The Gallery - Happy Memory

The prompt from Tara for The Gallery this week is 'Happy Memory'.

So many memories. So many happy memories. Birth, birthdays, christmas, weddings. They all centre around family and for me, my happiest memories are with the Mr. He is my rock, my hero, my sanity, keeping everything calm when I panic, making me cry with laughter and having a tissue there to wipe away the tears.

He holds the unsteady hand, supports the nervous first steps and provides a safe haven for us all.

This was the Big One on a winters day in Spain just after New Year. He was 14 months old and just finding his confidence on his feet. Daddy was there helping him on the unsteady sand.

We love you Mr P x

Pop over to Sticky Fingers for more Gallery entries.

My Interrupted Life

photo credit: mycatisgay.tumblr.com

My Interrupted Life

I wish I could be solitary

just for a minute or three

to privately

go wee.

I wish I could drink my coffee

before its cold completely.

Hot and frothy,

milky.

I wish I could watch daytime news.

But I don't want to lose

the innocent view

you're due.

I wish I could read a story.

No children on my knee

demandingly

happy.

I wish I could sleep a whole night.

No first annoying sight.

No chink of light,

or fright

I wish I could chat on the phone

without the nagging drone

of a child prone

alone.

I wish I could complete something,

finish without juggling

and dropping

a thing.

When you're grown I'll get my wish.

Home alone and you I'll miss.

No goodbye kiss.

No bliss.

This is my contribution to The Writing Workshop and the prompt "I wish" from Sleep is for the Weak

Silent Sunday

Little Photos From Little Fingers

Well blow me down and call me Persephone if I wasn't tagged by Actually Mummy to send the kids off with my camera (Careful. No not that way up. Not down the toilet. Delete that one immediately) and let them have fun pointing and shooting.

The Big One has had a little trip into the blogosphere with his (yet to be completed) School Holiday Alphabet Countdown and to be honest, I wouldn't see my camera working again if I gave it to the Wee One, so Princess, Come on downnnnn!

Let me set the scene. Saturday. Seeing friends. Lunchtime that drifted on till 5pm. Me, a couple of glasses of wine, just to be sociable you understand. Princess in charge of camera to capture the event.

I'll just let the pictures speak for themselves.

 

It was a lovely occasion but we will probably be using a different photographer for our next event.

As tradition dictates, I must now tag another 5 bloggers to carry the torch forward.

@somethingblue_2 dare you to let jw loose!
@mummytoboo because we've only just tweeted
@motherventing because she could write a novel about it
@ministryofmum For kicks
@mrsslummymummy For more kicks

Go and see what other little fingers have been up to at Mammasaurus

The Gallery - Shoes

There are a couple of pictures I would like to share with you for Tara's prompt Shoes on The Gallery.

One is a picture taken of me back in 1970, parading on the boards in my mummy's shoes while we were on holiday. It isn't the most flattering child shot of yours truely but it takes pride of place up on my daughters bedroom wall so should rightly be here for your enjoyment. Check out my mini dress!

The other picture is of the most expensive shoes I have ever bought. Not earth shatteringly expensive but pricey enough for me then and certainly for me now. They are my wedding shoes. I wear them whenever I can get away with it and I hope are timeless enough that I'll still be getting away with it in many years to come. I want to get my money's worth you see.

Now hop over to Sticky Fingers for more entries into this weeks Gallery.

How not to have a perfect family afternoon on the beach, and other helpful holiday tips.

Rarely do I feel the red-faced burning embarassment that I felt recently on Brancaster Beach.

The last time was on a return flight from Barcelona with the Big One at about 6 months old. He started screaming as soon as the fasten seat belt sign was illuminated. I assumed it was a reaction to changing air pressure, and having read the books, I knew the best thing to do was feed him. I tried a bottle at first which he had just started taking, but when his thrashing about became a little too violent, I switched to breast foolishly believing he would settle down. Several bruises and bite wounds later a fellow passenger offered boiled sweets.

Erm, thanks but he is a bit too young.

As we landed, he quietened down nuzzling against my neck ready for a little doze. Great timing buddy. Have you ever tried to get out of a plane holding a baby whilst trying not to wake him? Screaming all through baggage claim and to the bus stop to get our car was the longest walk ever. Again he just settled down as we were about to get on the bus. Predictably the screaming started again.

At this point I was beyond embarrassment. Or so I thought. A lady on the bus said, "Were you just on the Barcelona flight?" A weak nod from me. "Yes, I thought I recognised the screaming." Cringe.

So to Brancaster.

As we got out the car with all the bags, wind breaks, towels, buckets, spades, fishing nets, picnic, I asked, "Does anyone need the loo?"

Having spotted the toilets just by the car park and knowing we would have a trek to find somewhere to sit I thought it would be a good idea to get that little job out of the way.

"No"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
"Really sure?"
"YES ALREADY"
"Okay".

A 15 minute hike later we settle down and start erecting wind breaks, laying picnic blankets, unpacking picnic and the Big One says, (you so know what's coming dont you?) "I need a wee".

"*^%$"***"
"Okay, Come on." Pauses for a second.
"Princess, you come too because I don't want to have to take you in 10 minutes."
"No"
"Yes, come on. You can play when we get back."
"No"
"Now come on. You must need to go and it wont take long."

I should have conceeded but my blood was already boiling because the Big One should have gone before, so I stupidly (stubbornly) decided that the Princess was going to the toilet and nothing, but nothing, was going to stop that happening.

"Come on. You are coming with me."
"No"
"Yes"
"No"

I took her hand and tried to steer her in the right direction.

"NOOOOOOO"

At this point I remembered how easily sound travels across that beach. Glancing at other families nearby, I realised we were fast becoming a spectacle.

"Princess. Come with me now."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Considering what would be more embarrassing and making the wrong decision, I passed the opportunity of giving in and looking like a mother who had no control over her children, to instead, looking like a screaming fishwife Mother who had no control over her children. I physically picked her up, and yes, she was upside down for a little bit, and manhandled her across several hundred yards of peaceful, playful, family smothered beach with her screaming all the way. Yes heads turned, fingers were pointed and visions of social services turning up were at the forefront of my mind. I prayed she would actually scream "No MUMMY" so that observers would know that I wasn't abducting a little girl from the beach.

And no, she didn't have a wee when we got there.


On the way back, we passed another family. They were sipping Rose wine from glasses. They were playing boules. They were running through the shallow water laughing and splashing. They were the perfect Boden family. I was expecting the director to step out and say "Can we try that again, ladies and gentlemen" and makeup ladies and hairdressers would step out and adjust their perfectly tousled sun-bleached blonde hair and I wanted to weep. George and Henry and Fruitella and Nutella (as I christened them) wouldn't scream or shout or stamp their feet or embarrass Mama or Papa. I studied my feet on the walk back to our spot.

The next spectacle (you didn't honestly think there would be only one did you?) was trying to invite/cajol the Wee One out of the water having failed to dress him appropriately in anything even remotely resembling beach attire. His nornal nappy swelled to the size of a small infaltable whale, his shorts drooped sorrowfully round his ankles and his t-shirt would be best thrown in the bin. Much screaming later (and I mean much, like 15 minutes of full on toddler tantrum on a quiet beach so the sound is magnified 10 fold) we undressed him and partially reclothed him just a sweatshirt lest he should suffer hypothermia.

I hid behind the windbreak shamefaced and mortified at how loud and screamy my family was, wondering how we had got to this stage? Repentent and stunned at my stupidity for being so darn stubborn, I vowed to relax and let the urchins run and be free and if they needed a wee, well so be it. If they ran into the water fully clothed, to provide warm clothing only when their lips went blue.

And then the Wee One did a poo, on the sand, in front of the Boden catalogue family. And I shreaked (out loud) "Oh no, he's having a sh*t".

We went home soon after.

And if you happened to be there, sorry for disturbing your afternoon.

The Great School Holiday Challenge - Week 6

I can't quite believe it but, yes, *checks calendar* I think we may have survived the school holidays.

And, *double checks calendar* it seems to have gone bloomin' fast.

Okay there was a week in the middle there, when we had cabin fever and there was a potentially large risk of developing a wee drinking problem (Me that is. Not the kids), but all in all it wasn't that bad. Even my Mummy Mojo made a brief appearance, sufficient to get through dull, wet, long, boring days, of which there were a few. But the fact that the last 2 weeks of the holiday were packed with visitors and Daddy was home so we could get away, was a fantastic finish to the summer, running on beaches, drinking with friends and eating lovely grub.

So here it is, the last week on the holidays and the point at which I have to find something else to write about!

Day 36: Lunch with Grandma at Strada was a bit of a wrestling match with the Wee One. Little houdini managed to climb out of the highchair despite a harness and had me eating my scallop risotto one handed through much of it. Only ice cream captured his attention sufficiently to sit still for more than 30 seconds. One bowl of ice cream later and normal houdini-ness was back in force. I think the waitress found it the most irritating. Tripping over a toddler with a tray of drinks was probably not the highlight of her day.

Day 37: A low flying Lancaster bomber passed over our garden. Not an everyday accurance so it got me wondering what it was doing there, and then I remembered that there was the annual Stamford Car Fair in town. So we toddled off to have a gander at some rather gorgeous cars. The Big One was rather taken with the long line of Ferraris whereas I prefered the 50's 60's and 70's classics like Cadillac, Camper Vans and a particularly lovely E-type. Ill-prepared as I was, I forgot my camera and my phone battery died half way round so next year I'll be getting there a bit earlier with a full compliment of photography equipment and batteries.

Day 38: Well we couldn't have a week go by and not go to Burghley now could we? I really ought to read the local paper because if I had, I would have known about the Car Fair and I would have also known about the Fine Foods Fair at Burghley and not bothered making dull tuna sandwiches when we could have enjoyed some lovely sausages and burgers from some of our local farms. The aromas drifting from their stalls was pretty darn good but instead we went for a couple of icecream cupcakes from the Stamford Cupcake Company. A quick jaunt around the Sculpture gardens and a dipping of the toes into the water gardens and a lovely day was had by all.

Day 39: Now the Big One is a bit of a Cars fan so when we heard that Cars 2 was coming out this summer he was rather excited. Today was the big day and Daddy took him to see it at the Stamford Arts Centre. Two hours later and Daddy passed it off with a noncommital shrug whereas the Big One thought it rocked. The highlight apparently was when Mater blew raspberry's at the baddies.

Day 40: Whoo Hoo. Norfolk here we come. My parents live in Hunstanton so we took them up on their offer of staying for a couple of days and using their house as a base for day trips further along the North Norfolk coast, a particular family favourite. To be honest we would have prefered to have stayed somewhere on our own but beggars and all that so Hunstanton it was. We got there in time to have lunch at the Jolly Sailors in Brancastor which is just lovely. They have a garden with a large climbing frame and slide for the kids, a pizza oven and a generally nice menu.

With full tummies we hit the beach there and had acres of space to run around in. It was low tide and the sea was about a mile out but there are enough creeks to paddle in to feel like you are dipping a toe in the sea. Sand dunes behind you and a vast beach in front of you make for happy children. There is a ship wreck on the beach which I thought I would wander out to see. the Mr said that it would take 30 minutes to get there and I would have to cross a creek, but undetered I headed off. The *ahem* creek was more like a river and not having brought a dingy I got no further than this:

which did actually take about 30 minutes. But with the fresh sea air and the sun on my face it was pretty darn nice.

Day 41: A stroll with the dog in the morning landed us at Boston Square Sensory Garden. A little hidden gem that in the height of summer would have looked stunning. As it was, it was still very pretty.

We packed a picnic and headed for Well-Next-The-Sea which, from previous visits I remembered as being another lovely beach. Disappointingly (it was now September after all) the wind was a tad brisk. Sheltered behind a groyne, we huddled up and watch braver souls having a paddle. The Wee One, oblivious to the wind, just wanted to get wet so we let him run around until his teeth chattered and then went home for fish and chips.

Day 42: After a round of crazy golf and icecream in Sunny Hunny, we decided to go back to Brancaster. I suppose, given it was a sunny day and the wind had died down and it was a Friday and the last weekend of the Summer Holidays, we should have expected more people. Surprise! More people. But Brancaster beach at low tide is big enough to accomodate huge crowds so we still managed to find a spot to claim as our own. It may have been tiredness, it may have been because we had to trek further to get a spot, it may have been because we knew we were going home that evening, but it was not quite the joyful, carefree afternoon I had envisaged. Instead we were the family from hell and I'm sure I heard applause when we left.

Day 43: This weekend we were house guests of friends in Hitchin. Having just written a post about house guests I was determined that we should be helpful, good company and not in the least bit demanding. Our hostess is a testimony in how to relax when you have guests, effortlessly accommodating young children, and whipping up nibbles with not even a hint of a sigh. We relaxed and had a lovely afternoon and evening, drinking too much and having a splendid time. We have missed our friends.

I *cough* may have been a little tipsy when I took this photo

Day 44: The remaining dribble of vodka in the bottle was a sorrowful reminder of why we felt so crap. I had to return to bed after my 'breakfast' of flat coke and the Mr had 3 (count them) attempts at staying vertical. Not even a gorgeous Sunday roast was enough to rouse him. Oh well, the price you pay.

And that, dear readers is the last installment of our Great Summer Holiday Challenge.

We thank you x