The making of a hero

Tonight, I had two exhausted boys at bedtime. School fete, beach, park, party and a post dinner adventure had left them sun-kissed and weary. Both were sporting knees green with grass stains, toes still covered in sand and elbows grazed by scootering incidents.

The usual cacophony of bath time was replaced by a far more sedate affair. No grumbles about hair washing, no fighting over the rubber ducks.

I lifted two clean but sleepy boys out of the now mirky bath water, wrapped them both in big fluffy towels and gently applied plasters to their war wounds. Matching plasters of course.

Then, something truly magical happened.

Encouraged by Bigger, Littler climbed into bed, snuggled under his duvet and listened with eyes as big the moon, as his big brother, THE best big brother in the whole world, read him Hairy Maclary. I sat in the doorway and watched them. It was so beautiful. Two brothers. They clearly adore each other and over the past 2 months have become incredibly close considering the 4 year age gap.

As the last page was turned and Hairy Maclary ran straight back home to bed, the best big brother in the whole world simply picked up Mog: The Forgetful Cat and started reading. By the time Mog had become a bit overexcited in the garden smelling all the smells and forgetting she even had a cat flap, Littler was sound asleep. The best big brother in the whole world had climbed into bed with his little brother at the start of Mog, but he didn't stop reading when the snoring started. He carried on "because falling asleep and knowing someone is still reading you a story is really lovely".

Eventually, I convinced the best big brother in the whole world to quietly leave his little brother and hop into his own bed. Where I read him our latest Hiccup the Horrendous Haddock III book (honestly don't know who is enjoy these books the most...).

Blessed. Lucky. Incredibly proud. That's my baby, the best big brother in the whole world. I made him and gave birth to him. I've held his hand to walk across walls and over roads and even once into the operating theatre. But this boy will hold my heart forever. I truly hope he never loses his sense of empathy, his compassion and his tenderness. This boy, this best big brother in the whole world is going to be a ruler of hearts, a leader of minds and an inspirer of spirit as he grows up. Be it in the wider world, or simply within our own little family. I know this much for sure, he's already someone's hero. His little brother's.

Finding our bliss

This weekend was a great big beautiful sigh of relief. I don't know what we did differently, to be honest. Maybe it was the clocks changing. The knowledge that autumn was in full flow. Maybe it was the crazy busy week we'd all had that forced us to slow down, almost to a stop come Saturday morning. But this weekend...just worked. We had no plans, didn't see any friends, no diy projects to finish off, no house viewings to contend with. We just snuggled down, as a family and giggled and tickled our way through the weekend.

House work was done in fits and starts, naps were taken and hearty bowls of chilli eaten. Films were watched, lego build and whole villages with intricate railway lines designed, built and demolished. 

For once, we didn't care that putting fresh linen on all the beds was a job that lasted all day. We just went with it. Little hands were eager to help out, which may have prolonged the process, but made it so much more fun!

By Sunday night, we felt renewed in energy, spirit and as a family. This weekend was exactly what we needed. It reminded me of the awesome boys I am blessed to have, all 3 of them. 

Seriously, who could resist an invitation to snuggle under a duvet at 3pm from this little guy?

Hope you all had good weekends too! What did you all get up to?

Frugal family fun

Waiting for the sugar rush of lunch to subside...

A wise person once told me that boys are like puppies. They need lots of loving attention, lots of food and even more exercise. It's pretty much the 3 rules we live by with 2 puppies small boys.

But what to do with 2 puppies boys in South London that doesn't cost an arm and a leg? Now, if it were up to the 6 year old, we'd probably spend most weekends at Legoland. But frugal it ain't (unless you cash in Tesco clubcard vouchers, which is our only favourite way to do it).

Most weekends you can find us at a National Trust property. We have 5 fabulous properties within a 30 minute drive of home. Double that if we want to venture a bit further. Family membership costs us £70 a year by direct debit but Quidco often have cashback deals making it cheaper.

Now for the maths

To visit Chartwell, our closest and probably one of our favourite properties, it would cost us £28.50 as a family. Some properties are cheaper than this (nearby Emmets Garden is only £14 to visit as a family), but it only takes 3 visits to Chartwell for us to make a saving on our family membership. Given that we visit a property at least twice a month pretty much all year round, we save in the region of £700 a year on entry fees. In the height of summer, we sometimes go "Trusting" every weekend.

It's the gardens and grounds of these stately homes that attract us the most. Big open spaces for the boys to roam around in, a good dose of wildlife and the odd history lesson thrown in if they show interest. The National Trust also have a great programme of free events. Chartwell usually has a 'Boats and Bands' day (Wartime Weekend it's called this year) during the summer where a brass band plays on the lawn while model boat enthusiasts show off their miniature works of art on the lake. All the staff and volunteers dress up in their finest 1940s regalia and the atmosphere is brilliant. Boys + water + model boats + unlimited sandwiches = easy family fun.

We rarely venture into the properties themselves (plenty of time for that when the bull in a china shop tendencies wear off). Knole is the exception - the lure of the roaring fire in the great hall on a chilly autumn morning is too great to resist. But on the whole, we stick to roaming the grounds.

Rolling down hills at Chartwell

What's wrong with the good old fashioned outdoors?

Absolutely nothing. But the National Trust properties just really appeal to us. There's clean toilets for easier nappy changes, treasure/bug/plant hunts for those that tire of simply charging around an open space, many are buggy friendly so little people can snooze after lunch while the rest of the family explore and there's plenty of interesting features to keep the grown-ups/grandparents occupied without the little people getting bored. We all love the kitchen garden at Chartwell for example - the children love the scarecrows and bug hotels while I like to have a good nosy at what the gardeners have planted where. And we ALL like to play "imagine if we lived here".

There's also the added benefit of having access to a fresh pot of tea and a scone if we're feeling decadent enough to venture into the tea rooms/restaurant. But for us, half the fun is packing a picnic and enjoying the fresh air. Egg dip dip sandwiches are of course essential.

Climbing trees at Wakehurst Place

This isn't a sponsored post, I just love the National Trust and think it's fantastic value for money!

How do my children know they are loved?

Imprisoned by the the never ending rain, I had an interesting conversation with Bigger this afternoon. Maybe I read too much into it, but it's left me feeling reflective and introspective. A bit sad even.

Cuddled up on the sofa watching cartoons, I asked Bigger how he knew I loved him:

"Because you tell me every day..."

"Anything else? What else tells you I love you?"

"The toys you buy me"

So at the tender age of 6, he associates love with consumerism and verbal verification.

But how else would he know? What did I expect to hear from a 6 year old engrossed in Tom & Jerry?

To be honest, I'm not sure.

I'm very tactile with both my boys. Hugs, squeezes, holding hands, ruffling hair, cuddled up over a good book are all daily occurrences. I cuddle them both at every opportunity and tell them both how much I love and cherish them as often as I can.

We try to make our home a happy place. Home cooked family meals which we eat together whenever we can, sharing what's been good about our days every evening, silliness and giggles, tickles and daft jokes. We have our fair share of falling out, tears, tantrums, shouting. Normal family life I guess. There's nothing extraordinary about us. We're reliably boring.

We have family traditions that mark special occasions. Birthday bunting, celebration trifles or pancakes on a Sunday just because. And every night I kiss them both goodnight and whisper that I love them to the moon and back.

I hope that all these things help the boys feel loved.

When you're 6, I guess your world is pretty much ruled by wondering where your next Lego minifigure is coming from or whether you can convince your mum to finally relent and let you have jam sandwiches in your packed lunch (it's never gonna happen kiddo, accept it). Steve Backshall also figures quite prominently in the world of my 6 year old, but love? I don't think it's something he gives a second thought to.

And for that, I should be grateful. He's never had to doubt or question our love for him, so I'm guessing he doesn't look for proof. He doesn't feel the need to, he just know it. He feels it and that is enough.

I do hope that is the case. From the bottom of my heart and soul I hope it is.

Serves me right for trying to philosophise during cartoon time.

The thing about dreams...

This morning as I was changing Littler's nappy, I had this conversation with Bigger:

Bigger: Mummy, do all your dreams come true?

Me: No, not all of them. Just some of them. Why?

Bigger: Good because I don't want my dreams to come true...

Me: (intrigued) Oh?

Bigger: Because I had a bad dream last night about robbers messing up my lego and we called the police who told the robbers to tidy up the mess but they said no and tidied up the litter instead so my lego was STILL a mess...

Bigger: I don't want that dream to come true mummy...

Me: (didn't know whether to laugh or cry)

The things they say and do!

I'm linking up with the lovely Christine Mosler over at Sticky Fingers...what have your cherubs said this week to make you laugh/cry/scratch your head?

This too shall pass and why I love Mumsnet

 

On Friday afternoon, with everybody healthy and not an antibiotic in sight, we decided to head to the park on the way home from school. It was the first time in weeks that I felt I managed to spend quality time with my boys, focusing just on them without coughing a lung up or wondering when I could take another painkiller.

Unfortunately, it wasn't as idyllic as we'd planned.  Don't get me wrong, it was lovely. There was fresh air, trees to climb, snowdrops to admire and not many tears. But I was really struck by how completely different my boys are at this stage. They may look like peas in a pod and I have to admit there are some baby snaps where I'm not entirely sure which baby I'm looking at. But at 19 months and almost 6 years, they couldn't be more different.

The almost 6 year old is fantastic company at the moment. Proper conversations are had about science, geography, natural history and of course poo (he is a boy after all). He has inherited our love of books and is devouring Famous Five novels, which brings a tear to my eye remembering how I did too but also infuriates my feminist principles (boys have to get more pocket money than girls? Go boil your head Julian).

Then there's the 19 month old. Oh. My. God. Fiercely independent, everything has to be on his terms. Now he's mastered the art of walking, any other mode of transport incites a full on tantrum. Dinner served on the wrong plate? Expect food to meet floor very swiftly. If daddy speaks to him at the wrong time (which could be any time, day or night, at the dinner table or in the bath, it changes daily), the bottom lip is employed and much pouting ensues with the occasional bout of stomping.

It's all a phase, I know it's a phase. But my god it's an exhausting phase. I honestly don't remember it being this bad with Bigger. Maybe time has erased or altered my memory. Maybe it's just because there is such a contrast between the boys and their behaviour just now that Bigger seems even more of an angel compared to the ball of rage and frustration that is Littler.

They only thing that has cheered me up about the whole situation is this classic thread on Mumsnet. Absolutely hilarious in true Mumsnet fashion, it has saved my sanity and reminded me of the Mumsnet mantra "this too shall pass".

Onwards and upwards as they say...

When the Calpol kicks in...

Stuck at home with a poorly 5yo, hacking cough and a temperature of 39.6 degrees...what do you do when the Calpol kicks in and he starts to get bored with Wacky Races/Danger Mouse/Wallace & Gromit?

Well...you make a Superhero cape of course!

Introducing Captain Invincible:

A quick google turned up this pattern. A quick rummage through the fabric stash revealed half an unused Ikea fleece blanket, some ribbon and a couple of felt stars and voila! One Superhero cape all ready for Superhero day at school with the minimum amount of fuss and very little sewing.

Right, what next?

Being the baby

On Christmas eve my baby finally decided it was time to get up and walk. At one day short of 17 months he was a bit behind the rest of his little friends, some of whom had been walking upright for at least 6 months.

Be he's a stubborn wee thing and nothing could convince him to take those first steps until he was good and ready. So we left him to it and waited.

But now that he's suddenly all two legs limbs good, four legs limbs bad, we had a bit of a realisation...

All this time, possibly due to the lack of perpendicular motion, I've kept him safely in the 'baby' box in my head. Of course, he'll always be my baby. But at the same age, his older brother was most definitely not a baby in my mind. He was a little boy, a toddler, a little person. Babyhood seemed far behind him.

So, is it a symptom of being the younger brother that kept my baby 'the baby' for longer?

Or was it just reaching the walking milestone a bit later?

Is he forever destined to be 'the baby' of the family? Mollycoddled and excused for minor indiscretions due to his position as the youngest member of the family?

Maybe it's because I know there will be no more babies. Am I clinging on to every last moment of babyhood because of this? Maybe I am. But in a world where children grow up so fast, is that such a terrible thing?

I can remember willing his bigger brother on to every next milestone, doing everything in my power to encourage rolling over, sitting up, independent feeding. But with my youngest...meh. I know he'll achieve these milestones in his own good time (his own good time, nobody else's).

What I do know is, there will be no putting this 'baby' in the corner if he doesn't want to be there. He might be blonde on the outside, but my word, he's a fiery redhead inside. The Viking is strong in this one.

Blonde exterior, Viking interior. He's a warrior for sure.

Doubts...

Do you ever have times when you just doubt everything you're doing?

Two bouts of hospitalisation this year (first husband and then littest one) have really shaken me. Bigger is really unsettled, littler has turned back into a velcro baby and work is...well, a bit pants really.

Which leaves me doubting everything.

I usually love my job. It's a nice job, I get paid reasonably well and on the whole, the people I work with are pretty decent. But a whole load of boring politics has crept in lately and it's left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth to be honest.

I find I'm yearning for the days of freelance again. Yet I can't face the financial uncertainty that would bring.

I'm also a bit sick of writing about stuff I don't really care about (which is what I do for a job essentially - write what other people want me to write in order to sell stuff). I want to write more of this sort of stuff and this and this.

I want to be at home more and spend more time on the school run (whaaaaat? I know, crazy). But I'm reluctant to lose out financially.

I don't know what the answer is. I guess I'm looking for the holy grail of working parents everywhere - more time at home with the children while still being rewarded financially and maintaining a good standard of living.

Yeah, I know...almost impossible.


So how do you all balance the whole work/family life thing?