The eagle eyed amongst you will have spied that I have haphazardly started including a few recipes on the blog in a feature that I like to call FOODIE FRIDAY.
Hello my darlings.
I just wanted to write you a little note just to remind you that I absolutely adore you!
No particular reason, no special day.
We’ve just hung out at home, in our onesies.
We’ve pottered and cuddled and read and had tea, built towers, knocked them down, practised walking and singing… And just being us really. 🙂
So, just incase you are stomping around in a massive 17 year old strop, thinking you’ve got the worst parents in the universe, know this, you are loved. Always.
When we snuggle up in bed after you’ve been swimming and splashing and kicking and babbling in the bath, when you are a little bit sleepy and a little bit cuddly, there is no where else in the world I would rather be.
I can already see that you are both growing so very fast and I am achingly proud of you both with your different, glorious personalities.
B with your lovely slow and steady, gentle, careful nature and you H with your fast and furious, no fear fantasticness.
You are never happier than when you are together and my world comes to a shuddering stop when I look through the crack of the playroom door to hear you giggling together.
I wish I could bottle it.
And that moment when your dada and I check on you in the middle of the night, it is all we can do not to high five each other in your room in celebration of the amazing little people we’ve made.
We love you my darlings and, though I am sad that your baby phase is now finito, I am so looking forward to all the coming stages.
That’s all really. Sleep tight.
You are loved.
It seems impossible to write this post without coming across as some sort of Puritan, holier than thou, Ebenezer Scrooge type character but, as I sit here watching the BBC Panorama special on Amazon- The truth behind the click I feel like I need to give the whole flipping nation a shake and scream
WHAT’S IT ALL FOR???
Everything is getting out of hand.
People are confusing
‘more’ with ‘better’,
‘stuff’ with ‘achievement’ and
‘presents’ with ‘love’
It seems to go like this…
Because we need more stuff to prove who we are, who we love and how much we’ve achieved, we need to work more to afford it all.
Sooo, we need to shop remotely because we’re soooo busy.
Oh, and because we’re soooo busy we feel guilty that we ain’t giving the attention to the people we love and so we buy them a token to show that we are thinking of them. Continue ad nauseum.
STOP THIS MADNESS.
STOP IT NOW!!!
It is insane.
It is round the bend and it isn’t sustainable.
I know this isn’t easy.
I love lovely stuff! I wrote a blog on what I’d like for Christmas for goodness sake, but we need to draw the line somewhere (preferably right under my list!)
No, seriously, Someone has to make the first move and I know that it is hard to be the one to say something so, if you want, you can blame it on me. I have broad shoulders- no joke, I really do.
Ok- here goes…
I love my children and I love my family and friends.
I can’t prove this with stuff but I can try to show them all what thy mean to me with thoughts and deeds and actions.
I am majorly aware how blurgh this sounds btw. I am sounding do gooderish. Hideous.
Anywho, This year the girls are getting four small gifts based on the idea that there is:
Something they need
Something they want
Something they can read and
Something they can wear.
All of these are coming out of the money I made at the NCT nearly new sale.
My family are getting homemade gifts (if you are reading this family you’d better be practising your best WOW I LOVE IT smiles!)
and my friends are getting a warm cuddle and a glass of wine if they come over (no joke girls- that’s your lot. 🙂 PLEASE don’t embarrass me by getting us stuff).
I am sending a handful of Christmas cards (which gives me the old Royal Mail guilts) but I am spending the rest of my card budget supporting the Liverpool Pyjama Party and Rucksack Project because there are people that really, really do need stuff, as well as love and care this Christmas.
So, what do you reckon to stepping away from the Internet, scaling down the gift giving madness and, where ever possible supporting your local, independent shops.
You never know, we might even like things better this way.
Loads of love.
Like the title? Ha ha. See what I did there?
So, the situation is this ladies and gents. I have finally succumbed and purchased a onesie.
Sweet Jesus what took me so long? I LOVE IT.
Possibly even more than my wedding dress.
Possibly more than anything else I have worn ever. Ever.
I went upmarket. Ooh- get me!
Not the £200 cashmere affair from M&S. That would be a step too far but, neither did I want to go up like a Christmas pudding, on opening the oven, due to the criminally high polyester content.
And so, I turned to my faithful old friend, NEXT and this is what I plumped for.
The one on the left.
Now, this is the picture from their website. I opted for that rather than a cheeky snap of myself that would result in two things:
1) you feeling bad that you can’t rock a onesie as splendidly as I.
2) NEXT being inundated with messages asking for me to be their new model and I simply can’t spare the time.
I haven’t got dressed at all today.
I have been swanning around in my onesie and fully expect to continue to do so until around Easter.
Even better than mine though, are the amazing matching onesies I bought for the girls for them to wear on Christmas Eve. I am SO excited. I am not sure that I will be able to hold out until then but I will give it a go.
Mr L has sadly declined to get into the spirit of things and remains firmly onesieless. When asked why, he made the following statement.
“I have not yet waved the white flag in terms of wearing nice clothing. I don’t want to look like someone who has given up on life!”
Then again, he might have a point.
Happily, no one needs to miss out on this craze…check out this hilarious picture which nearly made me wee. Not ideal when wearing a onesie. Just like the hideousness of weeing when bodysuits were all the rage.
And finally- if you want to help ensure that no one is onesieless this winter have a look at this brilliant scheme to ensure that all homeless children in Liverpool can have a new pair of PJ’s for Christmas Eve. Pay it forward people. Pay it forward.
Lots of love.
I knew this was going to happen.
Look love, you’re not a natural cook, much less a baker so why don’t you just make it easy on yourself.Buy a Christmas cake.Other people do.It doesn’t make you a bad person.No one even likes Christmas cake so it’s no big deal and, if you really, really must, you can lie and say you made it,fed it with brandy weekly,iced itand stuck on the little tiny people all by yourself.
This week I have been swanning around like some kind of pro bloggy type and have been to an event at The Cheshire Cookery School. Get me!
I was enticed to attend by two things:
1) It was a cookery workshop (I need all the help I can get!)
2) I was allowed to take the toddler (bonding experience and no childcare costs)
Now, the event was hosted by Oven Pride and, because of my total and utter flipping stupidity, in my head Oven Pride was actually Home Pride, you know, the cooking sauce with the little men wearing bowler hats?
I know that I’m a bit late to the party here what with #blogfest being last Saturday and all but, for all of those I met there, I needed to get this off my chest.
I’m a woman.
I’m a mother.
I’m a wife.
I’m a friend and a sister and a daughter and finally-
I’m a feminist.
My mind is absolutely blown by the question at Blogfest:
‘Can you be a mummy blogger and a feminist?’
I am an intelligent woman (according to myself) and I genuinely do not understand the question.
Of course you can be a mummy blogger and a feminist.
I am one of them.
At blogfest there were approximately 400 others.
I have documented my understanding of being a feminist on here before but just to recap;
I think that all people were created equal so you should neither think yourself better or worse than anyone else.
This is very tricky and if I’m perfectly honest I do both almost daily. I can’t help it. I could probably try harder.
I think that if in doubt simply return to the old adage of do unto others how you’d like done to you.
(I’ve literally just done that- moved seats for a person on the train. A man! Would you credit it.)
Some people are just fools.
This isn’t because they are men or women.
It is because they are fools. Obviously that is an over simplification, they will have a back story to why they believe the things that they do but that doesn’t mean that you need to lie down and take it.
I was totally weirded out by the idea that the word Mummy is deemed to be derogatory. I absolutely LOVE hearing my girls call me Muma. Being a mum is massively important to me and you’d be pretty hard pressed to make me feel bad or like I’m letting woman kind down for setting at home to care for my kids.
Bore off. It’s my choice, supported by my family.
If it’s not for you, you are welcome to make your own decision and do your own thing but don’t suggest that my choice is forcing the rest of womankind back into the kitchen against their will.
I do realise that I am lucky to have that choice. I’m grateful but unapologetic.
To sum up I will turn to Eleanor Roosevelt who said;
So, If you think you’re not being treated fairly. Challenge it.
If you think someone else isn’t being treated fairly challenge it.
And read this
It ain’t rocket science people.
I bet it is this kind of attitude that is making my toddler shout NO WAY in relation to anything at all at the moment but, that’s the price you pay for wanting your kids to have a brain, a voice and an opinion.
I should have made it clear to her that the opinion I want her to have is mine!!! 😉 kidding people. Don’t be all angry pants about it!
Ever since our first daughter was born just over 2 years ago I have been doing my best to raise her to become a strong, independent young lady.
My friend once overheard me whispering to my barely 6 month old daughter about her growing up and living her dreams, not letting anyone or anything stand in her way. And she laughed her ass off.
What are you doing she cried.
You’re double dosing her.
She is growing up with you as a mother.
She’ll see a strong, independent woman every day.
You don’t need to be sending her off to sleep each night with a bloody hypnotising CD monologue in her head!!
Pipa- how right you were…
Fast forward two years and our beautiful baby girl is growing and changing almost daily.
She is, without a doubt a headstrong, independent, intelligent, feisty little ferret.
She is also kind, gentle, caring and all kinds of wonderful.
I collected her from nursery today and had a little debrief with her lovely key worker.
Now, having been a teacher myself I am well aware of what people say and what they really mean…many a time I struggled to find a positive spin for certain types of behaviour and had to resort to the following:
What I said: Jacob has an excellent knowledge of Geography.
What I meant: Jacob is a sneaky little git who knows all the back alleys to skive and smoke down.
What I said: Angela is enthusiastically developing her practical skills in science.
What I meant: Angela was caught copping a feel of Craig’s semi in Biology.
What I said: Mitchell has a natural talent for creative writing.
What I meant: Mitchell is a pathological lier.
What I said: Hilary really likes to get a feel for the materials.
What I meant: Hilary was caught in the tech cupboard rubbing herself with the fabric remnants.
And now the boot is on the other foot…
They say: No one is going to push her around.
They mean: She’s a bossy boots.
They say: She’s very determined.
They mean: She wouldn’t do as she was asked.
They say: She’s very independent.
They mean: Doesn’t accept help (which makes everything take 16 hours!)
They say: She’s very bright.
They mean: We feel we need to offer a little grain of hope to cling to in the years between now and when she leaves home because you are going to have some serious battles on your hands…good luck!!
I say: We’re going home now.
She says. NO WAY.
I say: Ok then, I’ll go home on my own then.
She: sits at the top of the stairs, waves and says; Bye then Muma.
I honestly don’t know where she gets it!
Keep your ears open for the inevitable ‘teacher talk’ that’s coming your way!!
Lots of love.
So, that’s it.
Bonfire night is over and the next official big date in the calendar is Christmas.
It is less than 7 weeks away. Just 41 days people!
That means gents- and I am talking specifically to you (I know about my loyal band of squaddie readers!!) that there is only 40 shopping days remaining until your loved one is left bereft and disappointed crying into their cranberry sauce as a direct result of your lack of thought and imagination.
Sad times indeed.
You think that a poorly thought out gift is no big deal…think again my friend, think again.
A poorly chosen gift will send your Mrs’ into a tail spin. Her brain (which, by the way, is filled with images and froth from such films as The Holiday and Love Actually), will whisper things like
Before you know it there will be either a heavy silence or a pan being thrown at your face.
All happening with a backdrop of in-laws and over excited children. Before 8.30am. Lovely.
Happily, this year you can avoid all of that nastiness and virtually assure yourself of a festive fondle simply by following these simple suggestions…
I am so touched by all the texts, Facebook comments and tweets in response to my guest post today which I wrote in memory of my dad- THANK YOU.
For reasons unknown to me, my scheduled post for today did not upload properly so all of the links etc were missing so, I am reposting now. Maybe, one day I will understand all of this techno stuff…anywho, here it is my dears.
I love a list.
I write them out almost daily detailing all the stuff I need to do or get sorted and then, almost immediately, I go off task, and then later find myself stressing or complaining that I have got too much to do.
“How was your day?”*Draw long breath & sigh deeply*I just have got so much to do and I can never seem to get to the bottom of the list.I mean I have to…
I have to unblock the shower drain using only my teeth.And then I’ll need to scrub the grouting with my bare hands.After that I’ll be cutting the grass with some blunt scissors and then, if I can only make time, I might allow myself to get dressed. Read the rest of this entry »