoes with buckles and a vintage handbag. (Except I had neither of those things.)

I love Bristol. I love just mooching about, peering into shop windows and watching the people. There is something about the people in Bristol; they look far more interesting than people in any other city I have ever visited. I think it might be the facial hair.

Bristol is far more colourful than Taunton too and although I’m settling back into small town living, I do miss the vibrancy of a city. I had forgotten for example how much street art there is in Bristol – it adds a certain something when you’re walking around and suddenly see a beautiful painting or funny cartoon on a blank white wall.

Bristol street art View Post

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easter eggs

I’m going to jump right in here and say I don’t believe in God, and don’t therefore believe that at Easter he died on a cross, came back to life, etc etc. If you do believe that then that’s fine, I’m kind of envious really. I’ve always quite fancied having some sort of faith.

However, never one to let a lack of principles stand in my way, (e.g. Christmas fun times), I’m still happy to stuff my face with as many hot cross buns as I can fit in my M&S basket.

Although Belle is 12 now, she still enjoys Easter too and I love waking up with her on Easter morning and watching her hunt for the eggs that the Easter Bunny has hidden around the house. I am eternally grateful to people like the Easter Bunny and Father Christmas; I would ever be organised enough to remember to buy/hide/wrap all of these Easter day gifts uk. View Post

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Belle has been on the case for me again this week, putting together one of her little videos, this time for a kids’ clothes website called Melijoe.com. Belle’s technological abilities always impress me – she literally went into the garden on her own with her phone, came back in, disappeared upstairs for about ten minutes and then presented me with a 30 second video, set to music, with captions.

How did she even take the pictures on her own??

The girl is a genius.

Melijoe.com caters for children from birth up to 16 years old, which in itself is a draw for me – so many kids’ clothes websites only go up to 10 or 11 years old, and it can be hard to find clothes for Belle that are actually for children and yet stylish and durable at the same time. So often it feels like the choice is between cheap man-made fabrics with garish cartoon characters on or crop tops and leopard print, as though the average 12 year old is often to be found ‘in da club’ at weekends.

Belle was in heaven picking her items from Melijoe.com; there are literally thousands of things to choose from. I did my best to be patient, but confess there were moments when I wished their collection wasn’t quite as comprehensive, just so that she would get on and choose. In the end she went for a new pair of summer pyjamas, with shorts instead of long trousers, and an embroidered white dress and cardigan. I would have put money on the dress as Belle has a very girly side to her and loves a bit of voile. The dress is beautiful, and as Belle says in her video, the detail is stunning:

Melijoe.com dressI was a little bit worried about sizing, as I’ve always thought that Belle was small for her age, but everything fits perfectly; Belle seems to have gone through a real spurt lately height wise, which is nice for her as she has always felt a bit uncomfortable being the smallest in class, but not so nice for me as I can no longer get away with squeezing her into her age 8-9 jeans and telling her they are intentionally cropped.  View Post

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