Family

This week's theme for The Gallery is pretty poignant for me today.

For the last 8 days my little family has been living apart - with husband in a hospital bed and me at home with the boys.

But finally, husband has been taken into theatre for surgery. So I'm leaving the office right now to go and give him a tight squeeze as soon as he's out of post-op recovery.

With the rest of our family 600 miles away in Scotland, these 3 boys are the sun, stars and moon of my world. In fact, no. They're my entire universe.

I'll be holding them all as close as I can tonight.

My little family.

Monday is the new Friday

Well, for this week it is. And what a glorious Monday it was. The sun shone, the birds sang and I got to have a leisurely breakfast with these cool dudes:

The original dude

Littler dude

The dudes then headed off to school and childminder, leaving me with a whole 7 hours on my own. I won't lie to you, it was bliss. I pottered, I contemplated, I listened to birdsong and soaked up some sun. On my own. I then hung out with these guys:

 And they totally renewed my spirit. So off to the allotment I skipped in search of some more dudes to hang out with. I plunged my bare hands into the damp, warm earth of the allotment and drank in the smell. I annihilated some weeds, sowed some more peas, pottered a bit more and dug over the raised bed ready for some sweetpeas.

Lunch was savoured in the garden. On my own. I didn't even turn the radio on. I was happy to be alone with my own thoughts and the sun on my face.

So, inspired by the day and by Julochka's positivity I hereby declare that this week will be:

:: awesome in so many ways

:: a fresh start full of potential and new plans

:: filled with new people that will inspire me

:: a week of outstanding creativity

:: a week of yellow shoes (oh yes)

:: full of smiles and laughter

I could get used to having sunny Monday's at home (on my own). I really could.

Have a great week lovely readers. May the sun shine on you and find you some dudes to hang out with that are as cool as mine.

Surviving flu

Having just started to come out the other end of a bout of flu (yes, *proper* flu, not man-flu, not a bad cold but full blown influenza thankyouverymuch) I feel like I should be singing and dancing and clicking my heels with the sheer joy of being alive.

But I'm not. I'm still approximately two-thirds full of snot, coughing like I smoke 60 a day and breathing like the poor penguin in Toy Story 2 (with a squeak and a wheeze).

Next year, I will not be skipping the flu vaccination. Man, it was nasty. But there were ups as well as downs, so here are the highlights of the best things about having flu:

:: your 5 year old tucks you into bed with the most tender kiss and a teddy to keep you company

:: your 5 year old tells you to only eat and drink healthy stuff to get better soon 

:: the look of excitement and adoration on your 18 month old's face when you finally emerge from beneath the duvet on day 3

:: you get to watch the entire series 1 and 2 of Secret Diary of a Call Girl and nobody complains

:: surviving on hot honey & lemon for 5 days is amazing for the waistline

:: get better toblerone from the husband

:: a massive bunch of flowers from the in-laws to cheer me up

:: I'm now craving broccoli

So all in all, I wouldn't recommend it as the best way to spend the second half of half-term, but it did have it's advantages (excused from nappy changing duties for a start - result!).

Hope you all had much better half-terms than we did. What did you all get up to?

Nutella tray bake

 

This is our stock weekend traybake recipe at the moment, it's super easy and super yummy:

225g softened butter

225g caster sugar

275g self-raising flour

4 eggs

4 tablespoons of milk

2 level teaspoons of baking powder

2 - 3 heaped tablespoons of nutella (adjust to suit your tastebuds)

Bung all the ingredients in a bowl, give it a good mix, pour into a lined baking tray and bake at 160 degrees C for about 40 minutes.

When baked and cool, smother in your favourite butter icing/frosting etc, cut into smallish squares and enjoy over throughout the week with a wee cup of tea/milk/juice etc. We like to decorate it with some multi-coloured sprinkles too. 

What makes a childhood special?

50% of the reasoning behind our Great Escape Plan is the desire to give the boys a better childhood. So I was intrigued to stumble across this thread on Mumsnet. It got me thinking about what I want to give my boys as a childhood...what really does make a childhood special?

Now, it's funny, because looking back, I always found my mum a bit distant. During my childhood I often felt she was off somewhere else in her head. I'm guessing that losing 3 babies shortly before or after their birth would do that to you. It wasn't until I was in my teens that my mum became my best friend. Mind you, I was terror between the ages of 2 and 5 apparently and utterly horrid to my mum (so she tells me). But I always felt loved.

My dad on the other hand was my hero. He could do no wrong. He was fun, full of plans, always ready to go on an adventure. I really did hero-worship him. Oh and I was a daddies girl. (see above - poor mum)

So what things did my parents do to give me such a lovely childhood?

I think the biggest gift was freedom. They trusted me to roam within an agreed area during the hours of daylight, to stay safe and be sensible. I never came to any harm. I rode my bike, played hide & seek and helped organise giant games of rounders with other children from the neighbourhood. I remember it as very idyllic. Verging on the boring it was so nondescript, but idyllic all the same (rose tinted glasses anyone?).

The 2nd greatest gift my parents gave to me was a love of books. As soon as I could read independently my mum introduced me to Enid Blyton and The Famous Five. I rattled through them, then The Secret Seven, then Alfred Hitchcock's Three Investigators. I forever had my nose in a book. But then in my early teens I discovered Sweet Valley High and my dad intervened. These books were fine, for now and again, but there was a whole library bursting at the seems with amazing authors - why was I wasting my time with teen trash? I was to ditch The Sweet Valley High Twins and their quest for romance and find something more worthy to read. That advice opened up the world of The Classics to me and I fell in love with Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights,  and many other painfully romantic books. A rose by any other name...

Holidays were few and far between. I can only really remember two. One was a camping trip in tents and the other was in a camper van. We just didn't have the money for 'proper' holidays. Not that we cared. Nobody really did 'foreign holidays'.

Summers instead were spent fruit picking, jam making, dashing to the beach during the one week of warmth Scottish summers afforded us and just pottering around really. We ate Angel Delight, Mum was forever chasing out from under her feet. We baked cakes, I learnt to peel potatoes, we played with squeezy washing up liquid bottles and chalk.

My childhood really was unremarkable. But I felt loved, secure, safe. My parents rarely fell out (they're about to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary). We never had family dramas or any kind of crisis I can remember.

That's probably why I remember it so fondly now. It was just bog-standard, run of the mill, normal. It almost bored me to tears, but I knew no different and had a world of literature to escape to. Not that I needed to escape as such. Just wished I could go to school at Mallory Towers. But it was a lovely simple childhood, protected from sadness or trauma, with two normal, healthy parents.

Thanks mum and dad. I hope I can give my boys some of the same.

Just bairns themselves on their wedding day, but wonderful parents all the same (but mum, seriously, how much hairspray?)

Balancing differences

Tonight I came home from work feeling relieved. Elated that my working week was finished and looking forward to 3 days at home, pottering, baking, playing. A wee happy tune may have been whistled. I almost skipped up the path.

The nanny was released from duties. Quick tidy up. 2 boys bathed, stories, bed. Done.

But then husband wanted to talk about our great escape. He was looking for reassurance that we're doing the right thing, making sure I didn't have any nagging doubts and wanting me to dispel the nagging doubts he had.

But I just don't work that way. Once I make a decision, that's it. Sometimes it can take me a while to make the decision, but once it's made, there's very little that can un-make it. If I have any niggling doubts, I find solutions. I don't just leave them hanging, like loose threads.

Husband on the other hand, worries those loose threads until they threaten to unravel...I began to feel distinctly 'stabby'. Prickly. Cactus like. I'm pretty sure I visibly bristled.

Poor husband. Sensibly, he backed off. Poor, poor husband.

It's funny that we're so different on the decision-making front. But I guess that's where we balance each other out. I'd be happy to charge ahead, figuring out solutions to problems as I go, putting my trust in my own abilities, crossing my fingers and knowing that we'll get there in the end.

Husband likes to have everything sorted out, organised, planned for before it all goes tits up. He likes to have a contingency plan for every eventuality and know exactly where things could go wrong.

It drives me nuts. But between us, we find a happy medium. I'm the confidence, the driving force, the dreamer. He's the obsessive planner, the steady hand, the feet planted firmly on solid ground.

By gum, I love that man.

I'll soothe his worries later. I know, he knows we're doing the right thing. But I also know we'll get there in the end.

Craving this view: Sunset at the beach in December. Chilly but gorgeous.

"When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision. “ The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho


"when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho

Sunday night musings...

Sometimes, webcams with the in-laws leave me feeling terribly homesick.

Sundays at home with an overtired 5 year old and an energetic 17 month old are both wonderful and horrendous in equal measure.

Feeling like your fate is sealed and people are just waiting for you to slip up sucks.

Knowing people think badly of you, also sucks.

I'm questioning tonight whether I really have the energy to turn it all around.

But in the pit of my stomach I know I must.

Wish me luck lovely readers, I think we're in for a bumpy ride.

Regrets

We've had some sad news this weekend. My Granda, my dad's dad, died on Thursday night.

I didn't know him very well and this is probably my greatest regret. He lived a 4 hour drive away, which isn't that far in the grand scheme of things, but was a journey we only ever embarked upon about once a year. I have very few memories of him sadly.

But now my Granda's widow is breaking her heart 600 miles away, I regret we're not closer, both in geography and emotionally. Even though we never called my Granda's 2nd wife Granny (she was far too glamourous for that), she has a special place in my heart. She nursed my Granda through many an illness, put up with a lot of grumpiness from him and helped him learn to walk again after his double amputation last year. And she adored him. Despite the gruffness, despite the shouting, despite the frustration, she loved him with every fibre of her being. He was a very difficult man to live with, but she stuck with him. And I think that's what upsets me the most. That a lovely, caring, beautiful woman I care for has lost her soulmate.

I regret that I cannot be there for her. To hold her hand, look over old photos and remember the man she loved.

Missing

January 3rd 2012. First day back at work. 

Christmas day, a fading memory. A morning commute, boringly predictable.

Tonight, I breathed deeply and held both my boys close. I'd missed them. 

The gentle curve of their cheeks.

The soft bloom of their lips.

The musicality of their giggles.

The eyelashes surrounding those deep blue pools of unconditional love.

A day away from them was just what I needed to remind me how special they are. And knowing I was coming home to them, was just what I needed to get me through that first day back at work.

My gorgeous boys, my babies.

A momentus decision

Last night, the husband and I had a bit of an epiphany.

We've been struggling since I went back to work to be honest and neither of us are happy in our jobs at the moment.

It's been a tough year healthwise with the husband in hospital for 2 months and all the worry that surrounded it. Then just when we were dusting ourselves off and getting back on our feet, Littler ended up in hospital. We're all back to full health now but I think those two episodes tipped us over the edge.

We've both been having a bit of a mid-30s crisis. We feel trapped. Our flat is too small and we need a bigger house but our jobs suck and we don't want to work longer hours, so how on earth were we going to afford a bigger mortgage?

Well, I think we made a decision last night. It won't happen overnight and it's going to take some major planning, saving and networking but at least we've taken the first step by making the decision.

*drumroll*

I think we're going to try and move back to Scotland.

Husband did some very rough calculations and it makes sense financially. It will mean a change of jobs for at least one of us, but being nearer family, having no mortgage (or a very small one) and maybe even being able to walk to work would be pretty darned good.

In theory, I could go freelance and work from home. So that would ease the pressure somewhat on the job front.

I'm rambling now, I know. But I need to write this down so we can start to visualise it and work towards making it reality.

No-one is suddenly going to give us huge payrises. We don't play the lottery. So we need to do something to turn our lives around. We have no firm ties to London and sort of ended up living here by accident. We didn't choose London, it sort of chose us....

So we bumbled along making the most of the situation, not really planning anything.

But now we have a goal. We're going to sketch out a 2 year plan and make it happen.

I'm excited and a little frightened but I also feel like a huge weight has been lifted from us. We can see a way out now.

We just need to work out the how. And save like crazy.

Home, not just for Christmas, but for good we hope

Home, where our boys can run the length of this beach every weekend if they wish

But it's all good!

Happy birthday littlest one

wow, that was fast! 7 minutes after arriving on the labour ward (in an ambulance) - you don't hang about do you?

A year of smiles and giggles and heart stopping oh-my-god-I-love-you-so-much moments. And suddenly you're 1. One whole year old. Before we know it you'll be running after your big brother, asking just as many questions and running rings around us.

But for now, I'm going to hold you close and continue to cuddle you at every opportunity. I'm going to carry-on ignoring the old biddies that tell me I'm making a rod for my own back. And I'm going to keep on sneaking you into our bed in the middle of the night for midnight snuggles.

So it turns out that love isn't shared. It doubles, quadruples, multiplies indefinitely so that everyone is loved just as much, just as deeply, just as strongly.

Who knew?

What a way to come into the world eh? I should have known from that very moment, that once you put your mind to something, there's no stopping you. You are a force to be reckoned with. A whirlwind.

You wear your heart on your sleeve. Just like me.

You can charm the birds out of the trees.

Happiness should be your middle name. Or if you were a girl, we'd call you Joy.

This much we already know.

So much to discover, so much to learn. I can't wait. Happy birthday littlest man.

What about the dad's?

This makes me so angry!

So I was sitting (yes, sitting! can you imagine, what a treat - usually I have to stand) on the train yesterday morning on the way in to work, only just beginning to recover from the image of my beloved boy pleading for me to stay with him, when I stumbled across this lovely story. Apparently, children whose mothers work are less likely to lead healthy lives. What a load of crap.

I really, really hate all this working-mums bashing that goes on in the UK press. Well, of course I'd love to stay at home and nurture my child into a wonderful, caring human being. Of course I'll keep the house spottlessly clean and cook delicious, healthy and varied meals. We'll bake cakes every day and greet daddy every evening with smiles and clean faces before the happy, exhausted but fulfilled children skip merrily off to bed.

But I live in the real world. My husband doesn't earn mega bucks. And I am not a 1950's housewife. I have a brain, I've found a career and just because I have a child, why does that mean I have to forfeit that career? Why should I? I'm bloody good at my job. I love my child no less. I'm an equally capable mother whether I work or not. In fact, I would argue I'm more capable because I'm fulfilled on more levels when I work. Also, my days off are devoted entirely to fun, family activities. I concentrate fully on Miniegg when we have days off together.

And just because I have a job, why does that mean I'm less likely to ensure my child lives a healthy lifestyle? My child lives a very healthy lifestyle thank you very much. All meals he eats at home are home-cooked. The fruit bowl is always kept well stocked for him to help himself from and we spend the majority of each weekend outdoors, running around and getting as much exercise as possible.

And where are the dad's in all this? In our house, husband has as much, if not more, influence over how healthy our lifestyle is. He does all the cooking during the week and it's always super healthy stuff. Do we live in a country where only the mum's can influence the health of their children? Well, frankly, I find that a bit weird.

Give me a break. Stop bashing me because I choose to continue using my brain to earn a decent salary. My salary means that husband doesn't have to be chained to his desk for 14 hours a day. My salary means that we can afford lovely, fresh organic food. My salary means that my gorgeous boy has 2 parents that can give him their full attention without worrying about paying the mortgage. My salary gives us freedom.

I could go on and on about why we choose to be a dual-income family, or rather why we need to be a dual-income family. I could also drone on and on about all the benefits my beautiful boy gains from attending a super nursery that encourages confidence and inspires curiosity (not that he needs much encouragement to ask why these days). But, lovely readers, I will spare you.

Now can someone please pass me that stepladder so I can climb down from my soapbox please?

Egg dip dip

So what's egg dip dip all about then?

Well, egg dip dip sandwiches are essential for all our family picnics. Really, they're just your usual egg sarnies. But we renamed them egg dip dip some time ago. The name started off as an easy way to describe to our toddler the best way to eat a soft-boiled egg, and then it became the logical name for egg sandwiches too!

We can't go on any family adventure without egg dip dip sandwiches. It just wouldn't be the same with cheese or tuna. It has to be egg dip dip.

Yum yum.