Egg dip dip

Nutella tray bake

2012-02-09T04:09:00.000-08:00

This is our stock weekend traybake recipe at the moment, it's super easy and super yummy:

225g softened butter

225g caster sugar

275g self-raising flour

4 eggs

4 tablespoons of milk

2 level teaspoons of baking powder

2 - 3 heaped tablespoons of nutella (adjust to suit your tastebuds)

Bung all the ingredients in a bowl, give it a good mix, pour into a lined baking tray and bake at 160 degrees C for about 40 minutes.

When baked and cool, smother in your favourite butter icing/frosting etc, cut into smallish squares and enjoy over throughout the week with a wee cup of tea/milk/juice etc. We like to decorate it with some multi-coloured sprinkles too.

Losing my ambition

2012-02-06T07:18:00.000-08:00

I stumbled across an article on The Women's Blog on The Guardian today that got me thinking. The article was about the frighteningly low percentage of women in top, board room level jobs. In the US, only 3% of the chief executives running Fortune 500 companies are women and in the UK, just 15% of UK board members are women. Government doesn't fare much better, with just 17% of government ministers in the UK being female.

The article raised an important point: that from a very young age, girls are labelled as 'bossy' while boys are encouraged to lead the way. But is there more to it than that? Why are more women not heading up companies and running the country? Sheryl Sandberg is reported in the article as calling for "girls to be ambitious at work and men to be ambitious at home". Hear hear I say...but...something niggled me.
Now I'm not disputing this point, I do actually agree with it. But I also think, from a personal perspective, that something else is at work to prevent women getting these top jobs.

For me, my career goals changed forever the moment I held my firstborn child in my arms for the very first time. Becoming a mother changed me in ways that I would never have imagined. I think I lost my ambition the day I became I mother.

The trials and tribulations of the office no longer held me so passionately. I still wanted to do a good job, create great work, but at the end of the day, all I wanted to do was rush home for a cuddle and a bedtime story.

When your child has a fever or is refusing antibiotics, office politics just seem so trivial and meaningless. Trying to decide if a brand promise is aligned with a brand proposition and how that fits into a 5 year marketing plan no longer fills me with frisson beyond 4:30pm. Catch me at 8:30am and I'm all over that brand promise, but threaten to interfere with the prospect of bathtime and sleepy cuddles with my boys and you're straight in my bad books.

It's not so much a case of priorities. I'm sure every mother prioritizes her children, I'm not doubting that. But the shareholders I answer to are a 5 year old and an 18 month old. They are my Chief Operating Officer and Chief Executive Officer and disappointing them would just be more than I could ever bear.

I guess it's down to balance more than anything. I'm still ambitious, but only to a point. If that point threatens to interfere with my family life, then I'm just not interested.

Which brings us back to the age-old dilemma about having it all...can women truly have it all? Can we be the mothers we want to be while also breaking through that glass ceiling? (Oh, Carrie Bradshaw moment there!)

I'm inclined to say no. Not in my case anyway. Other women seem, from the outside, to manage it. An I'd love to know how they do it! But for me, it's a no. The only board I'll sit on is made of lego.

366 days of photos - week 5

2012-02-05T05:14:00.000-08:00

These past 7 days have been horrid to be honest and most days I just didn't have the time, energy or inclination to take a photo each day. So I've cheated a bit this week and selected photos from throughout the week that put a much rosier glow on proceedings.

So here's what I would rather remember about this week:

Sunset during the commute home

A day at home with two 18 month olds - a day that rejuvenated my soul

Lunch at Wagamamas with good friends, putting the world to rights

Waking up to snow

Finally having the mental space and time to notice little details

A spot of sledging

Walking through a winter wonderland

Here's hoping that next week will be a much kinder week. If it's not, I may need to offer up some sacrificial object to the universe. It's obviously seriously pissed at me.

Behind me

2012-02-05T04:57:00.000-08:00

Another difficult, stressful week done.

But I've promised myself that I will not dwell on the numpties at my work when I have a delicious weekend filled with my boys to throw myself into.

And with snow on the way, who wants to think about work?

Project 355 week4

2012-01-29T07:00:00.000-08:00

Another week, another load of illness chez egg. What can you do eh? Pesky kids. Still cute though (just as well). Poor Bigger has been complaining since Wednesday that he has tonsilitis. Only yesterday did I get round to looking at his tonsils. Ah...white spots. That would explain the fever you were running on Friday night then? Bad mummy. But honestly, does that gap-toothed grin look like the grin of a poorly child to you?

Thankfully, we discovered the joy of old toys this week. A simple train-set, put away in the shed to make way for shiny new toys has brought hours of delight (some shared even).

And then there's Mrs Goggins...

I want to live in a village with a real life Mrs Goggins. She'd teach me to crochet, chastise me for indulging in internet shopping (och, it's all these parcels yer getting - it's too much for Pat to cope with on his wee push bike) and I'd bake her cakes like this one:

I think I need a Mrs Goggins in my life. If only to save me from eating all the cake...

What makes a childhood special?

2012-01-28T14:21:00.000-08:00

50% of the reasoning behind our Great Escape Plan is the desire to give the boys a better childhood. So I was intrigued to stumble across this thread on Mumsnet. It got me thinking about what I want to give my boys as a childhood...what really does make a childhood special?

Now, it's funny, because looking back, I always found my mum a bit distant. During my childhood I often felt she was off somewhere else in her head. I'm guessing that losing 3 babies shortly before or after their birth would do that to you. It wasn't until I was in my teens that my mum became my best friend. Mind you, I was terror between the ages of 2 and 5 apparently and utterly horrid to my mum (so she tells me). But I always felt loved.

My dad on the other hand was my hero. He could do no wrong. He was fun, full of plans, always ready to go on an adventure. I really did hero-worship him. Oh and I was a daddies girl. (see above - poor mum)

So what things did my parents do to give me such a lovely childhood?

I think the biggest gift was freedom. They trusted me to roam within an agreed area during the hours of daylight, to stay safe and be sensible. I never came to any harm. I rode my bike, played hide & seek and helped organise giant games of rounders with other children from the neighbourhood. I remember it as very idyllic. Verging on the boring it was so nondescript, but idyllic all the same (rose tinted glasses anyone?).

The 2nd greatest gift my parents gave to me was a love of books. As soon as I could read independently my mum introduced me to Enid Blyton and The Famous Five. I rattled through them, then The Secret Seven, then Alfred Hitchcock's Three Investigators. I forever had my nose in a book. But then in my early teens I discovered Sweet Valley High and my dad intervened. These books were fine, for now and again, but there was a whole library bursting at the seems with amazing authors - why was I wasting my time with teen trash? I was to ditch The Sweet Valley High Twins and their quest for romance and find something more worthy to read. That advice opened up the world of The Classics to me and I fell in love with Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, and many other painfully romantic books. A rose by any other name...

Holidays were few and far between. I can only really remember two. One was a camping trip in tents and the other was in a camper van. We just didn't have the money for 'proper' holidays. Not that we cared. Nobody really did 'foreign holidays'.

Summers instead were spent fruit picking, jam making, dashing to the beach during the one week of warmth Scottish summers afforded us and just pottering around really. We ate Angel Delight, Mum was forever chasing out from under her feet. We baked cakes, I learnt to peel potatoes, we played with squeezy washing up liquid bottles and chalk.

My childhood really was unremarkable. But I felt loved, secure, safe. My parents rarely fell out (they're about to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary). We never had family dramas or any kind of crisis I can remember.

That's probably why I remember it so fondly now. It was just bog-standard, run of the mill, normal. It almost bored me to tears, but I knew no different and had a world of literature to escape to. Not that I needed to escape as such. Just wished I could go to school at Mallory Towers. But it was a lovely simple childhood, protected from sadness or trauma, with two normal, healthy parents.

Thanks mum and dad. I hope I can give my boys some of the same.

Just bairns themselves on their wedding day, but wonderful parents all the same (but mum, seriously, how much hairspray?)

Balancing differences

2012-01-26T12:43:00.000-08:00

Tonight I came home from work feeling relieved. Elated that my working week was finished and looking forward to 3 days at home, pottering, baking, playing. A wee happy tune may have been whistled. I almost skipped up the path.

The nanny was released from duties. Quick tidy up. 2 boys bathed, stories, bed. Done.

But then husband wanted to talk about our great escape. He was looking for reassurance that we're doing the right thing, making sure I didn't have any nagging doubts and wanting me to dispel the nagging doubts he had.

But I just don't work that way. Once I make a decision, that's it. Sometimes it can take me a while to make the decision, but once it's made, there's very little that can un-make it. If I have any niggling doubts, I find solutions. I don't just leave them hanging, like loose threads.

Husband on the other hand, worries those loose threads until they threaten to unravel...I began to feel distinctly 'stabby'. Prickly. Cactus like. I'm pretty sure I visibly bristled.

Poor husband. Sensibly, he backed off. Poor, poor husband.

It's funny that we're so different on the decision-making front. But I guess that's where we balance each other out. I'd be happy to charge ahead, figuring out solutions to problems as I go, putting my trust in my own abilities, crossing my fingers and knowing that we'll get there in the end.

Husband likes to have everything sorted out, organised, planned for before it all goes tits up. He likes to have a contingency plan for every eventuality and know exactly where things could go wrong.

It drives me nuts. But between us, we find a happy medium. I'm the confidence, the driving force, the dreamer. He's the obsessive planner, the steady hand, the feet planted firmly on solid ground.

By gum, I love that man.

I'll soothe his worries later. I know, he knows we're doing the right thing. But I also know we'll get there in the end.

Craving this view: Sunset at the beach in December. Chilly but gorgeous.

"When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision. “ The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

"when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho

Women, we need to get together

2012-01-24T12:18:00.000-08:00

Can you imagine being denied the opportunity to go to school? Just because you were female?

Or what about not knowing whether you would survive pregnancy, never mind childbirth?

But the sad, desperate truth is that two-thirds of all children denied school are girls and every minute a woman with no medical care dies in pregnancy or childbirth.

These are the situations thousands of women living in poverty find themselves in. Of the 1.3 billon people living in poverty worldwide, more than two-thirds of them are women and girls. But Oxfam is hoping to help change that.

Last Tuesday I was privileged to attend the launch of Oxfam's Get Together initiative to find out how I could help women build a better future for themselves. I went along with some lovely Mumsnet bloggers (@pantswithnames, @hackneydoula, @TheLazyGirlBlog and @EleanorMills). But what could we do to help women in poverty?

The answer was beautifully simple; Host an event on International Women's Day and raise money with friends. That's it. No months of training for a marathon, no jumping out of planes (although these are both valid ways to raise money, just not my cup of tea...but tea on the other hand, with cake...now you're talking!). All Oxfam are asking is that we celebrate International Women's Day on the 8th March by getting together with our girlfriends and finding a way to raise some cash at the same time. Any excuse for a girlie get together!

The Mumsnet Bloggers with Carrie Loughton (Mumsnet co-founder) and the captivating Eleanor Mills in the centre. Picture courtesy of Oxfam.

It was a pretty cool evening, I can tell you. Surrounded by strong women, it was difficult not to feel empowered and inspired. And the amazing thing is, you don't need to raise thousands of pounds to make a real difference.

Oxfam's Get Together ambassador, the luminous Lauren Laverne.
Photo courtesy of Oxfam.

Just £46 will fund training for 1 midwife in Ghana. £46 to save the lives of pregnant women and their children. Surely a wee bake sale could raise that? Sell 46 cupcakes to your work colleagues at £1 each and that will ensure that a woman survives to gaze into the eyes of her new born child. Or stick some extra chocolate sprinkles and a dash of glitter on your cupcakes and sell them for £2 each. Even better.

£135 trains 5 teachers in Mali who can teach over 250 girls and provide a whole generation with skills to work their way out of poverty. Invite 15 friends round for some wine and pampering, each donate £9 each and that's the lives of 250 girls changed. Amazing.

Grace Dent and Caitlin Moran (we talked pubic hair!*) added some strong female oomph to the proceedings.
Photo courtesy of Oxfam.

So, on March 8th I'm going to host my own Get Together. I'm hoping my lovely, inspirational, amazing, beautiful (yes, I'm sucking up...) yoga teacher Rozy (@InJoyYoga) will lend her yoga teaching talent to the event, leading us in sun salutations to celebrate International Women's Day. Rozy has this innovative approach to post-natal yoga that sees each session ending with tea and cake, a format that I'm hoping to ~~steal~~ emulate for my Get Together. I'm hoping we can raise enough money to train 5 teachers and a couple of midwives.

Please help us by hosting your own Get Together. If I haven't inspired you, then take a look at this video and see if that does the trick:

Then get yourself over to the Oxfam website and sign up for your own Get Together party pack. There's balloons and everything!

You too could help women build a better future for themselves.

*this only makes sense if you've read her book. Otherwise yes, I agree, it does sound a bit bonkers.

I 'm part of the Mumsnet Blogging Network, a group of parent bloggers picked by Mumsnet to review products, services, events and brands. I was not paid to attend this event, but simply asked to spread the word.

Project 366 week 3

2012-01-22T10:56:00.000-08:00

Are we already 3 weeks in to January? Crazy. Which is exactly what the past week has been...

The week started with some insane work/childcare juggling. Mr Potato-head came to the rescue as did Twister. Thankfully, both were able to transcend a 4 year age gap and kept 4 children happily amused long enough to cook their dinner. Phew.

Tuesday night was the launch of Oxfam's Get Together initiative for International Women's Day (more about that later when the lovely girls at Oxfam email me some decent pics - my iphone camera was woefully inadequate at capturing all the beautiful people). But I will tell you this: I met Caitlin Moran. We talked about pubic hair (this only makes sense if you've read her book, which I recommend all women do - it's snort tea out your nose hilarious). I gabbled at her. A lot. She was very lovely about it.

Then work turn into a crazy crap storm of a week and the photo above and the two below are pretty much symbolic of the amount of quality time I got to spend with the boys. Nada. While they were awake anyway...

I do love how they look almost identical when asleep...sweet, adorable, gorgeous boys.

So we ended the week the best way we knew how: with copious amounts of baking. Mostly lemon drizzle cake (guaranteed sunshine in every bite) and double chocolate cookies from the lovely Mary Berry's Baking Bible.

I think I've almost eaten enough lemon drizzle cake to erase the crapness of last week. Hmm, best go and have another piece, just to make sure.

What do you do...

2012-01-20T12:05:00.000-08:00

...when after a month of on and off illness your lovely nanny suffers a family bereavement and is too upset to work?

...when you can't take any time off work to look after your own children because your job hangs by a thread?

...when you feel like the universe is conspiring against you?

...when you've got so much work to do you work late into the night, every night, just to keep your head above water?

...when you realise you've only spent about 2 hours each day with your children?

...when the laundry basket is so full, it's almost overflowed into the washing machine, set the programme and washed itself?

You open a bottle of wine, download episode 3 of Sherlock onto your Desktop iPlayer and forget about it all until Monday, that's what!

Happy weekend everyone.

Oh to be back in Egypt...

Here's looking at you kid

2012-01-18T01:07:00.000-08:00

This post is for week 87 of The Gallery, over at Tara's place:

Both my boys have beautiful blue eyes, inherited from their dad. Great big puppy dog eyes that have me running round in circles. Boy, do they know exactly how to use those eyes to their maximum heart tugging effect.

Bigger sometimes likes to complement his eyes by sticking out his tongue. Odd child. Still cute though (luckily for him).

Even a mucky face can't detract (much) from those sparkling peepers.

But sometimes, we have to hide their superpowers beneath some achingly cool shades.

Even the eyelashes can slay you at 40 paces. Sadly, to get eyelashes like these, I have to pay for the privilege. Le sigh.

Someone pass me the wrinkle cream please? No, not the tube, the giant vat of industrial strength stuff please. Cheers.

Sunday night musings...

2012-01-15T11:07:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, webcams with the in-laws leave me feeling terribly homesick.

Sundays at home with an overtired 5 year old and an energetic 17 month old are both wonderful and horrendous in equal measure.

Feeling like your fate is sealed and people are just waiting for you to slip up sucks.

Knowing people think badly of you, also sucks.

I'm questioning tonight whether I really have the energy to turn it all around.

But in the pit of my stomach I know I must.

Wish me luck lovely readers, I think we're in for a bumpy ride.

Project 366 week 2

2012-01-15T10:56:00.000-08:00

Week 2 of January in photos. A bit of allotment love, a bit of spiced bun love.

Plotting

2012-01-11T06:33:00.000-08:00

So 2011 was the year of the neglected allotment.

But 2012, I declare, will be the year of allotment bounty!

We managed to pop down to our little half plot over the weekend for a spot of plotting, planning and surveying. Husband even managed to go back during nap-time for some impromptu weeding.

But now we need to get organised and plan out properly what we're going to grow this year, rather than hastily chucking seeds in the general direction of the soil and hoping for the best.

So, on my wish list this year (and coincidentally in my seed stash):

Cauliflower they just look so lovely and neat in a veg patch and I'm rather partial to cauliflower cheese.

Peas great for the boys to eat straight from the pod, which keeps them occupied while I tend to other crops.

Sweetpeas of course.

Snapdragons for filling the house with gorgeousness. I'm giddy about growing flowers for the first time and looking forward to a summer full of fragrant blooms.

Calendula (marigolds) to brighten up the edges of the beds and attract pest-eating bugs.

Potatoes without a doubt one of my favourite crops to grow. They might not be very glam, but nothing, nothing I say, beats tucking in to a glorious baked potato grown on the allotment. Or a lovely, light salad of new potatoes. It's like digging for treasure when you dig these babies up!

Courgettes because we love courgette & brie soup and the plants fill a naked bed within weeks. But this year I'm going to limit myself to 2 plants. Courgette glut is getting boring.

Rhubarb we already have some rhubarb on the plot, but last year was the first year I managed to get hold of some muck to feed it with, so I'm hoping we'll have enough for a good hearty crumble in a couple of weeks.

Sweetcorn last year's crop failed spectacularly due to simple neglect. Those golden ears of corn need a good, regular soaking if they're going to swell into something delicious.

Herbs this year I'm going to try and establish a permanent herb bed. We have fennel already, so I'd like to add some rosemary, thyme, mint and oregano if I can. Probably pop them in next to the rhubarb then it's one less bed to worry about.

Raspberries will this year be the year our fruit canes bear fruit? Please let it be.

I've really no excuse this year. We finally have a shed, so there's no more carting tools between garden and plot and we have a lovely red wheelbarrow because...well, just because...oh yes, because you never know when there's going to be a wheelbarrow emergency or an impromptu wheelbarrow race. *cough*

Anyone else jumping on the allotment ~~wheelbarrow~~ bandwagon this year?

Being the baby

2012-01-09T12:23:00.000-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regrets

2012-01-08T05:11:00.000-08:00

We've had some sad news this weekend. My Granda, my dad's dad, died on Thursday night.

I didn't know him very well and this is probably my greatest regret. He lived a 4 hour drive away, which isn't that far in the grand scheme of things, but was a journey we only ever embarked upon about once a year. I have very few memories of him sadly.

But now my Granda's widow is breaking her heart 600 miles away, I regret we're not closer, both in geography and emotionally. Even though we never called my Granda's 2nd wife Granny (she was far too glamourous for that), she has a special place in my heart. She nursed my Granda through many an illness, put up with a lot of grumpiness from him and helped him learn to walk again after his double amputation last year. And she adored him. Despite the gruffness, despite the shouting, despite the frustration, she loved him with every fibre of her being. He was a very difficult man to live with, but she stuck with him. And I think that's what upsets me the most. That a lovely, caring, beautiful woman I care for has lost her soulmate.

I regret that I cannot be there for her. To hold her hand, look over old photos and remember the man she loved.

366 days of photos - week 1

2012-01-08T04:51:00.000-08:00

In an effort to pay more attention to the little things, the small moments, the normally unremarkable, I'm taking part in the 366 photo a day project using my iphone camera. They're not the most inspiring of photos, but everyone has to start somewhere. So here's what the first week of 2012 looked like through my iphone camera:

Missing

2012-01-03T11:53:00.000-08:00

January 3rd 2012. First day back at work.

Christmas day, a fading memory. A morning commute, boringly predictable.

Tonight, I breathed deeply and held both my boys close. I'd missed them.

The gentle curve of their cheeks.

The soft bloom of their lips.

The musicality of their giggles.

The eyelashes surrounding those deep blue pools of unconditional love.

A day away from them was just what I needed to remind me how special they are. And knowing I was coming home to them, was just what I needed to get me through that first day back at work.

My gorgeous boys, my babies.

Keeping it simple

2011-12-26T07:23:00.000-08:00

This year has been a bitch. Husband spent 2 months in hospital, the 1 year old spent almost a week in hospital and I fell out of love with my job. I think it's safe to say that the past 6 months have been a huge emotional struggle.

So with this in mind, we decided not to make the annual Christmas pilgrimage home to Scotland. We didn't want the stress of travelling with 2 small children in unpredictable weather conditions, or the expense of flights for four when the same amount of money could get us a fortnight in Turkey. We couldn't face spending 10 nights in a very small 2 bedroomed house with 2 other adults when our own 2 bed flat can barely contain us.

So we stayed at home, just the four of us. Was I worried it would be a huge letdown for Bigger? yup. Was I worried we'd regret not spending Christmas with the grandparents? yup. Was I dreading Christmas dinner with a 1 year old with a penchant for flinging food as far as possible? yup.

Were all my worries unfounded? YES!

We ended up having a lovely, chilled out Christmas day. I honestly believe the secret was not planning anything. Not even dinner. A couple of weeks ago we decided that, with the 1 year old's table manners, it would be far less stressful to just not bother with a traditional Christmas dinner. Instead, we'd bake a ham, bake some bread and have hot roast pork sandwiches. We also planned a trip to Waitrose last thing Christmas eve to pick up all the bargains and if we all ended up surviving on vol au vents all day, then so be it.

In the end, we spotted a turkey in Waitrose for a bargain price we couldn't refuse. So at 4pm on Christmas eve we decided to wing it with Christmas dinner and go traditional after-all. We'd still play it by ear and if the boys weren't up for turkey at lunch time, husband and i would eat after they crashed out.

It the end, it was beautifully easy. We hadn't had weeks to worry about buying all the essentials, so we had a simply turkey dinner with homemade gravy, home made roast potatoes, carrots and some homemade stuffing balls I whipped up last minute. No cauliflower cheese, no pigs in blankets, no elaborate starter, no cranberry sauce, not even a sprout. But it was perfect. Stress-free and perfect.

We ate, we played, we laughed. Repeat times 10. We all opened presents in our pyjamas (something we never get to do in Scotland - pyjamas and in-laws just don't mix), breakfasted on pancakes, snacked all day on the gingerbread house we'd constructed christmas eve and feasted on turkey and trifle.

There was only one episode of tears the whole day, which in my book is a bit of a result.

Hope you all had lovely days, wherever you were and whoever you spent it with. Merry Christmas!

Party prep

2011-12-20T06:30:00.000-08:00

Party dress? tick.

Killer heels? tick.

Amazing eyelashes to flutter? yeah baby!

It's almost Christmas!

2011-12-15T01:53:00.000-08:00

I have to admit, I'm beginning to feel a teensy bit excited about the forthcoming festivities. Today, I'm mostly loving that:

:: I've wrapped all the santa presents *smug*

:: the cards are all written (just waiting for the husband to sign his ones)

:: I've almost finished making the little gift boxes/hampers I'm sending to our mums

:: I've reached a decision on the tree dilemma - we're having one. A real one. Oh yes. (the destructive 16 month old will just have to learn not to pull it over on top of himself...)

:: I've discovered a fabulous blog called the Knackered Mothers' Wine Club with a.maz.ing advice on wine and champagne (decent tasting cava for £3.99! I'm there!) from a proper wine expert with a sense of humour

:: I can crochet. I can ACTUALLY crochet! It's taken a week of youtube videos but I think I've finally sussed it out. Haven't actually made anything yet mind you...

:: that I've remembered to light candles every night this week, making the houses look and smell lovely

:: it's the end of my working week which means that a weekend of gingerbread houses, baking bread and spending time with my boys is just round the corner

What are you loving today?

Regent Street - oh sparkly!

Thrifty socking filler for lego lovers

2011-12-05T12:09:00.000-08:00

Do you know a little lego lover? Do you also have an abundance of broken, unloved crayons littering your craft box?

I did, until I made these little beauties:

Want to know how to make them? Well, read on!

First of all you need a lego man ice-cube tray. I bought mine here but I think they are also available on Amazon.

Then, simply take some old crayons and chop them up as small as you can without losing a finger and fill the moulds with the crayon pieces:

You need to overfill the moulds so the crayons melt into the gaps, then pop the ice-cube tray into an oven preheated to about 100 degrees celsius for about 5 minutes. Now, the information of my ice-cube tray told me not to heat it beyond 60 degrees celsius, so don't wander off and get lost on twitter at this stage. Just keep a close eye on proceedings and all should be ok. My ice-cube tray emerged unscathed, but just be careful.

Take the tray out the oven when you can see the crayons have melted, but don't leave it too long. You don't want the colours to mix too much and end up with brown crayon men.

Leave your little men to cool completely, then simply pop them out of their moulds. Ta da! Simple lego crayon men. A perfect stocking filler :-)

I also used the ice-cube tray to make chocolate lego men and may alos do little soap lego men...the possibilities are endless. And of course the ice-cube tray itself also makes a lovely stocking filler.

You could also try this with other ice-cube trays/moulds like these fish shaped ones from Ikea or some festive ones like these.

Do you have any crafty, thrifty ideas for stocking filler?

What I Wore Wednesday

2011-11-30T06:42:00.000-08:00

I've decided at the last minute to join in with What I Wore Wednesday blog hop that (mostly)yummymummy takes part in (she's uber stylish and 21, ok maybe 24), so please excuse the photo I just took in the loos at work (classy chick eh?)

This is my autumn uniform at the moment: skinny jeans in black from GAP, purple cowl neck, ruched vest top from Banana Republic, fuschia cardigan from Banana Republic, scarf from Zara and my trusty Rocket Dogs. I know the Rocket Dogs aren't the most stylish of boots and this outfit looks much better when I wear my chestnut brown long leather boots, but they are so comfy and essential for my long commute.

Feeling frugal

2011-11-30T01:59:00.000-08:00

So, in an effort to make Operation Relocation happen I've had to perform quite a major mind-shift. I've had to embrace my husband's frugal ways.

No more shoe shopping. *sob*

No more coffees on the way to work. *weep*

No more mercy dash into M&S on the way home for a yummy pudding/bar of chocolate/tub of whatever. *wail*

It's lentils all the way. *wibble*

But that's ok, because we've discovered some gorgeous lentil recipes and thankfully the boys are not fussy eaters. The meal we made on Sunday night was gorgeous and so simple, so I thought I'd share it here in case anyone else was feeling frugal:

Lentil and Sausage casserole
8 sausages (Aldi have a great selection that are under £1.50 and not too suspicious)
Half a pack of salami slices (we buy salami from Aldi, it's only 99p and it's delish)
300g of green lentils
1 litre of chicken stock (we had a roast chicken last week and made stock from the carcass)
2 medium carrots
1 onion
2 bay leaves

Saute the onion in some oil until golden, chop up the carrots and let them soften in the pan before adding the salami slices, lentils, sausages, bay leaves and chicken stock. Bring to the boil and let simmer gently for 30 minutes. Serve with some lovely fluffy rice in big bowls and enjoy!

Warning: the sausages do turn a rather alarming hue of green and do remember to fish out the bay leaves before you serve.

Tip: If you chop up the sausages, this recipe can easily serve 2 adults and 2 children with leftovers for another 2 dinners and 1 lunch.

Does anyone else have any scrummy lentil recipes? Do share!

Tell me about yourself...

2011-11-25T05:34:00.000-08:00

I'm quite excited to have received my first blog award - big thank you to the lovely Claire at http://atleastdaddycancook.blogspot.com/.

The rules for receiving this award are:

1. I must tell 7 secret things about myself.
2. I must pass the award onto 15 other bloggers.

I'm a bit rubbish at nominating people for these things, so if you're reading this and fancy joining in, consider yourself tagged! *cop out I know*

So, 7 secret things:

This blog is probably the biggest secret I've ever kept. None of my friends know about it and only a handful of people know I blog at all. I like it that way. This is my space to vent and rant and possibly overshare, so the last thing I want is work peeps and vague associates knowing my innermost thoughts *shudders*
I have an escape fund. I'm happily married and have no plans to escape anywhere, but just in case something awful happens, I like to know I have the means to whisk myself and my those closest to me away to safety.
I absolutely suck at being a stay-at-home mum. I'd love to do it. But I just can't. I become a horrible, lazy, un-motivated lump and resent all those glamourous people with paying jobs. Sigh, the grass is always greener I guess.
I'm a snob. There, I said it.
Probably not unrelated to 4, but I can be a terrible judgey-pants sometimes. It's not big, it's not clever and it's certainly not funny. I'm trying very hard to stop being this way and to lock those big ugly judgey pants away in a dark closet, but sometimes they sneak out and surprise me when I least expect it.
I have a fear of driving over bridges. If it's a short bridge, I'm ok. But if it's as big as the Forth Road Bridge, it takes a lot of internal coaxing and reassurance from Husband to believe that I'm not going to drive off the edge. I don't know what it is. I'm not scare of height or water, but when it comes to bridges I just can't trust myself not to drive off them at speed. What's that all about?
I love Queen. The band, not the monarch. They rock.

There, now I've outed myself as being a not very nice person sometimes with rotten taste in music is there anybody still there? *tumbleweed, echoes, more tumbleweed* hello? Anybody?

Now it's your turn :-)

Some crafty distractions

2011-11-19T15:30:00.000-08:00

Today started off pretty normal. The boys woke up too early, porridge was thrown around the kitchen and we wondered aloud when we'd ever get a lie in again.

But then, the day improved dramatically with a package of Fimo from the lovely Merrily at CraftMerrily. In fact, Bigger was so excited at the prospect of modelling his very own monsters that he promptly collided with the sofa, knocking his wobbly tooth so that it protruded at rather an alarming angle. A trip to the emergency dentist ensued, but Bigger is now happily tucked up in bed clutching his first tooth for the tooth fairy.

But back to the Fimo. After all that excitement, some Fimo modelling was just the sort of calm activity we needed this afternoon.

Fimo fun

At first we did find the Fimo quite difficult to work with, but as it (and we) warmed up, we got a feel for how best to mould it into shape. The kit we tried had some ideas of what you could make as well as some step-by-step instructions, which were quite handy.

Toothless (the dragon or the boy?)

Bigger made a dragon and I (cough. well yeah, of course I had a go!) made the Loch Ness Monster. What do you think?

Nessie in a fetching stripe ensemble

We've also got some Soft Fimo to try out, so I'll be interested to see if our modelling skills improve. I do lov doing this sort of thing, but so often end up taking over and poor Bigger ends up spectating. But I was very restrained today and limited myself to my Loch Ness Monster, leaving Bigger to model his Fimo the way he wanted to and not the way I wanted to. This sort of activity is great for fine motor skills and concentration and it's just a fun way to spend time with my boy. Winners all round.

I might just have to order some Fimo for my own personal use though. Can't have Bigger having all the fun ;-)

I don't think I'll ever be able to make this sort of thing though. I'll stick to Nessie and her mate Sammy the snake. But this site here, which is Merrily's family blog has some great Fimo ideas. We'll definitely read more of her blog before we get stuck into the 2nd pack of Fimo! Practice makes...well, maybe not perfect but hopefully I can graduate from sausage-body based animals.

Disclosure: We were sent 1 Fimo Soft Create Your Own Monsters & Dinosaurs Set and 1 Fimo Soft Basic Starter Kit from Craft Merrily to review but did not receive any other financial incentive and the words are all my own.

Truth

2011-11-14T07:32:00.000-08:00

Two of my favourite bloggers have been talking about truth in the blogosphere lately (here, here and here). So I decided to step up and share some truths with you.

I made pancakes for breakfast yesterday morning. Idyllic? No... you'd have to ignore the smoke alarm constantly going off because I had the pan too hot and look past the first few burnt attempts and ignore the 1 year old screaming because his stomach decided his throat had been cut...to get within 50 miles of idyllic.

Husband liked them though.

And what did we eat with these pancakes of perfection? Fresh fruit and a drizzle of maple syrup? Fruit compote? Nah. Golden syrup. You can see the guilty tin just edging into the photo on the left hand side. Damn they tasted good enrobed in such sticky golden loveliness though.

So what other truths can I reveal? That NaNoWriMo gig I signed up for...I've gone totally off the idea and ran out of steam 5,000 words in.

What else? After being so determined that TV would not become a substitute babysitter with Bigger, I gleefully plonk Littler in front of cbeebies on a Friday just so I can have a hot cup of coffee. On my own. In peace.

And that's the truth.

Cold feet

2011-11-13T11:51:00.000-08:00

What already? Surely not.

We only made the decision to relocate this week but the doubts have already started to creep in.

What if we just mortgage ourselves up to the hilt and blow all our savings on a fabulous house down here?

What if the boys end up getting picked-on because of their english accents?

What if what if what if...

But then I think about the beaches and the skies and their grandparents.

And I know that we just have to make sure any doubts we have are answered.

A fabulous house down here would mean a lot more stress and a lot less family time. No thanks.

Eating dinner every night with my boys? Yes please.

Mortgage free? Yes please.

My boys getting teased for having english accents...we'll cross that bridge when and if we ever come to it. Children are amazing at adapting and my children are, of course, pretty darn amazing.

There's bound to be doubts. Of course there are, it's a huge step. But when we first moved down here to the bright lights of London town, we had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Only the belongings that we could fit into our battered rucksacks. We didn't even have enough money to cover our rent. But we managed.

And if we can do that, we can do this.

I just need to buy warmer socks.

In search of something elusive?

2011-11-09T06:34:00.000-08:00

So, after 24 hours of living with the idea, lots of searches on property websites and a quick sense check with the grandparents, we're still in love with the idea of relocating to Scotland.

It's funny, because I always swore we'd never move back 'home'. The North-East of Scotland can be a very drab and dull place to be at times. But then, so can South London.

So, why are we jumping ship and returning to our roots?

Well, I guess we're in search of that elusive improved quality of life. But will we find it in the town we grew up in?

Well, for a start, if we save our pennies over the next 18 months, we should be able to buy a house outright and live mortgage free. That would be a huge deal and would mean that we could both work part-time or survive happily on a single income.

Then there's the sky. In London, you only ever get to see the sky above you. Now, I know that sounds weird, but the sky in the North East of Scotland is immense. It's above you, in front of you, behind you, all around you. With very few tall buildings and certainly no skyscrapers, the horizon is a straight line in the distance rather than a cityscape. Therefore, bigger skys.

3rd up is the countryside. Where we're planning to move to is a small town in a very rural area. You can walk from one end of town to the other in about 30 minutes. Head 6 miles north and you hit deserted beaches. Head south and you hit the Cairngorm mountains.

4th on the list is family. This should probably be further up the list, but hey ho. Both sets of grandparents (husbands parents and mine) still live in the town and so we'd have a choice of babysitters, sleepover hosts and emotional support on the doorstep. It would be lovely for the boys to grow up seeing their grandparents on a weekly basis instead of just high days and holidays.

Then there's all the things we won't have to do.

We won't have to travel by train, paying horrific rail fares without a guaranteed seat, into London every day.

We probably won't need to pay for any childcare.

We won't have a mortgage (hurrah!)

These 7 things, to me, amount to an improved quality of life.

Now we just need to get on with planning the details. Like jobs.

A momentus decision

2011-11-08T01:13:00.000-08:00

Last night, the husband and I had a bit of an epiphany.

We've been struggling since I went back to work to be honest and neither of us are happy in our jobs at the moment.

It's been a tough year healthwise with the husband in hospital for 2 months and all the worry that surrounded it. Then just when we were dusting ourselves off and getting back on our feet, Littler ended up in hospital. We're all back to full health now but I think those two episodes tipped us over the edge.

We've both been having a bit of a mid-30s crisis. We feel trapped. Our flat is too small and we need a bigger house but our jobs suck and we don't want to work longer hours, so how on earth were we going to afford a bigger mortgage?

Well, I think we made a decision last night. It won't happen overnight and it's going to take some major planning, saving and networking but at least we've taken the first step by making the decision.

*drumroll*

I think we're going to try and move back to Scotland.

Husband did some very rough calculations and it makes sense financially. It will mean a change of jobs for at least one of us, but being nearer family, having no mortgage (or a very small one) and maybe even being able to walk to work would be pretty darned good.

In theory, I could go freelance and work from home. So that would ease the pressure somewhat on the job front.

I'm rambling now, I know. But I need to write this down so we can start to visualise it and work towards making it reality.

No-one is suddenly going to give us huge payrises. We don't play the lottery. So we need to do something to turn our lives around. We have no firm ties to London and sort of ended up living here by accident. We didn't choose London, it sort of chose us....

So we bumbled along making the most of the situation, not really planning anything.

But now we have a goal. We're going to sketch out a 2 year plan and make it happen.

I'm excited and a little frightened but I also feel like a huge weight has been lifted from us. We can see a way out now.

We just need to work out the how. And save like crazy.

Home, not just for Christmas, but for good we hope

Home, where our boys can run the length of this beach every weekend if they wish

But it's all good!

Halloween goodies

2011-10-29T13:13:00.000-07:00

Inspired by Holly Bell's gruesome (but oh so lovely) Halloween truffles, we spent the afternoon baking some Halloween goodies today:

We used liquorice allsorts to make the bloodshot eyes:

And then Bigger was inspired to make some bugs caught in spiderwebs:

A very productive afternoon I feel!

NaNoWriMo

2011-10-28T12:12:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why, but I've just signed up for NaNoWriMo.

I'm not even sure I fully understand what it's about. I mean, I understand the point is to write 50,000 words before midnight on the 30th November. I get that. But why oh why did I just decided that such a venture would apply to me?

Gulp.

What the effing hell have I just done?

I've always proclaimed that despite loving to write, I don't have a novel in me.

I don't even have a frigging idea for a plot. I can't actually remember what the last novel I read was (woah, I just typed wrote instead of read there....maybe that was a sign?)

But I've been reading over some of my old posts lately and they're not that bad...they read quite well. So I know I can actually, erm, you know, write (in the loosest sense of the word).

So hard can it be right? It just 1,666 words per day. It doesn't have to be a work of genius. It's just a bit of fun...right?

Oh lordy lordy.

My 5 year old loves Nigel Slater

2011-10-18T00:57:00.000-07:00

Now I know that as a mum, it's my job to absolutely adore my children. To think they are the most amazing creatures to ever grace this earth and to think that the sun shines out of their behinds. But my 5 year old is growing up to be such an amazing person. He really is.

*warning: slushy, sentimental, gushing post about children ahead*

When I found out I was pregnant with my eldest, it was a bit of a shock. We'd talked about having a baby, even tried to conceive for a short while, but then life got in the way, other stuff happened and we put the whole baby thing on hold. We had plenty of time. So when I unexpectedly fell pregnant (a moment of passion *ahem*), we were both delighted and terrified.

We were so unprepared for becoming parents. We have to very quickly move out of our 1 bedroom flat and buy a 2 bedroom flat for starters. So the whole pregnancy was overshadowed with money worries and estate agent wheeling and dealing.

And then suddenly he was here. Our first-born child. A perfect baby boy with blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair. I fell utterly in love. Despite the breastfeeding issues, the persistent thrush, the continuing money worries.

And now 5 and a half years later, he rocks my world. He has this great little memory and remembers details we'd all forgotten a long time ago. His love of books absolutely thrills me and reminds me of me at that age.

And his new found obsession with cookery programmes, in particular Nigel Slater, makes me giggle so much. On a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, just before his little brother's witching hour is about to kick off, he'll ask in the most earnest of voices if he can watch some Nigel. He sits on the sofa transfixed by the images of whatever gorgeous foodie delight that Nigel is concocting. Sometimes he'll run through to me in the kitchen and impart some nugget of Nigel's wisdom, like "mummy, Nigel says if you add some lemon juice when poaching pears it stops them going brown" or last night it was all about ingredients "holding hands".

I love that he's found this little thing to obsess over. It's opening him up to new food and new tastes. He's never been a fussy eater, we've been lucky. But now he's talking about wanting to try crab and sweetcorn fritters and matching sweet with sour. So guess what we'll be making next weekend - yummy!

It's lovely to watch his world opening up. It's lovely to watch him growing up. It makes me so proud that he's beginning to find his place in the world and discovering his own tastes and opinions.

Stay true to yourself little man. You rock.

Thinking beige thoughts on being 35

2011-10-17T03:03:00.000-07:00

It was my birthday yesterday. I'm now officially in my mid-30's.

The day didn't quite turn out as planned due to unforeseen upper respiratory tract viral yukkiness, but my boys did manage to spoil me with breakfast in bed and some lovely presents.

But I feel a bit meh about being 35. I feel like I'm neither here nor there.

On the whole, I'm happy with my life and where I am. I have 2 beautiful boys, a husband that is my soulmate and partner in crime, we have a safe, dry roof over our heads, plenty of food in the cupboards and no other debts except from the mortgage. My husband and I both have jobs with decent salaries and our boys are fit and healthy with no major health worries.

So why do I feel a bit...I don't know...like an underachiever?

I feel like we should be living in a proper house by now and not our 2 bedroom flat. (Why? The boys share a bedroom happily and we have a garden and an allotment for outdoor space. Why do I feel we should live in a house? Why? Why?)

I also feel a bit like I've peaked already with regards to my job. I've fallen a bit out of love with it but just don't have the energy to make any changes at the moment. So I'm left feeling a bit...meh. This is the salary I earn and it will probably never increase by much. So where does that leave us financially? ...still in our 2 bedroom flat.

I guess I didn't think 35 would be so...beige.

Everything is nice and dandy and there's nothing wrong in particular, but I just feel all uninspired and...well... beige. Is this a mid-thirites crisis? Am I meant to go and buy a porsche or something?

But then, when I try and think about what and where I wanted to be by now I realize I have the important stuff already. My boys. Shouldn't that be enough? Why am I left wanting more?

I want to be happy with now. But I just can't seem to get enthusiastic about being beige.

Iced Fingers from the Great British Bake Off

2011-10-04T05:48:00.000-07:00

We had our very own mini Great British Bake Off at the weekend.

Well, to be honest, it was just the 5 year old choosing a recipe and telling me to make it so he could 'judge' it (cheeky). But it was fun all the same. I may have influenced his choice of recipe every so slightly, but he didn't take much convincing to select Iced Buns. What's not to like?

They were a bit trickier than I anticipated. I've never made a brioche type dough before and I was more than a little alarmed at how sticky it was. A quick tweet to the lovely Holly and my confidence was restored though.

They may look more than a little rough around the edges (the 5 year old iced them, honest *cough*) but they tasted divine!

If you fancy trying the recipe for yourself, it's over here courtesy of Mr Paul Hollywood.

As for the final verdict from the judge himself:

"I don't like the cream mummy, so can I just eat the icing from the bowl next time?"

Enough already

2011-09-29T01:08:00.000-07:00

Nobody likes a whinger.

They sap the joy out of life and make me want to slap them with a big, fat, wet fish.

But this week, a whinger I have become.

And I don't like it one little bit.

I am a warrior! A lioness. A fighter. A winner. I am woman (to quote a French Connection ad...ok, moving swiftly on).

So no more of this belly-aching I say. It's time to get active, get results and get what I want.

I learned a long time ago that when you want something from life, you can't just sit back and hope that someone will come along and give it to you. You have to work for it. You have to make it happen. No-one else is going to do that for you.

So I declare today to be open season on my life. I'm not going to sit back and be made to feel inferior for a single minute longer. Today I will begin the quest to find my missing mojo, my joie de vivre. I will be a force to be reckoned with.

So be warned.

I am woman.

Hello old friend...

2011-09-27T01:09:00.000-07:00

Huh.

Now it all makes sense.

Sore boobs. Painful nipples. Craving sugar. Littler wanting to feed feed feed, mainly for comfort.

Hello thrush you old ~~bastard~~ friend.

Guess that's the price we pay for that massive dose of antibiotics Littler had last week.

Break out the probiotics boys. This yeast infection is about to dance it's last tango.

And so continues our adventures in breastfeeding.

How not to quit breastfeeding

2011-09-26T07:24:00.000-07:00

So stopping breastfeeding isn't going as smoothly as I had hoped.

I knew it wasn't going to be an overnight thing. Littler is far too keen on breastfeeding for it to be a quick process. But I had totally underestimated how much he was still feeding. Or maybe it's more that I'd underestimated how efficient a feeder he is. Let me tell you, Pamela Anderson had nothing on my girls come Sunday morning.

And then Sunday evening's dinner of roast chicken was refused point-blank, probably because I'd let him feed at 4pm having avoided breastfeeding since first thing that morning. So of course he wasn't hungry for dinner. But was hungry at 11pm. And 2am. And 5am.

So much for cutting out those night feeds.

Ah well.

At least I now know NOT to:

:: go cold turkey on breastfeeding

:: spoil an appetite for solid food in order to relieve the pressure of my overstuffed boobs

:: underestimate the efficiency of a 14 month old professional breastfeeder

I now have one bruised and battered boob (or so it feels) from a narrowly avoided blocked duct situation. But am slightly wiser for the experience.

So tonight, we'll go for round 3 of Trying Not to Breastfeed at night. Something tells me, we're in this for the long haul. I also have a niggling fear that it might just be easier to keep on breastfeeding...

(Fickle? Moi?)

It's all gone a bit Spice Girls round here

2011-09-23T13:31:00.000-07:00

Stop right now thank you very much...

This is another breastfeeding post, so if it's not your bag, click away now...

Still here? Seriously, it's about breastfeeding. I'll give you one more chance...

Ok, I warned you.

I want to stop. I really, really do. Littler is teething again. Which means his latch has changed again and it's just not nice. His bedtime feed was actually painful tonight and I really don't want my lasting memory of feeding him to be a painful one.

So I've washed a number of different milk receptacles with various teats. If he wakes up through the night tonight, I'm going to offer him cows milk. But he's eaten really well today and even had toast and warm cows milk after his bath, so I live in hope he'll sleep through.*

We done 14 months of breastfeeding. I think we've given it a good old go.

I'll be sad and miss feeding him dreadfully of course. But I just can't deal with sore nipples. We had enough of that at the start with thrush thank you very much.

So wish me luck tonight.

Will I still be breastfeeding come morning? Probably.

Will I EVER stop breastfeeding? I bloody well hope so.**

*fat chance
**but I still think it's amazing. I'm just a bit over it after 14 months. So over it, I'm quoting Spice Girls lyrics. Sheesh. I thought we'd laid that girl crush to rest.

Thankful Thursday

2011-09-22T13:38:00.000-07:00

Today I'm thankful that:

:: I'm no longer in hospital with this little guy

:: and that tomorrow I get to stay home and play with both my guys

I'm a lucky gal.

What are you thankful for? Join in with Miss Buckle

The Gallery: Guilty pleasures

2011-09-21T12:57:00.000-07:00

This week's Gallery theme over at Sticky Fingers is Guilty Pleasures...

Oh my...the things I could choose for this theme...the list, to be honest, is endless. I'm a little ashamed at the number of guilty pleasures I have, including:

Ridiculous, over-priced desserts

:: Pudding. I pretended this was a treat for bigger. I dragged the poor soul to a newly opened ice-cream parlour where he ordered the monstrosity you can see above. Of course, he only ate about a third of it *weep*. I devoured mine.

Breakfast at Fortnum & Mason whenever my dad is in town

:: Fortnum & Mason. I feel so indulgent when we go to F&M. We don't do it often, but oh boy does it feel like a guilty pleasure! I don't even look at the prices now - they make me blush. I just smile and cross my fingers that dad is paying (again).

Chocolate cake, in any shape or form...oh and giant chocolate buttons *drools a little bit*

:: Chocolate cake. Giant chocolate buttons. Bliss. Nuff said really.

Coffee - sometimes a latte, sometimes an americano with hot milk

:: And lastly, coffee. If I'm feeling very naughty, I pick up an over-priced coffee on my way to work. It's my treat to myself, to soften the blow of abandoning my babies for the day in order to make enough money to fuel (amongst other things) my coffee habit (hey...wait a minute...but that's a whole other blog post).

But my ultimate guilty pleasure is lunch out (usually at Pizza Express) with my boy, bigger. Which is where we are in the photo above. He's my favourite lunch date. Ever. (disclaimer: husband hates eating out. I don't know why. He's a freak)

What's your guilty pleasure?

Doubts...

2011-09-20T01:02:00.000-07:00

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

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

Which leaves me doubting everything.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, I know...almost impossible.

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

That was the week that was

2011-09-19T06:01:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago, when littlest one was due his MMR vaccination, I thought a lot about the Pass It On campaign that Christine Mosler from Thinly Spread wrote a lot about and worked very hard to publicise. I thought a lot about how lucky I was that both my boys had free access to life-saving vaccines.

Even 10 days later, when littlest one spiked a fever in reaction to his vaccinations (or so I thought), I just kept thinking, “well, at least he’s had the vaccines…at least he’s immune to some really awful childhood diseases”. Unlike thousands of children in Africa.

But then it all became a lot more frightening. On Wedsnesday littlest one developed the characteristic non-blanching rash of meningitis.

Within 20 minutes of googling meningitis symptoms I was at my local GP surgery with littlest one being examines by one of the 8 lovely GPs in our practice, 5 minutes later an ambulance was called and littlest one was given a hefty shot of antibiotics in his thigh by 1 of the 2 practice nurses. Not 1, not 2, but 3 paramedics arrived to assess littlest one and whisk us to hospital 3 miles away.

On arrival at A&E we were taken straight through to the senior paediatric on-call registrar who swiftly assessed littlest one and reassured us that thankfully, meningitis could be ruled out. We then spent a further 48 hours receiving expert care, with highly skilled people carrying out a whole battery of tests on our behalf, and all for free. 4 different registrars, 2 senior house officers and numerous nurses and healthcare assistants looked after us over those 48 hours. At a rough estimate, about 16 healthcare professionals helped us over the course of 3 days.

We were lucky, littlest one didn't have meningitis. But even if he had, the vigilance and knowledge of those 16 healthcare professionals would have meant that our beautiful, smiley boy would not have died. Some children are not so lucky. Some children have to walk days to reach just 1 health worker.

No child should die because they are unable to get help from a health worker, but because of a global shortage of 3.5 million doctors, nurses, midwives and community health workers, every year millions do. Half of the 8 million children who die each year are in Africa, yet Africa has only 3% of the world’s doctors, nurses and midwives.

I am so thankful that we have access to such talented healthcare workers practically on our doorstep. Tonight, I am both grateful and humbled and holding my babies tightly.

Thank you Chris for helping remind me just how lucky I am.

On Tuesday, Chris will attend the UN General Assembly in New York. She is going there with Liz Scarff on behalf of Save the Children to pressure David Cameron to play his full part in solving the health worker crisis. There is a target of 60,000 signatures on the petition by Tuesday.

Please sign the petition here to end the health worker crisis.

To help spread the word @helloitsgemma and @michelletwinmum want to get 100 bloggers linked up before Tuesday. Pop over to @michelletwinmum for more information and to see how you can help the #Healthworkers campaign.

The Gallery: A Happy Memory

2011-09-14T01:08:00.000-07:00

This week, the theme over at Sticky Fingers is A Happy Memory. At first, I thought - easy! But when I tried to find the picture to represent my happy memory, it was much harder than I'd anticipated. Which to choose? Wedding day? Birth of first child? Birth of second child? Honeymoon? All wonderful memories.

Then I went in search of a photo I knew existed somewhere, but I just couldn't find it. It was the last photo ever taken of my husband and I, as just a couple - taken literally days before we conceived Bigger. We went to the beach, the sun shone, we spent all day just reading the Sunday papers and eating the picnic we'd brought along...ah such lazy, hazy days.

Then there's all our camping photos - some lovely happy memories there too. Campfires, bangers & beans, sunrises & sunsets...but they're missing Littler. We haven't managed to go camping since he arrived, but when we do, I know we'll have a blast.

So instead, I've gone for a family holiday. The photos below were taken on our first ever family holiday. We spent a gloriously sunny Easter weekend in Windermere and made a bucketful of happy memories. It was our first 'holiday' where we didn't visit Scotland, we didn't stay with relatives and we didn't have to abide by anyone's timetable.

It was hard work, but it was great fun! No need to juggle grandparents and keep everyone else happy, we pleased ourselves and spent hours down on the lake just being together. Just the 4 of us. Sharing ice-cream and giggles and a love of outdoors. Happy, happy days.

Man, I feel like a woman!

2011-09-13T01:13:00.000-07:00

Well, after what feels like months (it's not really, it's only weeks) of disturbed sleep from Littler, with having him in our bed almost all night every night, we finally had a good night sleep last night!

Littler went off to sleep at 7pm, I went to the gym for a swim and a sauna. Came home starving hungry, ate the super yummy veggie curry my husband had made and promptly fell into bed in anticipation of another rotten night. But Littler sleep all the way to 4:30am! It's a miracle!

So today, I feel like a new woman. I almost feel like I could take on the world. I'm certainly looking forward to another session at the gym tonight.

At last, it feels like we're coming out of the fog of babydom. I've been fighting it for the past 6 months, trying to get our lives back on track, back to normal. But you what? Sometime you just have to surrender to the fog. Fighting it just makes it thicker, denser and harder to find your way out. But surrender and after awhile you realise the sun is starting to break through, the fog is lifting and life starts to feel...normal again.

Boy does it feel good!

ah normality...more of that please!

Is it time to stop? (or: I'll have a D please Bob)

2011-09-10T12:51:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a real love/hate thing with breastfeeding right now. For 13 months, 2 weeks and 2 days I've been on call 24 hours a day for boob duty. And it's starting to get me down.

I now hate nursing bras with a passion. Saggy, sad, grey things, there's NOTHING else in my wardrobe as utterly un-sexy as my old nursing bras. It's time they were banished. But I don't want to buy new ones.

I want pretty little bras now please. Now more bolder holders. No more serious scaffolding. It's time for the udders to retire and just become boobs again. Can I just be a D cup once more please?

But Littler doesn't know how to fall asleep any other way except on the boob. He loves the boobs. They are his constant comfort. If he's hurt himself - a quick shot of breastmilk takes away the pain. When he's teething - a good long draft of breastmilk sorts that ache out good and proper. When he's tired - it's breastmilk all the way to the land of nod. When he had his immunisations - I breastfed him at the same time to significantly reduce the pain.

And all that is pretty damn cool. I mean, my breasts are AMAZING to be all those things to my gorgeous 13 month old. He was exclusively breastfed from about 15 minutes after he rushed headlong at lightning speed down the birth canal. I'd devoured Ina May and The Politics of Breastfeeding while pregnant, so I was pretty passionate about exclusive breastfeeding. Like his brother before him, the dreaded thrush tried to derail us a number of times. But we were far too stubborn a force for some common candida.

But now...I'm a bit less in love with the whole breastfeeding situation. I want to move on to the next stage. To shut down the all night boobie bar and let someone else take a turn at soothing the aches and pains.

But I'm actually terrified of stopping. Littler has the temper of a redhead, despite his angelic blond locks and I can't bear to hear him cry. I just don't know how he'd take it. Eventually he'd get over it, of course he would. But I'm just not sure I have the energy to cope with the fallout right now.

So if anyone has any words of wisdom as to how I can gently put the udders into retirement, they'd be gratefully received.

The Gallery: Shoes

2011-09-07T01:53:00.000-07:00

These are my happy shoes. My no place like home shoes. My husband bought them for me 2 years ago for my birthday (I know, he's a keeper) and they're made of the softest leather. Almost as comfortable as slippers. He also bought me a gorgeous dress to go with them (not the one in the picture), but that's a whole other post. I'm a lucky, lucky girl.

Impromptu baking for a Monday afternoon

2011-09-05T08:32:00.000-07:00

1 sick nanny

1 bored 5 year old

1 mummy with a sweet tooth

mix together with butter, sugar, eggs and flour and ta da!

pink sugar sprinkles optional.

When does a friendly interest become meddling?

2011-09-05T02:35:00.000-07:00

When we arrived home from holiday I received news from a very dear friend that she had given birth to her first baby, a lovely daughter.

Over the course of her pregnancy I had a couple of chats with my friend on the phone and via email about how much she wanted a natural, drug-free birth and fully intended to breastfeed. I even sent her a couple of books I really rated on breastfeeding and childbirth that I knew I wouldn't need anymore. She lives many miles away and we haven't actually seen each other in years, keeping in touch mainly via Facebook and email.

Then yesterday I learnt that my poor friend laboured for 15 hours only to be whipped in for an emergency c-section. Understandably, she's gutted her birth plan went out the window. But to make matters even worse, her lovely daughter is tongue tied and feeding is a struggle. She's been told that 'they' don't divide tongue ties anymore and to just carry on feeding until it stretches.

So of course I went into research overdrive last night and bombarded my friend with text messages and emails reassuring her that tongue tie is divided regularly with great success. I did struggle a bit to find a lactation consultant in Scotland (what's that all about?? Is there not the same need in Scotland for expert breastfeeding help?). But I eventually found her contact names and numbers of who to contact should she decide to get the tongue tie divided.

But now I fear I overstepped the mark. I fear I may have been meddling and sticking my nose in.

But I fed a baby with tongue tie (which admittedly did eventually stretch) and it was a long hard slog that made me miserable and placed considerable strain on everyone else in the family. I just wanted to save my friend from that pain and heartache and spare her a little of the guilt all mother's feel when things don't go exactly to plan.

I can vividly remember the anguish and uncertainty of those early week when feeding is not going well, your boobs hurt, your hormones are going crazy and no-one seems to be able to help. I wanted my friend to know that there is help if she wants it. She doesn't have to suffer in silence, or suffer at all.

I just hope my passion for breastfeeding and helping other people breastfeed didn't repel my friend or cause her any heartache. It's tough knowing where the line is and whether you've crossed it or not...

Did I meddle? I really hope not :-(

Silent Sunday

2011-08-28T13:00:00.000-07:00

What I learnt on holiday

2011-08-26T12:14:00.000-07:00

:: it takes approximately 4 whole days for the average 5 year old boy to stop running manically from swimming pool, to swimming pool, to sea, to swimming pool when on holiday

:: French women really know how to rock a bikini

:: curves rock bikinis far better than skinny

:: everyone looks better with their clothes on

:: reading a novel about feminism isn't the best choice of reading material for a country with a heavily male dominated society

:: reading a novel about feminism when everyone is in bikinis makes you look at other women's bodies in a whole new light

:: to the average 5 year old boy, once you've seen one lion fish, you've seen them all

:: Nemo looks rather different in real life

:: people without children can be a royal pain in the arse on planes

:: having a 1 year old sat on your knee on a plane when then person in front decides to recline their chair is the fastest route to claustrophobia I know

:: An England bikini is not a good look, no matter how good your figure is

:: never take anything white on holiday. factor 50 waterproof sun cream stains are a bugger to get out.

:: I have a child with skin that turns a beautiful golden brown even when smothered in factor 50. weird.

:: I on the other hand still don't tan. Just freckle.

:: when your husband inadvertently takes the camera for a swim, the memory card and all the photos remain intact but the camera dies a salty death. huh.

Hopes and fears

2011-08-08T02:59:00.000-07:00

We're off on holiday tomorrow, which if you follow me on twitter, I'm sure you're sick of hearing by now!

We're all ridiculously excited. It's our first ever holiday as a family of four and our first proper holiday abroad since becoming parents (I'm not counting the horrific week in a filthy farmhouse in rural France during the coldest Easter ever with strict instructions from the landlord to not go mad with the central heating :-s ).

I want it to be the holiday we've been dreaming of over the past couple of months.

I want to create some fantastic memories for all of us.

I want to have some lovely, quality family time and hear my children laugh longer and harder than they've ever laughed.

But I fear there will be tears. Of course there will be. I'm an optimist, but when necessary I can also be a realist. There's bound to be tears - there always is! But I do hope we can at least minimise the tears.

I've been squirreling away little toys for weeks now, colouring books, sticker books, new books to read and the husband has uploaded every pixar film he could get his hands on onto his new toy. Hopefully we'll have enough tricks up our sleeves to avert most tantrums.

Days will probably be filled with paddling in the sea, swimming in the pool and eating ice-cream. As long as I can keep slathering on the factor 50, we should be fine.

I'm under no illusion that this will be a relaxing holiday. But if nothing else, the husband and I will have an hour or two sat on the balcony together once the children are safely asleep. And there will be no cooking or cleaning to do for a whole fortnight. I might even treat myself to a massage and an hour in the gym each day. If I manage that and keep the tears and tantrums to a minimum, I think that counts as a success.

See you all in 2 weeks!

Jammin

2011-08-07T07:40:00.000-07:00

I've had a busy morning saving my ~~courgettes~~ marrows from the slugs. But we're a bit weary of courgette pasta chez egg at the moment and we're off on holiday for 2 weeks soon...so what to do with all the giant courgettes? Jam, that's what:

Marrow & ginger jam
You'll need:
1kg courgettes or marrows (depending on how long you've neglected your allotment for *ahem*)
1kg jam sugar
1 lemon
Fresh ginger - at least a thumb sized piece but more if you love ginger
Clean jam jars

:: chop up the courgettes/marrows into small chunks and pop in your jam making pan over a medium heat

:: grate the ginger and add to pan

:: grate the zest of the lemon into the pan then juice the lemon and add the juice to the pan

:: add the spent lemon skin to the pan for good luck!

:: heat the courgette mix until lovely and soft, remove the lemon skins and dissolve in the jam sugar

:: bring to the boil and simmer for about 20 minutes

:: if you want a smoother jam, run the jam mix through a liquidiser at this stage before returning to pan and bringing back to the boil

:: test the jam for readiness by dropping a teaspoon of jam onto a cold saucer (that's been chilled in the fridge). You know its ready if the surface of the jam wrinkles when you push the edge with your finger.

:: if it's not ready, just bring it back to the boil and simmer for another 10 minutes

:: Pour the jam into warm, clean jam jars (I sterilise my jars by running them through the dishwasher then popping them in a 150 degree C oven for at least 15 minutes), place wax discs on the top of the jam, then add lids once the jam has cooled.

Serve on fresh crusty bread, warm scones or scotch pancakes! Yummy!

Silent Sunday

2011-08-07T07:27:00.000-07:00

How to survive chicken pox

2011-08-02T02:45:00.000-07:00

Keep cake supplies topped up

Administer cuddles liberally

Don't skimp on the calamine cream

The good old fashioned remedies are the best - oats in the bath (or Aveeno colloidal bath powder) and a spoonful of bicarb for good measure (in the bath, not in the patient)

Order in some extra patience (and gin)

Remember that this too shall pass...

Give up on sleep for at least a couple of nights and treat yourself to some seriously nice coffee beans for freshly ground coffee instead

Remember baths can be a great distraction technique as well as cooling them down and relieving the itch (more oats please) - we're on our 2nd bath of the day and it's only 10am.

Repeat: this too shall pass...

Administer more cake. Repeat as required.

Raging

2011-08-01T12:55:00.000-07:00

Today I am mostly unamused.

My baby has chicken pox. His beautiful skin is slowly but surely being covered with angry, red spots. And we go on holiday in 10 days.

(ok, I am also counting my blessings that he'll bounce back pretty quickly thanks to the powers of calpol plus regular breastfeeds aka liquid anaesthetic)

But back to being unamused...

Someone who I thought respected me, called into question my integrity today. Totally uncalled for. My integrity is intact thank you.

Someone else who mildly irritates me anyway made it quite clear today that he sees me as little more than a spell-checker. (insert very rude, very loud swear words in the style of very loud, very sweary people here)

Someone also questioned why I wouldn't just leave my poor, feverish, spotty baby with our nanny. Then I could go into the office instead of struggling to work from home. Errrr...let me think... baby... feverish... wants boob... feeling quite poorly and rubbish by 1 year old standards...

Well, shoot me but I do actually want to be here to cuddle my spotty baby, to soothe him and administer calpol and other lurid pink pain-reliving syrups. It's all part of being a mother.

As I said. Not amused.

I agree, I may be feeling the strain of chicken pox a tad. I may also be a little sensitive and highly strung from worrying that we will be pox free in time to head off on our first 'proper' holiday (sun, sea, sand, HEAT) since our honeymoon.

But still. I'm not amused.

Monday, you have mostly sucked. Tuesday, consider yourself warned.

Back to the allotment

2011-07-29T14:04:00.000-07:00

I finally managed to pop over to the allotment this evening.

It was bliss.

All I did was some badly needed grass cutting and a spot of weeding before picking some of the spoils. I found some wonderfully ripe purple gooseberries, yellow courgettes, beautiful red apples and some beans (runner beans? Is that what I planted? hmm, might need to consult google images here).

But best of all, I found my allotment mojo. Oh I've missed you allotment!

This year, the allotment suffered from lack of planning and a severe lack of time. But now I've found my mojo again I can't wait to plan for next year.

I want cauliflowers, courgettes (but only 1 plant please! ok, maybe 2), runner beans, potatoes (always), red onions, garlic (this year's failed - mould of some kind. Another google images consult I think), rhubarb, what else? erm...I'm hoping the raspberry, blackcurrant and redcurrant canes I planted this year start to fruit next year, tomatoes are a waste of time as the whole site is riddled with blight, maybe a wee herb garden? I want neat beds, proper paths, less grass and fewer brambles (I have such a love-hate relationship with them. Love the berries, hate their impossible to tame nature).

I need to go and bury my nose in my veg growing books and sort out what I want to grow!

And build some raised beds.

And cut more of the grass.

And weed more. Lots more.

June 2010 - so much tidier than it was tonight!

Happy birthday littlest one

2011-07-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

wow, that was fast! 7 minutes after arriving on the labour ward (in an ambulance) - you don't hang about do you?

A year of smiles and giggles and heart stopping oh-my-god-I-love-you-so-much moments. And suddenly you're 1. One whole year old. Before we know it you'll be running after your big brother, asking just as many questions and running rings around us.

But for now, I'm going to hold you close and continue to cuddle you at every opportunity. I'm going to carry-on ignoring the old biddies that tell me I'm making a rod for my own back. And I'm going to keep on sneaking you into our bed in the middle of the night for midnight snuggles.

So it turns out that love isn't shared. It doubles, quadruples, multiplies indefinitely so that everyone is loved just as much, just as deeply, just as strongly.

Who knew?

What a way to come into the world eh? I should have known from that very moment, that once you put your mind to something, there's no stopping you. You are a force to be reckoned with. A whirlwind.

You wear your heart on your sleeve. Just like me.

You can charm the birds out of the trees.

Happiness should be your middle name. Or if you were a girl, we'd call you Joy.

This much we already know.

So much to discover, so much to learn. I can't wait. Happy birthday littlest man.

Silent Sunday

2011-07-24T12:03:00.000-07:00

This time last year...

2011-07-22T12:18:00.000-07:00

This photo has absolutely nothing to do with this post, I just love lobelia, ubiquitous or not

:: I was digging potatoes on the allotment despite not being able to see my feet (or knees)
:: I was spending my afternoons watching Carrie not get married over and over again while eating copious amounts of cake
:: I was done with nesting
:: I was marching husband and F through fields of lavender to try to induce labour (worked for 2 friends, I was willing to try anything!)
:: I was trying every home remedy known to woman to try to induce labour (despite not even being overdue yet, just due)
:: I was seriously grouchy
:: I'd had enough of being pregnant
:: I was a mother of one and was rather impatient to become a mother of two
:: I had no idea how much more love I was capable of giving
:: I felt like I'd be pregnant forever
:: I felt like I'd BEEN pregnant forever already
:: I had no idea giving birth could be such an amazing, empower experience

If I could rewind to exactly a year ago, I'd tell my heavily pregnant self to:

:: chill out
:: leave the digging to someone else
:: lie on the sofa more
:: quit with the grouchiness
:: stop worrying, it will all start happen in about 48 hours
:: just opt to stay at home when the paramedics arrive
:: tell your mum to keep away from the business end please - there's nothing for her to see down there thank you!

What happens when you ignore your allotment?

2011-07-18T03:53:00.000-07:00

Well, you end up with 2 foot long courgettes for a start...

And your fennel grows to towering heights - this lot is as tall as me.

And you start to wonder if there are enough courgette recipes in the world to use up your glut (any ideas anyone? anyone??). See that diddy little one on the right? That's about the size you can buy in the supermarket.

Hmm, talk about fertile.

Silent Sunday

2011-07-17T10:51:00.000-07:00

Summer + 2 boys = fun

2011-07-14T06:56:00.000-07:00

I'm having a slow couple of days at work this week and I've been daydreaming about what I'd rather be doing. Invariably, it involves the two gorgeous little men above. So here's my list of what I'd rather be doing right now with my boys:

:: eating ice-cream

:: sitting curled up on the sofa together reading stories

:: watching Peter Pan armed with a bucket of popcorn (salted for me, sweet for my eldest)

:: making up daft running races

:: picking blackberries and planning what we're going to do with them if any make it home uneaten

:: splashing around in a swimming pool, preferably with slides or flumes followed up by big plates of sausage & chips (traditional post-swimming fare non?)

:: just sharing some giggles...

:: and some more ice-cream

Do you remember Live Aid?

2011-07-12T06:25:00.000-07:00

I do. In 1985 I sat and watched Live Aid with my dad. I was 8 but I still have vivid memories of the pictures of starving children that were broadcast. Children with tummies bloated from malnutrition and skeletal limbs. To this day, the song Who's Gonna Drive You Home by The Cars immediately conjures up images of children lying on the dry, dusty ground. Not playing, just lying there with sunken eyes. So thin you could see their ribs and pelvic bones. I can remember asking my dad why these children weren't swatting away the flies that kept landing on their eyes and faces...because they're too weak princess he replied.

I now have my own children, 2 boys with healthy appetites for food and for life. We have a well-stocked fridge, the luxury of fresh fruit and vegetables whenever we want them and clean water on tap (literally).

I'm fiercely protective of my boys. I'd do anything for them, as I'm sure most mothers would. But I just can't imagine being forced to walk for weeks, through blistering heat, with no shelter, just to reach food and water. But that's exactly what thousands of mothers are having to do, right now, in East Africa.

On the Save the Children website there is a photograph of two brothers. They're probably not that different in ages from my two boys. But these brothers have traveled hundreds of miles in search of food and water. The tears running down their faces tell of the relief they feel at finally arriving at the Save the Children programme site and of the pain they've endured to get there.

I can't bear to imagine a situation where my 5 year old would have to carry his younger brother miles to safety, to food, to water. It breaks my heart, not just as a mother but as a decent human being. Hearing of 6 week old babies suffering from malnutrition in East Africa shocked me. How can a 6 week old baby be malnourished? Only too easily if their mothers are not receiving sufficient nourishment themselves and sacrificing what meagre rations they do have to feed their older, starving children. And that's what's prompted me to write this post.

"in Somalia malnutrition rates have reached 30 per cent in some areas, making East Africa one of the hungriest places on earth." Save the Children

Let me introduce you to some people. This is Umi with her mum Amina:

Per-Anders Pettersson/Save the Children

At 3 months old, Umi weighs just 3.7lbs. My youngest son weighed double that at birth. Umi has been sick since birth with diarrhoea. Amina lost all her livestock because of the drought and her 2 older children are malnourished. The drought forced Amina to migrate away from the rest of her family and she has not seen her family members for four months. She now fears that her children might die because of the drought.

This is Rahow:

Colin Crowley/Save the Children

Two months ago Rahow started vomiting and suffering from diarrhoea and a fever. He was very weak and his family were advised to take him to the Save the Children programme site. Thankfully, they did and Rahow was treated and given nutritious food. He's now gaining weight and is doing really well. Hopefully, Rahow will continue to grow and thrive. But other children may not be so lucky.

Chronic malnutrition can have a devastating effect on children, resulting in them failing to grow to their full genetic potential, both mentally and physically. There is a critical window for a child's optimal physical and mental growth and development. It starts from when a child is still in its mother's womb and stretches through its first two years of life. If we can intervene during this period to counter the effects of malnutrition, the harm it causes can be reversed. But if the opportunity is missed, the child will never make up the difference in growth and development, and will be adversely affected for the rest of his/her life.

Save the Children are doing an amazing job working within these communities, treating malnourished children and pregnant and breastfeeding women, and distributing food and water. But over 7 million people in East Africa still need help and Save the Children urgently need donations to reach more families. Just £25 can buy 10 days of treatment for five children with malnutrition. £50 can provide safe drinking water for almost 800 people. £100 can buy 4 family hygiene kits to prevent the spread of disease.

Please help Save the Children help children like Umi and Rahow by donating now. I have.

Learning respect, back to basics

2011-07-11T06:02:00.000-07:00

WARNING: Boring weight loss blog post ahead...turn around now if it doesn't interest you!

So, I blogged earlier about using a slimpod from Thinking Slimmer and how I wasn't really seeing any huge change on the weight front. This puzzled me somewhat and I re-read my blog post a number of times, looking at my list of changes I'd noticed and wondering why they weren't translating into weight loss. For a couple of days I made excuses. It's because I'm breastfeeding. It's because I have some weird metabolic condition that has yet to be discovered. It's hormonal.

Then I thought, hang on a minute. If I'm not losing weight I'm OBVIOUSLY eating too many calories. Well duh! It's not rocket science is it? Yes, losing weight can be hard work. But I really felt my slimpods had sorted out my cravings and emotional eating. So if I still wasn't losing weight it had to be down to calories.

So I decided to go back to basics and count calories. Now, I've never actually counted calories before. I've done weight watchers, juice diets, exercising my butt off and various permutations of low carb. But I've never actually counted calories.

But I decided I needing something I couldn't 'cheat' at. I wanted something with nowhere to hide and I knew I needed to learn the true value of food. I didn't want to calorie count so I could eat lots of so-called diet foods. I just wanted to re-educate myself of the true calorific value of foods. I hate diet foods, I really do. But if I want to eat cake, I want to know if that cake is the equivalent (calorie wise) to a healthy chicken salad or a big plate of lasagne. I've spent too long cheating/lying to myself about food. Now it's time to face facts.

I'm relieved to say that I didn't need too much of an education. The only real shocks I got were around frappuccinos and lattes. But I have regained my respect for food. If I want a biscuit/cake/pastry, I'll eat it. But I have to enter it into my food diary and note the calories (using an app on my iphone - it's fab). If I'm heading towards going over my daily calorie target or I want more cake, then it's a great incentive to go for a run or do a fitness dvd.

But respect is definitely the key here. I have a greater respect for calories and I have a greater respect for my body. I want to nourish my body first, then if I have calories left over, then we can go to town on the pastries.

And the bonus is, the weight is starting to fall off! Hurrah!

Silent Sunday

2011-07-10T01:03:00.000-07:00

This weekend

2011-07-07T12:54:00.000-07:00

:: will be filled with family times, happy times, together times

:: we will picnic with egg dip dip sandwiches!

:: we will sit on a rug on the hill behind Chartwell and just be together

:: we'll go searching for early blackberries, planning, cooking and tasting their tangy sweetness

:: we'll sing songs in the car and eat ice-cream in the garden

:: we'll giggle and tickle and laugh and sigh

:: we'll hold each tight and count our blessings

:: (there will also probably be squabbles and tantrums but they don't need to be planned)

What are doing this weekend?

Home

2011-07-06T13:48:00.000-07:00

He's home.

The bed that was too big last week is suddenly so much smaller.

The house that was blissfully quiet is loud again. There are too many voices.

3 was the magic number. 4 seems crowded.

But he's home.

He's exhausted. 4 weeks of hospital nights have taken their toll.

His breath comes in shallow snorts, marking the passing of the evening as he sleeps deeply.

But he's home.

After almost 7 years of marriage and 13 years together, being apart was tough.

But surprisingly refreshing.

It was a reminder. To count my blessings. To hold my soulmate tight. To remember what I love about him. Why I love him.

And I do. I truly do.

Home truly is where the heart is.

The social life of a 5 year old

2011-07-04T12:17:00.000-07:00

I'm ruining my 5 year old's social life.

I've pushed him almost to the edge of Reception Class social acceptability. Why? Because I'm chronically lazy when it comes to play-dates. I just can't be bothered.

It's the same with birthday parties. If I like the parents or the child, we go (by like, I mean: made an effort to get to know and found they're quite nice and normal really). If I don't like them (by don't like, I mean: haven't bothered/got round to getting to know them so therefore have no idea whether they are truly nice or not), we apologise and say we can't make it.

Does that make me a terrible mum?

My 5 year old is an incredibly sociable 5 year old. By that, I don't mean he has wonderfully developed social skills beyond his years. He's just not shy. He'll happily chat to any child in the park/shops/swimming pool and actively seeks out other children whenever he can. New faces rarely faze him and as long as adults talk to him sensibly and about things that he finds engaging, he'll chat away happily to them too.

So when it comes to setting up play-dates. I've never really seen the point. He's more than capable of making his own friends, so why would he need me to sort out play-dates? And anyway, he already has lots of friends that we see regularly. There's his NCT friends that he's 'known' since birth and his nursery friends that he's known since he was 1. Only 2 of his nursery friends ended up at the same school as him, so he has lots of friends outwith his class and outwith school.

I always felt this was a good thing, as school can get a bit claustrophobic for some kids. Once you're labelled as bright/sporty/bookish/math whizz/class clown etc. it's hard to get away from those labels in school. But at least you can get away from them out of school with friends that don't know you in school.

But then last Friday, the worst thing happened (well, if you're 5 anyway). 2 of his best buddies merrily announced that they were off to a 3rd boy's house for tea after school. My poor 5 year old has never been invited on so much as a play-date, never mind home for tea. Our play-dates and tea invites have always been with pre-existing friends and are usually more of an excuse for the mums to get together.

I felt terrible for him. I felt like I'd failed him in some way. I've made little effort with the majority of the school mums for various reasons. Having a 6 week old baby when school started last September meant I didn't really have the energy for forging new friendships. I did sign up for some of the nights out, but the boob-monster was having none of it and getting out the house of an evening was impossible. Then when the boob-monster finally decided to stop cluster-feeding all evening, the night-out invites had dried up and I was too exhausted from sleep-deprivation anyway. Then as time went on, I was so busy making the most of my maternity leave and enjoying time with pre-existing friends that I didn't bother making a huge effort with the school mums. I already had lots of friends, why would I want more?

But maybe that's where I went wrong. Or did I? I still can't decide. I don't want to choose my 5 year old's friends for him. I want him to find his own friends. I suppose having a nanny share with his best-buddy-in-the-whole-world-ever doesn't help the cause much. Every afternoon they already have a built-in play-date with each other.

But to atone, I decided it was time to take the plunge. We've invited a friend to come over and play next Friday after school. I feel slightly nauseous about the whole thing. I'm not a big fan of the mum. She's a bit of a busy body, so I tend to give her a wide berth at the school gates. But then, I'm not asking her to come and play. I'm asking her son. So I need to just get over it and get on with it.

Sigh. Why does nobody warn you about the politics of the school gate when you enroll your child in school? It's just so bloody tedious!

How will I ever refine my bedside manner if mummy doesn't sort out my social life for me?

Silent Sunday

2011-07-03T01:11:00.000-07:00

Dear So and So...

2011-07-01T11:44:00.000-07:00

Dear husband aka 'a keeper'

The past month has been the. longest. month of my life. I'm trying hard to count my blessings - it's the only thing that's kept me going while you've been in hospital. But I'll be so glad to have you home on Monday. Not sure I'll take too kindly to sharing my (yes, my) bed with you though. We may need to buy a kingsize one ;-)

Can't wait to squeeze and cuddle and snuggle and talk nonsense with you again.

Love, your wife

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear eldest son/boy wonder/1st light of my life

I know it's been tough for you with daddy in hospital and shouty mummy has been around a lot. But I want you to know I love you and I'm sorry for being such a grouch. Let's have a movie night tomorrow night and eat ice-cream until we're sick. Or we can just run around with pants on our heads. Your choice.

Love ya baby, all the way to the moon and back, your mummy xxxx

p.s. please please please stop getting up at 5.30am. It's driving me insane. xxx
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear stomach

*sigh* ok, here's the deal. I know I ate for Scotland when I was pregnant with both boys, but surely you've hung around for long enough now? Any day now those slimpods are going to kick in, so let's just say our goodbyes now. No need to hang around any longer. It was great while it lasted, but it's time to move on.

Ciao, me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear me

You have 5 weeks until you go on holiday. Don't spoil it for everyone else by hiding every time the husband tries to take a photo or bemoaning the size of your thighs/stomach/chins. Just do what you can to shed some poundage and tone up. Keep listening to your slimpods - they work. Keep doing The 30 Day Shred - it works. You can do it. You're going to look and feel fabulous.

Manly punch to the shoulder, love me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear baby/youngest son/other light of my life

You are 1 year old in 24 days time. Do you really need to be feeding 2 - 3 times through the night? Really? I mean 48 weeks is a long time to go without a full nights sleep. It's starting to take it's toll sweetheart. The word haggard springs to mind. What do you say, we cut it down to just once a night? Then maybe you'll actually be hungry for breakfast at breakfast time. Just a thought.

You are adorable though and I love you to the moon and back, your mummy xxxx

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear allotment

I'm sorry. I truly am. Life is just a bit hectic at the moment. But I promise to come and see you as soon as I can. We'll spend some quality time together and put the world to rights. Just you, me and the shed. I promise.

Love, me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more letters to Dear so and so head over to 3 bed bungalow

Slimpod Journal: July

2011-06-30T23:34:00.000-07:00

As I sit down to write this, I've actually got mixed feelings about my slimpods. Don't get me wrong, I think they're great. You only need to read some of the comments on twitter to see the amazing results some people are getting.

My problem is, I'm just impatient. I'm an instant gratification kinda gal. Which is probably what got me into this situation in the first place! I want to lose 2 stone, which would take me to the weight I was when I got married. So I'm going to use this post to focus on the positive changes I've seen so far, because to be honest, the scales aren't budging (yet).

This is also my second attempt at the slimpods. The first time, I have to be honest, my heart wasn't truly in it. I was looking for a fast and easy fix and wanted the slimpod to do all the hard work for me. But it wasn't addressing my emotional eating issues, so I decided to add the chocaholic slimpod into the mix.

This time, I've religiously filled out my slimpod journal every night and here are some of the changes I've noticed during the past 16 days:

1.I'm not hungry for breakfast. Even if I've had very little to eat the previous evening.

2. Appetite has decreased dramatically.

3. I'm still tempted to snack at work, but it's all healthy snacks I'm reaching for - apples, sugar snap peas, bananas, yogurt (oh and the occasional handful of wasabi peas!)

4. In the past, whenever I had a stressful/rubbish commute to work I would instantly head to Pret to buy a chocolate croissant. I still love the idea of a chocolate croissant but have no desire whatsoever to eat one.

5. Quite often I'm forced to leave some of my lunch or dinner. I just can't finish it.

6. I'm cooking smaller and smaller portions of pasta (my easy go-to evening meal at the moment while I'm cooking for one)

7. I've bought chocolate once in the past 2 weeks. And it lasted 4 days. Totally unheard of.

8.I'm drinking lots more water.

9. I've noticed that what I'd previously recognised as hunger signals are in fact thirst signals! I was eating instead of drinking water!

10. Whenever faced with a stressful situation, one that would normally send me straight to the nearest bar of Dairy Milk, I hear a little voice saying "if you really want chocolate, fine, go for it...but it won't solve the problem/change the situation for you. Only you can do that"

Reading back that list, I'm pretty impressed! I guess I'm just going to have to be a bit more patient. I've started doing 30 Day Shred as well, so I should start to see some results soon. We're off on holiday in 5 weeks (eek) and I really hope to shed a good few pounds by then!

For more slimpod chat, head over to Ooh Baby - All things Cuteable

Thankful Thursday

2011-06-30T13:07:00.000-07:00

I'm thankful for (in no particular order):

:: this little buzzy, whizzy bee arriving in plenty of time for a special boy's 1st birthday (eek)

:: my husband, my soulmate finally being allowed out of hospital

:: antibiotics that still work

:: healthcare that is still free and available to all in this country

:: a dear friend popping round unannounced this evening with half of bottle of scrummy red

:: my 2 boys being safe and sound in the land of nod this evening

For more things to be thankful for on a Thursday, check out miss buckle.

Passion...or obsession?

2011-06-28T13:19:00.000-07:00

A little while ago, Spud at Chez Spud asked 'What is your passion?' and I've sorta been pondering about it ever since.

Where does passion end and obsession take over? Do you need to be a little bit obsessed to be passionate about something or does the act of becoming obsessed mean that your passion has taken over? (deep thoughts for a Tuesday night, I know).

Because I'm not sure if my passion is *just* a passion. I fear I may have strayed into obsession territory. Which I don't think is necessarily a bad thing, but I'm not sure I want to be totally obsessed by it. You see, my passion is breastfeeding.

Now, a large part of that passion is probably due to still being in the throes of breastfeeding a very avid breastfeeder. My 11 month old is very much a boob man. Refuses a bottle point blank and will only tolerate a cup of cows milk if I'm a good 12 miles away in London town.

So my life, at the moment, still revolves around breastfeeding. He feeds at least 3 times a night (making up for feeds he's missed while I'm at work) and whenever he can during the day. But the reason why I fear we've strayed into obsession territory is because I found myself having a tense discussion on twitter last night with a TV celebrity doctor (of all people) about poor breastfeeding advice that had been given on his show.

Now, I know that sounds like a weird way to spend your evening, but it just made me so cross. There are so many harmful myths out there about breastfeeding and often the media fail to check facts or consult an expert. Instead, the same old tripe is spouted about 'don't feel guilty', 'breastfeeding IS tough', 'it's not the end of the world if you give a bottle'. Well, frankly I'm sick of it.

*rant alert: if you've made it this far, get out now while you still can!*

Yes, breastfeeding CAN be tough, for many many reasons. But telling women that it is tough before they've even given birth really isn't very constructive. It just sets them up to fail: so you give birth (which in itself is fraught with opportunities to 'fail' unless you 'achieve' a totally natural, drug-free birth at sunrise on an auspicious date), tensions are running high, you're probably exhausted and an emotional wreck and now you HAVE to get this tiny little naked (read slippery) baby, who probably isn't that hungry (myth: babies are born hungry) to open it's mouth and latch on to your nipple. Yes, your nipple. A part of your body that is usually kept safely tucked away from the cold, cruel world. And now you must expose it to every passing midwife and her dog AND get your newborn baby to latch onto it. Yip. Piece of cake.

Now, the thing is. Sometimes it truly is a piece of cake. With my second baby it was*. I knew to just chill out. I knew to turn the harsh lights of the delivery room off. I knew about skin-to-skin. I knew The Politics of Breastfeeding inside out and I knew where to find expert help.

So surely, instead of running around telling everyone not to feel guilty and it's too bloody hard for the average Jo to do anyway. Would our efforts not be better spent helping woman understand how to make breastfeeding easy?

Not having support, or knowing anyone who breastfeeding or where to find help when it's not going well makes breastfeeding tough (I'd never seen anyone breastfeed before having my boys). And bad advice just makes it 10 times, no, 100 times worse. It perpetuates the myth that exclusive breastfeeding is some perfect mothering nirvana that very few women are capable of achieving. It just makes me so sad.

Women need to know that breastfeeding is normal. (not the dizzy heights of mothering perfection)

Women need to know where to find help if breastfeeding isn't going to plan.

They need to know what to expect when breastfeeding a newborn baby.

They need to know that breastfeeding babies tend to work on a strict schedule of "I'm hungry. Feed me now" that often has no discernible pattern in terms of hours or minutes.

They don't need to be judged. Or patronised. Or placated. Or told breastfeeding is tough. Or made to feel guilty.

Now, if anyone is still reading, can you please pass me a ladder so I can get down off this bloody soapbox? I'm getting vertigo.

Now that's multitasking!

So. Passion or obsession? It's a close call I reckon. A close call.

*at first it was easy, then it all went tits up (boom boom), then we sorted it out and are still at it. Just wanted to clarify that. But that sorry tale is a whole other post.

At the tailend of the weekend...

2011-06-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

I'm mostly pondering

:: why, yet again, I didn't get over to the allotment. Those poor, poor plants.

:: the pile of ironed laundry that has yet to make it's way to the correct wardrobes and drawers. Heck, at least it's ironed.

:: whether it will be as hot tomorrow as it was today

:: what shall I wear tomorrow?

:: if I'm still blogging will I want to go to Cybermummy12 next year?

:: the use of the word mummy in cybermummy makes me evah so slightly uneasy - why do we have to be defined as 'mummy bloggers' just because we have offspring and also happen to write crap on t'internet.

:: maybe I'm being a tad oversensitive about the whole mummy blogger thing - I've just spent 2 months trying to prove to ~~myself~~ all and sundry that giving birth for a 2nd time did not cause my brain to melt

:: am I a mummy blogger? Do I want to be a mummy blogger?

:: have I ordered enough groceries in our weekly grocery delivery? Think I may have fogotten creme fraiche. bugger.

:: will this week be the week that my husband (formerly, currently and forever known as A Keeper) comes home from hospital?

:: will I ever manage to reach level 3 of The 30 Day Shred?

Silent Sunday

2011-06-26T01:12:00.001-07:00

I love London town because...

2011-06-23T05:30:00.000-07:00

:: I get to people watch on Carnaby Street 4 days a week

:: I can walk past the Royal Academy of Arts on my way to work and catch glimpses of cool outdoor sculptures

:: I can ~~window~~ shop on Regent Street on my lunch hour

:: I can meander past Buckingham Palace and catch glimpses of princes and princesses (way too much disney in my life)

:: I can dream wonderful dreams while feasting my eyes on the delights of Liberty's

:: My commute to work means I get 2 x 20 mins on the train. On my own. To read. Quietly. In my head. My OWN book.

:: Starbucks

:: Patisserie Valerie

:: Fortnum & Mason for indulgent breakfasts with my dad whenever he's in town

:: St James Park playpark - the 5 yo adores the giant sandpit

:: Routemaster buses

:: when one is tired of London...I can always escape to suburbia knowing that London town will still be there tomorrow when I'm a little less weary

The Gallery :: Rain? Who cares!

2011-06-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

What a difference a day makes...

2011-06-21T01:22:00.000-07:00

...24 little hours...

Phew. This time yesterday I could hardly keep my eyes open. I was convinced that if anyone said anything even remotely mean to me, I would burst into tears. Hell, if anyone had even been nice to me I would have burst into tears.

3 weeks of having husband in and out of hospital. 3 weeks of solo parenting. 3 weeks of worrying. 3 weeks of trying to do it all, be it all. Have it all. I nearly broke.

But last night, the 11 month old only woke up twice. A quick feed and he was back in the land of slumber. I've given up listening to the Sensible Mum voice in my head that tells me to not pull him into bed with me and snuggle up. She can shut the fuck up. She doesn't have to go to work and write coherent words and sentences. I do. And so last night we snuggled up. And slept. Ahhhhhhhhh.

Last night my grocery order arrived. So this morning I had fresh, real coffee. Aaaahhhh.

Last night I was organised and made all the packed lunches, emptied the dishwasher and hung up the wet washing to dry. So this morning there was a clean kitchen and an organised fridge. Aaaaah.

Last night I made myself a big bowl of super veggie pasta with a ton of spinach (popeye power!) and I chilled out.

Tonight...well, we'll see what happens tonight. But at least I know come tomorrow morning, I'll still have fresh coffee to wake up to.

Blue eyes

2011-06-17T10:38:00.000-07:00

How could anyone deny those big blue eyes anything?

Hurrah!

2011-06-16T12:28:00.000-07:00


You can't beat a bit of bunting

I've been debating for a couple of days about writing this post. I guess I didn't want to alienate anybody (assuming anyone bothers to read this post of course - they may not!). Weightloss, or rather my weightloss ishoos aren't exactly everyone's cup of chai.

But then I decided to write it anyway (well, duh...!). I'm a firm believer in 9 months on, 9 months off. But since my gorgeous little baby is now 10 11 months old (whaaaaaaaat?!) it's about time I did something about the extra baby weight I'm having to lug around.

Truth be told, I never really got round to losing the first lot of baby weight. Oops.

Trouble is, I adore food. I love cake and I'm utterly addicted to chocolate. Usually when I want to lose a bit of poundage I dust off my trainers and pound the pavement. But 2 boys that like to rise with the larks, an allotment and a job leaves me little time. But the time evening rolls around I'm either catching up on laundry, catching up with cleaning, catching up with shopping or catching up with my husband (geez I gotta sort my priorities out!). I know - excuses, excuses.

But a couple of months ago I noticed a lot of chat on twitter about ThinkingSlimmer. Podcasts that help you lose weight through the power of hypnosis. So I thought I'd give it a whirl. To be honest, my first attempt wasn't very succesful. I downloaded a podcast called 'drop 2 dress sizes' and away I went. I noticed quite a few changes - I made healthier choices at mealtimes, I walked more and I ate more fruit and veg. But I was still comfort eating big style. Chocolate was still my confident, my comforter and my celebration.

Not good.

So I dropped a couple of pounds but nothing spectacular. Nothing like what other people on twitter were reporting.

So I decided to give it another go. I downloaded the chocaholic podcast and started listening to it in combination with my 'drop 2 dress sizes' podcast. And this morning I had a bit of a breakthrough. It started raining about 10 minutes after I left home. Wearing flip flops. By the time I got to Regent Street I was wet, cold and feeling a wee bit sorry for myself. Now, normally this would warrant at least a latte and a chocolate croissant. But this morning, despite passing two chocolate croissant purchasing opportunities, I didn't bother. I thought about it. But then realised that no chocolate croissant, no matter how gorgeous and buttery and flakey, would dry my hair or warm my feet or change my fit flops into something more sensible.

This may sound trivial. Or even downright obvious. But to me, it was a bit of an epiphany. For the first time in a long time I didn't turn to food to make me feel better.

Maybe, just maybe, it's time to start losing that baby weight. Skinny here we come!

No excuses now...

2011-06-10T13:12:00.000-07:00

I have a shiny new MacBook Pro. Not that I have the foggiest what to do with it of course. A very funny graphic designer friend of mine could use this machine to 'within an inch of it's life' or so he tells me. I'll be mostly surfing, emailing, pottering, shuffling music, checking out pinterest, messing around with the photobooth app and probably open garageband once just to check it works.

But what a lovely machine to do all that on. It might even inspire me to blog more

It's been a while...

2011-06-08T12:30:00.000-07:00

A long old while in fact, since I last blogged. Looking back, I'm not sure what happened really. I lost my blogging mojo a bit, life got a little busier, then it got a lot busier, then I found I just didn't have anything left of myself by the time everyone else had a bit...

But tonight, I'm counting my blessings. After a pretty terrifying health scare and 6 days in hospital, my little family will be reunited tonight. We'll all sleep under the one roof. With our health and sanity intact.

And I even managed to put clean sheets on the bed. Bliss.

Bags of fun

2010-02-22T05:36:00.001-08:00

Originally uploaded by eggdipdip

This little bag is a very special bag.

It was 'designed' by a very special 3 year old who will turn 4 in about 5 weeks.

And it's purpose? To hold treasure. Or rather chocolate bunnies and chocolate eggs from a special birthday Easter egg hunt.

I've got another 9 of these to make, so I'd better get a move on. I haven't even thought about the cake yet...

Soul food

2010-02-22T05:25:00.001-08:00

Originally uploaded by eggdipdip

Yesterday we were stuck home with no hot water, no heating and not a lot of motivation. So, to cheer us and warm us, I baked this gorgeous banana loaf.

I'd been eager to try out Julochka's recipe for awhile (especially after I saw how gorgeous Spud's version looked), but I'm just not that great using cups - the scientist in me prefers grams and kg or even good old lbs and oz.

So instead, I used this recipe. But I was wise enough to include some chunky chocolate chips as suggested by Julochka's daughter. And oh my, it is quite simply divine.

Put it this way, I'm now 50% baby bump and 50% banana bread belly. But it's time for another slice, so we could be pushing 60% banana bread belly by the end of the day. Hmm, can I justify making another a mere 24 hours after the first? Surely baking is good for the soul (if not for the hips/thighs/tum) and that's good enough for me.

Ommmmmmmmmmm

2010-02-03T01:07:00.000-08:00

I'm feeling all serene and virtuous this morning. After a couple of weeks of procrastinating, I finally made it along to pregnancy yoga last night and it was divine! Of course the lovely soft jersey yoga pants and super soft top I bought especially for the occasion did help enhance the experience, but even without the frisson of retail therapy, it was a wonderful way to spend a Tuesday evening.

Subdued lighting, a couple of candles, a waft of incense, surrounded by turquoise and deep pink and sat on purple yoga mats, it was remarkably womb-like. After a good 30 minutes of general pregnancy chit chat, we performed a couple of "moon" salutations (my yoga teachers version of a sun salutation adapted for pregnant bodies) before getting into variations on cat with the odd downward dog thrown in for good measure.

There was a good dose of Om-ing and lots and lots of pelvic floor work (sheesh - hard work but needs must) and at the end I floated home on a cloud of yoga loveliness. It was just so lovely to spend half an hour and a half devoted to me and this ever expanding pregnant bump of mine. It felt so indulgent, but so necessary.

I can't wait for next week and may even get my yoga mat out at home...if I can find it that is.

Maternity clothes suck!

2010-01-31T07:26:00.001-08:00

Originally uploaded by eggdipdip

So, now my big (and every growing) secret is out in the open, I can have a good old whinge about the serious lack of stylish maternity wear out there.

I really thought things would have improved this time round. Last time I was pregnant we didn't have GAP maternity in the UK. And although I picked up a great pair of skinny maternity jeans and a couple of nice tops, 3 items do not a maternity wardrobe make.

What I'm really struggling to find is something that's in my style. I like to feel a little bit funky. Dresses over trousers, nice bright colours, funky tops. I'm not really a jeans and t-shirt girl.

So why do companies that make maternity clothes think that just because I'm pregnant I'd like to wear cheap cotton t-shirt emblazoned with slogans such as "my bump rocks" in goth rock script or "yummy mummy" or "it's not over til the fat lady screams"? Erm, no thank you. And I don't want to wear Mickey Mouse or Peanut across my amble pregnant bosom either thank you very much.

So what's a girl to do?

Get herself down to the divine Liberty's and buy up a good three metres of gorgeous Liberty print in a nice stretchy jersey, that's what!

I'm thinking a wrap dress. Something that will grow with me. Not sure if I'm brave enough to hit the sewing machine without a pattern, but my google searches have yet to yield a decent pattern so far, so I might just have to wing it.

Anything's better than a pregnant 30-something clad in a glittery Mickey Mouse t-shirt right?

Bloomin' marvellous!

2010-01-26T03:30:00.001-08:00

Originally uploaded by eggdipdip

Well, I think it's about time I shared a little secret with you. Although, if you could see me now, I don't think it would be much of a secret.

You see, it turns out that yet again julochka was right (all hail Queen of Blogland!). If you want your prayers answered, simply reveal them in a blog post, and your fairy blogmother will wave her magic wand.

For no sooner had a written this blog post about babies and counting blessing, when something magical and wonderful was conceived.

it's now wriggling around quite happily, stretching it's legs and waving to the odd passing sonographer and will be 14 weeks old this week.

I feel very, very blessed indeed.

Glue

2010-01-08T02:14:00.000-08:00

I've just finished writing a post all about Christmas traditions and how as a family we don't really have any. And that got me thinking about other traditions and rituals that our family does have.

And then it struck me. Picnics. Picnics are the single most important tradition that holds my little family of 3 together. It's our glue.

It doesn't matter what time of year it is. It can be a blustery spring day, a misty Easter weekend, a glorious morning bathed in autumnal sunshine or a crisp mid-winter Sunday. Whatever the weather, we picnic. Even if it's raining. Sometimes we pack a flask of soup and picnic in the car before venturing outside to run around whichever large open space we've chosen that day. Sometimes we lounge on a picnic rug in the shade of a big old oak tree, soaking up precious rays of sunshine. But there's always, always egg mayo sandwiches (eggdipdip sarnies!) and usually a homemade cake of some sort. And no matter what kind of week we've had, a picnic will always bring us back together.

We adore picnics.

What's your glue? leave a comment and let me know what things bring your family together.

Hello! Happy New Year! Merry Christmas and all that jazz!

2010-01-07T02:13:00.000-08:00

Oh my word. It has been such a long time since I last wrote anything here. Many things have happened in that time including Christmas, Hogmanay (New Year) and snow glorious snow! I may have been absent from my own blog, but I've tried to keep up with everyone else in blog land, so I haven't felt too isolated!

So, what have I been up to? Well, life got kinda crazy int he lead up to Christmas and by life, I mean work. It was hectic and crazy in a way that was good but totally exhausting. Then we disappeared up to Scotland for the holidays. A trip we'd been looking forward to for such a long time.

The weather was exceptionally Christmassy and we shared some lovely family news but, to be honest, the whole Christmas thing just didn't do it for me this year. I'm gutted really, truly gutted. I adore Christmas, I love the glamour and the sparkle of it. The anticipation, the buying of gifts, the wrapping of presents, the bows, the glitter, the music, the stories, the cheesy films. Love it, love it, love it.

So what happened this year? Why did our Christmas feel so flat? Like a bottle of champagne that has been opened and carelessly left behind the sofa without anyone so much as enjoying a single bubble. Well, part of it had to do with a very sad and frustrating situation that one part of our family is going through at the moment. The situation is unavoidable and sadly will not change anytime soon.

But, in all honesty, I think the true reason our Christmas fell flat was because of traditions. Or more specifically, a lack of them. For the past 2 weeks I been reading about lovely seasonal traditions from all different corners of blog land, from bonfires and soltice jammies to tree decorations collected over the years. And that's when it struck me. We just don't have any firm traditions that signal Christmas to us as a family. We don't go to church, we don't go carol singing (as much as I'd love to), we don't even have a tree! (we spend so much of the festive season with relatives that it just doesn't seem worth it - the poor tree would be left all alone from half way through December!). So I'm left thinking, what are we telling Miniegg about the significance of the festive season? Sure, he knows it's a time to spend with his grandparents and gets very excited about the airplane trip. But what else is there for him apart from presents? Not a lot.

So that's going to change. I'm going to think carefully over the next 12 months and start devising a few traditions that our little family can call our own.

Do you have family traditions that "make" your Christmas? Do share!

Fairytales and romance

2009-12-09T06:21:00.001-08:00

Whisk me away in a diamond-encrusted carriage pulled by butterflies

Well, hello!

What can I say? I'm a bit rubbish at this regular blogging lark. I've been busy, so so busy and life has somewhat overtaken me. But last night I was marching up Bond Street on my way to the train, when the windows of Tiffany & Co quite literally stopped me in my tracks.

My rubbish iPhone photo doesn't even vaguely do justice to them, but trust me, they are gorgeous! Sprinkled with diamonds, they truly are beautiful and sing of fairytale romances.

I do love Tiffany & Co. I'm very lucky and have received a couple of their adorable turquoise boxes with loveliness inside. And I think Holly Golightly is right - nothing very bad could happen to you there.

A few of my favourite things...

2009-11-03T01:09:00.000-08:00

:: This divine gingerbread, made on a rainy, autumnal Sunday night and served warm with Green&Blacks Vanilla Ice-Cream

:: This stuffed bread recipe, which we'll be scoffing this weekend

:: These so-yummy-sounding-I-can-smell-them baked goodies, which will also be filling our tummies this weekend

:: My new I'm-so-divine-it-hurts hat

And that, my friends, is how I found my sparkle again!

A bit of baking, a bit of shopping and a good splash of red in my wardrobe.

Have a lovely, sparkly day everyone!

Has anyone seen my twinkle?

2009-10-29T02:19:00.000-07:00

Today is a grey day. The sky is grey, the streets are grey and I feel grey.

I think it actually started yesterday morning. I stupidly skipped my run in favour of 45 minutes more sleep. Then for some bizarre reason dressed all in grey. Bleurgh. I quickly changed into something a bit more colourful, but it was already too late. The grey had stolen my sparkle.

And now I don't know where to find it.

Where is it? Did I leave it under this leaf?

Have you got the balls?

2009-10-23T01:01:00.000-07:00

I pass this glorious installation most days on my way to work (the days I'm being lazy and taking the bus instead of walking that is). Isn't it gorgeous? I don't know anything about it, but it sits in the courtyard of the Royal Academy of Arts and sparkles at me every morning. I absolutely love it. It's a little promise of Christmas sparkle. It's magical and mysterious. It's poised and elegant. And if you look very closely, you can see a tiny self-portrait (my scarlet coat was a birthday present from my spectacular husband just last week - yip, he's a keeper!).

What did you see on your travels this morning?

So, writing is the new praying

2009-10-13T02:02:00.000-07:00

A while back lovely rock chick Julockla wrote about writing being the new praying and I've been pondering it ever since.

Neither hubbie nor I are particularly religious, we don't go to church and we don't intend to bring Miniegg up in any sort of organised religion. But we do like to live our lives with a nod towards karma. What goes around comes around, do good things and good things will happen to you sort of thing.

So I'm quite intrigued by the whole notion of writing being the new praying. I do love the way that writing lets me ~~rant on about~~ reflect on things that I maybe wouldn't otherwise have a chance to. But I haven't yet used it to count my blessing enough. And I do feel I need to count my blessings. I need to remind myself of what I have and stop and appreciate it before I go charging off seeking the next adventure. And to me, that's what praying is all about - counting blessings and reflecting on the days.

It's my birthday on Friday, so I think that's one of the reasons I want to count my blessings. But also, I'm absolutely desperate for another baby. A little baby brother or sister for Miniegg. Hubbie, is not so desperate. But you know what, that's fine just now. For a long time it wasn't fine. I couldn't understand why hubbie didn't want to crack on with the baby making. But I think now I do. Hubbie is far better than I am at pausing and absorbing and appreciating the here and now. He knows how to count his blessings. He's content with our little world as it stands. And why shouldn't he be? It's a lovely little world that we've created together.

I've always believed that what is for you, will never go by you. And I passionately believe there are more babies in our future. So I just need to be patient. Count my blessings, embrace the here and now and wait for the time to be right.

Time to reflect and count our blessings...

Bathroom refit: Day 1

2009-10-06T01:11:00.001-07:00

Words fail me...

Make it pretty, lovely Mr Builder, pleeeeeeease!

Let the transformation begin

2009-10-05T07:36:00.000-07:00

Work begins today on our poky wee bathroom.

I'm absolutely terrified of what I'll be returning home to this evening. I just know I'll have made a major bathroom-design faux pas of some kind or another. But I'm consoling myself with the fact that it can't get much worse than it is already. I mean honestly, an orange ceiling? What's that all about?

Yuck

Eeeew!

Dull dull dull

What about the dad's?

2009-09-30T01:21:00.000-07:00

This makes me so angry!

So I was sitting (yes, sitting! can you imagine, what a treat - usually I have to stand) on the train yesterday morning on the way in to work, only just beginning to recover from the image of my beloved boy pleading for me to stay with him, when I stumbled across this lovely story. Apparently, children whose mothers work are less likely to lead healthy lives. What a load of crap.

I really, really hate all this working-mums bashing that goes on in the UK press. Well, of course I'd love to stay at home and nurture my child into a wonderful, caring human being. Of course I'll keep the house spottlessly clean and cook delicious, healthy and varied meals. We'll bake cakes every day and greet daddy every evening with smiles and clean faces before the happy, exhausted but fulfilled children skip merrily off to bed.

But I live in the real world. My husband doesn't earn mega bucks. And I am not a 1950's housewife. I have a brain, I've found a career and just because I have a child, why does that mean I have to forfeit that career? Why should I? I'm bloody good at my job. I love my child no less. I'm an equally capable mother whether I work or not. In fact, I would argue I'm more capable because I'm fulfilled on more levels when I work. Also, my days off are devoted entirely to fun, family activities. I concentrate fully on Miniegg when we have days off together.

And just because I have a job, why does that mean I'm less likely to ensure my child lives a healthy lifestyle? My child lives a very healthy lifestyle thank you very much. All meals he eats at home are home-cooked. The fruit bowl is always kept well stocked for him to help himself from and we spend the majority of each weekend outdoors, running around and getting as much exercise as possible.

And where are the dad's in all this? In our house, husband has as much, if not more, influence over how healthy our lifestyle is. He does all the cooking during the week and it's always super healthy stuff. Do we live in a country where only the mum's can influence the health of their children? Well, frankly, I find that a bit weird.

Give me a break. Stop bashing me because I choose to continue using my brain to earn a decent salary. My salary means that husband doesn't have to be chained to his desk for 14 hours a day. My salary means that we can afford lovely, fresh organic food. My salary means that my gorgeous boy has 2 parents that can give him their full attention without worrying about paying the mortgage. My salary gives us freedom.

I could go on and on about why we choose to be a dual-income family, or rather why we need to be a dual-income family. I could also drone on and on about all the benefits my beautiful boy gains from attending a super nursery that encourages confidence and inspires curiosity (not that he needs much encouragement to ask why these days). But, lovely readers, I will spare you.

Now can someone please pass me that stepladder so I can climb down from my soapbox please?

The one where she gets all serious and gazes at her belly button (or should that be piggy bank?)

2009-09-24T03:19:00.000-07:00

A funny thing happened last night.

Husband and I were talking money matters as we brushed our teeth and organised ourselves for tomorrow (today). As usual, I'd plumped for the wrong savings account and husband had found a much better one with a higher rate of interest (yawn, I know).

Then, husband suggested something that, to me, was just totally unthinkable.

He suggested I just lump my savings in with his.

Image: Wikipedia

Now, I know a lot of people may think that is a very sensible suggestion, especially as husband was very clever and bagged one of the few remaining high interest savings accounts left on the market before the market imploded.

But the thought made me feel sick. That money is my escape fund. It's my ticket to a new life, far far away. It's my independence. It's MY money.

So that got me thinking. Why do I feel I need an escape fund? Husband is most certainly a keeper, even if it did take me some time to figure this out. We've been together for 10 years (well, 9 years, 11 months and 2 weeks since our first snog!). We may not always agree on everything (who does?), but we do share a basic philosophy on life and our values are pretty much identical. I truly feel he completes me.

I have no intention of running off and leaving him anytime soon or in the future. In fact, I'm desperately trying to convince him to extend our little family (yup, still broody for baby no. 2. Hurry up husband).

So where does this need to keep at least some of our finances separate stem from? To be honest, I have no idea. I am fiercely independent and the thought of being financially dependent on a man does make me uneasy. I think it's a share of power thing. I fear that if I have no financial clout, the balance of power will shift. Gosh, that sounds awful doesn't it? Talking about the balance of power. We're a partnership, there should be no power struggle. And there isn't.

I don't know if I know the answer to this one. I always felt my mum was too dependent on my dad I guess, and as much as I love them both, I was never comfortable with the balance of power in their relationship. Until recently that is, when their situation forced mum to sort of find herself. She's a newly liberated woman now and although not financially independent from dad, she is now socially independent of him. Which is lovely for her and has really strengthened their relationship.

So I guess it's over to you lovely fellow peep in the blogosphere. Do you have a secret escape fund? Or are your finances as entwined as your futures when it comes to your partners? Do share and let me know if I'm just being a weird closet feminist or something!

My bathtime haven

2009-09-23T07:39:00.000-07:00

Oh my word. I'm all of a tizz. The bathroom renovation that I thought was months in the future is suddenly happening in about 10 days! Panic panic!

So I've had my head stuck in bathroom catalogues for what seems like days. Only trouble is, the more baths I look at, the more indecisive I become.

I think I've decided on this lovely cubic basin on top of white glossy drawers:

And this rather lovely bath tub:

With some gorgeous chocolate brown tiles, but I can't find a picture of them, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

It's going to be all lovely and sleek though. Tiling just around the bath, lovely pale almost shimmering grey walls (hmm, must see if such a paint colour actually exists - maybe this one or this one), beautiful fluffy towels in natural shades and lovely rich dark wood-effect (note: waterproof enough to withstand energetic bathing by my wonderboy) flooring.

It will be my haven. All plastic bath toys will be hidden from view and only products from The White Company or Jo Malone will be visible. Sigh.

Oh I feel much better now. I'm off for a bath.