FRAMED Capturing some of the magic

Esme in design mode

 

 

 

Fia in denial

 

 

 

 

Twas indeed a traditional merry Christmas

And in the end it most certainly lived up to all the hype. What a happy Christmas it was for the four of us. Highlights included...

The Christmas Panto (and Esme's role play thereafter)...

Snow White and the seven dwarfs was a great hit. Esme loved being involved and enjoyed the interaction very much (oh yes she did). Afterwards, we went to my mum and dad's. Mum did us a lovely meal, crackers; the works. It just so happened that Esme had a compact mirror in her cracker. No great surprise then when I found her the next day gazing at herself, chanting, 'Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?' The mirror's dark response replied, (Esme threw her voice), "You are the fairest of them all Esme - and so much more than Sofia."

And so it begins.

Christmas Eve crib service

Esme and I went along to this with no idea of what to expect. Being four, and as she was christened this year in the local church, I felt it necessary to try and give her some experience of the Christian value behind all the festivities. I'm so pleased we went. I feel a new tradition within our family has been born. And I have to say, it was brilliant. First of all, you have never seen so many families. Pushchairs parked the entire length of the aisle. Toddlers allowed to wander. The vicar didn't stop smiling (even when singing), clearly delighted with the chaos created by so many in his house. Babes screamed and tired parents looked flustered, but piece by piece, ornament by ornament, the nativity scene came together, as the meaning of CRIB service dawned on me. Esme took pride in being asked to place a shepherd upon the stage. For half an hour we sang our hearts out and then, the fattest Christmas tree I've ever seen was lit up in the corner to great gasps of awe. Only one thing ruined it for me... I heard some chap behind say very loudly, "Look darling, that tree is nearly as big as ours." What a dick.

Christmas morning (1)

Sleeping in past seven on the day was lovely. I so realise that this is possibly the last time ever while we have small children at home?! Sleeping in was quickly followed by the most magical of all phrases one can ever hear: "He's been." God I've always loved Christmas, but it's all so much better when you have little ones to share it with.

Christmas morning (2)

Junior Choice, Radio 2's brilliant programme from 9-11am with Stupot ('ello darlin'), and all the favourite songs of my childhood. Love it. Apron goes on. Turkey gets stuffed. Mummy starts dancing. Captain Beaky, A mouse lives in a windmill, Puff the magic dragon, Sparky's magic piano, the works. LOVE IT.

Christmas lunch

A definite highlight, not much to say on this matter, but God, it was good. All four of us cleared our plates and bowls.

The Queens speech

Usually by the time this rolls round, I'm usually rolling around. As my dear OH refills my glass (again) in readiness to toast dear Queenie, I become even more patriotic than normal. I'm very proud to be British and very proud of our royal family. But by 3pm on Christmas day I am quite simply in love with the Queen. As I sit to salute her, my patriotism (and often alcohol consumption) totally kicks in and usually fuels silent tears of admiration. 

Present time

You see it all comes down to tradition. And it is only ever after the Queens speech that we (my brother and sister and I) were finally allowed to have the gifts sat winking at us all under the tree. One by one they would be handed out and enjoyed, time was taken to wait and see what each of us received. I suppose that sounds almost Dickensian to today's standards, but it always taught me to be incredibly aware of how lucky we were to have all these lovely new shiny toys. So yes, the four of us hung back til after the Queen's message. Like I say, it all comes down to tradition. And the day lasts even longer! A real highlight was watching Esme and Sofia enjoy handing out the presents.

Fat bellies and lots of TV

Isn't that how it always ends?

Boxing day family fun

More fat bellies and more TV. My rude OH sits taking photos of his mother-in-law's drool as she drops off on the sofa. Her cracker party hat will be in situ for a good few hours yet even if it does presently slide down her nose in tribute to her dear dad.

Highlights also included visits from great pals, walks in the woods and winning at Cluedo.

Perhaps the only thing that was missing this particular crimbo for me, were roaring log fires, toasted marshmallows, hot choccie, and of course the white fluffy stuff. Far too mild for any of that. However, that aside, it was as close to perfection as can be. Like I said in the previous post, there's truly a lot to be thankful for.

 

Christmas Eve and there's so much to be thankful for

It's shaping up to be another merry Christmas!

The carrots, mince pies and brandy sit half eaten upon the hearth as freshly laid welly boot footprints stand in the ash of the smouldering fire. Simon and I have munched ourselves silly feasting upon the carpet picnic of an exquisite hamper that his work delivered. So so content, we are about to tip toe Santa's presence in to where our sleeping wonderbabes lie up above dreaming of sugarplums and all things deliciously Christmassy. All of us happy in our anticipation, and the new dawn. 

Nativity is davinity

Esme's nativity was divine. It really was. She looked like an angel. Although she played a traveller. A traveller! Not a spoken part, nor an acting part come to that, but a walk on part. But hey, she walked on brilliantly. She also knew all the words to the songs and managed not to pick her nose once; so I'm a proud mum. Albeit a proud mum that has just a teeny weeny bit of Mary envy.

Fairytale of Christmas

We're currently bopping along to this song - one of the best ever Christmas songs of all time, and that is saying something. God bless Kirsty Maccoll.

12 days to Christmas (with a mischievous toddler in tow)

Day 1: Put the tree up and admire it's beauty.

Day 2: Place presents that are already received around the foot of the tree, and admire it some more.

Day 3: Remove all the presents from around the tree until ready to open.

Day 4: Move the tree to a more secure location.

Day 5: Try to decipher which is the tree and which is Sofia Faith, for every time she goes anywhere near it, she ends up with more and more lametta tinsel attached to her.

Day 6: Notice that what was a ton of lametta tinsel, is now a few strands.

Day 7: Spend the entire time chasing Sofia Faith who is wandering with baubles, back and forth.

Day 8: Move the baubles to higher branches well out of her reach.

Day 9: Move all remaining dec's to higher branches well out of her reach.

Day 10: Introduce some toddler friendly dec's to the tree at Sofia Faith's level.

Day 11: Remove the toddler unfriendly dec's

Day 12: Admire the tree in its half-dressed state, and then admire my beautiful and mischievous 15MO

Easy chocolate biscuit bites for Christmas (you won't even need your oven).

No cook chocolate biscuit bites

3 oz ginger biscuits

3 oz digestive biscuits

4 oz milk choc

4 oz Plain choc

4 oz golden syrup

3 oz unsalted butter

2.5 oz dried apricots, finely chopped

1.5 oz raisins, cut in half

1 oz Rice crispies

Lightly grease and line a 20cm 8inch square shallow tin (or whatever you have in the cupboard, I used a lasagna dish). Break the biscuits in to pieces in a plastic bag and then crush with a rolling pin.

Melt choc, syrup and butter in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water. Stir in the biscuit crumbs and when coated, stir in the apricots, raisins and crispy rice.

Spoon the mixture in to the prepared tin and level the surface by pressing down with a potato masher. Leave to cool, then chill in the fridge for 1 hour before cutting in to small squares. Fill your boots!

Playtime musings of a 4YO

Did you know Mummy, that colouring sometimes makes my hips ache?

 

This weekend...

We thoroughly recommend:

Ice skating! Such fun, such fun! Here we are in Brighton - with the amazing Pavilion playing host. Blue skies help enormously, obviously, but what a brilliant (and back-breaking) thing to do with an adventurous 4YO. 

She's talked about it ever since.

"Argghhh, I can't see."

THE ROYAL PAVILION ICE RINK TICKETS  

(Sessions are one hour long)

Adults From £10

Children under 12 From £7

Family £34

Tickets available from Ticketmaster.co.uk

0844 847 2352

Get your southern skates on also at Hampton Court (www.hamptoncourticerink.com), Royal Windsor Ice rink (www.windsor.gov.uk/what's-on/windsor-on-ice), Winchester Cathedral (www.winchester-cathedral.co.uk), Somerset House, London (www.somersethouse.org.uk/ice-rink), and Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park (www.hydeparkwinterwonderland.com/attractions/icerink).

Teatime musings of a 4YO

So over food this evening Esme Grace, (4YO) says, "Mummy, I'm actually using the word actually." A bit later, she announced, "Mummy, I'm definitely using the word definitely." 

Clearly simple to you and I, yet such a big thing for her. Ah, my little girl is growing up and using grown up language. She then moved on to tell me that duck rhymed with fuck. Such a shame as up until that moment, it felt like I was in a Charlie and Lola cartoon.

NB: Esme actually and definitely has not a clue about the word f**k. (I think hope anyway).

That artistic hand take 2

In addition to the last post That artistic hand, Esme has changed her mind... (it's a 4YO's prerogative).

Over breakfast I showed Esme her picture in blog format. (Said picture again)

Here's the conversation that followed...

e: Mummy, why does the giant and his pet snail look smaller on your computer?

m: What do you mean, giant and his pet snail? Isn't that a picture of Mummy?

e: No, I just said that before, it is actually a giant and his pet snail. 

I obviously offered an explanation to Esme on how her creation came to look smaller. 
But I did a jig around the lounge first.

LATEST FRIDGE ART & that artistic hand

Esme's latest picture of me is worrying. I am not sure what bothers me more... that hand, the fact that she sees me as the female equivalent of Mr Strong, or the giant snail that is about to crawl between my legs. Brilliant.

A poetic moment - clearly I'm craving some space!

The Australian Cowboy 

 

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

Is it any wonder that the beautiful landscape of the outback creates beautiful people?

The intricate designs left by the wind in the desert sands are reflected in the weathered and lined face of the cattle musterer.

Old before his years, he is a nice old guy for a younger man: quiet, unobtrusive.

Alone, but not lonely, he is to be found amid his orange vastness of sand, with his dog, his horse, his cattle, his hundred’s of miles and his thoughts.

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

Colours.

In the daytime, minus the storms, the endless sky, like a sea above, is the most incredible sapphire, and only the flocks of galahs can pierce pink upon it, or the cock-a-teels, white. Likewise their cries maybe the only noise to invade this serenity, teasing one another over the hushed herd. Even his dog rarely barks, finding other ways to communicate.

Colours.

Against the jewel sky, the brick red pindan earth strikes a discord of the most unique kind, only nature can be this inventive and successful.

Space.

Littered with termite mounds and silver spinifex.

The night sky he sleeps under, is all the comfort he needs.

Everywhere here is his oasis.

Time.

Lots of it.

Space.

He thinks a lot.

Tranquility.

His cattle are grazing. They’ve found a water hole and the heat of the day, is evaporating.

The cattle musterer, slips silently down off his black smooth horse, giving her an affectionate, firm slap.

Reaching his worn palms into a blue-jeaned pouch, he produces a red kerchief, which he drags along his perspiring brow.

He squints into the lowering sun, and dips his Akubra, until he can barely see past its adored brim.

The dust rises as the huge herds push forward for the now churned-up wet.

In another week or so he and his cattle will be at a station Northwest of the Territory. Population: approximately ten, and that will suit him just fine.

Somewhere he can have a cold shower and a cold beer and a chair.

Just to sit, contemplate and dream. 

He’s saving up for a farm, his own ranch in the Pilbarra. For him and his dog.

And just a lot more time.





I've linked this piece up with: http://www.vevivos.com/prose-for-thought/ 

The best weekend

Meeting Santa at the school Christmas fayre - He was the real one Mummy.

The Mere's Christmas market, festive, festive, festive 

Buckets of vin rouge

Inside and in front of a roaring fire, all the while it's freezing outdoors

Roast lamb - Rosemary's not shy

Toasted marshmallows to boot

Kids early in bed with smiles on scrubbed faces

Two in a tub - hot, hot, hot bath with scented candles

Topped with fresh sheets and early night

Ah, they don't come much better x

Thank you

I've had an amazing response to the miscarriage piece I posted yesterday. Thanks for all the support - and as my gorgeous 4YO Esme would say, 'sharing is caring.' If it may have helped just one other person through a difficult time, then it was definitely worth writing...

A little more detail (6) & the pain of miscarriage

Grief & Loss: Miscarriage

So where were we... oh yes, life was great; Simon and I had adapted to being a family. And then, as our baby Esme turned one, we discovered that rather unexpectedly, our now settled threesome was to become four. I was pregnant again. 

We got our heads around the news really quickly and were happy at the thought of having babies so close together. It made perfect sense. So just as it all seemed to fit, and just as Simon and I were gearing up to share our jubilation, rather sadly, we discovered that we weren't expecting anymore; that we had lost our baby... 

I was 37 years old and eleven weeks into my second pregnancy when I miscarried. And frankly, if I had known I was bleeding I would never have been leaping around at the park like a lunatic that afternoon, but Esme (fourteen months old then) and I, were having so much fun. There really was so much to be happy about. It was only when I got home a couple of hours later, that I saw the blood in my underwear. I was mortified.

I text Simon to ask if he was on his way home from work and then put Cbeebies on and my feet up. I thought if it was a placental bleed then some rest could make all the difference and it would all go away.

I had a midwife’s appointment the next morning so I wasn’t about to call them in a panic. I was strangely calm. Probably because I already knew that there was nothing I could do and it wasn’t a placental bleed at all. It was a miscarriage and it was underway. How could I know?

My hair was the biggest give away. Most pregnant women find that their hair is beautiful when they are expecting. Not me. My hair goes brittle and dry and quite literally stands up. And as I looked in the mirror that morning, I thought, my hair looks nice today. Sure enough, it was soft and glossy, back to normal. Come to think of it, all my nails had broken a few days before as well.

Throughout the ten weeks I hadn't suffered with any obvious pregnancy symptoms at all. With Esme, nausea had crippled me in the first trimester so I hung on to a comment a friend had made, how in her pregnancy she hadn’t felt anything. After all, every pregnancy was different. But lying on the sofa late that afternoon, I remember thinking my bump ought to be rock hard; not spongy.

The stats show that miscarriage is far more common than we realise. Charlotte Forder, the founder of Babyloss, a charitable organisation offering forums for mums to share and remember, says, ‘It’s shocking but 1 in 4 pregnancies miscarry, although it’s probably 1 in 3 with all the miscarriages that go unreported.’ The facts do not make the realisation any easier.

My midwife had made an appointment for an emergency scan at the hospital and Simon and I waited nervously. Then the sonographer asked me some questions about the bleeding. She was softly spoken and I remember thinking she was the perfect person to do that job.

She couldn’t see anything at all and needed to do an internal scan. I squeezed Simon’s hand as a blob appeared on the screen. “Is that the baby?” I asked. I answered myself, “I know that’s the baby.” The sonographer gently hushed me, telling me that she was going to take some measurements and when she had finished she would explain everything to me. I knew it was hopeless.

The baby was measuring the size of a five or six week pregnancy and they were unable to pick up a heartbeat, this meant they could not tell if it was a viable pregnancy, in case I had got my dates wrong. Legally they could not do anything at this point other than make another appointment for a scan the following week.

There was no way my dates were wrong and I knew the baby had not developed beyond the five or six week mark. My tears began to fall as Simon and I were led in to a quiet side room. I remember looking at the tissues on the coffee table and wondering of the countless others that had gone in to this room before. Another nurse came to talk to us. She explained it was likely that I would miscarry before I came back in a week as I was already bleeding, but that if I didn’t then I would be offered surgery.

We made a few phone calls to the close family we had told and then went home and packed up all my maternity clothes. For some reason it was essential that I do all of the practical things right away. The next thing was to eat. And as I sat down to my sandwich, grief overcame me. I began to sob and shake as the shock sunk in.

We went to pick up Esme from a friend who had been looking after her. I couldn’t get to her little self quick enough. She toddled up saying, “Mummy, Daddy,”’ I held her so tightly. I can’t begin to explain how I suddenly loved her more fiercely than ever.

The three of us went for a long walk in the woods. It was a beautiful Autumnal day. Clear and crisp. I marched on, feeling no pain, just wondering when it would all happen. When I would lose our baby.

That was weird, waiting for it. Esme was a Godsend; she was such a great distraction. We had a good afternoon and then that evening, the pain started. I was on the loo for a couple of hours as the blood trailed out of me. Afterwards, Simon and I sat on the sofa together, numb.

My mum was coming up the following day to have Esme and to give Simon and I some time to reflect. It was all such a shock. In my first pregnancy I had told everyone by six weeks, not bothering to really take care of myself, having a few glasses of wine. This time everything was different, ironically I’d done everything by the book.

Simon and I went out for a few hours. Physically, I had been feeling well, but in the car a sudden backache started up. I assumed it was normal. Simon went to get a haircut and I went in to a gift shop to browse. And this is where I was when without warning, the contractions started. Simon reappeared and led me to the car and home.

Esme was so happy to see us come through the door and cruelly I had to say hi and disappear straight upstairs to the bathroom. There was so much blood. And the contractions were coming non-stop. This was a shocker. I had thought it had all happened the night before and was done with. But in actual fact, the night before had been nothing in comparison to what the next three hours were to bring. The pain was intense. And sadly, it was like giving birth with nothing to hold at the end of it.

The following day Simon was back at work and I, though exhausted was thrown back in to the deep end with a toddler. Then that evening when Esme was in bed, we both sat and cried, grieving for what could and should have been.

Looking back now I actually think Simon and I coped really well at the time. After the miscarriage we assumed something had been wrong with the developing baby, and I was fortunate it had happened when it did. It could have been so much worse. And when I think that some women never carry a baby, and some suffer loss after loss, I honestly didn’t think I could feel sorry for myself. After all I already had Esme in my life. I was to cherish her even more.

This post first appeared here 

THE FACTS ABOUT MISCARRIAGE
One in four of all pregnancies miscarry, most commonly between six and eight weeks.

The majority of these result from a genetic abnormality in the baby, but can also result from maternal infection, structural abnormalities of the uterus and a failure of the embryo to implant properly in the lining of the womb.

Miscarriage is more common as a woman gets older because the quality of her eggs deteriorates with age.

Smoking in pregnancy doubles the risk of miscarriage.

Most miscarriages are a single event and the chances of having a second miscarriage are far smaller than a successful pregnancy.

INFORMATION AND SUPPORT

www.babyloss.com

The Miscarriage Association may be contacted on 01924 200799. They will send out an information pack that may help you, free of charge.

Care Confidential at www.careconfidential.com or 0800 028 2228 is a national helpline offering confidential counselling to anyone facing pregnancy or post termination concerns.

Thought-provoking sister Kate (2)

Sister Kate sent me this film. It's an Australian News programme that researched and ran an item on the toxicity of Flouride to humans. It's definitely thought-provoking.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZBRBPgTOt0

Product review - Highchair

Silver Cross Sovereign Highchair 

Luxurious and practical, this highchair offers flexible positions and features Microban technology for anti-bacterial protection

Details

Price: £100

Age suitable for: 6mths-3yrs

Number of height positions: 6

Review
The Silver Cross Sovereign Highchair is indeed a highchair fit for royalty. It’s a luxurious yet practical product, that’ll easily rule supreme in your kitchen. Silver Cross, best know for its buggies and travel systems, has two highchairs to its name – the multi-functional Doodle and the Sovereign Highchair, which is suitable for babies from 6 months of age through to children of three years.

The name Silver Cross for me conjures up thoughts of big old British prams, stability, tradition and a steadfast brand that’s been in existence for well over a century. The Sovereign Highchair is created with every bit of brilliance that you’d expect from such a long-standing company. The Sovereign also comes complete with a guarantee that covers it for two years (you have to register it online with Silver Cross).

First produced in 2007, the Sovereign has proved to be a best-seller and award winner, thanks to its clever Microban® technology. And perhaps that’s the greatest feature of all about this product. Microban® is a coating of antibacterial protection that won’t wash or wear away. It creates an invisible barrier and stops bacteria in its tracks. Pretty clever stuff. Also, the Microban® coating is assured to last the lifetime of the highchair.

What we love 

Esme, now 20 months, was totally amused when the Silver Cross Sovereign Highchair arrived. The normal wanting to play with the box didn’t apply - she was too impressed with what now stood before her. From the moment I assembled it (it opens in one easy move), she took a vested interest and it has quickly become her highchair of choice. I can’t blame her - every time I look at her in it, I understand why. She sits with her head and neck supported, her body cushioned within the soft PVC padded liner. This padding is secured in place with Velcro and can be removed to wash. The nooks and crannies simply don’t exist because you can wipe all of it clean so easily. It’s easy to move around with its small back wheels that then lock in place. Esme is safely strapped in using the 5-point harness whose clips click together easily, not like some I’ve tried.

The Sovereign Highchair is multi-positional and being able to adjust the height and recline position means that it offers exceptional support and comfort. There are six height and four back reclining positions giving you so much flexibility.

When a friend’s 6-month-old, Issy sat in the Sovereign for lunch, we positioned it low to the ground and her mum sat in front of her on the floor to feed her. It worked a treat, as she could give her toddler lots of attention, too. After a while we lay Issy safely back in the highchair, and weren’t at all surprised to see she nodded off.

With Esme, I often sit her in the Sovereign with a book while I’m getting her meal. The Sovereign comes complete with three Microban® treated trays: one for feeding, one for general playtime and one for safety. The play tray enables Esme to do play-dough and colour, and not just when I’m cooking. There’s a large storage basket underneath too, useful for stashing toys.

Esme’s latest saying is “new highchair” and she is particularly taken with the image of the cat on the cushioning. Ours is blue, or ‘sky’, but it also comes in a pretty pink, or ‘rose’, which has an owl motif. The design complements Silver Cross’ Owl and the Pussycat toy range, based on the original poetry of Edward Lear.

To complete the review, see more images of the Sovereign and to read the all-important What to watch out for and Verdict sections, then please click on the links below which will take you through to the parenting website MadeForMums, where this review first appeared, published in June 2010.

Summary : Full Review : Gallery : Specs :

Love a good stuffing? This Christmas recipe is worth sharing...

For the amazing mushroom and bacon stuffing that my mum makes at Christmas, you will need:

225g/8oz chopped mushrooms
175g/6oz white breadcrumbs
3 eggs
1 tblsp chopped parsley
1/2 tablespoon salt
175g/6oz chopped streaky bacon
50g/2oz melted butter
1 tblsp chopped onion
freshly milled black pepper

(These ingredients will work with a 10-12lb turkey)

Mix the parsley, onions, salt and pepper with the breadcrumbs, stir in the bacon and mushrooms, and bind it all together with the melted butter and beaten eggs. Then stuff the mixture in the cavity of the bird and cook accordingly.

Why not make a traditional stuffing mix at the same time and put that at the other end of your turkey.You'll end up with two yummy stuffings for your delicious Christmas dinner.

Christmas is coming and the blog is on the bog

Very excited in our house at the prospect of Christmas. Trying not to get ahead of ourselves but we made paper chains yesterday. Have impressed myself and started shopping; found some great ideas in the little gift shop Past & Present in Shottermill. Love that grotto. Artist Sarah makes the most amazing hand-painted delights.

Esme (our excited 4YO) is to be a traveller in her school nativity. Can't wait for that. Am reminded of when I watched on as nanny for a little one who attended a Pimlico nursery. Mary was swinging baby Jesus by his leg and Joseph stood there picking his nose. The angel Gabriel blinked away tears throughout, and I don't know what happened to the three wise men but the place was overrun with shepherds. Something to do with countless tea towels maybe?!

The School Christmas fayre approaches. Apparently it is in dire need of two dads or grandads to act as Santa. Goodness, imagine that. A school Christmas fayre with no Father Christmas... forgot to mention this to Simon last night, so darling OH, if you are reading this first thing while on the loo as usual, perhaps you could think on that? Yes, apparently Simon takes time out at work to read each new post while visiting the toilet. He has fondly termed LIFE AS IT IS as the BLOG ON THE BOG. I'm just delighted he bothers to read it at all! Have a good day dear.