is that yes, it's kind of false romance.
Why should I do something romantic just because someone has decided I ought to? is what my husband says. And yes, in straightened times the last thing we need to do is to go out and spend money on, well, let's face it, complete tat.
BUT
if we don't do Valentine's day, even if it's just a gesture: a card, a bunch of flowers, when would we do it otherwise? When would be buy something to convey the message I love you (still).
Exactly. We probably wouldn't. Because life gets in the way.
So I don't think I'm alone in saying that I was thrilled to be presented with a bunch of red roses (sparkling no less) and some pink fizzy stuff to mark the day.
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
The Silent Partner
Imagine, if you will, that you run your own business.
Your business consists of child-rearing and house-keeping, and you have two clients, one aged four and one aged two, plus one house to keep.
You work 12 hours a day, seven days a week. Your two clients give you random appraisals, which go either way, depending on which way the wind is blowing, but basically, go against you.
Imagine that your business has a silent partner.
He does not have much hand in the day-to-day running of your business, except on weekends. Your silent partner tends to be there in the first hour of the running of your business, and the last half an hour.
The overall success of the business, then, is basically entirely down to you.
Occasionally, your silent partner takes a week off from his other business, and joins you in the running of your business.
His appraisals are glowing. Every morning your two clients head straight to your silent partner to give him his first appraisal of the day – huge cuddles and lots of kisses. You are swiftly dispensed with, because you are only really of any use when it comes to finding breakfast. Your silent partner, meanwhile, gets snuggled to within an inch of his life.
You go on days out. This should be fun! But all day your two clients reject your hand-holding, your cuddles, your very presence.
Back home, you presence is only required for as long as it takes to make dinner, and you are only approached with the words "I'm hungry" and "Where's my dinner?"
It's time to face facts: you may as well not be there.
So you make a decision. The next time your silent partner takes a week off work, you're going to Barbados. By yourself. For the whole damned week.
Your business consists of child-rearing and house-keeping, and you have two clients, one aged four and one aged two, plus one house to keep.
You work 12 hours a day, seven days a week. Your two clients give you random appraisals, which go either way, depending on which way the wind is blowing, but basically, go against you.
Imagine that your business has a silent partner.
He does not have much hand in the day-to-day running of your business, except on weekends. Your silent partner tends to be there in the first hour of the running of your business, and the last half an hour.
The overall success of the business, then, is basically entirely down to you.
Occasionally, your silent partner takes a week off from his other business, and joins you in the running of your business.
His appraisals are glowing. Every morning your two clients head straight to your silent partner to give him his first appraisal of the day – huge cuddles and lots of kisses. You are swiftly dispensed with, because you are only really of any use when it comes to finding breakfast. Your silent partner, meanwhile, gets snuggled to within an inch of his life.
You go on days out. This should be fun! But all day your two clients reject your hand-holding, your cuddles, your very presence.
Back home, you presence is only required for as long as it takes to make dinner, and you are only approached with the words "I'm hungry" and "Where's my dinner?"
It's time to face facts: you may as well not be there.
So you make a decision. The next time your silent partner takes a week off work, you're going to Barbados. By yourself. For the whole damned week.
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
I Hate Lunch
It's back to school, and you know what that means, don't you.
Lunch.
More specifically, lunchboxes.
For me it's like a culinary version of the Kyrpton factor.
How do you keep them
a) well-fed with nutritious stuff while simultaneously b) making them actually fancy eating it and c) keeping it interesting enough so that you don't put them off sandwiches for life?
Because it's a long time they'll be eating from a lunchbox, quite possibly the next fifteen years or so.
I've even been known to interrogate Little Miss as to what the other kids have in their lunchboxes. (I can't ask the Sunshine Duke, because he just lies outrageously). Francesca had smoked salmon, so we tried that. Robbie had a sausage roll, so we tried that. But I feel like I am still treading water when it comes to sandwich making.
And then I came across these.
They have transformed my life. My lunchbox life, at any rate.
You make a sandwich as normal, pop it into a bag and stick it in the toaster. The end result? A toasted sandwich! No messing with (and not to mention having to clean) a Breville, this little thing does it for you in a jiffy.
But the real reason I love it is this: you can stick whatever you want in the sandwich and the kids will eat it.
Little Miss, for example, doesn't like avocado. But give her a chicken and avocado toasted sandwich and she'll eat it up.
The Sunshine Duke doesn't like cheese, or ham, or... (I'll stop there, or I may be here all day) but give him a ham and cheese toasted sandwich, and at school pick up he'll say "Mummy, you gave me a cheese and ham sandwich and I ate it all up!"
Apparently, you can even cook fish fingers in it. Fish finger sandwiches, kids?
PS. this is not a sponsored post (be nice if it was though!) Actually I just came across them in the supermarket.
Lunch.
More specifically, lunchboxes.
For me it's like a culinary version of the Kyrpton factor.
How do you keep them
a) well-fed with nutritious stuff while simultaneously b) making them actually fancy eating it and c) keeping it interesting enough so that you don't put them off sandwiches for life?
Because it's a long time they'll be eating from a lunchbox, quite possibly the next fifteen years or so.
I've even been known to interrogate Little Miss as to what the other kids have in their lunchboxes. (I can't ask the Sunshine Duke, because he just lies outrageously). Francesca had smoked salmon, so we tried that. Robbie had a sausage roll, so we tried that. But I feel like I am still treading water when it comes to sandwich making.
And then I came across these.
They have transformed my life. My lunchbox life, at any rate.
You make a sandwich as normal, pop it into a bag and stick it in the toaster. The end result? A toasted sandwich! No messing with (and not to mention having to clean) a Breville, this little thing does it for you in a jiffy.
But the real reason I love it is this: you can stick whatever you want in the sandwich and the kids will eat it.
Little Miss, for example, doesn't like avocado. But give her a chicken and avocado toasted sandwich and she'll eat it up.
The Sunshine Duke doesn't like cheese, or ham, or... (I'll stop there, or I may be here all day) but give him a ham and cheese toasted sandwich, and at school pick up he'll say "Mummy, you gave me a cheese and ham sandwich and I ate it all up!"
Apparently, you can even cook fish fingers in it. Fish finger sandwiches, kids?
PS. this is not a sponsored post (be nice if it was though!) Actually I just came across them in the supermarket.
Favourite Comment of the Week (Possibly of All Time)
We were watching a fat bumble bee bump itself lazily into our patio door.
'Mummy,' said Little Miss. 'When the bee has made his honey how does he carry it to the shops?'
Priceless.
'Mummy,' said Little Miss. 'When the bee has made his honey how does he carry it to the shops?'
Priceless.
Friday, 27 January 2012
Little Girl's Wishes
We made daddy some fairy cakes for his birthday. We put candles in, and since there were some left over, we lit them all so that Little Miss could blow one out. Don't forget to make a wish, I said.
I already have! she said
What did you wish for?
I wish I was Tinkerbell when I grow up...
...I wish I had a puppy and a kitten when I'm bigger...
...and hamsters...
...And a hundred babies.
A hundred babies!
Yes. All girls though.
Oh! Why?
Because boys just distract girls.
I already have! she said
What did you wish for?
I wish I was Tinkerbell when I grow up...
...I wish I had a puppy and a kitten when I'm bigger...
...and hamsters...
...And a hundred babies.
A hundred babies!
Yes. All girls though.
Oh! Why?
Because boys just distract girls.
Saturday, 21 January 2012
Why do I have to look pretty, Mummy?
I was attempting to pull a brush through the mass of tangles that is my daughter's hair, much to her consternation.
'There!' I said, 'Now you look pretty.'
She paused. Then looked at me and said:
'Why I do I need to look pretty, Mummy?'
And I didn't know what to answer, because she doesn't need to look pretty, does she? I don't even know why I said it. I brush her hair because she gets her food all over it and so that I can tie it up and she can actually see what she's doing. And then I read this:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html
The truth is the future – her future – terrifies me. When I was 11 or 12 I couldn't care less what I looked like... I was too busy going out on my BMX bike. But her generation are in the thick of it: a society obsessed with celebrities who are botoxed, boob-jobbed and fillered to within an inch of their lives. Everyone is judged first by appearance - ask questions later. And the peer pressure, oh the peer pressure. Have you noticed young girls these days (and boys, for that matter) they all look the same. Their hair is the same, their make-up is the same, they wear the same clothes. It makes me want to up sticks and move us all to a desert island until she's, like, thirty.
In the end, this is what I said:
'You don't have to look pretty, honey.' I said. 'But you can't do glueing and sticking and eating at school with your hair in your face, can you!'
'No!' she agreed.
And I resolved to think twice before using the word 'pretty'!
'There!' I said, 'Now you look pretty.'
She paused. Then looked at me and said:
'Why I do I need to look pretty, Mummy?'
And I didn't know what to answer, because she doesn't need to look pretty, does she? I don't even know why I said it. I brush her hair because she gets her food all over it and so that I can tie it up and she can actually see what she's doing. And then I read this:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-bloom/how-to-talk-to-little-gir_b_882510.html
The truth is the future – her future – terrifies me. When I was 11 or 12 I couldn't care less what I looked like... I was too busy going out on my BMX bike. But her generation are in the thick of it: a society obsessed with celebrities who are botoxed, boob-jobbed and fillered to within an inch of their lives. Everyone is judged first by appearance - ask questions later. And the peer pressure, oh the peer pressure. Have you noticed young girls these days (and boys, for that matter) they all look the same. Their hair is the same, their make-up is the same, they wear the same clothes. It makes me want to up sticks and move us all to a desert island until she's, like, thirty.
In the end, this is what I said:
'You don't have to look pretty, honey.' I said. 'But you can't do glueing and sticking and eating at school with your hair in your face, can you!'
'No!' she agreed.
And I resolved to think twice before using the word 'pretty'!
Thursday, 5 January 2012
The Book is Out!
Every parent wishes that their children came with their very own instruction manual. Alas, in the absence of such a thing I am very proud to have been able to contribute to Joanne Mallon's excellent book on the minefield that is toddler-rearing. You can get yours here!
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