Make like a Sunflower

“Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadows. It's what the sunflowers do.”
- Helen Keller

Today I sought out the one remaining sunflower at the back of the garden shed and stood beside her as her head lifted towards the weakening Autumn sun. I raised my face to be warmed and did not look behind me, at the shadow on the ground. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

I hope there will be sun again tomorrow. But if there is no sun, does that mean we are all in the shadow of the clouds?

Joining in with the Gallery and the theme of 'Faces'.

Me Me Me

Me me me. Well that's enough about me. What do you think of me?

I have met a few people in my time who are very self-centric. Conversations might start with a question about what I am up to, how my weekend was, where I went on holiday. But then mid reply, they interupt with their own funnier, more interesting, fascinating story. Any conversation is in order to self promote, seek sympathy or garner an array of oohs and aahs for their own project.

I avoid these people.

I also avoid Instagrammers who only post up photos of themselves. Yes you have great hair. And great taste in clothes. And look! Another photo of you in a glamorous location.

I don't have great hair, or a budget to have great taste in clothes, and the playground and supermarket aren't glamorous locations. But sometimes I do take a photo of myself. And it pleases me because of the light or the flattering angle or the background. And it tells a story.

This is one such photo.

I like photos of myself wearing sunglasses, the angle has dropped 2 stone off my tummy and I am laughing/gurning because I was trying to take a selfie to show off my handy dressmaking skills while the Wee One repeatedly photo-bombed my self-timer app.

In years to come, he won't have any issues about posting selfies on his IG stream!


Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the prompt of 'selfie' for The Gallery 

Misty Moo

We found a lump.
My heart sank.
Her tail wagged.

All of a sudden I had to contemplate the possibility of her not being here. How could I begin to explain it to the children. She is in old age, but still fit. We think she is 12 years old but we aren't sure because we got her from a rescue home 10 years ago. They said she was 4. We thought she was younger.

She stood out immediately. She was so superior. She wasn't soppy. She wasn't jumping up at us. She just looked at us and then beyond us to the field. We took her for a walk around the grounds and decided there and then she was for us.

When we got her home, she settled in immediately, like she was meant to be there. She made a slightly odd sighing noise when she relaxed in her bed that made people jump. She was top dog.

And then came children. With each new baby, she slipped down a rung on the ladder but was never resentful, confident of her place as part of the family. Our first baby.

The vet was reassuring. A biopsy was quickly done.

I whinced.
She wagged.

And then the telephone call with the results.
All normal. Just a harmless fatty lump.

I sighed.
She sighed.
All's well.

Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the prompt of 'pets' for The Gallery 

And relaaaaaax

Once upon a time, I would have the opportunity to relax during daylight hours. The sun would preferably be shining down on my little patch of sanctuary, there would be a glass of something refreshing within easy reach and a jolly good read would be resting in my hands.

Then along came children.

My opportunity to relax is now crammed into an hour at the end of the day, while gentle snores come from the bedrooms, when jobs are done, when I am so tired that any real appreciation for this moment of relaxation is consumed with exhaustion and mental to-do lists for tomorrow. 

But for a few minutes, before I can resist my drooping eyelids no longer, I read. I lose myself in the pages of a book where others live in my imagination leaving no room for anything except their story. 

This is relaxation for me.

Review of 'Buddha in the Attic' by Julie Otsuka to follow.

Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the prompt of 'relax' for The Gallery 

Door

A door serves a purpose.
It is the means by which you can pass from one room into another, or from one confined area into another confined area.
It is a passage way but one that is not free for all to pass through. You may pass if you have the means to open the door, like opposing thumbs, or a key, or the ability to pick a lock, but if you do not have these skills or tools then access is denied. You are not welcome.
The door may be opened for you if you request it of another who has the skill or tool to open the door but then it is their decision whether they choose to open the door for you. They themselves become the door. The ability to open them, pass through, becomes one of psycholgy. Do they understand you want to pass through the door? Do they like you? Do they think you belong on the other side of the door? They are the door keeper.

But what if this is the door...

Is it an invitation to challenge the etiquette of doors, ignore the rules, go invited around the door?
Is it still a door if it does not contain an area and prevent access from undesirables?
Can it call itself a door if it does not open?
Who is the keeper of this door?

Who has the key to that lock?
I knocked but noone came.

I'll try again tomorrow.


Joining in with The Gallery prompt 'Door' for Sticky Fingers Blog

The Sun

The sun.

You rise.

I lift my face.

You shine.

I smile.

You glow.

I feel your warmth.

You radiate.

I have hope.

You glimmer.

I shimmer.

You set.

I sigh.

I wait for tomorrow.

Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the theme of the Sun for The Gallery.

I spy green

Me: I spy with my little eye something that is... brown.

Walking the dog whilst simultaneously keeping the wee one amused and teaching him colours. Yes, I can be a good mother sometimes.

Wee One: Green
Me: Er.. what? Green? No brown.
Wee One: In that tree.
Me: Er... bark? Yes, that's brown but its not the answer I was looking for.
Wee One: Leaves.
Me: Leaves are green not brown. I spied something that is brown remember.
Wee One: Misty!
Me: Yes!

*pauses for a proud mother moment*

Wee One: I spy with my little eye something that begins with blue.
Me: Um... that sign.
Wee One: No. In that tree.
Me: Er...*wonders what the fascination with trees is about*
Wee One: Toast!
Me: Pardon?
Wee One: Blue toast in that tree! Your go.

*takes a moment to decide whether to congratulate him on his imagination or lack of concentration*


Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the theme of Green for The Gallery.

Two

You know that completely baffling and confusing moment when you realise you've forgotton your own birthday?
No?
Just me then.

I actually didn't forget my real life birthday. I well and truly enjoyed that with a glass or two of Pimms with some wonderfully generous and gorgeous friends.

How many chins? Birthday silliness.

It was on Sunday. I wasn't two.



BUT MY BLOG WAS!

I missed my bloggerversary.

How could I?

Happy Second birthday, Five Go Blogging!

The Big One, when he was a wee one.

This revelation has made me realise that I have been neglecting my blog. I've been taking it for granted, cruising through the week with an review here and a couple of my favourite weekly linkies there but I haven't been in love with it like I used to. I could blame that floosy Instagram but in all honesty I've just been lazy.

So my dear blog, my birthday present to you is a makeover. New header, new buttons, and some new fresh content. Watch this space!


Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the theme of Two for The Gallery.

Weekend

My weekends are mostly about negotiating the activities of three children who can't agree whether black is black or black is white let alone what they would like to do with two whole days of freedom stretched ahead of them.I have become quite adept at thinking up suggestions and bribes and we generally manage to do something interesting or vaguely amusing.

The trick is variety.

Burghley House is on our doorstep. I'd call them our next door neighbours but that would be stretching it slightly. We go often. The children know every nook and cranny of the park, every deer by name and every possible way to climb the trees. There comes a point when they they will get bored of going. But in the meantime I have to keep thinking of ways to make this time, this day, this trip more interesting and exciting than the last.

This weekend I decided it would be an art expedition and we would take paper and pens, pencils and paints to capture Burghley House. It was a long shot, but it worked and we all went willingly, laden with artist materials and a picnic.

Picnic first. Demolished in minutes. Tree climbed next. Scaled repeatedly for half an hour. And then art.

The Big One: A deer. Sort of. After 10 minutes he decided to run between our picnic blanket and a tree repeatedly.
The Princess: A self portrait. Kind of. She persevered and enjoyed herself but completely ignored all the inspiring scenery to create a portrait. Gah!
The Wee One: Made a piece of paper very wet. Then took a paintbrush and stuck it in the holes in his crocs.
Me: A drawing of Burghley House. Ish.

Next weekend, shall we take some clay?


Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the theme of Weekend for The Gallery.

Me by Me

You can count on one hand the number of photos on this blog that are of me. This is mainly because I am usually behind the camera. It may also have something to do with preferring to be behind the camera. I don't have a particular phobia about my photos it's just that in my opinion it takes a lot of shots to get my 'good' side.

I needed a photo for an application form the other day and I was genuinely struggling to even find a photo, let alone one that I felt happy with. I did find several on my mobile phone taken by the children but me peeling potatoes, from behind, from three foot off the floor was never going to be my good side.

It is coming up to Britmums live and it would be nice if someone recognised me and said hello. It is so embarrassing doing all the hellos and having someone stare at you blankly! So to double the number of photos of me on the blog I give you not one but five. I think they all show a different side to me, a different aspect of my personality, but not entirely sure that any of them are my good side.

In truth, I was trying to find an angle that didn't accentuate my sagging jawline. How is it that I still feel 24 yet my passport says I can add two decades to that? Pesky passport.

So there you are. This is me.
And next time, I may even take a self portrait after I've put on some makeup!

Joining in with Sticky Fingers and the theme of Self Portrait for The Gallery.

Youth

Remember when all you had to worry about was if Mum had put a chocolate biscuit in your lunchbox?
If you would be allowed to watch Coronation Street?
If you would get the new Barbie for Christmas just like the one your best friend had?
If you would be allowed to get some pic'n'mix in town?
If you could sneak the liver from your plate to the dog without Mum noticing?
If it would be butterscotch (bleugh) or chocolate Angel Delight for pudding?
If you would ever be allowed to get your ears pierced before you left school?
If blue eye shadow suited you better than green?

If you swung higher on the swings you would actually take off?

As I get older the worries multiply but for this moment, when I went on the swing at the park, all I worried about was what my daughter must be thinking of me to have such an appalled expression on her face!

Oh to be young again...

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme Youth.

Walking

My kids can't walk.

Before you get social services involved, let me explain.

They can walk, obviously, but prefer to run, or skip, or side step as if they are in training for something like the 'fastest escape from Mum' competition.

The school run is exactly that - a race to the bottom of our hill, or the next lamppost, or the road we have to cross. It is always a competition and as the rules are set by the Big One, he naturally wins. Every time.
The Princess is not the fastest on her feet but is getting stronger and quicker and with an imposed head start can actually put up a good fight. The Wee One plays along, fully aware that one day his time will come.

Me? I'm going to get a scooter so I can keep up. I do walking but I don't do running.


Joining in with The Gallery and the theme Walk.

Red

The speed and exhilaration must be incredible, breathtaking.
The skill and concentration unfathomable.
To watch the Red Arrows is to see a sight so enthralling that the screaming of their engines overhead is almost drowned out by the gasps of onlookers.





These photos were taken two summers ago from my back garden.
I have been looking back through some photos and find myself desperately looking forward to summer, to being in the garden again, watching the children playing and, maybe, possibly, a repeat performance from the Red Arrows.

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme Red.

The Letter C

C is for camera.

C is for capture.

C is for caught.

C is for contrast.

C is for click.

C is for conversation.

C is for collation.

C is for compulsion.
C is for create.

What would your C be for?

Joining in with The Gallery over at Sticky Fingers

What I am made of

I spotted this in my google reader yesterday courtesy of likecool.com, the home of all things geeky and cool.

 

It made me think (briefly) about what I am made of.

And here is the output from that brain dump:


3.2% domesticaphobe
5.5% sewist/craftist
5.6% photographer
6.1% cook
6.7% ranty parent trying to keep the little darlings in line
11.9% bottom wiper, nose blower, tear drier, convincing sympathetic listener whilst posting on instagram simultaneously
17.2% wife and convincing sympathetic listener whilst posting on instagram simultaneously
43.8% Ninja mummy who would eradicate anyone or anything that came even close to hurting my babies so don't even think about it.

Because the bond that exists between my children and I has got stronger each day, which makes it pretty darn strong considering it was up there in the Strong Things List the day they were born. As much as I moan and whinge about their less-than-perfect behaviour, their bickering and the sea of toys to be negotiated just to have a bath, they are the most important and precious things in my world and they fill my heart (whilst reserving a little bit of space for the Mr).

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of 'Bond' at Sticky Fingers.

Adventure

 

As I watched them walk ahead of me along a path we hadn't been before, I considered their excitement, the thrill of a new journey, new sights and new wonders to explore.

When you are one, you have only seen a fraction of the days you will see in your life time. You will have experienced only a small portion of the thrills and spills that will be your life. So each day can be and should be an adventure.

As we get older the proportion of newness, of glittering, exciting things decreases. The balance changes and the adventures are fewer and further between. We have seen it before, experienced it before, and it no longer has the same appeal. The outcome of the day becomes predictable. But we all love an adventure, it just seems that as we age, they are harder to come by. 

I have an idea. Can we create our own mini adventures in our day? For instance, an unexpected jaunt around the cosmetics counter? That's certainly an adventure for me these days. A new walk for you and your dog? Starting a new book? They are adventures in their own way. Admittedly, it's not quite the same as sipping a Martini in an infinity pool at the Golden Triangle Resort, Chiang Rai, Thailand (for example) but by doing a little something that is different, out of the norm, something that is new, we can create a little blip of excitement, can't we?

In the same way, I am feeling a sense of responsibility to offer my children the opportunity to have adventures. Big ones and mini ones, holidays to exciting places or treasure hunts around the garden. I want them to feel excitement, be swept away with the spirit of adventure, every day. It is my duty. That and ensuring they have done their homework.

So tomorrow, a new adventure.
What will yours be?

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of 'Adventure' at Sticky Fingers.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas

Well not quite. You see it isn't Christmas until it snows (according to those wiser than myself and of younger years) and so far this year we have avoided the white stuff.

Two Christmases ago, we woke up to a good old dump of snow, and as is traditional in our house, we set off for a quick walk with the dog between a late breakfast, and round two of present opening. We donned our wellies, new Christmas hats and gloves and carved a path through the snow drift at the end of the drive. (Of course that is an exaggeration but we always exaggerate about snow in Britain.)

As we turned the corner at the top of our road, we came across an ice castle. Nothing so humble as an igloo. An actual, 7ft and still rising, ice castle.

The architect and builder had even fashioned ice windows.

I was supremely jealous of his snow skills right up to the point when my toes went numb and the lure of a log fire and mulled wine drew me back home.

I can't wait to see if it snows again this Christmas and to see if our snow architect has submitted plans for his ice castle again this year.

I'll keep you posted.


Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of Christmas at Sticky Fingers.

Eyes

If you follow me on instagram or have ever had an idle glance at my instagram box over there on the right, you will know I have a new hobby.

And it seems that I am not alone in my hobby having spotted an article on the Daily Mail website on Monday, remarking on a phenomenon discovered in Mrs Warriner's back garden recently involving Meercat triplets.

As I walk to and from school, as I endeavour to round up the abundant leaves in our garden, as I walk the dog through the streets, you will find me, pausing occasionally, squinting possibly, and whipping out my iphone to capture my latest obsession: fence faces.

They are everywhere. Just stop for a moment or two and stare at a fence and I defy you not to spot at least one pair of eyes peeking back at you.

But why stop there? I have finely tuned my skill of spotting faces to spotting expressions and even animals. For example, cow, horse, emu, Chihuahua, Pekingese, gremlin, ghost, moose and mascara running sad face. I have spared you the long-tailed tit in profile sitting on a branch and the owl chick but please take a look in my instagram gallery.

For for delight and wonder I give you Fence Faces:

So next time you pass a fence, have a look. Ignore passers by staring at you staring at the fence and capture your first fence face. Post it on instagram and tag me or use #fencefaces so I can marvel at your new found friend too.

Joining in with The Gallery and the theme of Eyes at Sticky Fingers.

Autumn

I may have mentioned in a recent post (or two) that I love Autumn.
I love the colours of the leaves, the low sun and crisp mornings when the mist has just cleared.
I love leaving footprints on fresh dew.
I love watching my own breath on the cold morning air.
In late Autumn, I love jumpers, and cups of cocoa.

But I hate spiders. And with Autumn comes the influx of spiders, creeping under doors, edging their way around the skirting board, peeking out from behind furniture to taunt me. One was blazen enough to walk across my bedroom floor. I knew it was there because I could here its footprints. From downstairs.

And every year they get bigger. I thought things were supposed to get smaller as you got older. Like Milky Ways and Creme Eggs.

It comes to something when you have to get your son's friend to get rid of one for you. Yes, he was only 7 at the time. But I think it is important to encourage their bravery, good character development stuff.

Hopefully, they have retreated back to their nests *shiver* for Winter now.

So it is probably safe for me to come out from under my duvet now, yes?

Joining in with The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.

Frightfully Frugal Party

Today we had a birthday party for the Big One. He is 8 on Friday. I still blame the fireworks and trick or treaters for my waters breaking! But I digress.


Somehow, rather by accident than careful planning, we managed to give him a frightfully (Halloween themed) frugal birthday party. Not that I am complaining. All the more pennies for keeping my wine level stable.

We decided to hold his birthday party in a local wood, The Spinney, which with lottery funding and continued donations, has been turned into 5.5 acres of woodland adventure park. It is easily big enough to contain and entertain 24 children to the point of exhaustion. The only disadvantages are connected to our climate and a birthday in late Autumn. But, a wood in Autumn is pretty fantastic and even if it did rain (for a little while) the kids didn't care and parents were cosy in a shelter.

Cost of venue: a donation to keep this community project going.

I made up a treasure hunt game where the kids had to find letters I had hidden around the wood to spell out a word.

Cost: 10p for card to write letters on. An hour of my time to draw treasure maps.

I cooked sausages at home, bought rolls and ketchup, bought crisps and decorated oranges for our picnic in the woods. They demolished the lot. I also asked parents to bring flasks of hot water so we could all have hot chocolate, tea and coffee to keep warm.

Cost: £13 for the food.

I boiled a couple of eggs, peeled them and coloured them to look like eyeballs.  We then played an eyeball and spoon relay race over a wobbly bridge and through a ditch.

Cost: 2 eggs so about 50p

I was instructed by the birthday boy, to make a cake to resemble a pumpkin. I did as I was instructed and believe I achieved a passing resemblance.

Cost: About £7 in ingredients plus £1 for the marvelous plastic spiders, cockroaches and bats.

I then made some party favours, inspired by a photo I found on the interwebulator. Lollipop ghosts.

Cost: £2.49. £1 for a bag of lollies and £1.49 for googly eyes. I had the fabric and wool already.

Looking at the faces of everyone, and the muddy knees and sticky fingers, I think it was a success which just confirms my belief that you really don't need to spend a fortune on a birthday party.

Now what is frightful is the blatant drive-by trick or treating, but that is another blog spot.

Right, I need a well earned drink.


Joining in with The Gallery at Sticky Fingers.