Elf on the Shelf; The Adventures of Eddie and Cedric - Part One

December in our house signals elf on a shelf time aain. Our elves aren't spies and don't report back to the North Pole, they are here for fun. Eddie arrived three years ago with a letter from Father Christmas explaining he was keen and meant well but tended to make a mess so it was decided he should come to our house to help make Christmas fun rather than being on toy making or reindeer care duty. Cedric actually belonged to me when I was a little girl (and lived with my grandparents before that) but last year Father Christmas decided Eddie would like a friend so used his North Pole magic to turn him into a Christmas elf too.
As luck would have it I came down with a horrible bout of flu at the start of December but thankfully my fourteen year old, Lorna took on the job of arranging elf mischief before I was able to take over. Here are their adventures so far this year;

1st December - Eddie and Cedric brought Maggie her Playmobil advent calendar and a letter thanking her for looking after them during the year when they are "just" toys.

2nd December - I'm a Celebrity Elf - Get Me Out of Here!

3rd December - we awoke to find them stuck on top of the curtains.

4th December - a joint effort by Lorna and Connie meant the elves could be fairies for a while.

5th December - den building with the cushions from the sofa. Arthur the Playmobil elf joined in the fun.

6th December - popcorn and a Christmas film (Elf of course.)

7th December - Snakes and Ladders

8th December - Strictly Come Dancing. The minion was a particularly generous judge!

9th December - pin the nose on Rudolph

10th December - their attempt to help decorate didn't quite go to plan.

11th December - my brother and his fiancee sent a request to Eddie and Cedric and so this was for them;  Score Tonight from Grease 2 - elf style!

12th Dec - they decided the Christmas tree needed something more - and that something was socks!

13th December - a calmer night, they read Christmas stories to some festive friends.

14th  December - Snowball fight!!!

15th December - The elves version of Titanic. Eddie taking on the role of Rose ensures there is no space for poor Jack/Cedric. Maggie obviously hasn't seen the film but liked them playing shipwrecks.

16th - Elfie selfies!

Part Two to follow....

Pumpkins, Puddings and Pancakes

With Halloween over for another year and some shops already decorated for Christmas, I thought this would be a good time to share some of the ways my family marks the passing of the year.

As it's November I'll start with Autumn....

The Autumn Seasonal Table - collect leaves, berries, twigs, conkers etc. Add to it occasionally and make leaf rubbing pictures. Spend the rest of Autumn annoyed with my husband as he keeps putting his mobile/work folder/glasses/paper etc on top of it all.

My birthday - presents in the morning, breakfast when I make it, takeaway for dinner. Husband inevitably has a "can't miss" golfing day.

Halloween - Carve a few pumpkins or squashes. Hand out sweets in blue plastic bowl because I forgot to get anything spookier looking. Dress children (just Maggie nowadays) in shop bought outfits. Dress myself in black top, black skirt and witches hat. Get told off by Lorna for dressing up. Sneak some witchy make-up on when Lorna has gone off with friends. Trick or treating to relatives and a couple of school friends. Wipe off make-up before picking up Lorna. Realise a few days later the pumpkin lanterns have turned soft and are hairy.

Christmas Pudding Day - every year I plan to make one on or around Stir Up Sunday....sometimes (rarely) I succeed. Otherwise go to supermarket and buy two large puddings as they're on special offer. Realise I am the only person who likes Christmas pudding and will be eating it well into the New Year.

Elf on a Shelf - Maggie's elves Eddie and Cedric come to life on 1st December to deliver her advent calendar and to join in the seasonal fun. Start to run out of ideas after a week. Intimidated by Pinterest. Wake up in a panic at 3am one morning realising elves have been forgotten about, stumble into bathroom and draw fake beard and glasses on face. Spend morning trying to scrub pen off face.

Tree Day - bring tree down from loft. Argue about where to put it. Let the girls decorate as they see fit. Realise afterwards I forgot to hand out mince pies. Eat mince pies and redecorate tree when girls are in bed. This year will be different though as we've agreed to buy a real tree. I'm predicting that just as we've finished decorating it the cat will remember how much fun it is to climb trees, particularly trees that thoughtfully have toys hanging from them and by Christmas Eve it will be looking like the wreckage from the St Jude storm.

Visit to Father Christmas - Usually visit Father Christmas at Poole Park. Enjoy joke again about turkey going on holiday to O-ven. Remind older two that any younger children believe it is the real Father Christmas and they aren't to snigger too loudly at the fake beard, even if they can see the elastic.

Christmas Eve - Sneakily put present from the elves outside the back door, engineer way of getting Maggie to find it. Realise she wouldn't spot a wrapped elephant unless it stood on her foot. Engineer a second reason to go outside, this time with her. "Spot" presents and exclaim in surprise. Husband takes girls out to look at Christmas lights while I sort out stockings. This mostly involves me losing at least one present and phoning him in a panic telling him not to come home yet in a coded message as he has the mobile on hands free and the girls can hear me. Track Santa on Norad. Have "live" phone calls from Santa - secretly laugh at Lorna and Connie's acting skills as they try to make it look like they still believe for Maggie's sake. Allow the eating of one chocolate off the tree. Leave out milk, mince pie and carrot. Swap empty stockings for filled ones. Put presents under tree, spend what feels like hours waiting for girls to sleep to put stockings on beds. Eat mince pie, chop end off carrot and nibble it, attempting to make teeth marks look reindeer like. Wonder again why Father Christmas has milk and not something alcoholic in our house.

Boxing Day - crackers, cheese, leftovers day (more Christmas pud for me)

New Years Eve - board game, argue about what to watch on telly, drink sparkling wine or very dilute Mimosas at midnight (except Maggie who will have fallen asleep at some point between 9 and 11.45pm). Hopefully eat last of Christmas pud. Find a second Christmas pudding at the back of the cupboard. Several months later read at school "And on New Years Eve we stayed up late and drank wine"

Day before back to school day - realise nothing has been washed, PE socks are missing and lunch boxes still contain leftovers from last day of term

Pancake Day - spend what feels like hours by a frying pan, have several unsuccessful attempts at tossing pancake. Make alternatives for those who don't like pancakes. Eat those pancakes that were dropped or fell apart - cold.

Mothers Day - wake up to presents, spend most of day bemoaning still having to do everything because otherwise we'd all starve and go to school/work naked etc

Good Friday - buy Hot Cross buns on a bogof offer, remember children don't like them. Eat Hot Cross buns for every meal.

Easter Sunday - nests made from blankets made on Easter Saturday night, filled with eggs from Easter Bunny and family. Little chocolate eggs, mini-eggs etc hidden in various locations in sitting room. Find at least one egg on sofa - by sitting on it.

Fathers Day - cards, gifts, cooked breakfast, husband's choice of evening meal with banoffie pie for pudding even though only husband likes it.

Seaside Weekend June/July - plan to go out the day before. Wake up late and argue as to whether it's still worth going out. Realise no food in house for picnic. Buy food in Tesco. Arrive at beach at lunch time, already starving. Nowhere to sit, eat picnc in car,  husband moans about crumbs. Realise it's much colder than expected and regret wearing shorts.

Husband's birthday - he wakes up to presents, breakfast made for him, if it's the weekend he plays golf.  Go out for a meal.

Week's holiday in August - I pack for me and younger girls, write a list, lose list, pack clothes for every weather event possible despite knowing it's unlikely to be snowing in the Vendee in August. Lorna packs practically every item of clothing she owns and still asks me the evening before if I can wash and dry something she desperately needs to take. Husband packs his clothes, forgets to pack underwear. First argument in car about 20 minutes after leaving house. Get lost in Rouen. "It's not a holiday for me if I have to do everything" becomes a daily mantra. Husband horrified by amount of food and sand that accumulates in car during week. Careful pre-holiday packing not matched post holiday as everything is thrown into bags and cases. Takes three goes to fit everything into car. First argument about 10 minutes after leaving holiday complex. Get lost in Rouen.

Day before new school year - see day before back to school day.

Mind the gap!

On Monday my youngest daughter, Maggie will turn 6. She wants Playmobil pirates and penguins and a mermaid birthday cake. The following weekend she's having a party with the usual Pass the Parcel and Musical Statues games, with her whole class invited.
Talking of parties, tomorrow night my eldest daughter, Lorna is going to the party of a sixth form boy. She is fourteen. There will be drink there and sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year old boys. I am taking deep breaths! She is going with friends and I know I have to trust her to make the right decisions.
This is what life is often like when you have children with a larger age gap between them. I can spend my evenings swapping between listening to Maggie read an Oxford Reading Tree book to helping 11year old Connie remember her lines for a Year 7 Drama lesson, to assisting Lorna with revision before an assessment. It's a house with the giggles and tears of a small child, the door slamming and craziness of a preteen and the sarcasm and wit of a teenager.
Days out aren't always easy, the rosy view I had of being out with my family together turns out not to be as straightforward as I'd imagined. One of them is almost always bored. We have realised it's often better for everybody if one or two are left behind (with grandparents in the case of the younger two).  Maggie really doesn't enjoy shopping and Lorna hates tagging along on day trips meant for younger children. Enforced togetherness just for the sake of it doesn't work. That said when they are all out together it can be wonderful, I was watching them on the beach in France earlier this year. They'd marked out a long jump track and were taking it in turns to see how far they could jump but were mostly just laughing with each other.
When Lorna is taking her A levels, Connie will be in her first GCSE year and Maggie will still be at primary school in Y4 and I will probably be asked to organise a Victorian Day costume with two days notice again.
I've been reading The Gruffalo and Monkey Puzzle before bed for years, have seen infant TV crazes go from the Teletubbies to the Tweenies to Balamory to In The Night Garden to Mike the Knight. I know the words to all the songs from Tangled, can name every member of One Direction and know who Tyler Oakley and Zalfie are.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Out There

I've just watched the second part of Stephen Fry's series on what it means to be gay in different parts of the world. It is a hugely important series, we're living in a world where on the one hand we're celebrating as more and more countries pass equal marriage laws whilst at the other end of the scale laws exist criminalising homosexuality or outlawing "homosexual propaganda." In too many parts of the world it's a frightening and dangerous time to be LGBT. Homosexuality is illegal in 78 countries, it's illegal to be a lesbian in  49 countries. In 5 countries same sex activity is a crime punishable by death.
I am straight, laws passed giving LGBT people more rights or taking them away do not directly affect me. I am not victimised by homophobia. This doesn't mean I nor any of us should sit back and pretend we're not affected at all. What sort of world do we want to live in? We cannot and should not accept that somebody is treated differently, as a threat to our children, as somebody to be feared, despised or ridiculed just because of their sexuality.
I do not "tolerate" gay people, neither do I "accept" them. I don't say I tolerate or accept straight people so why would I need to for non-heterosexuals? People just are and if I'm going to judge somebody it certainly won't be because of who they are attracted to.
I'm more minded to say what I won't tolerate and what I won't accept. I won't accept homophobia, not the laws being used to threaten LGBT people in places like Russia and Uganda, not the "therapies" used to supposedly cure gayness and not the casual use of the word gay as an insult.
 Today is Spirit Day when people are asked to either wear purple or go purple online to support the stand against the bullying of LGBT youth. I've just taken these statistics from Stonewall's website from their School Report 2012 looking at the experience of gay young people in Britain's schools:

• Homophobic bullying continues to be widespread in Britain’s schools. More than half(55 per cent) of lesbian, gay and bisexual pupils have experienced direct bullying
• The use of homophobic language is endemic. Almost all (99 per cent) gay young people hear the phrases  ‘that’s so gay’ or ‘you’re so gay’ in school and ninety six per cent of gay pupils hear homophobic language such as ‘poof’ or ‘lezza’
• Three in five gay pupils who experience homophobic bullying say that teachers who witness the bullying never intervene
• Only half of gay pupils report that their schools say homophobic bullying is wrong, even fewer do in faith schools (37 per cent)
• Homophobic bullying has a profoundly damaging impact on young people’s school experience. One in three (32 per cent) gay pupils experiencing bullying change their future educational plans because of it and three in five say it impacts directly on their school work
• Gay people who are bullied are at a higher risk of suicide, self-harm and depression. Two in five (41 per cent) have attempted or thought about taking their own life directly because of bullying and the same number say that they deliberately self-harm directly because of bullying.

To quote Edmund Burke, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." Perhaps there is little I can really do here, I'm aware I'm an armchair warrior but I don't think that's enough of an excuse to just sit here and accept what happens with a rueful shake of the head. At the very least the more of us straight allies who stand shoulder to shoulder with the LGBT community the stronger the message sent out to homophobes across the globe.

#amwriting

Firstly you may have noticed the title of my blog has changed. Hair Past a Freckle still exists but will now be just for book related posts. This blog will be for my general bletherings about whatever I feel like writing about. The title was inspired by Charles Dickens' quote, "Procrastination is the thief of time".
Welcome to my not really new as I've moved old posts here blog!

It was my birthday on Sunday, I was 41. I spent much of the day reading and writing. As a young child through to my teenage years I wrote all the time, poems mostly, but stories too. At some point though I stopped for some reason, even though still wrote in my head. I just never put anything down on paper. After my brother died last year however, I started another blog, After Simon as I felt my head was going to explode unless I wrote the words down. It was as if I had no choice, I didn't so much want to write as needed to. Since then it feels like the door I closed on my writing has been opened, firstly through blog posts but eventually I ignored that niggling critic and started writing a book. It's very early stages and may only ever be for my eyes, I don't yet know how I'll feel when it's finished. It doesn't matter though, it just feels good finally admitting to myself that I need to write and that there doesn't need to be a reason other than that.
In the meantime I've been reading tips from other writers which mostly seem to boil down to eating toast and spending too long on Twitter - both of which I'm already very good at!
And on that note, the toaster has just popped...

Mum, the Milibands and the Mail

It's my mum's birthday today. She should have been 61, instead she is frozen in my memory at 42, the age she was when bronchopneumonia secondary to metastatic breast cancer stole her from us. She was diagnosed with cancer just a month after her 40th birthday, I was 20 and my brothers 17 and 16 respectively. We watched her undergo gruelling chemotherapy, cried with her when we learned her treatment was palliative, tried to become used to seeing her without hair, listened to her vomiting day after day in the bathroom, saw the cancer cruelly invade her bones. And finally we sat with her in that hospital cubicle as she ceased to recognise us and then thanks to the morphine drifted into a sleep that we watched over holding our breaths as we waited for her to take her last.
This November she will have been dead for 19 years, I have spent most of my adult life motherless. She knew I was engaged but missed my wedding, has never known her grand-daughters, hasn't grieved with me as I've mourned the death of aunts and uncles, my grandad and my brother (would my brother still be alive if she was?) She hasn't seen the woman I've become.
Yet she shaped me. We frequently disagreed and had she been alive I know we'd have engaged in some strong discussions. Our political views were different and I wonder what she would have made of my parenting. I suspect she may not have agreed with all my decisions and probably would have said as much, but she raised me to believe in my choices. I always knew I was unconditionally loved by her and my dad and between them they gave me the confidence and self-belief to be who I choose to be. And that's what being a parent is all about really isn't it? No matter how you choose to raise a child your ultimate aim is for that child to grow into an adult secure enough in your love and respect to make their own choices in life.
So it is that as I remember Mum I'm struck by the thought that Ralph Miliband's sons are adults raised in a loving family and given the self-belief to make decisions based on their own consciousness. The Daily Mail has been roundly and rightly criticised  this week for its disgusting slur on a dead man based on a diary entry of a 17 year old. There can be no defence for this sort of gutter journalism. Ultimately though would it really have mattered if Ralph had hated Britain? Ed is not Ralph and whilst he may have been influenced by his father it's clear he's chosen a different political path. Are we all to be judged by the beliefs of our parents? We don't have to go back very far to a time when institutionalised racism and homophobia were commonplace. How many of our parents or grandparents would have supported equal marriage back in the 50s, 60s or 70s? How many casually referred to "going for a chinky", watched Love Thy Neighbour or referred to children with Down's Syndrome as mongols? We are not the same. Our parents made mistakes, we have learned from them. We should not be judged by their beliefs but by our own. Because despite their mistakes they gave us the confidence to make up our own minds.
So yes the Mail's lies are sickening and shame the free Press and I understand Ed's disgust and admire him for standing up to Dacre. Were the story true though would it have influenced my vote? Not a bit.

Secondary school - 11 things you may not know

Connie started at her new secondary school on Tuesday. I had the usual lump in my throat at yet another milestone reached and she was nervous she'd become lost but she didn't and says she's happy there so far.

Having already gone through "the change" with Lorna (now in Y10 so starting GCSEs - aaargh!) I feel I can offer a few tips or words of advice to those of you who are new to secondary school life or will be waving your child off to bigger big school in the future.

1. You are unlikely to get to know many of the parents. Many children make their own way to school, those that are driven jump out of the car. At home time don't make the mistake of getting out of your car to wait for them. If you are not already embarrassing you soon will be. Don't hasten the inevitability.

2. You will not have much involvement in school life. There may be the odd performance if your child is so inclined, or the occasional awards ceremony but that's about it. At our school parents aren't invited to Sports Day and even if they were Lorna would die if I even thought of attending. Likewise carol services etc, even if parents are invited think very carefully about attending. Your little boy or girl who would look out hopefully for you at primary school is now more likely to be cringing because you turned a page a fraction more noisily or coughed quietly.

3. Your child's friends will begin to ignore you in the street. Not straight away but in time the child you've known since they were in nappies will avert their eyes when you pass. This becomes even more true if they are with a boyfriend or girlfriend.

4. Yes, boyfriends and girlfriends come on the scene. With luck it will be a while before your child is heartbroken. We've not experienced that yet, but it will probably happen. You may want to know all the details - who asked who out, do they hold hands, have they kissed yet? DO NOT ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS! Nothing causes a teen to clam up quicker. If they want to talk they will, let them know they can talk to you about anything then leave it up to them.

5. Listen when your child says they will not wear the expensive school coat because nobody else does. They really won't wear it, preferring to freeze than to make some terrible school fashion faux pas. And the coat will just hang uselessly in the wardrobe (ask me how I know this!)

6. Be realistic about alcohol. At some point your child is most likely going to drink it, acknowledge that and let them know you trust them to know the difference between being drunk and being dangerously drunk. It might not work but if you respect your child they are more likely to respect themselves.

7. You can lead a teen or pre-teen to fruit but you can't make them eat it - not at school at least. Be prepared for them to come home saying they had a cheese panini and a muffin for lunch. Fruit often seems to have mysteriously run out by the time they reach the front of the lunch queue.

8. Parents Evenings are a special kind of hell. Remember how they always ran late at primary school? This is so much worse! Your child now has different teachers so you will need to make separate appointments to see each of them. It may be that you rely on your child to make these appointments so don't be surprised if the first is at 3.45, the second at 5 and the third at 5.05. They will over-run and you will find yourself being "next in" to see the geography teacher 20 minutes later than booked knowing this will make you miss your appointment slot with the science teacher who will, according to Murphy's Law, be running on time. My main tip for Parents Evening would be to not try to see every teacher. If your child has no musical inclination for instance and says they're happy enough in music lessons then accept that. Trying to see every single subject teacher in one night is probably mission impossible and your child's class tutor should be able to help if you do have any concerns.

 9. Homework becomes more frequent and there is more of it. Remind them but accept that if they don't do it then they will have to suffer the consequences. At primary you may have been able to go in and explain that you'd been away for the weekend and so they'd forgotten all about their maths sheet but not at secondary school.

10. Stock up on printing paper and ink. Seriously. So much homework involves printing something off, you'll go through tons of both.

11. Enjoy them growing up! Sure there will be arguments, slamming of doors, eye rolling etc but teenagers are clever, witty people. You will be amazed at how perceptive they can be and finding out things you have in common, a shared love of comedy shows for instance will be a real pleasure. They can be good company, I probably laugh more with Lorna than with anybody else.

Secondary school - 11 things you may not know

Connie started at her new secondary school on Tuesday. I had the usual lump in my throat at yet another milestone reached and she was nervous she'd become lost but she didn't and says she's happy there so far.

Having already gone through "the change" with Lorna (now in Y10 so starting GCSEs - aaargh!) I feel I can offer a few tips or words of advice to those of you who are new to secondary school life or will be waving your child off to bigger big school in the future.

1. You are unlikely to get to know many of the parents. Many children make their own way to school, those that are driven jump out of the car. At home time don't make the mistake of getting out of your car to wait for them. If you are not already embarrassing you soon will be. Don't hasten the inevitability.

2. You will not have much involvement in school life. There may be the odd performance if your child is so inclined, or the occasional awards ceremony but that's about it. At our school parents aren't invited to Sports Day and even if they were Lorna would die if I even thought of attending. Likewise carol services etc, even if parents are invited think very carefully about attending. Your little boy or girl who would look out hopefully for you at primary school is now more likely to be cringing because you turned a page a fraction more noisily or coughed quietly.

3. Your child's friends will begin to ignore you in the street. Not straight away but in time the child you've known since they were in nappies will avert their eyes when you pass. This becomes even more true if they are with a boyfriend or girlfriend.

4. Yes, boyfriends and girlfriends come on the scene. With luck it will be a while before your child is heartbroken. We've not experienced that yet, but it will probably happen. You may want to know all the details - who asked who out, do they hold hands, have they kissed yet? DO NOT ASK TOO MANY QUESTIONS! Nothing causes a teen to clam up quicker. If they want to talk they will, let them know they can talk to you about anything then leave it up to them.

5. Listen when your child says they will not wear the expensive school coat because nobody else does. They really won't wear it, preferring to freeze than to make some terrible school fashion faux pas. And the coat will just hang uselessly in the wardrobe (ask me how I know this!)

6. Be realistic about alcohol. At some point your child is most likely going to drink it, acknowledge that and let them know you trust them to know the difference between being drunk and being dangerously drunk. It might not work but if you respect your child they are more likely to respect themselves.

7. You can lead a teen or pre-teen to fruit but you can't make them eat it - not at school at least. Be prepared for them to come home saying they had a cheese panini and a muffin for lunch. Fruit often seems to have mysteriously run out by the time they reach the front of the lunch queue.

8. Parents Evenings are a special kind of hell. Remember how they always ran late at primary school? This is so much worse! Your child now has different teachers so you will need to make separate appointments to see each of them. It may be that you rely on your child to make these appointments so don't be surprised if the first is at 3.45, the second at 5 and the third at 5.05. They will over-run and you will find yourself being "next in" to see the geography teacher 20 minutes later than booked knowing this will make you miss your appointment slot with the science teacher who will, according to Murphy's Law, be running on time. My main tip for Parents Evening would be to not try to see every teacher. If your child has no musical inclination for instance and says they're happy enough in music lessons then accept that. Trying to see every single subject teacher in one night is probably mission impossible and your child's class tutor should be able to help if you do have any concerns.

 9. Homework becomes more frequent and there is more of it. Remind them but accept that if they don't do it then they will have to suffer the consequences. At primary you may have been able to go in and explain that you'd been away for the weekend and so they'd forgotten all about their maths sheet but not at secondary school.

10. Stock up on printing paper and ink. Seriously. So much homework involves printing something off, you'll go through tons of both.

11. Enjoy them growing up! Sure there will be arguments, slamming of doors, eye rolling etc but teenagers are clever, witty people. You will be amazed at how perceptive they can be and finding out things you have in common, a shared love of comedy shows for instance will be a real pleasure. They can be good company, I probably laugh more with Lorna than with anybody else.

Why 5 year olds shouldn't run dating sites

At five Maggie is a treasure trove of quotes, tips and words of (unique) wisdom. So much so that friends suggested I make a record of her sayings, which led to a Tumblr blog; Things Maggie Says

Sometimes though our conversations run to more than a quote. Today for instance she wanted to question me about what I guess could be termed Plan B should I ever want to look for a new man.
"Mummy, what would you say if another man asked you to marry him?

"I'd say no because I'm married to daddy."

"But what if he was handsomer than daddy?"

"I would still say no"

"What if you and daddy broke up? Who would you want to ask you to marry them?"

"Ummmmmm....how about Damian Lewis?"

"Eurgh! Nooooo!! I hate him!"

"Do you know who Damian Lewis is?"

"No."

Later I show her a picture of Damian Lewis,
"Nope, too weird."
Richard Armitage perhaps?
"Weird."
David Tennant?
"That's the Doctor! You can't marry the Doctor! Shall I find someone for you Mummy?"
I give her my tablet then wait (im)patiently,
"No....no....hahaha....oooh.....hahahahaha.....hehe....nope....yes!!"









So the man my daughter thinks I should consider as a second husband?

Image courtesy of Lazytown.com

Might not put Plan B into action quite yet then.

If you thought the first day of school was tough...

We break up
We break up
We don't care if school blows up
No more English
No more French
No more sitting on the old school bench

Remember the last day of term when you were a child? Anticipating the weeks ahead, making plans to meet at the park or swimming pool, the excitement of finishing just after lunch, being allowed to bring toys into school.
It feels very different when you're a parent. Firstly there are thank you presents to buy. Did we do this as children, I don't remember bringing in anything other than a card? I've had to buy eight presents, Maggie has two teachers and two TAs, Connie has one teacher, two TAs and as it's her last year wanted to give something to her headmaster too. Some people are organised and crafty and make a gift, I am neither of those things so had a last minute dash to the shops yesterday. The school also have a tradition of giving flowers to staff who are leaving and ask each pupil to bring in one flower to go into the bouquet. It's a lovely thing to do but this year three members of staff are moving on, so with two children at the school we had to supply six flowers. Six flowers that they both agreed on and didn't cost me a small fortune. Whether they survive till this afternoon's Leavers Service is another matter altogether...
Onto the Leavers Service then. Connie is in Y6 so is leaving primary school today, meaning I will be desperately trying to hold back the tears this afternoon. If you've not yet experienced the last day at school imagine the first day but with an overhead projector showing pictures of your child growing up and songs about moving on and friendship.
At our school they always sing two leaving school songs 'End of the Term' and 'The Leavers Song'. The latter includes the words,
"So now it's time to say goodbye to our friends
Moving on.
And after many happy years at the school
We'll be sad
When you're gone.

This is our Leavers Song
We're proud of what you've done
Go from here with confidence
For all the things you've done"

I don't know who wrote the words but clearly they had a cruel streak and knew how to go straight to the heart of all parents. The slideshow I mentioned above is probably the most emotional part though. Watching seven years of your child and their friends pass in front of your eyes makes most of the parents (and quite a few staff members) well up. It's a stark reminder of how quickly time passes when you have children. They set the slideshow to music. Music specifically chosen to tug even more at the heartstrings. When Lorna left her class were very close to each other so picked "You've Got a Friend in Me" from Toy Story. I doubt there was a dry eye amongst the adults there. The children were in turns amused and embarrassed by us...although as they chose the song they only had themselves to blame!
I don't know what treats lie in wait for me at Connie's service this afternoon.It really doesn't seem that long since I was kissing her goodbye on her first day then treating her to a slice of chocolate cake at the end of that first morning. At the same time there are so many happy memories, she has loved being at the school, had lots of lovely friends and is well prepared to move on to secondary school.
Oh well...best make sure I have the tissues and waterproof mascara ready.

Tomorrow night she's having a sleepover, I may not be feeling as sentimental at 2am when I've having to tell them to be quiet for the umpteeenth time!

Lions and tails and grans, oh my!

I realised the other day that Maggie's imaginary friends are slowly fading away. If I ask her about them she'll say they're still around (today they're apparently playing in a field) but I've noticed she's mentioning them less and less.
The other two girls had pretend friends for only a fairly short time. Lorna actually had a pretend gran. She appeared shortly after the Queen Mother died and I was forced to hastily explain the truth after Lorna would solemnly announce,
"My gran died. She's buried at Windsor."
After a while she realised there was little fun to be had with an imaginary dead grandmother so quietly brought her to life and regularly regaled us with stories of what she'd been up to with Gran. I'm not sure how long this continued, from what I remember she stopped mentioning her as abruptly as she first talked of her.
Connie had two friends but they put in erratic appearances only. Lion was quite naughty and would be blamed for various acts of mischief,
"Who's unwound all the toilet roll?"
"Lion did it."
The magnificently named Shagalula lived in our back garden and I think was a little girl.

Maggie though has taken imaginary friends to a whole new level. Over the years we have had the following,

Mumby. Later to become Princess Mumby, she appeared when Maggie was about 2 and was a fairly benign presence who used to come with us on days out and sit on my shoulder.

Humpty Hump. Appeared shortly after Mumby, Humpty Hump unsurprisingly fell off things regularly. He came with us on a holiday to Scotland and fell in the water many times. Thankfully he was small enough to fit in the palm of my hand so was easy to rescue.

Mop. He was a mole, she called all moles "mop" but this particular Mop was a friend of Princess Mumby and Humpty Hump. Mop lived in a hole down the road and would join us as we walked past.

Her tail. For a thankfully short time she had an imaginary tail. Imagine the looks shot my way in shops as a small child would exclaim crossly,
"Mummy! You've shut my tail in the door AGAIN!"

Her snail father. He was only spoken of on occasion, was quite strict and indeed was a snail.

John. Her most talked about friend and still around, John's age fluctuates from about 16 to mid-sixties. He is her husband and currently lives on Pluto. He's died a few times, most notably slain at the circus by Tom Daly riding a dinosaur, and killed by a deer that came into his house on Pluto when it didn't have any windows or doors to keep murderous deer out. Fortunately he has Lazurus qualities and comes back to life each time.

Rosie. Rosie is a little girl and friends with John. She is  my least favourite friend as she's most insistent as to which chair is hers. She refuses to sit on the awkward to get to chair in the corner and becomes very angry if you dare suggest such a thing.

Little Monster. It will come as no shock to hear he is a monster, luckily a friendly one. Little Monster briefly met an untimely end at the hands of Usain Bolt's evil twin, Utain Bolt. Like John though he has been resurrected and is her second most talked of friend. Being little he needs a lot of looking after.

Bunny Bun. Naturally Bunny Bun is a rabbit and makes up the quartet with John, Rosie and Little Monster. Bunny Bun is the quietest of the four and for this reason probably my favourite.

As she reaches the end of her first year at school I'm aware that it won't be long now before these friends become mere memories. I won't miss their dictatorial tendencies but life will be a bit duller without them.

Are you currently sharing your house with friends you can't see "but they are real"?

My brother and St Christopher's Fellowship

If you were to ask me who my hero is, one of the first people I would think of is my brother Rob. At school he was as good as written off by his teachers, he's dyslexic but back then too many teachers equated that with laziness and I suspect there were several who failed to spot his potential. Comparing our school reports is telling, I am frequently described as "hardworking"or "conscientious" and only criticised for being too quiet and failing to "add to class discussions." Rob's reports tell of "silliness", "untidiness" and "being easily distracted."
Despite not getting the support he should have been given at school Rob was always single-minded in his wish to work with young people. Over time he had many jobs, sometimes with youngsters, often not. For a while he worked with homeless adults, supporting the people that society most abhors but that drive to help vulnerable teenagers never left him and through hard  work and determination he eventually achieved his goal and found a job with St Christopher's Fellowship in London. He is now their New Business Development Manager so clearly his dedication is finally being recognised.
The sort of young person St Christopher's helps is often not the type certain sections of the media look kindly upon. They've been involved with drugs, been part of gangs, are often seen as little more than "hoodies with asbos." People who work for St Christopher's though see something different; the child who has been abused at home, the teen who can see no future beyond gang life because nobody has ever told them otherwise, the youngster who has fled to this country in fear of their life. These are children who have never climbed a tree, who are scared to try something new because they've never had anybody invest belief in them, who use bravado to disguise the fact they don't think they're worth bothering with.
St Christopher's tells them they do matter, they can be more and if they're willing to apply themselves and to work hard then they will receive the advice and support they need. They are given hope and learn to believe in themselves. If you can spare a few minutes please watch this video  in which young people helped by St Christopher's talk of their journey towards independence. You might also like (please) to check out their website to find out more about their work and their aims. And if you should ever find yourself in a position where you would like to fundraise or donate money to a good cause please consider helping out St Christopher's. The kids helped might often appear difficult to love and may not have the aww factor of  retired donkeys but many of them have so much potential and at St Christopher's there are people like my brother who can help them achieve it.

Weird fears

We had a bit of a spider incident this morning. As I stumbled out of bed I was met by the demand, "there's a  humungous spider in the bath, can you get it out please." Now I'm not scared of spiders, in fact I like them and so it's not a big deal for me to remove them. It was a pretty big specimen, the sort that you can really feel in the palm of your hand. I picked it up and carried it gently to the garden, as always feeling slightly smug and hopeful my calm demeanor will eventually rub off on my arachnophobe daughters.
Today though was probably not the day for that. As I went to throw it on the grass it shot up my arm, over my shoulder and disappeared. I asked Connie if she could see it but she refused to come anywhere near me so I had to come back into the house to check in the mirror. Meanwhile Lorna and Connie were looking on horrified and calling out useful tips such as "get away from me" and " you're not going anywhere near my room!" Eventually I located it on my back - only for it to run up into my hair. At this point the girls demanded I go back outside, "and don't come back in till it's gone." I made like I was in a mosh pit and shook my head wildly. There was no sign of the spider. I'm hoping it came out when I was head banging, otherwise I have a new pet - living in my hair!
Anyway after the drama and with the children at school I started thinking about phobias. It always surprises me that they are scared of spiders given neither me nor their dad is remotely bothered by our arachnid friends. In fact as a child I would collect any I found around the house, stand on my cabin bed and put them on my ceiling. I do realise this isn't usual behaviour but nevertheless with such a relaxed attitude I do have to confess to finding it frustrating that all three have developed this fear. There is a small part of me itching to tell them to get over it and that spiders won't hurt them, but then I remember I'm not averse to one or two irrational fears/phobias myself. So in ascending order of my wussiness, here are my main fears

4. Small spaces. I know claustrophobia is common but my version is quite particular. I'm fine with lifts and aeroplanes for instance but don't like situations where I have to crawl into a small space and exit backwards. As I'm not a potholer this means what I'm actually afraid of is cleaning under the bunk beds. Every so often I have to sort out the mess that seems to accrue under there - soft toys, odd socks, puzzle pieces, Lego bricks - you know the drill. When this job needs doing I have to psyche myself up to crawl underneath the bed, then I grab as many items as I can in about two minutes before backing out quickly to steady my nerves before taking a deep breath ready to go back under for another go.

3. Dropping things from a height. I don't mind being high, as a child I loved climbing and abseiling on school trips. However, I really don't enjoy looking over say bridges or boats because I'm afraid I might drop something. My family never fail to laugh at me as I go through the routine of checking my rings, watch, camera, bag etc any time I've not been able to avoid a situation where something could conceivably fall away from me. In all honesty I'd probably be happier naked! Similarly I also have to check my rings every time I post a letter.

2. Helicopters. I blame this fear on ER and the fate of Dr Romano. I really dislike looking at helicopters flying and imagine them bursting into flames before my eyes. The thought of ever having to go on a helicopter is more than I care to comprehend. The only time would be if I needed an air ambulance and then I hope I'm unconscious.

1. Maggots. My loathing for these vile little entities can't really be put into words suffice to say their wriggly squirminess is enough to drive me to tears. I used to be a veterinary nurse and in the summer we'd often have rabbits brought in suffering from fly strike where flies would lay eggs in the faeces around the anus of the rabbit which would then hatch into maggots. I confess I used to hide and leave the de-maggoting to others. If I found a maggot in the house I'd have to be outside until it was removed. The thought of anybody in the house taking up fishing is enough to make me leave home!

So perhaps a fear of spiders isn't so bad! What are your odd fears? I'd love to hear them.

Something about Mary

It was an inset day for the younger two yesterday so first day back after half term today.  We never seem to do very much during the half term holidays, I'll sometimes speak to other mums afterwards and they seem to have crammed in so many activities, I wonder when they found time to sleep. We do a lot of sleeping in the holidays. Then when we do finally surface there is no guarantee that any of us will bother getting dressed until after lunch. We mostly seem to mooch about, chat a bit, read, listen to music - not my choice of music but at least constant Starz TV keeps me down with the kids (although I do have to confess it was some time before I realised it was Hey Porsche and nothing to do with the Merchant of Venice!)
I do sometimes cook with them, although these days I'm often relegated to washer upper and Lorna is head chef. The drawback of this being I don't get to lick out the bowl. Mostly though I let them do their own thing rather than structure activities for them. I think children need to sometimes be bored so they can figure out ways to entertain themselves rather than relying on somebody else to always provide the entertainment. Plus there is something a bit soul destroying about taking half an hour to set up a craft activity only for Maggie to finish it in ten minutes leaving me with half an hour's worth of tidying up.
Worse than the messy short-lived craft activities though is the "playing with small toy figures" game. It is the game I most try to avoid but sometimes there is no escape. So it was one day last week, shortly after we'd set up the spring table I blogged about recently actually. I should have been more aware that having the box of various small figures out was asking for trouble but perhaps still recovering from a virus had dulled my wits. I agreed to play a short game, pleading a need to cook the dinner soon as a means to facilitating an escape when it all became too much. "Right then, the game is called 'Mary Mary Can't You See?'" I asked who Mary was but was met with a withering look, "there is no Mary. It's just the name of the game." I had to choose my toys, most of which were then confiscated as being "wrong". Eventually I was allowed a car, crab, cat, alien from Toy Story and Dora the Explorer's mum.  I then had to think up acceptable things for each toy to say to her choices (lemur, cat, dinosaur, duck and another Dora's mum if you're wondering.) Several minutes of nonsensical conversation followed in which I had to admire a cat's medals, make the alien exercise and pretend Dora's mum was learning to fly, whilst trying to sneak on to Twitter to allow me to keep at least a tenuous grasp on reality. Eventually her cat appeared to turn to the dark side, stabbed my crab through the eye and needed to be jailed in the toy box. I took the opportunity to return the rest of the toys to the box and retire to the kitchen to cook dinner (read my book).
The toys are now packed safely in their box, high on a shelf until the next time I can't avoid the siren call of "please play with my aminals (sic) with me Mummy."
I never did find out who Mary was.

Losing a pet

Bit of a sad post today as on Friday I found out my lovely old cat, Eliot had been put to sleep. I knew the end was coming, he was 18 and had hyperthyroidism but unfortunately his passing wasn't what I'd wished for.
He went out on Sunday afternoon and when he hadn't returned after a few hours I wasn't too concerned as he regularly visited a house over the road. However, when Connie went over there to collect him they said they hadn't seen him all day. We put a poster up, put notes through doors and phoned the vets but other than a call from a lady who'd seen him walking down the road on Sunday we heard nothing.
Then yesterday I had a call from a lady saying she'd found him at her work and then taken him to a shelter. She'd clearly fallen for him and remarked on what a lovely friendly cat he was. She told me she was intending to rescue him had his owners not turned up.
So I waited excitedly for the rescue shelter to ring me but my hopes were shattered when they said he'd become very ill and deteriorated so badly that on Tuesday the decision was taken to put him to sleep.
I rescued him when he was a tiny kitten.  I used to be a veterinary nurse and he was brought into the practice one weekend as a stray and had a dreadful case of cat flu. We weren't sure if he'd survive, his mouth was ulcerated, he was a snotty mess and one eye had a painful corneal ulcer. He was also the friendliest little scrap and I fell for him immediately. Eventually the practice needed his cage and as he was infectious none of the shelters would take him. I agreed to take him home on trial as we had a Doberman who wasn't good with cats. Luckily he must have taken one look at him and decided he was too pathetic to bother with, so he ended up staying. I named him Eliot after T.S. Eliot.
I slowly nursed him back to health and other than a scar on his eye and being unable to miow properly, he enjoyed many years of good health. It was only in his last year that he began to show signs of suffering from hyperthyroidism.
He was the most gentle cat you could ever wish for with children. When I was pregnant he would curl up under my top and fall asleep on my bump. He never bit or scratched them, even when they were clumsy toddlers. I was always his favourite person though, he spent most evenings of his life curled up either on me or near me.
I was concerned as to how the girls would react to his death. Not Lorna so much, she's 14 and very pragmatic. Connie though is a sensitive soul at 11 and at 5 Maggie only has vague memories of the guinea pigs dying.
So far they seem to be fine although I wonder how they'll be when his body is returned to us next week. In that wonderfully accepting way that small people have  Maggie declared "I am sad that Eliot's dead but happy we've got something to bury. We've not buried anything for ages! Always an up side eh?!
I'll miss him desperately, he came to live with me before I was married and just 22. Now I'm 40, have been married for almost 18 years and have three children. He's been a constant part of most of my adult life. I am grateful though to have been so lucky to have had him for so long and I think he enjoyed his 18 years with us.

Snakes on a spring table

So it's half term and as usual (so it seems) I've been ill for the first part of it with a chest infection virus-y thing.
Today though I felt a bit better and so finally managed to make a spring table with Maggie.  Admittedly it is almost summer but as it feels like autumn I figure we can allow a little leeway with our seasonal tables.
Now if you search for 'spring tables' on Pinterest you will undoubtedly find Waldorf inspired masterpieces. I dream of having such beauty in our house. However, as we have a shelf high above the television with a garden ornament squirrel inherited from my great aunt on it, such wishes for understated good taste seem futile.
It started well, we gave the Grimm's Rainbow pride of place and found the little Ostheimer rabbit and a tree. Then we added a couple of books, the mint plant Maggie had grown at school and some spring flowers we'd picked in the garden. Connie found a nest on a woodland path the other day so we put that in front of the rainbow. Maggie thought it needed some birds and luckily we had some pink and blue chicks left over from Easter so they found a new home. This is when my dreams of a tasteful table began to fade. She decided we needed a mummy bird, so we looked in the box of toy figures. No mummy bird was found but she did find lots of other toys that apparently no spring table could do without.
The Littlest Pet Shop caterpillar and butterfly were fine for the theme, the pink cat less so, "but Mummy, they're best friends."
It was not long before they were joined by the most mismatched herd of cows in the history of farming, a wooden snake and its baby (a soft snake from Ikea), a small plastic frog and two racing snails. And what spring table isn't complete without a mother dinosaur and her baby hatching from an egg? Our work of art was completed by the careful placing of a plastic fairy I think came from McDonalds and her faithful hare/rabbit (I'm not sure which but the ears suggest hare).
It's unlikely to feature on Pinterest any time soon but she had fun and at least when the cat invariably jumps up there and destroys the entire display I won't be too disappointed.

Why equal marriage should affect us all

I'm going to start today's post by saying that I am straight and married. It doesn't really matter but I suppose you could say that those opposed to equal marriage think it is children like mine who need protecting.
They don't speak for me though; my children know that some people are gay because, well, why shouldn't they? I can think of no logical reason for them not to know that two women or two men can love each other as much as a man and a woman. My 5 year old has seen gay kissing on TV because I don't feel I need censor it any more that heterosexual kissing. I don't remember if she reacted, quite possibly it was just with a soppy "awww" because she likes to see people in love.
I've seen a few comments today from people in favour of equal marriage saying that  if the Bill passes it won't make any difference to those of us who have been able to choose whether or not we get married. I think in time that will be true but right now I disagree. It will make a difference because it will mean that when I tell my children that all people are equal, the law (in this country at least) will reflect that. I want them to grow up in a country where adults have the right to choose whether or not they marry regardless of their sexuality. I tell my daughters that when they grow up they can marry a man or a woman. I want that to be true.
Other people's choices don't affect us, but the difference between living in a country that allows or prohibits equality should concern us all.

Blossom and bottoms

Yesterday we finally had a bit of sunshine so decided to walk across the fields on the way home from school. We moved house in January and being able to take this route is a pleasure but with the weather being so awful we haven't walked this way as often as I'd have liked.
Maggie picked some flowers (mostly dandelions), checked out the blossom on the trees and insisted on posing in the photos I was taking of the views.

There were cows in the next field and I wondered how she'd react. When she was younger she was petrified of even the word 'cow', we had to sing about the horse jumping over the moon and mooing was enough to make her sob. So it was with some trepidation that we approached them, particularly as a few were very close to the path. She was holding my hand and I could feel her tension so I chatted to her calmly, told her to walk sensibly, and breezily chatted to the cows as we passed.
Once we neared the stile she relaxed and so I suggested we took a photo. Unfortunately at that moment the cows took it on themselves to walk away and I joked we didn't want a picture of cows' bottoms.
Later she told me she'd like to walk this way more often "so we can see the cows' bottoms again!" as that was her favourite part of the walk. Next time maybe I should take a photo.