I know that some people have a list of things they want to do before they leave the world behind. My list is more of a 'things to be' with a few 'things to do' thrown in:
1. Learn to appreciate the things I have and not dwell on the things I have not.
2. Never hold back from saying something that could make someone happy.
3. Occasionally hold back from saying something that could make someone unhappy.
4. Stop beating myself up for things I have done wrong and learn to praise myself instead.
5. Stop counting the things I still need to do and count the things I have done instead.
6. Make time for people rather than tasks.
7. Do something nice for someone at least once a day.
8. Do something nice for me at least once in a while.
9. Get outside more.
10. Write more.
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
Guilt: part 378b (or thereabouts)
Doh. It was a non-uniform day today at school. Unfortunately I was completely oblivious to this fact until we turned the corner at five to nine and saw hundreds of small children of the type who are lucky enough to have parents who actually read information and retain it all dressed in their favourite clothes. Oh poo. Hmm, let's try and turn it into something fun: "hey, you could be the only one in a dress like yours" yeah right, that's going to do it. No, instead the only thing that's going to work is me offering to walk back home and get another set of clothes, and then walking back up to school with them. Bleargh.
Trying not to blame anyone else for the mistake - apparently there had been a big notice on the door the night before when I hadn't been on school run duty - I gave five year old a big hug and tried not to get upset myself at her tears.
In the end she was fine, I was probably more distraught at having made such a mistake - although there were quite a few other parents in the same position as me this time so the consensus is that it hadn't been well publicised.
I was annoyed at myself though because I think I have now got into a good routine with the morning rush, remembering most of the important things on a daily basis. So far we have never been late and I reckon my morning shouting is fairly minimal these days too. So for me this mistake marks a blemish on my personal record.
Anyway when we got home later five year old wrote "I love mummy" on the back step in chalk, so she must have forgiven me for now. Hopefully.
Trying not to blame anyone else for the mistake - apparently there had been a big notice on the door the night before when I hadn't been on school run duty - I gave five year old a big hug and tried not to get upset myself at her tears.
In the end she was fine, I was probably more distraught at having made such a mistake - although there were quite a few other parents in the same position as me this time so the consensus is that it hadn't been well publicised.
I was annoyed at myself though because I think I have now got into a good routine with the morning rush, remembering most of the important things on a daily basis. So far we have never been late and I reckon my morning shouting is fairly minimal these days too. So for me this mistake marks a blemish on my personal record.
Anyway when we got home later five year old wrote "I love mummy" on the back step in chalk, so she must have forgiven me for now. Hopefully.
Saturday, 30 May 2009
Doubling as the tooth fairy
Five year old lost her fourth tooth this week. The first time it happened I gained a huge warm glow from the thundering feet into my room in the early morning accompanied by shouts of pure joy: "Mummeeee, it worked, she came!", but four teeth in and I'm half-expecting her to become jaded by the regularity of the tooth fairy's night-time visits.
So much so that I very nearly almost forgot to swop tooth for coin in the night. I even got as far as getting into bed and closing my eyes before sitting bolt upright and stumbling into the girls' bedroom to carry out this essential duty.
So when she came into my room - wailing this time: "She didn't come!", I was more than taken aback. And not just because this was happening at an hour I'd rather not see. In the back of my mind I started to think that maybe I had dreamt the bit where I remembered and got back up to be the tooth fairy. Maybe I had actually forgotten after all? I went into her room to check under the pillow, leaving her to mourn the loss of her tooth in my room. After a few minutes of fruitless searching I started to work out a plan for an unnoticed run downstairs to where my coin stash would be, trying to think up my story as I went - this had to be good enough to convince three and five year old that I hadn't just popped downstairs to get another coin.
I managed to do this and carried on in a pantomime-style: "Come and just have one more look, you never know..." This was followed by her reluctantly coming back in, lifting the pillow and exclaiming: "Oh, look, she brought me two coins, I was only kidding before."
Doh. Outdone by a five year old on the subterfuge front. Now what happens for tooth five? The art of deceipt is clearly beyond me.
All ideas gratefully received.
So much so that I very nearly almost forgot to swop tooth for coin in the night. I even got as far as getting into bed and closing my eyes before sitting bolt upright and stumbling into the girls' bedroom to carry out this essential duty.
So when she came into my room - wailing this time: "She didn't come!", I was more than taken aback. And not just because this was happening at an hour I'd rather not see. In the back of my mind I started to think that maybe I had dreamt the bit where I remembered and got back up to be the tooth fairy. Maybe I had actually forgotten after all? I went into her room to check under the pillow, leaving her to mourn the loss of her tooth in my room. After a few minutes of fruitless searching I started to work out a plan for an unnoticed run downstairs to where my coin stash would be, trying to think up my story as I went - this had to be good enough to convince three and five year old that I hadn't just popped downstairs to get another coin.
I managed to do this and carried on in a pantomime-style: "Come and just have one more look, you never know..." This was followed by her reluctantly coming back in, lifting the pillow and exclaiming: "Oh, look, she brought me two coins, I was only kidding before."
Doh. Outdone by a five year old on the subterfuge front. Now what happens for tooth five? The art of deceipt is clearly beyond me.
All ideas gratefully received.
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Daytripping
School holiday again this week so arranged to meet up with a friend for a day out. As you may have read somewhere on here before I am not a big fan of driving for lots of reasons. Small children in the backs of cars scare me when I am in the driving seat, especially on motorways, and then of course there's the green factor. So we set off to Manchester, aiming for the Museum of Science and Industry, with a bus and two trains ahead of us.
It has been a while since we've done a day out of this nature, so the girls were excited at the prospect of buses and trains and of seeing my friend at the other end of the journey. First bus went well, first train was a bit hairy as I had forgotten how busy that service can be, and we ended up sitting on the floor by the doors for the first half of the journey. Eventually we found seats, with me perched between the two of them trying not to 'bother' the man next to us who was trying to work on his laptop. The girls were great though and oblivious to the potential discomfort due to the lack of seats and space.
Then there was the fact that I had chosen to meet in a city that has more than one station and crossed communication with my friend meant that we were headed for different stations... oops, my fault entirely. We met up in time for the second train across town though, to Deansgate and a short walk from the museum. Well, it would have been a short walk if we had been able to read the tiny sign perched on the opposite side of the road from the station instead of setting off in the opposite direction. Being unopposed to asking for directions we soon got back on the right track and raced each other back to the museum.
Arriving, younger child was already past feeding time and so we headed straight for the museum eatery. I was not expecting much as my experience of museum cafes told me not to. However I had decided before setting off that I would for once spend money rather than taking extra time to organise a picnic and then have to cart it around all day, so we stopped off at the second floor for sandwiches and food-related stroppiness. In between mouthfuls the girls spotted a little steam train taking people for rides outside and - amazingly given that we had already been on two trains that day - they got quite excited about the prospect of going for a ride.
Once tummies had been filled we went into the experiment gallery at MOSI. This is packed full of things to touch, smell, feel and twiddle. I think my five year old could have spent most of the day in there, there is so much to do and see just in that small section of the museum, but obviously three year old was by this point fixated on the 'little blue train' so our time was limited to the limits of patience of a three year old. Favourite for five year old was turning a steering wheel to operate a pulley which pulled a real Mini (car!) up and down a vertical board. "Mummy I moved the car!" and three year old loved the giant bubble blower. Personally, I loved the large black inverted globe which cast a 3D reflection - so you could put one hand into the globe and see an image of you shaking your own hand, surreal.
Obviously the next thing to do was find our way to the 'little blue train' as requested. It is amazing the fascination children of all ages have for steam trains (as proven by the number of grown men working as 'volunteers' on this particular service). Whilst waiting the girls were getting a little giddy and three year old ran into the little fence in her excitement. She ran back down to me crying: "Oh, where did you hurt yourself honey?", I asked, which prompted her, not, as I had expected, to show me the bit of her head that hurt, but to run back up and point to the exact spot of the fence that was responsible. Trying not to laugh now: "No, where on your head honey?" Ah poor thing, she wasn't badly hurt let me reassure you! The ride was fun as expected but unfortunately we had already run out of time for further exploration.
We headed back through the textile gallery and talked about coming back again sometime to meet up as we had only seen a small portion of the museum and it had been a fun experience.
The journey home was another two trains and a bus, this time with seats all the way. We waved goodbye to my friend at Deansgate from the opposite platform. Highlight of the journey home has to be the moment when five year old stepped onto the travelator (moving platform) that was going in the opposite direction to the one that me and three year old were standing on. She began by walking very fast with an expression on her face that conveyed complete confusion. She just looked as though she really couldn't understand why she was having to walk really fast while we were standing still. Perhaps you had to be there but it was very funny.
Arriving home I felt such a surge of pride for my girls. Apart from a few little blips they had been so good on the journeys and throughout the trip, it had been lovely to see my friend and spend a really fun day with my two lovely daughters. I spent a fortune but the memories of days like that one are priceless.
It has been a while since we've done a day out of this nature, so the girls were excited at the prospect of buses and trains and of seeing my friend at the other end of the journey. First bus went well, first train was a bit hairy as I had forgotten how busy that service can be, and we ended up sitting on the floor by the doors for the first half of the journey. Eventually we found seats, with me perched between the two of them trying not to 'bother' the man next to us who was trying to work on his laptop. The girls were great though and oblivious to the potential discomfort due to the lack of seats and space.
Then there was the fact that I had chosen to meet in a city that has more than one station and crossed communication with my friend meant that we were headed for different stations... oops, my fault entirely. We met up in time for the second train across town though, to Deansgate and a short walk from the museum. Well, it would have been a short walk if we had been able to read the tiny sign perched on the opposite side of the road from the station instead of setting off in the opposite direction. Being unopposed to asking for directions we soon got back on the right track and raced each other back to the museum.
Arriving, younger child was already past feeding time and so we headed straight for the museum eatery. I was not expecting much as my experience of museum cafes told me not to. However I had decided before setting off that I would for once spend money rather than taking extra time to organise a picnic and then have to cart it around all day, so we stopped off at the second floor for sandwiches and food-related stroppiness. In between mouthfuls the girls spotted a little steam train taking people for rides outside and - amazingly given that we had already been on two trains that day - they got quite excited about the prospect of going for a ride.
Once tummies had been filled we went into the experiment gallery at MOSI. This is packed full of things to touch, smell, feel and twiddle. I think my five year old could have spent most of the day in there, there is so much to do and see just in that small section of the museum, but obviously three year old was by this point fixated on the 'little blue train' so our time was limited to the limits of patience of a three year old. Favourite for five year old was turning a steering wheel to operate a pulley which pulled a real Mini (car!) up and down a vertical board. "Mummy I moved the car!" and three year old loved the giant bubble blower. Personally, I loved the large black inverted globe which cast a 3D reflection - so you could put one hand into the globe and see an image of you shaking your own hand, surreal.
Obviously the next thing to do was find our way to the 'little blue train' as requested. It is amazing the fascination children of all ages have for steam trains (as proven by the number of grown men working as 'volunteers' on this particular service). Whilst waiting the girls were getting a little giddy and three year old ran into the little fence in her excitement. She ran back down to me crying: "Oh, where did you hurt yourself honey?", I asked, which prompted her, not, as I had expected, to show me the bit of her head that hurt, but to run back up and point to the exact spot of the fence that was responsible. Trying not to laugh now: "No, where on your head honey?" Ah poor thing, she wasn't badly hurt let me reassure you! The ride was fun as expected but unfortunately we had already run out of time for further exploration.
We headed back through the textile gallery and talked about coming back again sometime to meet up as we had only seen a small portion of the museum and it had been a fun experience.
The journey home was another two trains and a bus, this time with seats all the way. We waved goodbye to my friend at Deansgate from the opposite platform. Highlight of the journey home has to be the moment when five year old stepped onto the travelator (moving platform) that was going in the opposite direction to the one that me and three year old were standing on. She began by walking very fast with an expression on her face that conveyed complete confusion. She just looked as though she really couldn't understand why she was having to walk really fast while we were standing still. Perhaps you had to be there but it was very funny.
Arriving home I felt such a surge of pride for my girls. Apart from a few little blips they had been so good on the journeys and throughout the trip, it had been lovely to see my friend and spend a really fun day with my two lovely daughters. I spent a fortune but the memories of days like that one are priceless.
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Quote of the day
Bedtime. Repeatedly asking eldest to go to the toilet before getting into bed. Reluctantly she eventually makes her way to the bathroom, from where I hear her grumbling: "I'm not your servant, you know."
Made me laugh.
Not posted for a while, been a bit down, but now I'm remembering to laugh at the little things again so things are clearly on the way back up again.
Made me laugh.
Not posted for a while, been a bit down, but now I'm remembering to laugh at the little things again so things are clearly on the way back up again.
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
Cramming it in
I know I have said before that I like to keep things simple - well above all this applies to the way we entertain our children.
On the way to pick five year old up from school my three year old (didn't post anything about her birthday but yes she's three now) was collecting sticks along the way. "This one's for you mummy, this one's for my sister", etc. I think it's a wonderful knack that young children have to be able to entertain themselves with the simplest of things. But it seems we in our busy 21st century lives are intent on training our children out of this knack. Instead of encouraging them to find things to do we usher them from one external entertainment to another.
For example: I have just had one of five year old's friends round for tea who was picked up not long before my kids' bathtime and rushed off to Rainbows. This is one of three organised activities she does in a week, the others being swimming and ballet. I have mixed feelings about all this rushing around, most of it by car obviously. For this year at the very least I haven't signed five year old up to any clubs or classes. Part of me feels that I am letting her down by not taking her to ballet, swimming, music lessons or gym, but another part of me feels that there is no need for a child of that age to have so much going on in their life. And given that she now spends five days a week in the school environment then I also feel that she needs some time to simply be. I am not criticising other parents by writing this, there's a very strong chance that in ten years time I'll be hearing the regular refrain: "and you never even let me go to ballet when I was in Primary school!!".
Clearly mine is a very middle class dilemma, if I were living on the breadline struggling to make my rent payments I wouldn't even be giving this a thought.
On the way to pick five year old up from school my three year old (didn't post anything about her birthday but yes she's three now) was collecting sticks along the way. "This one's for you mummy, this one's for my sister", etc. I think it's a wonderful knack that young children have to be able to entertain themselves with the simplest of things. But it seems we in our busy 21st century lives are intent on training our children out of this knack. Instead of encouraging them to find things to do we usher them from one external entertainment to another.
For example: I have just had one of five year old's friends round for tea who was picked up not long before my kids' bathtime and rushed off to Rainbows. This is one of three organised activities she does in a week, the others being swimming and ballet. I have mixed feelings about all this rushing around, most of it by car obviously. For this year at the very least I haven't signed five year old up to any clubs or classes. Part of me feels that I am letting her down by not taking her to ballet, swimming, music lessons or gym, but another part of me feels that there is no need for a child of that age to have so much going on in their life. And given that she now spends five days a week in the school environment then I also feel that she needs some time to simply be. I am not criticising other parents by writing this, there's a very strong chance that in ten years time I'll be hearing the regular refrain: "and you never even let me go to ballet when I was in Primary school!!".
Clearly mine is a very middle class dilemma, if I were living on the breadline struggling to make my rent payments I wouldn't even be giving this a thought.
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Weekend in the sun
I had been feeling an urge to see the sea so I decided to take the plunge (no, not actually IN the sea, I'm talking about the East coast of Britain here) and book somewhere to stay with the girls for the first weekend of the Easter holidays. Last summer we took quite a few trips together, mostly to see friends, but it has been a while since we travelled anywhere together and although the thought made me a little nervous, I really wanted to do it.
Well, I am so glad we did. I found a converted farm property at Boggle Hole, which is close to Robin Hood's Bay, that had availability (www.southhousefarm.co.uk). My Mum said she'd like to join us for most of the stay, and my sister said she'd come up for a day too. Whilst getting ready for even a three day trip was something like preparing to climb Mount Everest (or so I imagine, clearly this is not something I have ever done) once we were on the road I felt a sense of achievement and excitement at the thought of taking a nearly three year old and a five year old to the seaside. Children this age love the sea - or at least I have never met one that doesn't.
Admittedly there were a few moments on the journey when I began to think that I had, in fact, momentarily lost the last remaining dregs of my sanity. Particularly as the girls have rather different music taste and were expressing this in a very vocal manner. This particular argument was definitely fuelled by my rash decision earlier in the week to buy some cheesy music for five year old to sing along to in the form of Abba Gold. Why oh why I did that I will never really understand. Yes she loves it, but only if you play Dancing Queen followed by Mamma Mia followed by Dancing Queen followed by... you get the picture. And it seems I had forgotten just how bad that music really is (apologies to Abba fans if you're reading, it's just not my thing). Two year old on the other hand wanted a lullaby that's on a CD produced by two members of Tindersticks and sung by Robert Forster - I'd like to say her taste is already more sophisticated but I fear that smacks of favouritism and I don't mean it that way. Anyway I seem to have been sidetracked by my meanderings about our journey when I really wanted to write about our lovely weekend.
We arrived at the house: "Mummy, it's a topsy-turvy house! The bedrooms are downstairs and the kitchen is upstairs." I then had about 15 minutes of sheer panic as I misplaced my car keys and therefore couldn't get anything out of the boot (they were on the dashboard by the way): "Mummy when can we go to the beach? Mummy, can we go to the beach yet? Mummy, why can't we go to the beach yet?" Aaaarrrggghhh. But once I'd found them and grabbed a towel and changes of clothes - oh yes, and buckets and spades, and wellies of course (I'll remind you this is the East coast of Britain), we set off down the hill.
Part of the beauty of Boggle Hole is that it is completely devoid of external attractions. By that I mean it simply is a sheltered pebbly bay at the bottom of a road. No crazy golf, no slot machines, no fairground rides and - dare I say it - not even any ice cream for sale. The girls loved it. We paddled and froze our feet. We collected shells, pebbles and seaweed. We searched for crabs. We smiled. In such a setting there is no need to try and entertain children in the way that we seem to do constantly in our society, they can simply be, exploring and discovering for themselves.
Later my Mum arrived, which brought more excitement, and the next day was spent with her and my sister's family. We even had sun. Perfect.
Two days later I was driving home - girls asleep, one clutching a peanut butter sandwich, the other a bucket of 'treasures' - and I was moved to streams of tears. Don't think by this that I felt bad, my sadness was a complicated one but it has its root in a deep sense of how fortunate I am right now. I was internally thanking my Dad, who died in 2002, for teaching me about the pleasure that the simplest things can bring. I will always be happiest in the open air, in simple and uncluttered surroundings, and whilst at that point the memory of Dad brought tears and a sense of loss for those few moments, I know that something of him stays with me. And I also know that there is something of him in my two wonderfully funny, charismatic and adventurous little girls.
Well, I am so glad we did. I found a converted farm property at Boggle Hole, which is close to Robin Hood's Bay, that had availability (www.southhousefarm.co.uk). My Mum said she'd like to join us for most of the stay, and my sister said she'd come up for a day too. Whilst getting ready for even a three day trip was something like preparing to climb Mount Everest (or so I imagine, clearly this is not something I have ever done) once we were on the road I felt a sense of achievement and excitement at the thought of taking a nearly three year old and a five year old to the seaside. Children this age love the sea - or at least I have never met one that doesn't.
Admittedly there were a few moments on the journey when I began to think that I had, in fact, momentarily lost the last remaining dregs of my sanity. Particularly as the girls have rather different music taste and were expressing this in a very vocal manner. This particular argument was definitely fuelled by my rash decision earlier in the week to buy some cheesy music for five year old to sing along to in the form of Abba Gold. Why oh why I did that I will never really understand. Yes she loves it, but only if you play Dancing Queen followed by Mamma Mia followed by Dancing Queen followed by... you get the picture. And it seems I had forgotten just how bad that music really is (apologies to Abba fans if you're reading, it's just not my thing). Two year old on the other hand wanted a lullaby that's on a CD produced by two members of Tindersticks and sung by Robert Forster - I'd like to say her taste is already more sophisticated but I fear that smacks of favouritism and I don't mean it that way. Anyway I seem to have been sidetracked by my meanderings about our journey when I really wanted to write about our lovely weekend.
We arrived at the house: "Mummy, it's a topsy-turvy house! The bedrooms are downstairs and the kitchen is upstairs." I then had about 15 minutes of sheer panic as I misplaced my car keys and therefore couldn't get anything out of the boot (they were on the dashboard by the way): "Mummy when can we go to the beach? Mummy, can we go to the beach yet? Mummy, why can't we go to the beach yet?" Aaaarrrggghhh. But once I'd found them and grabbed a towel and changes of clothes - oh yes, and buckets and spades, and wellies of course (I'll remind you this is the East coast of Britain), we set off down the hill.
Part of the beauty of Boggle Hole is that it is completely devoid of external attractions. By that I mean it simply is a sheltered pebbly bay at the bottom of a road. No crazy golf, no slot machines, no fairground rides and - dare I say it - not even any ice cream for sale. The girls loved it. We paddled and froze our feet. We collected shells, pebbles and seaweed. We searched for crabs. We smiled. In such a setting there is no need to try and entertain children in the way that we seem to do constantly in our society, they can simply be, exploring and discovering for themselves.
Later my Mum arrived, which brought more excitement, and the next day was spent with her and my sister's family. We even had sun. Perfect.
Two days later I was driving home - girls asleep, one clutching a peanut butter sandwich, the other a bucket of 'treasures' - and I was moved to streams of tears. Don't think by this that I felt bad, my sadness was a complicated one but it has its root in a deep sense of how fortunate I am right now. I was internally thanking my Dad, who died in 2002, for teaching me about the pleasure that the simplest things can bring. I will always be happiest in the open air, in simple and uncluttered surroundings, and whilst at that point the memory of Dad brought tears and a sense of loss for those few moments, I know that something of him stays with me. And I also know that there is something of him in my two wonderfully funny, charismatic and adventurous little girls.
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