Notes from suburbia

Today The Seven Year Old becomes The Eight Year Old. The Husband is still The Husband even though he too is a year older today.   With the two of them sharing the same birthday we are of course provided with an opportunity too good to miss…we need   to throw a party!   And so today, we shall be hosting a Star Wars themed house party.     The R2-D2 cake is made. Check. The Eight Year Old’s Jango Fett costume is complete. Check.   The Baby – in his Darth Vader babygro (yes really) – continues to look bewildered.   Check.    The Husband is currently ‘colouring in’ his X-wing pilot outfit. I am wearing a dress with more than a nod to the look of Queen Amidala. Now all I need to do is paint my face, finish making my headdress, bake ‘Yoda’s cheesy feet’ (see ‘Foody things’ tab above) and ice the Wookie Cakes…

Christmas future - December 2046 I awake to the sound of the waves crashing against the sea wall.   I snuggle down under the duvet before wondering where The Husband is.   And then I hear the familiar clink of cups…The Husband is on his way up the stairs of our cottage with two mugs of tea – a morning ritual that I have come to rely on over the years.   I am reminded of how lucky I am to have The Husband in my life.    It is Christmas Eve and me and The Husband are looking forward to the Thirty Five Year Old and the Forty two Year Old arriving home later with their families.   This year we will all spend Christmas Day together, a rare treat these days.    We are very lucky though, since we have moved to live by the sea we have become increasingly popular for weekend visits, especially with The Grandchildren .    I think back to when our boys were children - the sheer joy shining from their faces on Christmas morning. ...

Apologies for the delay in posting, I think we’re back on track now… Christmas Present – Dec 2011 It is Fri 23 rd Dec. I have a strong feeling of us being on borrowed time today as this year The Seven Year Old will spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at his Dad’s house. In trying to make the most of the time we have available before he goes I put too much pressure on the day to be full of Christmassy goodness and end up feeling like I’m constantly checking the clock to see how long we have left.   Nevertheless, we all pitch in to make it make feel like Christmas had already begun…we bake together, watch Christmas films and we sing and dance along to the cheesiest   Christmas tunes we can lay our hands on – according to Peggy Lee ”big fat Santa is on his way” !   The Baby looks on bewildered.   At 6pm, we wave off The Seven Year Old making sure we have given his Dad a full stocking of additional pressies so that The Seven Year Old has plenty to open on Chris...

Christmas past, December 2008 I’m sat in the living room of the flat that me and The (then) Four Year Old had shared for the previous couple of years.   I’m surrounded by boxes.   It is a Wednesday, exactly one week and one day before Christmas Day.   I am waiting for my solicitor to call to tell me that we have exchanged contracts on the house we are hoping to move in to in two days time.   Life is feeling a little stressful.   The Four Year Old has been at his Dad’s house for the previous two nights.   He is ill with a heavy cold, a fever and a cough that are causing him to vomit.   Being away from him is tearing me apart, but with the flat all packed up and me recovering from an ear infection and burst eardrum, we’ve all agreed it would be better for him to remain at his Dad’s until the move is complete.   I’m not at my best.   Energy levels are running low.   The phone rings.   As I’d hoped, it is my solicitor. Finally, ...

The Husband is not the father of The Seven Year Old.   Please don’t be alarmed, this isn’t some kind of online Jeremy Kyle or Jerry Springer type revelation...   “Where does our child go for half the week?”, “Who is this man I call Dad and who’s the other one?” – no, that wouldn’t do at all.   Both The Husband and The Seven Year Old have always been aware that they do not share the same blood line – mainly due to the facts that   1. The Seven Year Old was The Four Year Old when they first met and, 2. The Seven Year Old spends as much time with his Dad as he does with us.   I had thought I would save this unveiling until the New Year but over the next three days I want to share my own version of a Christmas Carol and so it seemed correct and proper to alert you this revelation today.   To avoid confusion tomorrow. You see?    

And as a result, I too, am confused. “Why oh why dear garden are your plants choosing to bud and flower when we have had a sprinkling of snow already?” The camellia is stood proudly in its blue ceramic pot.   It is full of buds and is displaying a couple of vibrant pink flowers.   The stubby olive tree is bearing its fruits – even if they do look more like raisins than juicy olives. Let’s just hope it doesn’t end in tears.   “Go hibernate little plants, shut yourselves down to protect from the Winter frosts”.   It’s what I plan to do for as long as I can get away with it – bundle up in fleecy blankets upon the sofa sipping mulled wine.   Mmmm…

It could be said, that in many ways, being a parent is both the greatest and the most challenging thing you will ever experience.  As parents, we have to do the stuff with raising our kids that they don’t always appreciate – surviving the sleepless nights and childhood illnesses, getting them to eat healthily, disciplining them, encouraging them to do their homework, getting them to bed at a reasonable time, taking them to school, and all that before we even begin thinking about   the teenage years.    Nevertheless, with these responsibilities in this leading role, we get a grand title along with the easy recognition of our importance in our children’s lives.   We also become part of the ‘Parent club’.   Our status is changed and we can knowingly exchange stories and child rearing tips with the other members of the club.    We duly receive our payback from the love of our children and from seeing them, at close quarters,   grow an...

Today I ‘accidentally’ started redecorating the kitchen. I realise that must sound strange.   Here’s how it happened.   Whilst The Parents were over visiting and busying themselves playing ‘hotels’ (?) with The Seven Year Old and cooing over The Baby, I decided to put my ‘time off’ to good use.   I took out a tin of paint to tidy up a few areas  ofthe dining room.   More precisely, I needed to paint the patch of different coloured wall that had recently been exposed due to us moving a large mirror. Although I very much enjoy decorating – which The Husband thinks is, in itself, a bit weird - I have to admit to being a ‘lazy’ decorator.   I’m very impatient and like to see quick results so the thoroughness of preparation and moving things don’t tend to feature too much in my style of decorating. So there I was with a large tin of ‘Aged White’ emulsion in my hand and a paint brush at the ready.   I painted the patch in the dining room that I had i...

Stood in a queue at the supermarket recently The Husband overheard this conversation between a Mother and her young daughter. Daughter (on picking up a chocolate bar) – “can we have this?” Mother – “No darling”. Daughter – “Maybe Santa would like it?” Mother – “No, Santa can manage with a mince pie like last year” . Daughter - “Daddy said he thought Santa might like a bar of chocolate and a glass of whiskey this year…” Mother – “that’s what Daddy thought did he? No, Santa will be ok with a glass of wine and a mince pie as usual” It made me smile – “ nice try ” to that Daddy if you’re out there...enjoy the mince pie!

Something strange has happened.   The Husband is ill, but rather than milking a low grade ‘man flu’ for all it’s worth, he’s genuinely feeling – and looking (sorry The Husband but it’s true) – rubbish but he’s trying to pretend he’s feeling ok.   All in all, it’s a funny thing.   Remember that episode of friends   where Monica is determined to prove she doesn’t feel rotten from flu because “illness is for the weak”?   Well, that’s exactly how The Husband is behaving. The more I try to get him to rest, the more he wants to do.   Well, enough is enough.   After an hour in his company this morning - during which time he insisted on making me cups of tea in-between his sighing and groaning and the awful cough that he has – I have put my foot down and insisted that he goes to bed for a few hours…we could all do with the rest….

Despite having already thrown ourselves into the panic of Christmas shopping - out of necessity rather than a desire to do so - it really wasn’t feeling like we were getting into the Christmas mood.   All that has now changed. Stand by people, its official, the spirit of Christmas has finally arrived in our household.   The Husband has, this very morning, been to choose our Christmas tree.   It is currently standing (leaning) proudly (drunkenly) in our living room waiting for The Seven Year Old to come home from school to help decorate it. The tree is a little taller and fatter than we had agreed to go for.   Apparently The Husband ‘couldn’t resist’.   We have a history of large Christmas trees… The first year of The Husband and me living together we were so excited to be sharing Christmas that we bought a huge 8ft tree.   We had carefully picked it out from the woodcutters in a local wood where we had been seduced by the Christmas tunes a-playing, the c...

Our mission was to kill fifteen birds with one stone – or more accurately to visit four lots of family and friends living in three different parts of the city of Fancy London , and in doing so to deliver eleven lots of Christmas presents.   All in all, a big ask from any weekend, particularly a weekend with The Baby – who now, on top of the cough appears to be teething - and his distaste for travelling. We set off on the Saturday morning so that we had daylight on our side.   I say Saturday morning as we had planned to leave at 10am but in reality it was 12.15pm when we actually left.   Our delayed start was, in the main, due to our usual chaotic last minute packing alongside trying to sort out (ie. wrap) numerous Christmas presents that we were to take with us.   Oh yes, and then, just as we thought we were about ready, I helpfully dropped my mobile phone down the loo.   Marvellous. The air turned blue as I competed for the title of ‘world’s grumpiest woman’...

Having now having now ordered enough Lego ( Christmas presents for The Seven Year Old ) to keep all the children in all the world entertained, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s been a little unnecessary.   Each afternoon last week when The Seven Year Old returned home from school he created his own fun playing with fridge magnet words which are apparently in battle with each other.   Hmmm.

At the risk of this getting boring - for us all, and not least for The Baby - The Baby STILL has a terrible hacking cough.  Here's the latest... The Baby and me have been to the doctor’s twice this week. Yesterday, The Baby needed to have his third lot of injections – the ones that all babies have.   He was due to have them a couple of weeks ago but we kept putting it off due to the cold and ongoing cough he’s been suffering from.   This week, regardless of  the cough, it seemed irresponsible to delay any further.   We arrived at the Doctors Surgery in good spirits.   I think The Baby thought we were on little adventure and proceeded to charm the receptionist, other patients and the nurse with his cheeky smiles.   This made me feel as if I was tricking him into a false sense of security…little did he know of the three needles coming his way.   Aside from the inevitable livid cry – from The Baby that is - which followed each jab I ...

Now that we’ve accepted that it’s full steam ahead with the build-up to Christmas, we have begun ordering Lego by the truckload.   It seemed only right and proper to check with The Seven Year Old that we were actually purchasing the items he most desired.   And so, with a little encouragement, he carefully put together a list ordered by preference whilst I bit my tongue and resisted asking just how much Lego is too much Lego for one household??? As is the way every year, I remind The Seven Year Old that he is unlikely to get everything that he is asking for on his list.  After all, Santa – or Father Christmas, depending on your mythical title of choice – has lots of children to deliver presents to.   This white lie I tend to mix in with an explanation more based in reality - that we can’t afford to buy all of the presents on the list to ‘send to Santa for delivery’.   I’m surprised that we have gotten away with this for so long but The Seven Year Ol...

Ok. So we’re already a week into December.   I can no longer remain in denial about the fact that Christmas is fast approaching and I haven’t done anything as yet to prepare.   A few years ago this would have been acceptable as no-one else would have done anything either but not any more it would seem.   The Christmas build-up seems to begin earlier and earlier every year.   And this year it’s as if everyone I come into contact with is part of the “I’m starting early and I’m so organised for Christmas” brigade. Since the 1 st December other Mum’s at The Seven Year Old’s school have been exchanging joyful tales of how much family fun they’ve had putting up their Christmas trees and making Christmas cards and decorations whilst simultaneously baking mince pies, singing Christmas carols and wrapping presents.   Not that I’m bitter you understand. Now don’t go thinking that I’m not a fan of Christmas as I love this time of year.   I’m just more than a ...

It’s that time of year again – parents evening at The Seven Year Old’s school.   For some reason, I find that there always seems to be a bit of an air of being sent to see the Head Teacher as if we’ve all done something wrong.   This is no reflection on The Seven Year Old who we are often told is “exceptionally well behaved” at school.   This sort of comment makes me swell with pride and I feel the prickling of tears threatening to well up behind my eyes – since having children my emotions feel like they are dangerously close to the surface for all to see. Before getting to chat with your child’s teacher at Parents Evening, the usual routine is to be handed your child’s books to examine and explore.   This can provide a real insight into how your child’s mind works.   Not to mention a waning about what the teacher you are about to speak to already knows about you.   Picture source:- thewmparentingconnection.com You +1'd this publicly. Undo Last...

Apologies for the lack of a post yesterday.   When I set my stall out to write this blog, I had intended – unless we were away from home holiday-ing or weekend-ing   - to publish a new post every day.   But, quite frankly, yesterday I decided that it was high time to have a day at home away from the laptop.   I have come to realise that me and The Husband spend an extraordinary amount of time tapping away at the keys of the two laptops that we own.   If you were a fly on the wall in our home, you would think we were both running multi-national web based businesses that couldn’t survive without us for more than a moment.   And quite clearly, that isn’t the case. And so, after a lovely day spent catching-up with two of The Friends who were visiting yesterday, I decided that I would not, do what has started to come far too naturally, and immediately reach for the laptop the moment they left.   No.   Instead, I would give The Husband, The Seven...

A lot of people have been observing recently that The Baby, looks to them, very much like The Husband.   A lot of The Friends, some of The Family, and even other mums at The Seven Year Olds school gate have passed comment about the likeness.   The Female Parent (aka my Mum) exclaims each time she sees The Baby that he is becoming more and more like ‘a complete mini-me’ version of The Husband.   Strangely, The Husband and me can’t really see it.   To us, The Baby just looks like himself. When The In-laws were visiting recently I asked them if they could see the likeness between The Baby and their son, The Husband.   They both looked a little surprised by the question.   “well he certainly doesn’t look at all like his Dad did as a baby” they said.   Which led me to digging out some old photos of myself as a baby. There are certainly more than a few similarities between The Baby now and me as baby all those years ago - the mop of dark hair, the big eyes...

I mentioned yesterday how The Husband and me had got to thinking about how having children had, on more than one occasion, led us to being ‘trapped’ in a room.   This thinking was sparked off whilst attending two of The Friends wedding celebrations last weekend when I, in effect, became ‘trapped’ for most of the day with The (sleeping) Baby away from the wedding party. Our main ‘trapped in a room’ situations tend to occur in the hotel ‘family room’. When staying in hotels, as is the way of many families, we reside in a ‘family room’.   This basically means that we all share a room together. This makes sense both practically and financially.   The thing is, The Husband and me don’t always want to go to bed at the same time as The Seven Year Old and The Baby which is tricky when you’re all in the one room.   Especially when you have a Seven Year Old who likes it to be quiet and dark to go to sleep and a Baby who doesn’t’.   There was one occasion a couple of ye...

Despite not getting to sleep until around 1am, we awoke on the morning of The Friends wedding surprisingly bright eyed and bushy tailed – especially considering that The Baby was (and still is) suffering from a nasty hacking cough that wakes him up through the night and intermittently causes him to vomit after feeds.   Not great.   For him.   Or for us.  On a more positive note, we were delighted to discover that we were located in the most beautiful countryside which had been wasted on us in the heavy darkness of our arrival the night before.  It turns out that Cariganshire, in the West of Wales, is a liitle like our own beloved Peak District - all rolling hills and patchwork fields - but with the added bonus of being by the sea.  We spent the day celebrating with The Friends. The Bride looked gorgeous in her beautiful hand-embroidered dress, matched by her Groom in his very smart suit. The ceremony went smoothly, followed by a lo...