Monday, 24 December 2012
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
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.
Monday, 17 December 2012
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.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
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
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
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!
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Friday, 7 December 2012
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).
Thursday, 6 December 2012
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
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
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.
Sunday, 2 December 2012
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
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
Friday, 30 November 2012
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...
Thursday, 29 November 2012
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.
THE FACTS ABOUT MISCARRIAGE
One in four of all pregnancies miscarry, most commonly between six and eight weeks.
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.
Wednesday, 28 November 2012
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.
Monday, 26 November 2012
Product review - Highchair
Silver Cross Sovereign Highchair
Details
Price: £100
Age suitable for: 6mths-3yrs
Number of height positions: 6
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.
Sunday, 25 November 2012
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 mushrooms175g/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.
Thursday, 22 November 2012
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?!
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
FURTHER TRAVEL TALES: Serengeti sensation
In a near forgotten past and in a life before children, there was a young girl who wandered without bags under her eyes but with a bag on her back. Here she returns to notes she made while visiting the Serengeti
Arusha, Tanzania; the tourist capital of East Africa and a central anthill of tours and touts. Whether your destination is the Serengeti plains, the Ngora Gora crater or Mount. Kilimanjaro, Arusha is where your trip will begin and end. Oh and be warned, it is a safari circus.
It's been a fifteen-hour journey from Nairobi in a dilapidated bus, and the bombardment of excursion offers before I’ve even disembarked is an unpleasant welcome. Reluctantly I join the chaos.
It is incredible to imagine that such peace and beauty can be born out of so
great a polluted hellhole. The noise level already annoys: the
jamming of car horns fight the somewhat more melodic bus trumpets, the locals shout
louder.
It is hot and dusty, the stench makes me retch. The men trying to sell
me a tour are in my face as much as the stink and rather than being vibrant and
enthusing, as I imagined the safari gateway to be, Arusha is simply
suffocating.
As I try to move away a tout follows me. It becomes clear his persistence is insistent. All it does is piss
me off. I’m so hot it doesn’t help. I stop for a few drinks in a bid to lose
him. I cannot believe that he waits for me the whole time outside the bar.
Three kilometres away, the Masai camp offers me some peace,
and a few hours of calm later, I chat to other travellers coming back off their
trips. I soon gain an idea of the better tour operators and am quick to sign up
for a Serengeti safari that comes recommended. I check out the jeep
that is going to be my seat for the next four days.
I depart early next morning. The melting tarmac quickly disappears leaving an uncomfortable potholed
corrugated track. The density of Arusha is left behind replaced by an
enormity that is the Rift Valley. Rich desert hues compete with
sapphire skies.
Sunday, 18 November 2012
So be good for goodness sake
Our angelic 4YO lost her halo today. If she continues in the same vein this coming week I think Father Christmas will be phoning the house to tell us to warn her he has made his list and he is about to check it for the second time. Tough day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)