Sunday morning

I woke up with no alarm clock today, well no actual alarm clock- the birds were chirping away and the sisters were fighting over something or other. I lay in bed just listening and trying to adjust my eyes to the sunlight.

Then my middle girl came into my room with a breakfast biscuit for me, she whispered -'I'll just leave your breakfast on your pillow Mammy.'

About two minutes later, eldest sister walked in and offered me coffee. (I declined as the last cup had half a bag of sugar in it- or at least that's how it tasted!)

And, I smiled as I relished not having to jump up and get ready for work, or wake at the crack of dawn to peel bananas and fix juice for three. This stage of parenting is special for sure, but bittersweet too.

My girls are pretty self sufficient. Of course they still need me for lots of stuff, but mostly they are happy for me to just be around rather than demanding my time.

To any exasperated first time mamas who might be reading this, those long sleepless nights won't last forever. Neither will the fussy eating, and the days of not changing out of pyjamas and snuggling your sweet baby on the sofa. Where possible, embrace all of those things, even the hard bits, because one day they'll be gone and you'll struggle to remember them!

Instead, one day you'll stay in bed until 9am on a Sunday whilst those babies you rocked will rock up to your room with a breakfast biscuit and a can of dr.pepper. Then you'll lay back, smile and wonder if the fact they think a breakfast biscuit and a can of Dr Pepper counts as breakfast, is a bad thing, or just awesome parenting skills...

Keep kissing the rocks

I've taken some time for a little r&r this week...in Ibiza! 

It's been a welcome break in the sense that the last 9momths have been crazy busy. I felt like I was constantly running at 100mph, okay running might be the wrong word to use, since those who know me well will know that's not what I do best at all. However, none the less I've been on constant.

This week I've had time to lounge by a pool and nap in a hammock and it's been refreshing to say the least. It's also allowed for lots of people watching, meeting new people and thinking things through. 

Some people go on holiday to escape everything back home, whilst some use a holiday to make sense of everything back home. I'm entering yet another season of change in my life, and whilst watching the sunset over Ibiza island this week, when moments become memories, I got some clarity.

The sunsets every night- every single night. Each time seemingly more beautiful than the last 

Yet every morning it rises again.

In much the same way as the waves keep returning to the shore. No matter how choppy the waters are, the waves refuse to stop kissing the rocks.

The tide goes out and the scenery- everything around you, looks entirely different, and then it comes back again. Then, the whole seascape changes under sunset as it becomes bathed in orange and red. You can be sad the sun is going down or you can marvel at the colours in the sky.

Changes aren't really about circumstances, they're about how you look at them. I'm fast learning that your perspective can turn a situation right around. So, rather than being sad that the sun is setting and the night is cold, I'll stand back and marvel at the masterpiece that's being painted before me. The colours are vibrant, and the sunset excites me. 

If nothing else, life teaches you to be resilient and fiercely determined. Keep kissing the rocks, even when things get choppy...

Allie

Top 8 rules of working on a Saturday night

Being self employed sounds like the best deal ever- not only do you get paid for a job you have chosen to do, but you also get to be your own boss and dictate your working hours. Brilliant, right? Except what that actually translates to is being super self disciplined, running to tight deadlines and getting a tad stressed when it all goes a bit wrong! So, here are the 8 laws of being self employed on a Saturday night...

1. Don't watch TV.
Seriously, just do not even turn it on, because the moment you do, any ounce of willpower to do work will evaporate and Saturday night junk programs will sucker you in.

2. Equally, don't sit on the sofa.
No matter how comfortable it looks and no matter how many times you tell yourself 'it'll just be for a minute', just don't do it to yourself. That sofa will make itself ten times comfier the minute you touch it, and you will be held hostage to its cushions and throws all night.

3. Make sure you drink caffeine, not wine.
One evening I tried to be sophisticated and drink Pinot Grigiot whilst I wrote. Let's just say that the morning after, I spent twice the time it would've taken to write it, to edit it and put in commas and full stops. Apparently wine makes me talk/type in long sentences that aren't possible to actually say without taking a breath. Who knew?

4. Stay away from pinterest and Instagram.
You will go on there after finishing something as a reward, and then forget you were meant to be working, until you realise it's 10pm and you've done nothing all night. True story. Learn from my mistakes folks.

5. Do not spend any amount of time daydreaming about birthday cake/ end of diploma holidays/ outfits/ shoes/ other.
It's really hard to not think about any of those things when all you want to do is think about those things. However, what some might see as motivation, others will find as distractions. Thinking about which strappy sandals to buy for Ibiza does not spur me on to work. What it actually does, is make me click onto asos and forget I was ever working to begin with.

6. Don't go into the kitchen.
You will get way laid by dishes, laundry, counters that need cleaning and a cat who is always hungry. hibernate in a little nook in the house and get cracking. It's the only way.

7. Don't start blogging when you still have work to do.
Oops. No one likes a hypocrite, so let's just skip over this one shall we?

8. Don't work past 10pm.
It's the weekend, so for the love, do something non work related before you go to bed. Drink some Pimms, have a dance, take a bath or read a book. And, if the boss asks you to work on, tell them you can't... :)

They tricked me

You'd think after nearly nine years of parenting three littles, I'd be savvy to their little tricks by now, and usually I am! 

I know that asking for another drink just before bedtime is a ploy to defer tuck in time, and I know that asking for a snack at night serves the same purpose too.

I also know that 'forgetting' to pick up yet another teddy or dolly they 'can't sleep without' around twenty minutes after they've been kissed goodnight is a ploy to make sure nothing exciting is happening downstairs.

Tonight though, as I lay in the bath, I had a soundtrack of little voices convincing me they were too hungry to sleep.

I knew it was a ploy so I sent them back to bed. It's gotta be a trick, right? I mean they had dinner, cookies and a cereal bar not to mention a glass of milk and a slice of cake. 

But, the more I lay back soaking in the bath, the guiltier I felt. What if they were still peckish? It's horrible trying to get to sleep when you can't stop thinking about a snack- post baby dieting taught me that much!

So I pulled the plug and went downstairs to fix them some fresh buttered toast. I took them each a plate of toast and a drink and they kissed me goodnight telling me I was a kind Mammy.

I'd just sat down, when two little ladies appeared in the doorway with only half eaten toast. Apparently they weren't 'hungry' now. And that's when I knew that even a seasoned pro at bedtime stalling tactics can still succumb to pretty little faces and cutesy voices.

They'd had me again!

Note to self: don't bother fixing toast next time!

Can we change Lunar's name?

Littlest lady is currently at the  stage of being incredibly adorable without even trying (she's four and a half, which by the way, is also the best age for a selfie partner to be!) and she comes up with the funniest little nuggets ever that just make my day.

Her most recent one was a few night's ago when we were driving home and it was just starting to get dark.

S: "Mammy, look Lunar [the moon] is out!"

Me: "Oh yeah, she is honey, isn't she looking beautiful tonight?"

S: "Yep, her isn't hungry tonight either."

Me: "No? How do you know?"

S: "Well the other night when she was only shining like a curl, it was because her was hungry and she had bitten herself."

Is that not just the best description of a crescent moon, that you have ever heard? It made my night, no, my week!

She carried on chatting away about the moon and then asked me this:

S: "So, can we just call Lunar something else too?"

Me: "Yep, I don't think Lunar minds what you call her."

S: "In that case, I'm calling her Layla from now on. Layla, the moon. The moon that isn't hungry tonight, but sometimes is."

Celebrating the 'lasts'

Remember celebrating your firsts? Your first date, your first kiss, your first dance, your first car, your first exam success, your first job? Can you remember how you felt after any one (or maybe all of those things?) I know I would have felt giddy with excitement at all of the above, a wild mix of anticipation, adrenaline and youth.

Then we crack with the game of life and more firsts are celebrated and longed for and hoped for: first house, first baby, first promotion. On and on it goes until the firsts seem to run out and a plateau sets in. That's it, you've rolled the dice, moved along a few paces and et voilia, you're an adult.

But, I can't help but wonder about the things we might miss along the way. In looking for the firsts, are we missing the 'lasts'? Mamas, remember when you were willing your sweet little baby to walk and cruise around? Those first steps are a milestone that are much anticipated and watched for, but were you also watching for the last time you'd ever get to push your little darling around the shops in that pram (that took you forever to decide on, as it had to be shock-absorbant, easy to push AND super cute!) I've been having a clear out, and I came across the monochrome stroller that my littlest styled for a few years of her baby life. It struck me that I remember her first steps, even her first pair of shoes, but I do not recall the last time ever that I put her in that stroller and stopped at a coffee shop.

As I tucked my eldest into bed this evening, she was telling me excitedly about which part of Harry Potter she had recently read, and again that same thought hit me- when did she get too old for bedtime stories to be read to her? What was the last story I got to read aloud to her? I don't remember, I'd like to say it was the velveteen rabbit, but in truth I think that I thought that because I'd recently read it to littlest lady.

I think that maybe, just maybe, those lasts are perhaps a little too bittersweet to keep in long term memory. Maybe our sub conscious blocks them out, so that they don't upset the balance of our emotions. Or maybe, we are too busy willing the next stage to come to even notice the present stage passing by, sometimes all too quickly. Or perhaps it's even a small sense of entitlement, that we don't look for the lasts because we assume there'll be another.

There was once an old saying that 'you only appreciate what's gone when it has gone' and I think it is absolutely spot on. However, when change rears it's head and shocks you into flight or fight mode, that is when you become fully in the moment, realise what is before you, and cling onto it with both hands.

So, last night, I let bedtime slide a little later than routine denoted and the littles and I went to watch the lambs in the field behind the paddock. They're a definite short term thing, as a cute fluffy lamb to us is revenue for Tony the farmer! This evening was much the same, just before setting off to take the older two to Badgers, I caught one of them dancing without a care in the world on the driveway. She had earphones in, the sun was beaming down on her and she looked like the most beautiful and confident little girl in the World. When did I stop dancing like that? I took a sneaky iPhone pic for posterity and prayed she would never stop dancing as she continues to grow up (although if this were to happen at a slower pace, I would totally be okay with that!)

All this to say that change isn't always long awaited, expected or welcome, but at times it creeps up on us, and that's the pivotal point where we can start to hope for new things at the same time as savouring the old.

A storm is coming

I remember being around 7yrs old and being terrified of thunder storms. No matter what analogy I was given, the unexpected noise that came out of nowhere used to scare me half to death.

My mum would switch all the electrics off, turn out the lights and sit on the sofa with us as we covered our eyes with pillows and waited for peace and normalcy to return. Which, it always did. That was an important lesson- be still and wait for the storm to pass over.

The weatherman said there's a storm coming, and I don't think he's wrong. The clouds are gathering, the air pressure has dropped and it looks gloomier than it has done in a long while. 

Yet there are also storms gathering in adulthood that we have to weather. Unexpected noises in the form of job losses, disappointments, financial strain, house losses, illness, relationship breakdowns. They come from nowhere and cause havoc in our comfy way of life and all we can do is wait for it to pass. 

The only difference is, there aren't nearly enough pillows to cover our eyes and take respite for a little while. Instead we are open to the elements, the critics, the uncertainty.

Yet, I'm reminded that this too, shall pass.

Sometimes just when you think you've reached your limit, the sun breaks through the cloud and reminds you that better days are coming- summer is on its way. 

A working mama

Last week one of my colleagues told me how 'brilliant' I was to be in full time education, work a part time job, work my own writing business, and raise 3 littles. I don't say that to big myself up or feed my ego, I say it because it's simply not the case.

The truth is, I'm not brilliant at all. It's survival. I HAVE to work two jobs to pay the bills and give the littles the treats they deserve. I HAVE to complete education to eventually get a higher paid job in a field I'm passionate about. And I HAVE to be a responsible mama and bring up my children. 

However, to those who think I'm keeping the plates spinning without a struggle, I'm going to go right ahead and burst that bubble. It's hard. Constantly hard.

I get up, get three minis dressed and fed, then I drive them to breakfast club, and make the 45 minute drive to college. I spend 5 hours taking in information about biochemistry, doing assessments and taking presentations, then I drive 45 minutes home, stop at the shop to get something for dinner, pick up the girls from their grandparents, drive home. Then I fix dinner, do laundry and take them to their individual hobby groups. I pick them back up and bath them and then spend around an hour blow drying three heads of blonde hair. I tuck them into bed, head downstairs to do dishes and then settle down to do writing for clients, homework and essays. I'll take a bath and then fall into bed around midnight. One good thing is that I usually sleep pretty well!

But even when those little babies are away from me and with their daddy, my role as main caregiver doesn't stop in that I have to still keep house, do laundry, reply to play date requests, rsvp to parties and pay for extra curricular activities.

However, in trying my best to do all of these things, something has to give. My house has muddles, my car is a mess and my ironing pile could rival Mount Everest. So no, working mums aren't brilliant, perfect or anything in between,they are just motivated by fierce love to survive against the odds so that the littles in their care can flourish and have someone to look up to. In a world where role models in the media starve themselves, party hard and bend to fit the mould, a mama as a role model needs to be two things: loving and dependable.

So if you happen to see my parked car and wonder why there are Diet Coke cans, Cheerios and kid paraphinalia strewn all over the interior, it might be because some mornings are harder than others. Sometimes my little ladies eat breakfast en route, and sometimes mama needs extra caffeine to kick start the day. Someday I'll get it valeted, but until then, that 'mess' just proves we are still surviving!

So long Quackee Duck

Last Easter, I decided it would be a fun idea to get the girls pet ducks, which by the way, was no mean feat. I drove a 60mile round trip in the hopes of finding one from one of the farms close by, but none could be found. there were chickens a plenty, but no ducklings. eventually I found a lady who was looking to rehome her ducks who were 'just at the point of lay'. This seemed perfect- no incubators or mothering, just three gorgeous ducks- 1 of which was an Aylesbury pure breed (Think of the gossiping ducks from Disney's Aristocats!). When they got to the farm I quickly realised that the lady may have told a tall tale or two, since the 'ducklings' were massive!

Needless to say, the ducks have not laid a single egg since they got here, so I think it's safe to assume that they are mature ducks. It was therefore only right to give them mature names- Queen Priscilla, Lady Quack a lot and Quackee Duck.

The little ladies became instantly smitten and chose a duck each. All summer we had a blast watching them interact, try to escape and follow us around, and quickly referred to their outings as 'duck tales'.

Last week, after college, I thought I'd give them a bit of splash time in the puddles on the drive - a favourite of theirs. Only to find when I opened up their door, that only the two white ducks came out to play. It was getting pretty dark, so I assumed that the black and green drake would follow shortly, but after the floodlights came on, I still couldn't see him.

After careful inspection of the duck house, I discovered him lifeless.Cue: a grown woman stood in the middle of the gardens in the pouring rain, wearing a dress and wellies crying over a duck. I'm still fairly new to this rural living lark, I had no clue what to do with a dead duck. nor what I should tell the littlest lady about the whereabouts of 'her' drake.

A quick SOS call to my dad confirmed we should bury him.

I got myself collected and went to break the news to the girls.

Littlest lady got pretty upset and so big girl took her upstairs to play and take her mind off it. Sisters are a gift! However, ten minutes later, she came downstairs sniffling and climbed on my lap to ask me this very important question...

"Mammy, is my du-du-duck in Hereford?"

(You should know that this was an insanely cute moment and I did such a great job of holding in my amusement at this sad time.)

"Um, no baby, he's not in Hereford. He's in Heaven."

"When is he coming back?"

"He's not babe, he's gone to Heaven for good."

"Is he eating a happy meal there? "

"Um, I don't really know what they eat in Heaven babe, but probably not..."

"C said you get a Mcdonald's in Heaven...?"

At this point, big girl appeared with her hands on her hips and said with a flick of her hair,

"Um yeah you do, you get a drive thru on the way, what else are you going to munch on the journey?!"

Seriously, these kidlets are my joy.

Love stories

IThe oldest little lady has just discovered Taylor Swift's backlog of hits, in particular she adores the song 'love story'. I'm not adverse to a bit of miss Taylor myself, however I'm not one to try and take the limelight or sing along or anything like that. Especially in the car at traffic lights...ahem.

Anyway, she was showing my gran this song when we were visiting with her this evening, and I couldn't help but be curious. My Grandad passed away three years ago, and seeing him and my Grandma together made me ache for that lifelong connection with someone. Whenever I would go to a wedding as a little girl, I just assigned the couple to being just like my Grandma and Grandad- utterly in love and never cross with each other. 

Of course, being a grown up I found this to be an ailien concept. This generation just replaces things if they are old or broken, whereas my grandparents grew up in a culture that nurtured and looked after your lot. Whatever you had, you treated it gently and fixed it if it got broken. I wonder when the huge culture shift happened?

Anyway, I asked my grandmother how she and my Grandad, Ray, had met. She said,

" I used to go to a Saturday night meeting at the church in aber cwmboy, and your grandad's friends used to go too. One night they asked him along, and he walked me home, and things went from there really."

I LOVE that my Grandad met Grandma at a church youth meeting, and then went on to be a preacher for 50 years, with my Grandma sitting in the congregation signalling to him with her watch if he got sidetracked and talked for too long.

I asked her how he proposed...

"Well my sister invited me to go to her house for Christmas dinner, and Ray came with me (he always loved food! Especially if it was home cooked and free! Ha) and he proposed. His mum and auntie were visiting soon after and asking when the wedding would be, his mum retaliated with 'not for a long time yet!' But we were married the following March."

Her eyes lit up, and her smile broadened as she giggled and recalled,

"We chose August first, I don't know why we brought it forward but we did and everyone thought I was pregnant!"

(She wasn't by the way! Can you imagine the scandal back then?!)

"We had a huge reception, over a hundred, Ray's mum paid for the food and the whole street decorated the church hall. It was lovely, over 100 people."

I smiled. Sounds about right, my grandparents were never without friends and my Grandad always held a crowd's attention. He was such a funny gentleman!

They were married for over 50 years and my Grabdma told me he never bought her flowers, not once since cauliflowers didn't count! Yet they never fought either. Perhaps no flowers were needed when love was in bloom indefinitely.

I've read a lot of love stories but this is one of my very favourite ones.

3 year old theology.

Recently my little darlings have started to tell the odd little white lie, especially when it comes to fessing up over who created the mess or spilt the juice. This week scarlette told a fib about her bigger sister and I totally caught her out and called her out on it. This was how that went...

Me: 'you really mustn't tell lies, it's not nice and it makes mummy sad.'

Scar: 'but I didn't tell any lies!'

Me: 'yes you did because mammy just heard you.  Now I'm watching you when you are being naughty, and so is Jesus because it makes him sad too.'

Scar: 'no him isn't, Jesus is at church, silly!'

Me: (trying not to smile) That's not true Jesus is everywhere all of the time.'

This was when my middle girl jumped in to help me out.

C: 'yeah, like in the garden, in our bedrooms...'

Scar: 'oh yeah, cause him lives just down the road doesn't he?'

Me: 'not entirely scar, no.'

Scar: 'yes him does, I SAW him!'

We still have a little way to go with theology lessons, but this was way too cute not to document for the future. I love how she brightens up every situation. She is my slice of happy even on a super long day.

Questions on concerts

Tomorrow I'm braving the thousands and taking my biggest little lady to see One Direction at the stadium. She is going to absolutely lose her mind. And her voice. I mean, it's a complete shame she doesn't like their music or have a crush on them, poor thing will have absolutely zero fun.

Ya, or not.

Ever since she heard that they were touring she begged me to take her, so after Santa had been, Christmas morning I presented her with a token to say we would be going to see them live. The noise that followed was like a really high pitched kettle just reaching boiling point over a hot stove. Yeah, a REALLY hot stove, she went nuts. In the best way, of course.

The past few months and weeks have been a constant countdown and to say she is just a tad excited is a total understatement. This week we have had a lot of opinions about the concert, mainly about our concert attire....

'Mum, I'm going to wear my white 1D too, do you think you should get one to match?'

'Okay, so if I wear my skinny jeans, will it go with trainers? Because I can't walk from Nando's in my pink wedges can I?!'

'I really think you should get a 1D top mum, otherwise you're going to be the odd one out there!'

'I was thinking to have a messy bun for my hair, because curls might get in my way, what'd you think?'

As you can see, she is totally angling for me to lose any of my remaining street credit by trying to make me wear a 1D merch shirt. Panic not, it ain't happening.

As for my actual outfit, I've yet to decide. What does one wear to a concert full of pre teens? I had the perfect white skinny outfit lined up, but in sheer excitement I just know that missy will spill something like cola and that will be the end of that story. So, tonight I will mostly be hunting through my wardrobe for an outfit that will suffice for such an occasion. It is after all the first ever concert I am taking Quartz too so naturally we will be instagramming the entire day! Ha. 

The roads are closed and trains will be a logistical nightmare, so best pray me and mini get out of the city quickly and easily! 

1000 gifts

It's been a while again hasn't it?

well, I'm never really sure how to begin again after an unannounced hiatus from the old blog, so I'll just dive right in. After months of being far too busy to read, I decided that I would venture into the library and immerse myself in a book that would bring me joy whilst reading it.

Would you believe that the first one I picked out was '1000 gifts - a dare to live fully right where you are.'
The book that nudges you to compile a list of 1000 little blessings in your life.

How perfect was that?

I started reading it just this week and to say it is speaking to me is a bit of an understatement. I'm at a time in my life where I'm doing a lot of processing- learning to handle parenting issues that I've never dealt with before, adjusting to being a divorcee, being a working mama and trying to launch a writing career and generally trying to keep all of the various plates spinning without burning out. So, to have a book practically yell at me to just take some time to pause and be grateful has been incredible.

Reading has often been medicine to me, and what others refer to as escapism, I simply denote as learning. You can't read a book and learn absolutely nothing, whether it's a new word, a life lesson, or even a self truth, books are notorious for stirring up your emotions and then softly soothing them again.

1. The smell of old books
2. The glow of a lamp in a darkened room
3. An old blanket

I try so hard not to complain, but in all honesty, sometimes I just do, because I'd forgotten to be grateful. Gratitude is a lesson, that means that you have to learn it over and over again before it becomes second nature, it's like love, you have to choose it consciously above anything else. What about when the children are running around the house screaming and shrieking and you're on countdown until bed time just so that you can hear your own thoughts? You have to choose love over selfishness, love over brashness and love over pride. Or, how about when your love snaps at you? You want to snap back, really, everything within you wants to retort back- you've even got a brilliant one liner quip all lined up on your tongue, but you choose love instead, and you know what will happen? The row that would have escalated quickly is completely diffused as you take a deep breath and say nothing.

4. fingerprints on windows
5. drawings of mammy by a 5yr old
6. warm drinks at bedtime

More and more I am realising that how we react to the situations we find ourselves in, is a choice. And, when you choose gratitude over attitude, your circumstances will be better, perhaps not instantly, but some day.

I'd gotten a few chapters in when I read this:

'Maybe you don't want a different story, because you don't know what a different end holds.'

And it stirred something so deep within me that I couldn't help but read that phrase over and over again. Isn't that just the truth? Even when we are fully in the throes of wondering what on Earth is going on in life, would we really want it any differently? Really?

I had an RTA and turned my head to look right to overcompensate for not being able to see that way, but would I really want to be any different simply to have avoided a miniscule bump? Would I trade lack of vision for the unknown? Would I rather have risked having a different impairment? No, of course not, so why was I lamenting over it?

7. an inquisitive mind
8. running at the gym

It's a slow process, but the more I jot down things that I love in my life, the more I appreciate how good I really have got it. The book is based around the word 'eucharisteo' which broken down literally means 'grace, thanks, joy' or 'gift, thanks, joy' Perhaps that's why after you recognise the gift and appreciate the gift, you're left feeling lighter, more optimistic somehow, perhaps Ann Voskamp is right, this is the way to uncovering joy.

After situations in your life leave you weakened and a little bit battered, it seems the only lasting way to regain your joy is to be thankful for what you have, because as the saying goes 'there's someone in the world who is happy with less than you have.'

9. silence
10. The hoot of an owl

She learnt a new song

Scarlette was in the back of the car whilst we were driving to pick Ben up, this was how she told me about the new song she had learnt at nursery.

Scarlette: mammy, I learnt the rubber dubber song aday!

Me: did you babe? Sing it for mammy.

Scarlette: yep okay, it goes:

Old mubber Hubbard went to the cupboard,

To get her poor gog (dog) a bone.

But, when she got there... There was a ... BEAR!!! 

So the poor little gog had none!

Hysterical.

Then she proceeded to tell me about the pet she met and stroked...

S: it was so cute mammy it was like a piglet that was a goat!

Which by the way transpired to be a guinea pig. Seriously, I could eat her up.

Kindness elf

The girls and I have been so excited for the start of advent, so this morning everyone started out the day on a real happy note. I'm not sure whether it's the anticipation of Christmas, or the fact they get to eat chocolate every morning when they open their advent calenders that makes them so, but I love seeing their little eyes light up. This week we have been talking about how Christmas is the perfect time to spread happiness and be kind to people, and when I asked them how they could show kindness, they came up with some great ideas, they included:

- Play with somebody who is lonely on the play yard
- Make a drawing or card to thank their teachers
- Giving a homeless person a blanket
- Sharing their sweets or chocolates
-Praying for the children who don't have mummys and daddys

Seriously, when they kept coming up with super generous ideas, it kind of blew me away. I thanked the good Lord, that perhaps I'm doing an alright job at this parenting lark, and told them that this month we were going to do those things.

I've been thinking of ways to get the girls to re-focus on their ideas during this exciting season where sometimes commercialism and 'wants' can get in the way of real needs. At first I thought we could make a jar and have one of them pick out a good deed each day, but then I saw a post on facebook in reference to 'the kindness elf' - it's an elf on the shelf alternative, and I think it is THE best idea for children to realise the true meaning of Christmas.

Today we said prayers for the children in the world who don't have mammys and daddys and my middle Princess piped up 'and please give those children nice warm homes and everything that they need for a great Christmas' and I about welled up.  I so hope that they remember these fundamentals not just at Christmas, but all year round. Teaching them to have an attitude of gratitude is high on my list of priorities as a mama, and as a person. Sometimes I can be all too quick to complain about something that isn't quite going my way, like the fact I did an entire re-stock of my freezer, only to come home to find my freezer was dead. True Story. If it was acceptable for grown ups to throw a tantrum, I think I most definitely would have, but really I should have been grateful that I had the money in my account to shop, and a home to come home to.

Tomorrow I am heading to Tiger to buy a little kindness elf who will 'write' notes to my girls each night reminding them of a good deed they could try and do that day. I'm so looking forward to starting this new tradition!

By the way, tomorrow is Giving Tuesday so, get involved, do something kind for someone for no reason at all, and don't forget to spread the word!

And then it rained, and rained, and rained

It has been pouring with rain for about a hundred days. Okay maybe just three days but it seems like so much longer! The drainage on my drive isn't great and so if I have to go ANYWHERE then my footwear default is set to 'wellies'- anything else gets sodden with sludgy leaves and soaked through from puddles. And I am done with ruining shoes since I've figured out how expensive my taste seems to be.So I've worn wellies for a hundred days and I am okay with that.

Except, that when I come home and take them off, my legs are aching like crazy. So much so that my thighs and shins think it's been leg day at the gym all week. Which is great, except that I haven't visited the gym this week, (I know, don't judge.)

So I finally think I understand how the people, who constantly wince when I wear heels, feel. Ouch. All the flat shoe wearing is a bit of a shock to the system!

My porch also seems to collect water, as when I opened the door to let cookie out around a pint of water fell in through the door and soaked my very cool elf slippers.

All this to say. I'm over all this rain.

Traditions to prepare for Christmas

It's nearly 'the most wonderful time of the year' again, and I can barely contain my excitement. I love, and have always loved, anything remotely to do with Christmas time. I'm the sort of girl who listens to her festive Michel Buble CD in October, and watches 'The Holiday' at least once a week from November. It is just all too exciting, and lovely and, well just wonderful. So to mark this amazing time of year descending upon us again, I thought I'd share some of my favourite Christmas traditions that I started with my wonderful kiddos.

  1. We go to see our town's Christmas light switch on, which is usually around mid November. The kids get a hot chocolate from starbucks and Mama gets a peppermint mocha or a Toffee Nut Latte and we are like a little red cup family, it's so fun to take a picture because Scarlette usually requests a caramel babycinno so the picture shows a very BIG cup (mine) two small cups (the big girls') and a teeny tiny cup (Scarlette's) it's like the three bears but cuter, because let's be honest, coffee is way better than porridge. We also have to wear scarves, hats and gloves (or mittens!) to said town because it is cold around these parts. I love to take a picture of the girls looking all wintery next to the big tree all lit up and splendid.

  2. We write a letter to Santa
I've never struggled with the Santa V Jesus debate that lots of Christian hosueholds seem to have, my girls know that Jesus is the entire reason we have Christmas, but Santa is a little fun that I like to encourage and indulge in. The girls write their wish lists and tell Santa how good they have been, and then they usually get a video response from the big man himself - I use the portable North Pole website, because it is realistic and magical. I sometimes also send myself one of those videos too, and usually Santa places me on the good list which is just brilliant. The Kids also post a letter to Santa, and as long as he receives it by December 6th, the kids get a personalised letter mailed back to them by the lovely folk at the Royal Mail North Pole.
 
3. I decorate the house on December 1st
Every year, on December 1st, after the kids are asleep, I set to work on decorating our home for christmas. I have a slight OCD about my Christmas tree which has to be decorated symmetrically on all sides and must have a new colour theme every two to three years. Last year it was red and gold, but this year it will be black and old gold, as I'm trying a more sophisticated twist. I will of course always include the kids' ornaments, and any baubles with sentimental value in every years display. I also set the nativity scene up complete except for baby Jesus, who appears in the manger on Christmas morning. The mantels get decorated too and a tree is placed in each window at the front of the door. Finally I add a wreath to our front door and buy a poinsetta plant. When the kids wake up, I take a sneaky snap whilst they are marvelling at the tree, which usually is the photo I use for our christmas cards.

 4. We have a girls only movie night
We started this one last year when we were an all-girl household for the first time at Christmas. I settled my youngest to bed after a festive fairy tale and then sat down with my oldest two to watch 'Elf' and drink mulled wine (me) and Hot cocoa (them) and eat a Terry's Chocolate Orange together, all snuggled under a big quilt. I also put the fire on and light some Christmas candles, then I turn out the lights and we have a cosy cwtch up.

  5. We make paper chains
Every year I try to involve the kids in some christmas crafts and every year I almost have a breakdown because of the mess that follows it.( Think reindeer cards made out of brown footprints of a 1yr old, a 4yr old and a 5yr old.) Paper Chains is one craft that everyone seems to enjoy that is almost completely mess-free! It also helps to make the kids bedrooms feel more festive too.

  6. We address Christmas Cards and then deliver them
We set up a little writing station of gold pens, red pens and christmas cards and then get to work writing out hand penned notes inside them. After we are through, we bundle into the car to deliver them to local friends and neighbours, and the children get to see the lights of nearby houses at the same time. (It also saves money on posting them with stamps!)

7. We go to my old school choir carol service.
Each Year my old high school hosts a carol concert at a church near my mum's house,I think it's super fun to go and see my ex teachers and support the school at the same time. We dress warmly since the church is old and very cold, and then we sing carols and follow it up with a mince pie afterwards.

 8. My mama and I head off for an overnight girls trip to a city in England
This is one of my favourite traditions. Ever since I got my first full time job, my mother and I have headed to Birmingham to do some Christmas shopping. We browse the handmade fare at the christmas market chalets and we shop til our feet can't take another step. We also enjoy a Nando's and far too many starbucks. We spend a night at a hotel and come home excited to see our people and wrap the gifts we bought. Quality mother and daughter time is the best!

Look out for Part 2 - traditions for Christmas Eve, coming soon!

A picture roundup

It's been a while since I've posted, mainly because I got sick and doctors had to put me on nerve meds to ease the pain and discomfort. Since it's gone nine and I just took them, I'm afraid a coherent post is pretty much out of the question, so let's do a little catch up in pictures...

Before I got ill, my little brother came to town and we went for a little brother/sister bonding session, which almost always includes Starbucks, shopping and a visit to Nando's, this time was no exception.

Watching the 'Great British Bake Off' always makes me bake something high in calories, but I impressed myself when I perfect a rhubarb and ginger crumble with vanilla ice cream. Yes, Mary Berry, it 'crunched' and didn't go soggy. Score.

My drive got super pretty all sprinkled with gold and yellow leaves, so much so I walked the dog in the rain, several times.

I found MINT m&ms in a bargain shop for 69p a packet. I bought two packs, but regretted my self control far I tasted just how amazingly good they are.

My middle girly turned SIX and I threw a frozen themed party for her. It was of course fancy dress and mama got in on the act too. Mama also got out of tidying the post party chaos because of aforementioned headaches.

I've never felt so cherished. Honestly. Being a mama is hard, but being a poorly mama is just plain rough. Unexpected bunches of flowers, chocolates for no reason and not having to fix dinner some nights has just blessed my socks off.

I got to cwtch baby Zakk to sleep, and smell his hair. And I was in my element. He is just too adorable to even describe.

The weather has turned really cold now so there's been plenty of snuggling on the sofa with my little loves

The D word

I don't know what it is about November that makes me evaluate the year, maybe it's the prospect of another New Years Eve appearing on the horizon, or maybe it's because with the anniversary of losing the man against which I measured all men, I am reminded how fragile life is. Losing my Grandad was a bitter pill to swallow. That's the selfish streak in me, I know that he is having an absolute ball where he is now, but what I would give for one last mix tape of crazy war time songs!

I had high expectations of 2014, and I wanted it to end neatly, all topped off with a satin ribbon, but reality has a way of dashing picturesque notions. Last year my world caved in, and I was determined that this year I would walk all over destruction, devastation and disillusion in a pair of four inch heels. For the most part I did, and then I got sick with shingles and those heels got slung into a cupboard because dizzy spells rendered them useless. A doctor told me I had shingles a few months back, then a subsequent doctor told me I needed nerve medicine for neuralgia, then I collapsed in Starbucks.

Ya, that actually happened. And, quite frankly it was mortifying. The store could not have been busier if it tried! So anyway, yet another doctor prescribed more pain meds, but still the stabbing pains in my head would continue. When I saw another doctor, I welled up with panic at what on a earth could be causing horrific slicing through my scalp for more than two months. I told him I thought it might be something more sinister, and he spoke softly, looked me square in the eye and said ' I'm not concerned it is anything sinister. What you are experiencing is a normal reaction to an abnormal amount of stress.'

And I could have hugged that doctor right there and then. He adjusted my meds and I physically felt some tension leave my body as I walked out of his office.

But, oh my goodness does the medication make me drowsy and woozy. Now I am taking the nerve meds just at night time, so if you text me after 9pm, don't be thinking you'll get a reply because let's just say that sleep comes really easy now!

You'd be forgiven for thinking that I'm just about to wrap this up, but that was just a prelude. Now it's about to get real.

Last year my soon to be ex-husband broke my heart and my world. He left us for good, drove away not to return. And as I dried the tears of my sobbing children whispering 'it'll be okay, it'll all be alright' in between chest heaving sobs of my own, I wondered deep down whether it would ever be alright ever again.

By grace alone we got through that horrible season and as I pieced together their worlds the best I could, I discovered that even though hearts are fragile, love is not. There's nothing I wouldn't have done for those girls to ease their sadness and clarify their confusion. I loved them so fiercely through those months that if anything threw them off or saddened them, my angry mama bear instinct flared up every time. 

And now that the D word is upon us, we have normalised in the only way we know how. It's closure of the saddest time, and hope for a brighter future.

I have felt the lavishness of grace and I have walked the mountain top and the valley, and I am thankful for both. It's so comforting when you come to the realisation that ALL things work together for good to those that love The Lord.

I finally caved

I've been a mama for seven years now, which means I've been doing nursery/school runs for just over four years. I've walked to school in heat waves, snow and rain and always worn heels. In fact, I was so well known for my heel wearing phenomena that when I turned up as a parent helper for a school trip to the beach (in wind and rain, as is typical of British summertime) wearing cons, Princess's teacher told me she had to double take as it surely couldn't be me at school without heels.

As a disclaimer I feel I should say that my kids have seen me in flats, cons, flip flops and other such flat footed outerwear but this was a novelty to said teacher. I don't believe in halting fun for fashion especially where my little loves are concerned.

Anyway, back to my stubborness to sack my stilettos. I moved to the farm around 18months ago, and whilst I purchased a quilted jacket (with hood!) I was a long way off from being one of those mums with a parka and wellies for the school run. I mourned the ruin of many a shoe and boot at their sad demise through stone scuffs or mud stains from the crazy shingled driveway, but still I stayed faithful to totter to take the bins out in my kitten heels.

Today, I am one step closer to being at one with the farming lifestyle, to embracing the countryside sludge and to not muttering about yet another pair of shoes the rain had ruined. Because, today ladies and gents, I became the owner of these beauties...

If I must relent to the rain and the mud, I will do so prettily. (I'm not even sure that's absolutely a word, but if Miley Cyrus can get away with 'twerk' then I am so getting away with prettily!)

I don't know whether wellies makes me a sensible grown up or reverts me back to childhood- I had awesome patent red wellies as a child, and LOVED them. I almost want to go suit up the girls and go puddle jumping, but I'm torn between wanting to test them out and keeping them pristine and mud-free...