“Please can I have my study back?” I ask Belle, picking my way through the teddies lined up on the floor, notebooks at their feet, where a game of ‘schools’ was abandoned some days ago.

“Argh!” she replies. (It’s more of a snort and groan in one, but it’s hard to put into a word.) “But then I’ll have to carry all the teddies downstairs, and then come back up and carry the notebooks down, and then come up again and take down their school tables!”

“Um… yes,” I agree, “that is rather the point.”

Five minutes later though and we were regretting our insistence that Belle took everything down herself. The red leather ex-nightclub cube seats she had been using as desks left a selection of interesting red stains on the walls as she manoeuvred them down the stairs. A more cynical mother might wonder if she did it on purpose, like when men deliberately make a hash out of the chores they don’t want to be asked to do again.*

Normally I’m not really the type to care much about stains – I’m much more of a ‘rub it quickly into the carpet with my foot’ kind of person – but since we moved to Bristol, and had to put down a mahoosive deposit on our rented house, suddenly stains seem a lot more important. I can’t think why.

Recently we came back from a night away, to a selection of mysterious stains. It turned out that Bee had ‘had a few friends over’ while we were gone. Coffee stains on the table were easy to identify, and the smell of beer from the carpet gave us a clue there, but the waist height purple lines all around the dining room walls had us baffled for ages.

coffee rings

Coffee anyone?

We were sure they weren’t there before, but we just couldn’t think where they could have come from. And then I spotted my purple hula hoop in the corner of the room…

Funnily enough, the supermarket doesn’t stock anything designed to get hula hoop marks off walls, so if you have any stain removal tips please do let me know.

*Pure sexist slander.

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Have you noticed how everywhere you go now they want to dust your drink with chocolate powder or make some elaborate pattern out of milk froth?

I have to admit that although I know the coffee shop people do it for everyone, and probably loathe the very sight of a coffee bean shaped stencil by the end of the day, it still makes me feel special. I genuinely think I enjoy my drink more when it looks pretty. Simple things etc etc.

Quite often I like to take pictures of my beautiful beverages, in a bid to capture their beauty for ever, and also to make me stop for a minute, reflect on the simple pleasure of a nicely shaped cup, and get a bit of perspective on my day.

Here then, for your amusement, is a little gallery of the delightful drinks I have enjoyed recently.

Cheers!

"hot chocolate"

I heart hot chocolate

"pretty coffee"

I want the moon on a stick. Or on a coffee at least.

"cup of tea"

The cutest milk jug you ever did see

"mint hot chocolate"

Marvelous mint hot chocolate

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I’ve been feeling bad over the weekend for being such a party pooper, complaining about burger buns and putting a dampener on the whole evening Pimms vibe, so today I thought I’d balance it out a bit.

I’m not really a grumpy old woman you see. Yes I feel silly buying brollies in the rain, but there are plenty of other special occasions and clichéd activities that I positively relish.

Christmas

Christmas really is the ultimate in ‘things we are forced to celebrate’, and yet I love it. I love everything about it. I love buying presents, I love choosing wrapping paper, I love the smell of mulled wine and mince pies, and watching the girls open their stocking on Christmas morning. I start getting excited about Christmas around September, and am almost beside myself by the time the lights come on and strains of Slade start flowing from open shop doors.

Flowers

Another total cliché, but I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t like getting flowers. Whether it be an enormous bouquet delivered to your door or a handful of daisies picked from a neighbour’s garden on the way home, there is just something special about being sent flowers. To me, being given flowers tells me that somebody is thinking about me, and that I’m worth the effort of stopping off at the garage, and that’s surely the stuff of fairy tales? And a note to all the men out there, don’t worry if you’re not near a garage forecourt – you can get UK flower delivery online from one of dozens of local florists from Interflora. There is no excuse I’m afraid.

Birthdays

‘Oh, don’t worry about getting me a present, it’s just another day really…’

This is something I will never say. I love birthdays, and expect to receive a lovely array of thoughtful gifts and cards. For the last few years I’ve celebrated with a party, which is even better, as all your guests feel obliged to bring presents and pay you lots of attention. Yes, the money you spend on juke box hire may be more than the value of all your pressies combined, but that’s hardly the point, and everyone wants a juke box in their kitchen right?

The Olympics

You’d think that of all the bandwagons, this would be one of the ones I’d be least likely to jump on, yet there we were, waving our over-priced flags and drinking our free cokes. Seriously, who gives their kids coke for breakfast? Me it seems!

"Olympic torch"

Waiting for the Olympic torch. And the sugar rush.

Do you have any celebrations or traditions that you like to throw yourself into? Any special occasions you enjoy regardless of the fact that they are probably owned by Hallmark? Do let me know…

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The last few times I’ve done a Week in Tweets post I’ve been a little lazy.

Maybe lazy isn’t quite the right word, as actually what I’ve done has been more work. Sneaky perhaps. I’ve tweeted as Bee and Belle, tweeted as Nancy Drew, Girl Detective, and in the weeks I’ve been me, I’ve written retrospective tweets. All of this is perfectly within the rules, (as made up by me), but I can’t help but feel it’s all been an elaborate avoidance tactic.

You know why?

Because I am boring on twitter.

Don’t tell anyone, but my tweets are actually fairly dull and sporadic, and I’m beginning to wonder if this whole meme isn’t just a ploy to convince everyone otherwise. So this week, I’m going to pick some actual tweets, so you can see for yourself how dull I am. I will totally understand if you want to unfollow me immediately.

"Rubber duck"

Quack quack

Saturday – Love the new polka dot anti-mould rubber ducks from @cuddledry at @TheBabyShow

Sunday – Casually roasting a chicken.

Monday – How many meals do you make at tea time? wp.me/pJA3j-JS

Tuesday – @liveotherwise Oooh, are you doing @ThinkingSlimmer ? The voice man sounds to me like Jude Law – it is quite seductive!

Wednesday – @GappyTales you could break up an old cheap necklace and use the beads as jewels?

Thursday – Belle is loving the @AngelBerryMe experience. Think she has a bit of everything…

Friday – @TheLadyMagazine My mum was a Tupperware Lady when I was little, and she still has a lot of her ‘kit’, so it must last!

You see??!!

Oh yes, Tupperware is so durable! How fascinating! The Lady Magazine didn’t reply to that one. What a surprise.

I would really love for you to share your week in tweets, tedious or otherwise, if only to make me feel better. Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list. I promise I will read them all and give you a shout out on twitter. I clearly have nothing else to say.

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I have a bit of a weird confession.

Yesterday we had a barbecue. (That’s not the confession. That’s not at all weird).

I nearly didn’t though, because I didn’t want to go and buy burgers and buns.

I don’t know why, but I have a bit of an issue with doing stuff that lots of other people are doing. I just don’t like it. It’s hard to understand why, as I don’t judge other people for buying burger buns just because it’s sunny. I’m not secretly standing behind you at the checkout, mocking you inside my head for taking advantage of the nice weather, so why do I judge myself?

I think it’s because it makes me feel a bit stupid and gullible, as though someone is watching and going ‘haha! You fell for it!’. Or it might be a form of stubbornness, where I don’t want to do it just because I probably should.

Perhaps I have some issues.

"Burgers"

Om nom nom

It’s not just burger buns either, there are plenty of other similar things I don’t like to do:

  • I don’t like to eat out on occasions like Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day.
  • I actually don’t like Valentine’s Day full stop, and especially don’t like buying things in the shape of hearts, or pink chocolates.
  • I don’t like buying suntan lotion in the summer.
  • I don’t like buying an umbrella if it’s raining, or worst still, looking like it might rain soon.
  • I don’t like buying insurance for things unless it’s a legal requirement.

Is this normal?

I’ve always just assumed it was, but lately, seeing so many people casually buying burger buns without any sense of shame, I’m beginning to suspect it’s just me…

Photo credit – chotda

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When Bee was about 12 years old*, she did a very brave thing. She went off all by herself to one of Do It 4 Real’s UK summer camps. As we dropped her off at the bus, which would take her miles and miles away, (somewhere Up North), I couldn’t help but admire her – she knew no one at all, and yet she very quickly made friends, some of whom, thanks to facebook, she is still in touch with now.

Personally I had mixed feelings about summer camps as a child. The idea of them was always much more exciting than the reality. I’d get totally hyped up in the weeks beforehand, imagining Famous Five type adventures, so that the reality of communal sleeping with strangers, without even a deserted island to explore, was always a disappointment.

Another con is the cost of a summer camp. Unfortunately, they can be expensive, and if your child doesn’t like it due to homesickness for example, then it will be very disappointing for the both of you. There is a positive point to this con, however. Many camps have caught on to the importance of being more frugal in the current economic climate and are therefore offering financial solutions like paying the fee over several months, so that it’s not such a shock to your bank account. When Bee went on her camp, we got a really good discount too for being on a low income, so it’s always worth checking to see if they have concessionary prices.

Home-sickness, shared rooms, parting with wads of cash… Am I selling it to you yet?

"Archery for kids"

Image – Do It 4 Real

Let’s look at the pros.

Firstly, you get rid of your child for a whole week! Brilliant! What will you do with yourself? Have a little sit down probably and catch up on the housework, but still, you can do it in glorious peace!

The real beauty though of summer camps is that it gives your child the opportunity to try out activities you simply can’t provide at home. Bee’s camp had a theatrical theme and try as I might, I can’t provide a cast of actors and singers at home in the back garden. If your child likes the idea of learning archery, climbing, or kayaking, or is desperate to ride a quad bike and play paint balling, then a summer camps could be a great choice.

This counts double if after one week of the summer holidays, your kids are complaining about being bored. One fun packed week will not only be a great experience but give them inspiration for new hobbies during term time, too. There’s nothing stopping them from pursuing their new found interests, and maybe even discovering a passion that lasts a lifetime or which could even turn into a career path.

So, will you be packing your kids of this summer for a week full of muddy fun? Let me know…

*Actually I checked with her after I wrote this and she reckons she was only nine! Amazing…

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Today I wasted ninety whole minutes of my life. Ninety minutes that I will never, ever be able to get back.

Today Belle and I went to watch Top Cat The Movie.

Now I didn’t have high expectations – I’m used to watching crappy kids’ films and I’d seen the trailer, so I knew it wasn’t going to be exactly high brow:

The trailer however did not do justice to the full Top Cat horror that awaited us.

I’m not a big fan of 3D films at the best of times, mainly because I have to wear the 3D glasses over the top of my ordinary glasses, and I look kind of stupid, but also I just don’t see the point with something like Top Cat. There was nothing in the film that benefited from 3D, it just feels like jumping on the 3D bandwagon.

Even a bandwagon can be bearable though, so long as you spend more than about 49p on the 3D effects. I suspect that this was roughly the budget for Top Cat.

The 3D was such poor quality that often there were just random objects in 3D, standing out as though in mid-air – a bowl of snacks on a side table for instance, where the bowl appeared to hover about a metre away from the table top for no reason. At other times, the cats and the background couldn’t decide which was meant to be at the front, and it all became rather confusing.

It was a little bit like watching a 3D film but without the glasses on – nothing looked quite right.

And the plot?

Hmmm…

I can’t say it exactly gripped me. In fact I tried my best to think of anything at all I could do to not have to watch Top Cat and the gang’s crazy antics. I gave myself a hand massage – that passed a nice few minutes. Then I was stuck. If we’d not been in a corner I might have slipped out to the ‘toilet’ and just hung about in the lobby for ten minutes. That would have been infinitely preferable.

I really can’t say anymore. I just want to put the whole thing behind me and move on.

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Well she’s less under it to be honest, and more over and around it.

“Mummy!” she yelled, unwrapping the parcel waiting for her in the kitchen. “You’re the best Mummy in the whole world ever! I’ve always dreamed of having my own microscope but never thought it would come true!”

She does loves a bit of drama. She’s trying out for Oliver at school at the moment. I think she has a pretty good shot.

The parcel was indeed a microscope, courtesy of Galt Toys, although I’m doubtful that it will herald any amazing scientific discoveries, as it costs less than £20. Still, Belle was over the moon about the prospect of being able to see bugs close up, so who was I to crush her dreams?

"Microscope for kids"

Belle’s Microscopic Monsters kit, courtesy of Galt Toys

 

Try as I might to help by carefully reading aloud the instructions, Belle was having none of it, and was ripping bits out of the box before I even had chance to fetch her lab coat.*

She seemed pretty content fiddling about with the preloaded slides, so I left her to it and went to make a cup of tea. After about ten minutes I came back. “How are you getting on?” I asked, adopting that very motherly ‘arms folded thoughtfully across chest with mug of tea in hand’ pose.

“It’s awesome!” she said. “Look through there, you can see my blood!”

Blood?

I’d only left her for ten minutes.

“Blood?” I said, trying to sound casual and not like I wanted to call an ambulance. “How did you get blood on a slide?”

“Oh it’s fine,” she waved me away, peering back through her beloved microscope, “nothing to worry about.”

I had a look through the eyepiece, slightly hesitant about what her blood might reveal, but to be honest it looks to me just like the fungi slide. And the one she did of her own hair. Perhaps I was missing something. Belle though was adamant that all her slides looked different, and as long as she’s happy, so am I.

Who am I to stand in the way of science?

*She doesn’t actually have a lab coat, but how cute would that be? Or possibly a little menacing, depending on her mood.

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A recent study by Flora Cuisine has revealed that over a third of mums in the UK are preparing up to three meals each evening in order to satisfy the individual preferences of children and partners.

Three meals!? I find cooking one meal tedious enough, but three? Crazy times.

I’m pretty sure my Gran didn’t used to cook three separate meals every mealtime. My mum just got fried eggs and chips and was grateful. So what’s going on here? Are we raising a generation of fussy eaters, or of parents too frazzled and disenchanted to argue?

Now I’ll admit that sometimes I will ‘tweak’ a dinner to make sure there is at least one type of vegetable that Belle will eat, but that’s just a case of a few extra peas here, and the removal from her plate of anything courgette based, it’s not that I’m cooking entirely different dishes. Who are these women with all this time on their hands?

"peas"

Eat your peas or you don’t get pudding

The survey also showed that us mums are rather lacking in imagination, or possibly motivation, with 72% of us just cooking the same meals over and over again. Oh the joys of parenting! Around two-thirds of us apparently own recipe books we don’t use because the ingredients are too expensive and the recipes too long and complicated. Makes sense to me. I only buy them for the pictures.

So what can we do about this? Well, there’s the ‘shut up, eat it and be grateful’ school of thought of course – that saves on the cooking time but increases the risk of whingeing – or you could argue that it’s good to provide kids with choice, and to give them food they enjoy. Flora are taking a different approach. They’re putting together a recipe book full of cheap and quick meal ideas from real mums. Post your recipe on their facebook page and you could even win a prize! Fish fingers and baked beans anyone?

What do you think? Are we just spoiling our kids and creating extra work for ourselves or is it important to cater for everyone’s tastes?

 

Photo credit – mschmidt62

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Despite not even applying for olympic tickets, this morning Belle and I got into the olympic spirit and went to watch the torch relay as it came through Bristol. There were already hundreds of people lining the streets when we arrived at our spot, so we queued up for our free Cokes, in true commercial style, and set up camp with some friends from Belle’s school, who we had spotted on the other side of the road.

"Bristol olympic torch relay"

Rule Britannia etc etc

It wasn’t long before the crowd started getting excitable, as a series of police bikes approached, followed by an assortment of strange advertising buses. I was slightly confused, as there appeared to be a boy, dressed in white, getting off a bus and holding the torch at the side of the road throughout this procession. I didn’t think that was how it worked. Can you spot him?

After this initial surge of activity, the boy with the torch was still there, and we of course rushed over to touch it. Belle apparently is ‘never washing her hands again’. Any excuse.

"olympic torch"

Someone pass him a match?

Then though the excitement started up again, and it dawned on me that we were standing at a spot where the flame was being passed over, (I understand the relay concept now), and this torch boy was actually just waiting for the flame to come along. I did thing it was a bit weird that it wasn’t even lit. I am quite slow though sometimes.

"olympic torch relay"

Feel that Olympic spirit…

By this point, thinking the fun was over, I had kindly let an old lady stand in front of me, so didn’t have such a good view. Still, if you ignore that massive head taking up a lot of the picture, I think you get some sense of the occasion.

Hooray for torch boy!

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You’d think that with the wealth of technology we have at our fingertips nowadays that something as simple as a pen and paper would be practically obsolete. And fountain pens? A relic of the past surely?

Apparently not.

According to the BBC today sales of fountain pens are rising, and Amazon say that sales so far this year are four times that of the same period in 2010. That’s a crazy rise isn’t it? What’s causing this amazing fountain pen resurgence? Are we all sick of gadgets and hankering after the past?

"Fountain pen"

The power of the pen

 

I do wonder if I have been partly responsible for the trend, as I have bought about six fountain pens in the last few months. Everyone in Belle’s class is required to write with a fountain pen, and Belle unfortunately hasn’t quite got the hang of pressing gently and evenly, resulting in a costly number of snapped nibs.

It would seem though that Belle’s school are in a minority, and that most schools no longer insist on children using fountain pens. In fact, one headmaster at a school in Stockport even went so far apparently as to ban GCSE pupils from using fountain pens, as he was worried it would affect their exam performance.

Despite getting through them quicker than Bee gets through crates of Angel Delight, Belle loves using a fountain pen. She happily spends time sat up in bed practising her best handwriting, and her choice of pen seems to give her a sense of importance, that makes her take her work just a little bit more seriously. Her pen gives her gravitas, just as lawyers and doctors using fountain pens inspire an air of authority and confidence.

Is this the power of the pen in action?

What do you think? Do you have a special place in your heart for fountain pens or is this possibly the dullest post you’ve read all week?

Photo credit – Linda Cronin

 

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Are you the parent you always thought you’d be, or do you do things a little differently from how you first intended?

I’ve been thinking lately about all the things I do as a parent that I’m not exactly proud of, and wondering if it’s normal to give up so quickly on so many of your principles. Do other parents set out with an idea of the parent they want to be, only to slip into bad habits the minute their baby is born?

Take food for instance. We know that sugar is Bad and fruit and vegetables are Good. No one wants to be the mum with the kid hanging off a Fruit Shoot right? Yet how many of us can honestly say the snacks we give our children are always quite as wholesome as they could be? Haven’t you ever sat your toddler in a trolley whilst simultaneously cracking open a packet of chocolate buttons, just so you can do at least the first ten minutes of the shopping in relative peace?

I know I have.

"nutella"

Bell’s first food

Baby names are another one. I can’t bear the whole ‘quirky’ kids names thing. Seriously, what child wants to be burdened with a name like ‘Apple’ all their life? It’s just not fair. So what is Belle’s middle name?

Pixie.

Pixie.

She had a pointy pixie ear when she was born, which I thought would grow out. It didn’t. And the worst bit? I love that she’s called Pixie! That makes me one of those jazz hands parents doesn’t it?

And then there are dummies. Before I had kids I hated the sight of a child with a dummy. How common it looked! How lazy those parents must be!

Yes, I really thought that, and don’t pretend you haven’t either. How judgemental we all are! When your baby has been crying for hours on end though, and you’re about ready to bash it with a rolling pin, a dummy is a very sensible alternative.

The truth is that until you become a parent you really just don’t understand. Everyone says that I know, but it’s true. So when you’re next dishing up chicken nuggets in front of the TV, don’t feel too bad – the slip from the parenting pedestal happens to the best of us.

Photo credit – Aljoharah Saud

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