tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35898044246270034962024-03-21T09:48:20.790-07:00KnittendenParenting and purling: quick notes on slow progress.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-70421965491351269262014-09-15T04:13:00.000-07:002014-09-15T04:13:43.147-07:00Hollibobs part 2: A diggy and two Doras<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I'm sitting here wearing a scarf to ward off the morning chill, looking out at the trees in the garden that are just starting to go russety and using all my willpower to ignore Anthropologie's potentially ruinous emails about their autumn jumpers, and it strikes me that I still haven't written about our summer holiday in north Norfolk.</span></div>
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It was more than just a summer holiday, really. It was Samuel's first ever holiday, it was my mum's chance to get away and celebrate her recent well-deserved retirement. It was also an opportunity for me and Lucy to get out of our respective cities (for the second time in as many weeks) and relax a bit.<br />
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Granny K treated us to a week in a gorgeous – and extremely purple – cottage on the picturesque High Street in Blakeney. It was great for us all to spend some time together and Samuel, as usual, absolutely reveled in the company of his granny and his aunty. But, much to everyone's confusion, rather than calling them 'Granny' and 'Aunty', Samuel just decided to keep things simple and call both of them 'Dora'. He's been calling Lucy this for ages (we've no idea why), but now Mum too? Toddlers are weird. He'd wake up in the morning, stand in the doorway of his cute little attic room and bellow, 'DORA!' at the top of his lungs until they both appeared. Apart from these early morning alarm calls, I'm pretty convinced that Mum and Lucy loved his company too. Having said that, Samuel did give Mum a bit of a shock when she sat him on her knee in the car and he beeped the horn. Lucy managed to capture the moment on film for posterity.<br />
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We were based just a few minutes' walk from Blakeney's quayside. Families spent hours crabbing there (much to crustacean-phobic Lucy's abject horror), there was a little funfair with a teacup and saucer ride that proved to be the most exciting thing Samuel could ever have dreamed of, and the vast expanse of marshlands leading out to the sea seemed to stretch out for miles. <br />
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Blakeney is gorgeous. It has about three pubs, two restaurants, a small supermarket and a fantastic playground and, most importantly, it has a delicious deli that does a good line in lattes, French sticks and ready-made Thai green curries. It seemed to be solely responsible for keeping us going for most of the week.<br />
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Most mornings we hopped in the car and drove along the coast road, through weird and wonderful little villages like Stiffkey (which was in the middle of its annual scarecrow pageant – yep) to spend a few hours at the seaside – mainly at Wells-next-the-Sea. It's the most wonderfully family-friendly beach. Golden sands ideal for sandcastle action, gentle waves that make for perfect paddling and an amazing cafe that also does a good latte (regular readers may notice that this is *quite* important to me). It also boasts a 'Wash-n-Wag' for tourists of the four-legged variety and one of the world's biggest deckchairs. All the essentials, if you ask me.<br />
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And how did Samuel take to the seaside? Well, he loved it. He couldn't get enough of the feel of the sand under his feet and by the end of the week he'd immediately go to take his sandals off as soon as so much as spotted a beach. He loved the sea and couldn't believe he was allowed to jump and splash in the shallows to his heart's content. And the bucket and spade that mum bought for him? Well that was possibly his highlight of the whole holiday. He christened the spade, 'Diggy' and refused to let go of it at any point.<br />
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We also visited Brancaster and Sheringham, and celebrated Lucy's birthday at a gastro pub called The Victoria on the Holkham estate. I had a crab roll that came with a side of crisps in a crab shell. The birthday girl was not amused.<br />
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James didn't get to spend as much time there with us as we'd have liked (when you have a cat with heart problems, proper family holidays aren't easy to come by), but he was there for long enough for a small family photo-shoot in the shallows. North Norfolk was great. Flat and gentle, it's stunning in a sedate kind of way and I hope we'll go back again soon. We might even attempt to do another boat ride to see the seals next time. You'll notice that there are no photos of any seals in this post. That is because I spent the entire time on the boat trying to stop Samuel from screaming, and trying to avoid eye-contact with the 30 other seal-seekers in very close proximity to us who were wondering why I'd taken tantruming toddler on a boat. You live and learn.<br />
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And now for the obligatory photo dump before I get back to ignoring those Anthropologie emails. Honestly.<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-14019452766809285472014-09-11T09:33:00.001-07:002014-09-14T15:33:03.836-07:0036/52 and 37/52<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The blog's been a bit quiet the past week or so. That's because the past week or so has sounded a lot like this:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Me: Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Samuel: <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">James: Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Me (looking at work project): Aaaargh!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Samuel: Noisy, Mummy!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Me: Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH! I think I just wee'ed.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Samuel: No more, Mummy. NO MORE, MUMMY!</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">James: Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Me (looking at work project): Aaaargh!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">James: No, Samuel, you can't drive your ride-on car down those steps! NOOOO SAMUEL! </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Me (looking at work project): Aaaargh!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Samuel: MORE PEPPA! Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">James (putting the 389th episode of Peppa on the iPad): Cough! cough! COUGH! COOOUUGGHH!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Me (looking at work project): Aaaargh!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Samuel: NO MORE PEPPA!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">That pretty much covers it. Last week was a bit pants, all told, but we're feeling a little better now. And, despite our collective illness and my mammoth workload, we still managed to squeeze some nice stuff in. Stuff like park visits in the sunshine. They never disappoint, as the first cheeky snap shows. Samuel is loving getting out and about and crunching the early autumn leaves with his new little red shoes. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Today we also decided to do the sort of thing you should always do after a crap run of things: party. We booked tickets to a baby rave (I know, okay. Stop rolling your eyes.) at The Bedford in Balham on a whim because we thought it sounded like fun. And, joy of joys, it was indeed a bundle of fun. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">We all danced around like idiots, marvelled as someone fired a glitter canon while balloons were rained down upon us and took full (albeit responsible) advantage of the bar. Best Sunday afternoon in ages. Samuel couldn't quite believe his eyes and ears. The lights! The sparkle! The tunes! The opportunity to show off his groovy moves without somebody telling him to calm down because the lady downstairs might complain! </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I took terrible, terrible pictures, but I feel it would be wrong for me not to include at least one as a photo of the week since it commemorates Samuel's first proper disco. But, if the unique shapes that he was throwing are anything to go by, I think it's unlikely to be his last.</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-88392010227362033602014-09-02T15:53:00.001-07:002014-09-02T15:53:38.796-07:0035/53<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy8TH6FRqFQTivrW8cF8s01TEww_0CyZJ3OO2lJmxY7PS6PwT-hAJMYTeVVJpEef33agAh17YurNyLSmNTt2dz6XmzroeI6A6S0DdRl1kNSv7cucymhf-Nav4S_znoQmrJ7TvoXEN0kfx/s640/blogger-image--1213857321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy8TH6FRqFQTivrW8cF8s01TEww_0CyZJ3OO2lJmxY7PS6PwT-hAJMYTeVVJpEef33agAh17YurNyLSmNTt2dz6XmzroeI6A6S0DdRl1kNSv7cucymhf-Nav4S_znoQmrJ7TvoXEN0kfx/s640/blogger-image--1213857321.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">This week I didn't do the ice bucket challenge even though I was nominated for it. Hair, you see. Obviously I made my donation, though. Anyway, we still had some bucket action going on around here courtesy of Samuel who spent an afternoon running around with his old baby bath on his head.</span></div><div><br></div><div>Have I mentioned how much fun he is at the moment? And how much he loves to dance? The dancing makes me so darned happy. He is also, in equal measure, very naughty and challenging right now. But it's amazing how quickly I forget that when he's throwing shapes with a bucket in his head.<br><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-90043702744540134202014-08-29T13:21:00.001-07:002014-08-29T15:05:51.503-07:00Hollibobs part 1: Queens of the mountain<div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I can't tell you exactly why me and Little Sis decided to climb Snowdon. I think I was just tired and weary of work and motherhood and the city and I wanted to escape it all for a couple of days and Lucy had some time off work, so we thought we'd go on an adventure. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We could have gone to a spa or on a pub crawl or to a shopping centre. We're city girls and these are our habitats, after all. But, for the first time in my adult life I sort of heard the call of the wild and said that I quite fancied walking up a big hill. Lucy said she was up for it and suggested Snowdon because it's about as big a hill as they come. She knew someone who'd done it once, she said. 'How hard could it be?' we thought. And just like that, super casually, we'd planned to walk up a mountain.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And so a few weeks later we found ourselves in a little B&B in North Wales with no wifi and no proper walking boots and no knowledge of hillwalking or map reading and no plans to do anything other than to walk up a mountain. It was extremely exciting. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We woke up the next morning, ate an excellent Welsh fry-up, drove to the foot of our randomly chosen path, the Pyg track, and felt like we were heading to Mordor. And then we started walking up, up and up, over jagged rocks and scree and streams ... and it wasn't like Crystal Palace Park one bit. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I didn't expect it to be so scrambly. We had to get on all-fours a lot and kind of bound across boulders with all the grace of concussed Labrador puppies. And I didn't expect it to be so dangerous. Surprisingly, mountains don't conform to the sanitised health and safety regulations of the attractions that I'd generally visit. Literally one misplaced foot on the wrong slippery stone and it's goodnight Vienna. But there's nothing like the very real risk of death to make you feel alive, and I didn't expect to enjoy that as much as I did. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A bit under three hours later and we were up at the top, knackered, soggy and with legs that felt like Cheese Strings but absolutely buzzing with a sense of achievement. We shuffled up the terrifying steps to the summit on our arses and caught a quick, beautiful, glimpse of the Irish Sea and, you know, all of Wales, before the clouds descended and we were in a white out. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then - utter joy - we went in the cafe. At the top of the mountain. It sold lattes and postcards and novelty fridge magnets and made two townies like us unbelievably happy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then for the descent. It poured down and our socks were soaked through, but it was easier in some ways because the pressure was off. And I also learned that you must never underestimate the pleasure that comes from passing shattered-looking people on their way up when you're on you're way down and telling them cheerily, 'Don't worry - you've only got another hour to go!' </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Honestly, the air, the exercise and the views - it was ace. And addictive. I'm desperate to get out of London more and climb more hills. I want to collect the other two of the Three Peaks and I'm already half-planning a trip to the Lakes next year. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The only real problem we had was that when we got back down the mountain we couldn't announce to anyone that we'd been up it. No phone signal or wifi, you see. Annoying. You can take the girls out of the city ...</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-74251894920228689002014-08-26T14:26:00.001-07:002014-08-26T14:26:40.523-07:0034/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3GS0WKKv2cIRo2hpoGiIf0Woj1SPDN_P3ENrf2pW6rdi8MANhwT7FaEGuv7Ghs6Ky3co8WA69iLzpfA6Oyu_FAcUIEkby1CzstuK1kuwVyG8XsXOP4cMPfNCot6E1R5o3hqXt_IxVWIB/s640/blogger-image-1284291601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN3GS0WKKv2cIRo2hpoGiIf0Woj1SPDN_P3ENrf2pW6rdi8MANhwT7FaEGuv7Ghs6Ky3co8WA69iLzpfA6Oyu_FAcUIEkby1CzstuK1kuwVyG8XsXOP4cMPfNCot6E1R5o3hqXt_IxVWIB/s640/blogger-image-1284291601.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div><br></div>I'll write more about the holidays soon, but back here in the cold and rainy real world, work is busy and time is limited, so for now here is one of my favourite pictures of the three of us. It seems completely impossible to get a photo of all of us smiling/facing the camera/not obscuring our face with boater hats at the same time, by the way.<div><br></div><div>As an aside, a week in Norfolk has done nothing to help with my Right Move habit. Property Gods, I call on you to sort us a cottage within walking distance from the sea pronto!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-57136213013731833832014-08-19T13:10:00.001-07:002014-08-19T13:10:53.027-07:0033/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi0EnwxAJ4NBfNv5eiawcApz64vHj4TNP1txnGkYFPXoHdcSf-z9YITyYvTHs90lBtRLtDJNd6XvcUePaPOCLKdvPm9VqLkvKtHjwFEtXV1KHNHOJxkC4u0YWYvciNaHUlKVtNkgDHkd9/s640/blogger-image--757057004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAi0EnwxAJ4NBfNv5eiawcApz64vHj4TNP1txnGkYFPXoHdcSf-z9YITyYvTHs90lBtRLtDJNd6XvcUePaPOCLKdvPm9VqLkvKtHjwFEtXV1KHNHOJxkC4u0YWYvciNaHUlKVtNkgDHkd9/s640/blogger-image--757057004.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>So we're on our hollibobs in north Norfolk with Granny and Aunty Lucy at the mo. A proper post will follow shortly but, for now, just check out how happy this little boy is to be at the seaside for the first time. And check out his impossibly glamorous Aunty Lucy who was celebrating her birthday today. And just imagine how incredibly sweet it is when every time we pack up to leave the beach we hear him say, 'Bye bye, sea.' Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-77453121866630539782014-08-13T12:30:00.001-07:002014-08-13T12:30:39.575-07:0032/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5DF78VQGsxL_J8zefv0-DJuHmDwPAtrccKWOCXTvZ_h3WJ5uWk5uXuuxfD1Cc9IktbnvWYVvEp4j0XY32gKTR3UC241yER8dWPcwQyn6WJANTuEipXUoDKE8vrrrruyM9FvAh5K49_VK/s640/blogger-image--1366685927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5DF78VQGsxL_J8zefv0-DJuHmDwPAtrccKWOCXTvZ_h3WJ5uWk5uXuuxfD1Cc9IktbnvWYVvEp4j0XY32gKTR3UC241yER8dWPcwQyn6WJANTuEipXUoDKE8vrrrruyM9FvAh5K49_VK/s640/blogger-image--1366685927.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>Aaargh! I'm a day late on my photo of the week! This is the first time all year. But I've got a good excuse - I've been in the wilds of Snowdonia climbing a mountain and the wilds of Snowdonia don't really do 3G very well. More on that story later, but in the meantime back to Samuel.<div><br></div><div>This is a selfie we took this week. I am shameless - absolutely shameless - in my use of selfies as pacifiers. When he's upset or tantruming all I need to do is show him himself on my little phone screen and he calms down instantly. Genius.</div><div><br></div><div>This photo in particular seems to back up my recent claim that Samuel is 80% cheeks.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-25890809077610986512014-08-05T15:26:00.001-07:002014-08-05T15:28:21.538-07:0031/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLk2vZ4IGMHASyxjNXLYHxbISMwAgJ7rrECo84t5TgsPmX7SBlNfCnqWB-8e-Fabh8EybT-TBeb3iELMrSRe0JyzGpssk2XJyfAkGYV8w-pHCSuelrAa1gt9AKH7uEJTV32PTlQkaWqcXW/s640/blogger-image-668312389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLk2vZ4IGMHASyxjNXLYHxbISMwAgJ7rrECo84t5TgsPmX7SBlNfCnqWB-8e-Fabh8EybT-TBeb3iELMrSRe0JyzGpssk2XJyfAkGYV8w-pHCSuelrAa1gt9AKH7uEJTV32PTlQkaWqcXW/s640/blogger-image-668312389.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So Samuel did this today. I'm not bragging or anything (I'm bragging), but are 20-month-olds supposed to be able to carry out death-defying feats such as this? James was barely helping him, by the way. He's totally sussed out climbing on his own.</span></div><div><br></div><div>Talking of James, Samuel is completely obsessed with him at the moment. Daddy only has to leave a room and close the door behind him to elicit a volcanic paddy. This morning as James took a shower, Samuel spent ages just lying in front of the bathroom door trying to peek under the crack, sadly and repeatedly whimpering 'Daddy'. It was like a scene out of Greyfriars Bobby.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOmDzRA0AdybaZjKV_141So8gHG1ToanjqnXCyK5N80tfloy4yrnqqcMcmKC5d9Ap8jtTPu84ehR8KRYRgNLDMcVyAMDPQGaKLqWTmDgMNmOs_LHnkPCFnHs1EpUkYPo89vBPUM_tQcdV/s640/blogger-image--902020540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHOmDzRA0AdybaZjKV_141So8gHG1ToanjqnXCyK5N80tfloy4yrnqqcMcmKC5d9Ap8jtTPu84ehR8KRYRgNLDMcVyAMDPQGaKLqWTmDgMNmOs_LHnkPCFnHs1EpUkYPo89vBPUM_tQcdV/s640/blogger-image--902020540.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-65422463890208189792014-08-03T07:51:00.001-07:002014-08-04T07:13:56.620-07:00Freelancing and meerkat bubbles<div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Work has been keeping me nice and busy this past couple of months. I'm still astonished that I've had so much sent my way from the moment I started freelancing. I'm not at full capacity by any means, but I've been lucky enough to nab a couple of lovely regular clients, plus there's a big job on the horizon in the autumn that's really going to put me through my paces. I'm looking forward to it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I love the variety of stuff I'm getting to write, and I love never knowing what weird or wonderful request might pop into my inbox next. I love working from home too, and being totally divorced from any office politics. The more I work for myself, the more I wonder why I didn't make the leap years ago.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It's funny, though. The perception of working freelance is very different to the reality. I remember how, years ago, me and my fabulous then-boss Graham used to bang on about how we'd go freelance one day and we'd be just like Sarah Jessica Parker in Sex and the City. From what I recall, we believed it would be all long lunches and laptops at Soho House. And between writing terribly clever articles for terribly glamorous magazines, we'd manage to squeeze in the time to carefully craft the first drafts of our great Rock 'n Roll novels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I've got to be honest, my freelance life doesn't look *quite* like that. What actually happens (at the moment, at least, with our childminder on holiday for the summer) is that I barricade myself in the kitchen in the morning and try to concentrate on work for as long as I can before Samuel breaks in howling and James comes to retrieve him, sometimes by the ankles. This happens repeatedly. Then, once Samuel is happily engaged in another activity or whisked off up to the park, the cat tends to come in and create a stink in her litter tray. I sigh and think of Soho House.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">By early afternoon the glare of the sun has chased me across the kitchen to the extent that only place I can see my screen is when it's resting on the high chair, so I relocate into the living room while Samuel and James nap. Once they're up again and the sun has shifted once more, I make the sofa in Samuel's room my refuge. At some point before dinner time, a serious nappy change will be required right in front of my 'desk'. You don't get that in an open office environment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, nappy changes and litter trays aside, I'm enjoying freelancing immensely. One of the big benefits, of course, is being able to bugger off and do something fun on the days when I've got no work on. That's exactly what we did on Tuesday when we went to the zoo in Battersea Park. The weather was scorchio and the animals were out in force. Not that Samuel cared about the animals too much - he just wanted to climb up slides the wrong way and no amount of, 'Look, Samuel! Monkeys!' or, 'Look, Samuel! Lemurs!' was going to change his mind on that. He did, however, acquiesce and join me in the tunnel that leads you to a plastic bubble in the middle of the meerkat enclosure. As you'll see from the photo, I was way more excited than him. But, with me as a mother, there's no way he's going to be able to stay that indifferent towards meerkats.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-10694676402713252372014-07-27T15:30:00.001-07:002014-07-27T15:30:27.822-07:0030/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MBmulvGwc32YFRtymJz7Suo_WHxQChPrCoaa47s0lmfK-Oxx7_1TFEI9rlyM4-c2jXadCBB4RehyphenhyphenPAbbnL6jke0rJm4gSoXdAn8gIbcuvv9cJTZKJexMK0C4bW6wrWdX9dc5Bn83tIDr/s640/blogger-image-1457810970.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9MBmulvGwc32YFRtymJz7Suo_WHxQChPrCoaa47s0lmfK-Oxx7_1TFEI9rlyM4-c2jXadCBB4RehyphenhyphenPAbbnL6jke0rJm4gSoXdAn8gIbcuvv9cJTZKJexMK0C4bW6wrWdX9dc5Bn83tIDr/s640/blogger-image-1457810970.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So you know that thing where toddlers spend half an hour wailing and screaming and thrashing in a boiling hot, jam-packed train carriage, while you sit shhhhhshing like your life depends on it (and when you see the looks that are being sharpened and thrown your way by fellow commuters you realise that it quite possibly does), slinking down your seat in mortification and sweating the stressful sweat of the parent who has made the novice mistake of forcing their teething tot onto public transport in July and is being forced to suffer for it all the way 'till Clapham Junction and then you finally (FINALLY!) stand up to get them off the train and they instantly turn their frown upside down, smile cutely at all of the passengers they have been aurally assaulting since Gipsy Hill, wave and sweetly say 'bye-bye'? Well that was our Saturday morning.</span></div><div><br></div><div>But the train journey was worth every excruciating second when we arrived at our destination: Jo's house in Surrey. We had the most amazing afternoon sunning ourselves and playing in the garden with the loveliest children known to man. We ate immense amounts of food and caught up while Samuel had the time of his life in the paddling pool. Cora introduced me to Frozen while Finn introduced James to loom bands and we felt like we had a small glimpse into our future: the years beyond toddlerhood. It looked good, I'm telling you. And in the meantime we'll just have to travel by car a little more I think.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-27985566559444112952014-07-21T15:57:00.001-07:002014-07-21T15:57:38.080-07:0029/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpOpOqEjEjPVSPBmhKSWNUiNFQIrIvSgPH5UwmUGCkYjlwYnNJSreFZsh45H_h4AveyuIBWjOWP6m41FZWHfjpW_0oCGMpsHj4PiaUpH0WXgWlyKYO-mhXgjbsRr7-GoiqFyG8JTq4xaC/s640/blogger-image--33082034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjpOpOqEjEjPVSPBmhKSWNUiNFQIrIvSgPH5UwmUGCkYjlwYnNJSreFZsh45H_h4AveyuIBWjOWP6m41FZWHfjpW_0oCGMpsHj4PiaUpH0WXgWlyKYO-mhXgjbsRr7-GoiqFyG8JTq4xaC/s640/blogger-image--33082034.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Check out the awesome Spider-man sunglasses Granny Pat gave Samuel this weekend. He loves them and thinks he's so grown up. We called him a cool dude, so now he says 'coooo' a lot, much like a pigeon. Other things he's saying a lot of at the moment include 'Bye bye, Daddy' (particularly when neither he nor Daddy are going anywhere - it's giving James a complex) and also 'Barry'. Don't ask.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3Ehb9rVo0-3c9_Ts_esKqPcozo492cjrnwQztVho1s-y4Jx6bTn65Aupb4psWqto1uwo2lSD54dGoEwnW3l4NrVdFnt1onTizkcIdeaxDi0Un69JccHDBCXvt7I4FVg9UBNg6HjmtMjS/s640/blogger-image--709736625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH3Ehb9rVo0-3c9_Ts_esKqPcozo492cjrnwQztVho1s-y4Jx6bTn65Aupb4psWqto1uwo2lSD54dGoEwnW3l4NrVdFnt1onTizkcIdeaxDi0Un69JccHDBCXvt7I4FVg9UBNg6HjmtMjS/s640/blogger-image--709736625.jpg"></a></div><br></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-90338563714979328002014-07-13T14:15:00.001-07:002014-07-13T14:15:03.784-07:0028/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1naRp7JCVfdBaxEodTdJQBYIBivnItOn_K6tLXo46FaVb55wQsP9eOVRoQrYenZC07-MwwNqtxpCCfELuxQVc8GXlFpTTQHi0lQ6km6O7_4aQG8KFQ_5byLWQl_jsv3fSwTdqAs_rZq3a/s640/blogger-image-1106120903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1naRp7JCVfdBaxEodTdJQBYIBivnItOn_K6tLXo46FaVb55wQsP9eOVRoQrYenZC07-MwwNqtxpCCfELuxQVc8GXlFpTTQHi0lQ6km6O7_4aQG8KFQ_5byLWQl_jsv3fSwTdqAs_rZq3a/s640/blogger-image-1106120903.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It feels like there's another toddler living at our place at the moment: Ba-bear.* Whenever Samuel has a meal, Ba-Bear must join us. I fed him a carrot stick earlier on. At least he's a healthy influence. Whenever Samuel gets put in his sleeping bag, Ba-Bear must get put in one too. Ba-Bear is the last person that Samuel says goodnight to (after he's offered him the last slurp of milk from his bedtime bottle, natch). Ba-Bear is the first person he calls out for in the morning. Hell, Ba-Bear even has a matching sunhat to Samuel. Ba-Bear is a curse and Ba-Bear is a blessing. Ba-Bear is Samuel's first proper best friend. </span></div><div><br></div><div>*James thinks Ba-Bear is spelled Ber-Bear. He's wrong of course, but Samuel is not yet in a position to clarify spelling.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-20445523956304337942014-07-08T15:05:00.001-07:002014-07-08T15:08:24.602-07:0027/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6ul1kF6A1r9zGunE9ZF9Fxkr7eVKemluRH1CUnNtGZg52SlaLptKlGKFSV9nY6fX8sFCpGIohuH4L3RDXrly0G00CX7tUOHxj9hSh4p-ApHN92b5ahshzbS6-E45KgkeCJvFl9dGadoR/s640/blogger-image--295361527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs6ul1kF6A1r9zGunE9ZF9Fxkr7eVKemluRH1CUnNtGZg52SlaLptKlGKFSV9nY6fX8sFCpGIohuH4L3RDXrly0G00CX7tUOHxj9hSh4p-ApHN92b5ahshzbS6-E45KgkeCJvFl9dGadoR/s640/blogger-image--295361527.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">There was puke this weekend. Lots of it and very few photos as a result. We put it all down to a bug Samuel's picked up in childcare. The poor love yakked six or seven times on Friday night (but he didn't cry once - bless him) and he felt rough for the rest of the weekend so we kept him indoors. That meant we had to stay indoors too in the main, and my plans for a boozy lunch with L had to be put on ice. But that's parenthood for you and I wouldn't swap it for any amount of Champagne cocktails in Soho (did that sound genuine? Excellent). Anyway, Samuel was a little perkier on Sunday so I managed to sneak out for a Pilates class - a real treat - and when I got home he and I played 'boo!' through my rolled-up yoga mat. This boy is a sweetheart.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-29143469609752158772014-07-01T14:04:00.001-07:002014-07-01T14:04:30.802-07:0026/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrInHtxtPK1O1yWo3b9lwzzZcQZe_T5AKtQRXDe4VzQrKlpou9a3dQXysgj7PrrhyhX4ck-fnqK7W4UO0OcFO_ySlaEqXrEh-v4JVYEY7PxLHw-fWODTgcum0YWwNI1yJioAqUVPVEIqmx/s640/blogger-image--1630952935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrInHtxtPK1O1yWo3b9lwzzZcQZe_T5AKtQRXDe4VzQrKlpou9a3dQXysgj7PrrhyhX4ck-fnqK7W4UO0OcFO_ySlaEqXrEh-v4JVYEY7PxLHw-fWODTgcum0YWwNI1yJioAqUVPVEIqmx/s640/blogger-image--1630952935.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So here we are, half way through the year, and I've somehow managed to keep up my photos of the week. Well done me. So, to celebrate, I'm going to cheat and do a huge photo dump in this post. After all, this past weekend was a Granny K weekend, and a Granny K weekend always means photo opportunities galore. </span></div><div><br></div><div>It rained all day Saturday, so we threw on our rain macs and dinosaur puddle suits and took advantage of a near-empty playground. Samuel threw his head back while he was on the swing and laughed at the pitter patter raindrops hitting his face. He couldn't have had more fun. And yet he still managed to find a way to have more fun by nicking off with James' flat cap and walking around the roundabout like a Frank-Spencer-saurus.</div><div><br></div><div>By contrast, the weather on Sunday was glorious so we whizzed up to The Horniman (which is fast becoming our second home - there are worse places to have second homes) where we sat in the sunshine surveying the views and the low-flying aeroplanes. We popped into the aquarium and the natural history gallery too, where Samuel marvelled at the giant walrus and mum and James repeatedly swung him up in the air to his utter delight. Top weekend.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KbsNyTiPfkhHYm2HRgJ9LKTRhBR-dpSaNyZo05Ciq6J9eY69WaWhkS7Qk7j5dQLWrVVHrpK8YyuAIS-tFZyd1hJygaB9sS7cmNSN4KhRtS7oj4mzcjDHIZRPwZmeD-_cU8Wj91XCPmLZ/s640/blogger-image-1953747196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KbsNyTiPfkhHYm2HRgJ9LKTRhBR-dpSaNyZo05Ciq6J9eY69WaWhkS7Qk7j5dQLWrVVHrpK8YyuAIS-tFZyd1hJygaB9sS7cmNSN4KhRtS7oj4mzcjDHIZRPwZmeD-_cU8Wj91XCPmLZ/s640/blogger-image-1953747196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V9SGiEXIjclQmAEqSPzytBZM5xHx8Gum8qaQSe-GDzxIoa1y7TmIPz-NMk5oQiWUwGq6VviWkpXmNrWEY4PNFJlSrIg1ToqkDx3n9PCXLg-cQ1E0Ux_ZPka1WiTNxry35AT7LMwYE4Uw/s640/blogger-image-1556107684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1V9SGiEXIjclQmAEqSPzytBZM5xHx8Gum8qaQSe-GDzxIoa1y7TmIPz-NMk5oQiWUwGq6VviWkpXmNrWEY4PNFJlSrIg1ToqkDx3n9PCXLg-cQ1E0Ux_ZPka1WiTNxry35AT7LMwYE4Uw/s640/blogger-image-1556107684.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzmq5cG2yFPik6z4ziCYpBpAaQpSpTRV89URGmCE70boZhJHkoVGwGjUvMIcrDdKg_ZEuSKdxhBoQVFmad4Bb3GSf6oXraq1PjaWedpkxI3BT_mFJcg4DjtaTVWTzpzDdBD5J6LP4byAQ/s640/blogger-image-1416118411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKzmq5cG2yFPik6z4ziCYpBpAaQpSpTRV89URGmCE70boZhJHkoVGwGjUvMIcrDdKg_ZEuSKdxhBoQVFmad4Bb3GSf6oXraq1PjaWedpkxI3BT_mFJcg4DjtaTVWTzpzDdBD5J6LP4byAQ/s640/blogger-image-1416118411.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXkuBZo8oT9-rl1-m_4xHXFZ5BOaQhHiq3tOnKYpakO5-3hc7wDpEOM5ExIfRGuKoTNcVEJagY1JKd2uWvGJPECVnB4ID1laI4XrYtHAwsb4YmcInyGv_jatQDHznLT5QcCCsL1mH9Xlr/s640/blogger-image-1171171886.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-x4hIK01v2DOGZNUHX8Rpd6xwf1E-7j-NTbN-MZKAG28zaGeoW6MzxNm7Cjq1_CZqUSzAfq-O35SL7uzjgC4mPjVExTlE9jmkY6hRl3qjmSjNsRIROfocr7omaBw_9nEQUuU1zojSLvNa/s640/blogger-image-799530911.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-15284281898137844782014-06-25T14:52:00.000-07:002014-06-25T15:27:59.396-07:00You know you're a parent of a toddler when ...<div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">• A small person who looks like you stomps across your picnic blanket, and stamps his sweaty, sandalled foot straight into your pot of houmous before continuing on his way. You grimace for a moment, then shrug your shoulders and dip another mini pitta in the aforementioned houmous.</span></div>
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• Your kid is in bed and you celebrate having got through another hot summer's day by pouring yourselves a couple of glasses of super-strong Pimms (no fruit - you ran out of token strawberries days ago) while discussing who is the most annoying character in The Great Snortle Hunt.</div>
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• You are tired, the state of your flat disgusts you, you owe a million people emails, you are meant to be doing an ASDA order and you really should be in bed, and yet you find yourself <a href="http://www.scarymommy.com/cut-grapes-in-half/#sthash.6WYX2akf.gbpl" target="_blank">watching a video on Facebook of an American in a baseball cap showing you how to cut a whole plate of grapes in half in one go</a> and you hear yourself shout out loud, 'game changer!'</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-52280439559674929922014-06-23T14:33:00.001-07:002014-06-24T15:32:37.613-07:0025/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpPY-LlavYOtOFAcy7pLVC8D2DDofR8rjzC8o-Sf2szKOb6HBV2jMuJyNqooM8AsKmBvIL-1bmeiXv2PD7fB4tNvmj76S2RFwZzHwXbrJuayCkJJGFqv3xnals382dfwy_zNfZ6M1UdGL/s640/blogger-image--1377618166.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDpPY-LlavYOtOFAcy7pLVC8D2DDofR8rjzC8o-Sf2szKOb6HBV2jMuJyNqooM8AsKmBvIL-1bmeiXv2PD7fB4tNvmj76S2RFwZzHwXbrJuayCkJJGFqv3xnals382dfwy_zNfZ6M1UdGL/s640/blogger-image--1377618166.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">It was the week that everything turned on a six-pence. James decided to leave his job</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> and plans to spend the summer with his little dinosaur adventurer (and napping a lot too, I think). We have absolutely no idea what the future holds and yet we are strangely relaxed about the whole thing. Odd.</span></div><div><div><br></div><div>Maybe my work picking up helps with it all. I'm still working all hours and am shattered but I'm loving it. And I'm loving the freedom of being a freelancer. No ties, no politics, no commute, just me and my laptop. </div><div><br></div><div>And Samuel? Well it's all change for him too. There I was last week, wringing my hands, feeling guilty and worrying about leaving my precious baby with a childminder. And then, of course, after the first day he didn't want to come home. He plays nice, drinks Fruit Shoots and gets to hang out with Millie the dog. And then there's Kevin, his new pal. A year older than Samuel and cool as you like, you can already tell that this is a hero worship relationship just waiting to happen. </div><div><br></div><div>If anyone found the childcare transition hard, it was me. By lunchtime on the first day I was sat at my desk just aching for him. But then I enjoyed yet another mug of hot and uninterrupted coffee, and I soon got over that one. But the thing that I'm not sure I'll ever get used to is knowing that for two days' a week my son has a secret life - one that I'll never be a part of. </div><div><br></div><div>But, as I'm discovering, when you're a working parent, it's all the more important to make the most of the time you have together. So that's exactly what we'll be doing this summer. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-61853747276490677872014-06-17T06:59:00.001-07:002014-06-17T06:59:06.040-07:0024/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkkrMae3Xq8EXOn0F1vjbQmzWNiy_AZPR-0MSgVH6Rz8wa7npXxbmM5uU6Nb9-UqK-UFdV2Q881LZffo1GJ9LfeTplC7Lno3aglcimNnEwNI6Qwh9oSQOsX40YGq3jnNFNIe_dOcZc-cd/s640/blogger-image--1553640273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkkrMae3Xq8EXOn0F1vjbQmzWNiy_AZPR-0MSgVH6Rz8wa7npXxbmM5uU6Nb9-UqK-UFdV2Q881LZffo1GJ9LfeTplC7Lno3aglcimNnEwNI6Qwh9oSQOsX40YGq3jnNFNIe_dOcZc-cd/s640/blogger-image--1553640273.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Oh, we've been having fun together the past few days. When we're out and about Samuel often walks happily alongside me or sits proudly next to me on the train. He listens to everything I say and replies in toddler babble that becomes less and less unintelligible each day. He's great company. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Yesterday afternoon, he interrupted his game of rolling cars down the ramp of his multi-story car park to run over to me, sprawled out on the floor. He leaped up on my back crawled up my person, laughing his head off, and then gave me a gentle cuddle.</div><div><br></div><div>It felt so, so good. But at the exact <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">same time a </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">fist of guilt smacked me right in the gut and almost took my breath away. Tomorrow Samuel starts with a childminder and our 24/7 partnership comes to an end. </span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-86280276274313930702014-06-14T15:40:00.001-07:002014-06-14T15:40:16.381-07:00Behind the scenes at the museum<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhphRk3CDpuueOxbyk1t112FRQnGoRvPMQdUsUaamOEWH2TR7GOelLTgGeW9oyXp9l2M9jmom4Cl1tbpfIsV3AJElcSMYNjH-fkNr0ZIpE0lQM1E-L5mIxwzYEGT7bC7cCYK1rONXzaKm/s640/blogger-image--378156547.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhphRk3CDpuueOxbyk1t112FRQnGoRvPMQdUsUaamOEWH2TR7GOelLTgGeW9oyXp9l2M9jmom4Cl1tbpfIsV3AJElcSMYNjH-fkNr0ZIpE0lQM1E-L5mIxwzYEGT7bC7cCYK1rONXzaKm/s640/blogger-image--378156547.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">After a long and tiring week it was great to wake up this morning and get told to go back to bed for a lie-in. Then, when I finally did emerge blinking into the living room I was greeted with a rousing version of 'Happy Birthday' while a bemused toddler following instructions dragged a bag full of chocolates in my general direction and handed me a card complete with his own 'handwriting'. (I later discovered that this endeavour had resulted in pen on his stomach, on the floor and on the kitchen cabinet. But still. Seriously lovely.)</span></div><div><br></div><div>My lie-in kind of put pay to any original day-trip plans, so we decided to stay close to home and run around at The Horniman Museum. And run around we did. Samuel hurtled through the creepy bird taxidermy section and past the eery cabinets packed with primate skeletons, stopping only briefly to open a fire exit and, later, grab a flea-bitten stuffed badger. It's terrifically Victorian and gothic in there.</div><div><br></div><div>Outside he was let loose around the sprawling gardens where he scrambled up and down gravel hills absolutely fearlessly. He clocked the huge outdoor xylophones and clonked them to his heart's content while I sat on a bench, taking in the fresh air, taking in the Dick Whittington-style views of London, taking in the moment.</div><div><br></div><div>We got to the cafe just before crazed lunchtime rush and nabbed a table in the sun. Samuel, distracted by pigeons below and aeroplanes above, happily scoffed his lunch without a single tantrum and let us do the same. Total birthday luxury.</div><div><br></div><div>Before we left we went to check out the mini farm they have there. Samuel laughed his head off at the goat (he always laughs at goats - toddlers are odd) and waved hello to every single animal. Then, when he accidentally operated the hand dryer in the hand-washing area and burst into terrified floods of tears, we knew that it was time to go. But what a top birthday with my boys.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqJ5K1w_0ZN8c9ifN0YtVUehfBJL_duYHZBABZ5pJ_dtC6LCB4m0W6XL3CgomuMqczGootVqUOS-sCjlmqfH6C9e3irHUihyphenhyphenlPbvUtlnhhhrXmRcD26mjEUtcbPBHYWpSFFx48rNL-MX5/s640/blogger-image--640469319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqJ5K1w_0ZN8c9ifN0YtVUehfBJL_duYHZBABZ5pJ_dtC6LCB4m0W6XL3CgomuMqczGootVqUOS-sCjlmqfH6C9e3irHUihyphenhyphenlPbvUtlnhhhrXmRcD26mjEUtcbPBHYWpSFFx48rNL-MX5/s640/blogger-image--640469319.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcD5omsAsSaAWKU-RO_t18tXhMOYVM1StjwQ4OexU04oIacmcEwBf11IrrJsL5AMQfrTXui-3V3l65UtVkWkTQHCy2bCXXkHySrCgeSobK3qcpvEk9YHkgIFFAL9tkTp5ltNu31GrKIUY/s640/blogger-image--976696916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcD5omsAsSaAWKU-RO_t18tXhMOYVM1StjwQ4OexU04oIacmcEwBf11IrrJsL5AMQfrTXui-3V3l65UtVkWkTQHCy2bCXXkHySrCgeSobK3qcpvEk9YHkgIFFAL9tkTp5ltNu31GrKIUY/s640/blogger-image--976696916.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OCSnPCJe_Fbma3TZYc8vjZsxJ52Z6pvslQwzRHbiC3fb22TqBN3Os5i3hBfOQjX5vCdu6CS8ZspvVCbI2Zk8jZFie3gcyJJLG1uHBziURSx3IhwUhka1ALIhVgPPvGyK0770gL0eLNwT/s640/blogger-image--1684393389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OCSnPCJe_Fbma3TZYc8vjZsxJ52Z6pvslQwzRHbiC3fb22TqBN3Os5i3hBfOQjX5vCdu6CS8ZspvVCbI2Zk8jZFie3gcyJJLG1uHBziURSx3IhwUhka1ALIhVgPPvGyK0770gL0eLNwT/s640/blogger-image--1684393389.jpg"></a></div></div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgz73YN2iAVoVMyZB5EwsBHm_GDokhx-a5mgtb1vujIgZB6S04Bz_2aqlTmLfTVs3zttVX0ebeS8rN2ZTfMpl2nqUD-tMuFvwIg98BK67c6tdA0KOBO76Pa1k7a2EslWeKCE0z7QtBtAf/s640/blogger-image-190196133.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBgz73YN2iAVoVMyZB5EwsBHm_GDokhx-a5mgtb1vujIgZB6S04Bz_2aqlTmLfTVs3zttVX0ebeS8rN2ZTfMpl2nqUD-tMuFvwIg98BK67c6tdA0KOBO76Pa1k7a2EslWeKCE0z7QtBtAf/s640/blogger-image-190196133.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-88215999365784608362014-06-09T17:07:00.001-07:002014-06-09T17:07:19.089-07:0023/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vuVnXcEZwn1sEHVdVB1trHLb0MgO1ESOLUtGjhy1ObS6NhLNDLjtL2Mi7BkPM-mANoMI2YiGxr-b1JlpMHTP021yleTklR1Wgs0EZQ_SmcS1eN3HNctO5OpsbKoE5sHG5SsLTY6RT2Hp/s640/blogger-image--484849035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vuVnXcEZwn1sEHVdVB1trHLb0MgO1ESOLUtGjhy1ObS6NhLNDLjtL2Mi7BkPM-mANoMI2YiGxr-b1JlpMHTP021yleTklR1Wgs0EZQ_SmcS1eN3HNctO5OpsbKoE5sHG5SsLTY6RT2Hp/s640/blogger-image--484849035.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">I'm struggling to keep up the blogging these days. I've a lot of work on - and that's fantastic news - but with the permanent childcare situation still unresolved there's not a whole lot of time for much else (apart from Game of Thrones, of course. Somehow there always seems to be time for Game of Thrones). </span></div><div><br></div><div>Anyway, when the weekends roll around I rejoice as it means James is around so I can lock myself away and put some serious hours in. And one-on-one Daddy time? Well, Samuel loves it. I left my office (the kitchen table) the other day only to discover the pair of them sitting at either end of the sofa snacking on Malted Milks and rice cakes, each with an iPad next to them. They were chucking around some proper ladz bantz. It was about Justin's House, I think, but bantz nonetheless. </div><div><br></div><div>The thing is, Samuel doesn't just love his Dad, he idolises him. In the mornings he watches intently as James puts gunk in his hair as he's getting ready, then throughout the day all Samuel wants to get at is those pots of gunk. He wants to do his hair like his Dad. He wants to do everything like his dad, really. And why not? I can't think of a better role model for a little man. Apart from the Malted Milk thing, that is, but nobody's perfect I suppose. So, just in case I don't manage to post anything before then, Happy Father's Day, James.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-59843211259035598892014-06-03T07:50:00.001-07:002014-06-03T15:43:03.477-07:0022/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LRqZfQGUS1jVftOEgtPoZnoNishNUR9ZHsdkuEeTtXwmhyphenhyphenHQ0Zu6qqkf7eAZQpYnanvh9uCXUeu5lRZ-OJroX-BZ8J9AE6z1XKVqF0pWjzvqOgm3OkLqIp6fwvs4xI4t1DuGBzeeihaM/s640/blogger-image--217174767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LRqZfQGUS1jVftOEgtPoZnoNishNUR9ZHsdkuEeTtXwmhyphenhyphenHQ0Zu6qqkf7eAZQpYnanvh9uCXUeu5lRZ-OJroX-BZ8J9AE6z1XKVqF0pWjzvqOgm3OkLqIp6fwvs4xI4t1DuGBzeeihaM/s640/blogger-image--217174767.jpg"></a></div><br></div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When Samuel's first ever party invitation dropped though our letter box, my first reaction was joy. What a milestone! He now officially has his own social life. </span></div><div><br></div><div>My second reaction was envy. I mean his social life is - even in its infancy - already better than mine. On the bright side, my new status as an eternal plus one means that my diary is bound to be packed too from now on. I just live in hope that Garlic and Shots will one day branch out into the toddler party package market.<div><br></div><div>My third reaction was horror. His manners need a bit of work. He's a hair-puller extraordinaire, a slave to his tantrums and a sweet treat thief. Our session at Monkey Music the day before had ended with a monumental buggy-refusal meltdown which led to fellow parents looking on with that mixture of sympathy and relief. Relief that it wasn't their child kicking off. Were we in for that kind of behaviour again at the party?</div></div><div><br></div><div>Luckily, we were not. Samuel was a pretty excellent guest. He played nicely with the other children and he had a whale of a time on the bouncy castle. He was the youngest by far but that didn't stop him from bouncing the highest and grinning the widest. He tucked into a plate of cake with eyes wide as saucers because he just couldn't believe his luck. Also, he wore chinos and a printed floral shirt. On a fully grown man an outfit such as this may have had connotations of ageing City trader on the razz, but Samuel somehow made the look his own.</div><div><br></div><div>And so it begins. I'm keeping my eye on the letter box, ready for the deluge.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTvrt89VLGY3qdJ4j1ww0INTyPn-qGJZIxSye5TX_JDYwUDS2qy6i9p2Sup38d6q4H3ueYczHjvdY9zFUGb3bAukmwixdRDflM7bc3jNS3vV4twhHFb182s9ctH96ZmJ7mIb4dQKxxywy/s640/blogger-image-1926090669.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLTvrt89VLGY3qdJ4j1ww0INTyPn-qGJZIxSye5TX_JDYwUDS2qy6i9p2Sup38d6q4H3ueYczHjvdY9zFUGb3bAukmwixdRDflM7bc3jNS3vV4twhHFb182s9ctH96ZmJ7mIb4dQKxxywy/s640/blogger-image-1926090669.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-32898744316031594692014-05-27T00:27:00.001-07:002014-05-27T00:27:23.630-07:0021/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8w-IGq43O_1KL87FXJBYzbTV9b9Jrt6Y42esStwKj9rBlkf9lr0a1eRBgU_ac63vjEns0-OfpyXwg1RLR1c3ch2MnHwsb_F2GaQJKTyN092NdABYgK7vAi5CEb6nDibo6AAnEo-Qu_tsH/s640/blogger-image--1090923430.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8w-IGq43O_1KL87FXJBYzbTV9b9Jrt6Y42esStwKj9rBlkf9lr0a1eRBgU_ac63vjEns0-OfpyXwg1RLR1c3ch2MnHwsb_F2GaQJKTyN092NdABYgK7vAi5CEb6nDibo6AAnEo-Qu_tsH/s640/blogger-image--1090923430.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>When we get on trains now I can sit Samuel next to me on a seat rather than having to keep him in his buggy in the aisle. He looks so tiny but so grown up. He never sits still for long, of course, but going<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> from slightly inconvenient item of luggage to interested companion has to </span>be a key milestone in anyone's life, right?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-34248729135004145832014-05-23T07:43:00.001-07:002014-05-23T08:17:32.228-07:00The day the wheels came off at Wisely<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheU2yYKd9lBUdZ6tlzzhyXBV1R7y3giB5AtbFGor5h567PfgEdyLhpRri4EenhRzDb7a14_4v4lPxWYfz33cuawVnWowcNAZoadmPxaYRFR0j030UU1yvXX4KA774VjdX6-t_Yi8ZuIDfq/s640/blogger-image-1998163610.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheU2yYKd9lBUdZ6tlzzhyXBV1R7y3giB5AtbFGor5h567PfgEdyLhpRri4EenhRzDb7a14_4v4lPxWYfz33cuawVnWowcNAZoadmPxaYRFR0j030UU1yvXX4KA774VjdX6-t_Yi8ZuIDfq/s640/blogger-image-1998163610.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div>So far, this week has seen a spate of face-palm appalling behaviour. Stealing chocolate chip cookies from the hands of little girls. Purposefully running over people's toes in ride-on cars. Shutting people in the cupboard beneath a toy sink unit at playgroup. But, you know, I'm working on my issues. Samuel's behaviour has been pretty bad too. <br>
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So when Jo suggested a day out at Wisley with her and Cora yesterday, it was just what we needed. Top company, slabs of cake the size of bricks and acres and acres of space to run free with nobody around to annoy or nick plastic aubergines from (why doesn't somebody stop me?). Apart from all the pretty plant action, there's SO much for kids there. A huge adventure playground with an area full of branches and sticks encouraging you to build your own den. An Indiana Jones-style rope bridge that you can use as a trampoline to bounce toddlers off the other end if you jump hard enough (I'm still surprised they didn't ban me there and then). Ducks to chase (I find it difficult to restrain myself, okay?) and all of these cool logs carved to look like crocodiles. I even heard rumours of an indoor soft play area, but we didn't check it out as we remained outdoors in the fresh air, dodging the extremely British showers and hardily eating our lunch under the shelter of a tree. It all felt very Bear Grylls (if Bear Grylls had a dinosaur puddle suit and a copious supply of raisins) and I think we enjoyed our adventure all the more for sticking out the weather. Also, Samuel fell truly, madly and deeply in love with Cora and they even held hands in the car on the way back to the station. Cutest. Thing. Ever.<br>
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The only slight issue came by merit of me trying out our new cheap-as-chips Mothercare stroller for the first time and its front wheels falling off before we'd even made it up to Wisley's entrance. But, in the spirit of our gung-ho approach to the day, Jo showed off her survival skills and screwed them back on. It was such a great day and there's been nothing but good behaviour since we've been back. Samuel too.<br>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRYVZvvXwa_he_yHhq-SWo8cBks_INPjd_szoQNzKwZWUmwtMMtrJZLFCmgEyPAYL9xj-3dhyMVq3Sut4Vf0qS1ZYO3yd0bC2FaxbMf_jUTwrtS1WiPg5RLPkqc8CIdkmJN6Bxit1ABO7J/s640/blogger-image--1781089599.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRYVZvvXwa_he_yHhq-SWo8cBks_INPjd_szoQNzKwZWUmwtMMtrJZLFCmgEyPAYL9xj-3dhyMVq3Sut4Vf0qS1ZYO3yd0bC2FaxbMf_jUTwrtS1WiPg5RLPkqc8CIdkmJN6Bxit1ABO7J/s640/blogger-image--1781089599.jpg"></a></div><br><div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-68983917349772857512014-05-20T02:01:00.001-07:002014-05-20T02:09:10.596-07:0020/52<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sK0jRN0Knke3O5eYR6EM5S4iLa1HJoajtKwMWRXlQiQqrM8gW2nF6XTdFmmnEwTJOhFEDMhWj5yVBCIT28ugxWyQviXeZW1mPi7zy3NBLAh90clZgHDlPBzWdwSVuUdH88Vr67b0Piy0/s640/blogger-image-1141496335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4sK0jRN0Knke3O5eYR6EM5S4iLa1HJoajtKwMWRXlQiQqrM8gW2nF6XTdFmmnEwTJOhFEDMhWj5yVBCIT28ugxWyQviXeZW1mPi7zy3NBLAh90clZgHDlPBzWdwSVuUdH88Vr67b0Piy0/s640/blogger-image-1141496335.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">When Samuel discovered his shadow in Granny's garden last week, he was agog. Once he'd clocked it, he did a proper double take. He raised his hands in the air. So did his shadow. He put them down by his sides again. His shadow did too. Then he started to walk backwards very slowly and burst out laughing when he realised that no matter how sneakily he tried to move away from it, he was stuck with his shadow for good.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-2406466020833602512014-05-16T07:33:00.001-07:002014-05-16T12:11:42.275-07:00In the last 24 hours I have:<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBW9J91Ejv_aP5p3j4tz1QKJxGMKSO75S5Rc72dCkwuOjmcRL-KYN_11UO71rPGr2qVfdjhSuhZJhw73FxAcEhvGTYegQQ8ymfCWbtYKkwZushjrcUqcW7Wvvs6Bhsd653BGea70scOxA/s640/blogger-image-25306709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBW9J91Ejv_aP5p3j4tz1QKJxGMKSO75S5Rc72dCkwuOjmcRL-KYN_11UO71rPGr2qVfdjhSuhZJhw73FxAcEhvGTYegQQ8ymfCWbtYKkwZushjrcUqcW7Wvvs6Bhsd653BGea70scOxA/s640/blogger-image-25306709.jpg"></a></div></div><div><br></div><div>• Turned my back on Samuel momentarily only to look back and discover him flexing - and then wearing -Granny's glasses.</div><div><br></div>• Mastered the art of brushing my teeth with one hand while using the other hand to stop a toddler disappearing head-first into the toilet and one foot to stop the same toddler emptying out and eating the contents of the bathroom bin.<div><br></div><div>• Put every photoframe and remote control in my Mum's house up on her dining table - the only place Samuel can't reach and pilfer them from.</div><div><br></div><div>• Realised that we have a bit of a serious problem with hair pulling. He went for EVERY SINGLE ponytail at soft play yesterday. It's not malicious - he's just fascinated. But, you know. Girly tears galore. Oops.</div><div><br></div><div>• Worked out that every soft play centre is hotter than Hedes and significantly more corrupt (yes, financially ruinous Peppa Pig car ride with all the attractive flashing buttons, I'm looking at you).</div><div><br></div><div>• Discovered an episode of The Numtums recorded on the Sky Box. Neither I nor my mother were responsible for this.</div><div><br></div><div>• Built the most excellent train track and populated it with Thomas, Percy et al.</div><div><br></div><div>• Been splattered in the face with custard on two separate occasions (and yes, my son probably does eat too much custard).</div><div><br></div><div>• Sliced a tomato while simultaneously using a foot to keep the fridge door closed and using my arse to cover the buttons and dials of the washing machine that are so irresistible to little paws. It's quite the pose.</div><div><br></div><div>Toddlers stress you out, man. But then the payoff is that you get to laugh your head off as you watch them discover their shadow for the first time or shout 'ta-dah!' - with bonus jazz hands - when you get them from their cot in the morning. The fun far outweighs the infuriating.</div><div><br></div><div>Still, with work picking up for me and Samuel crying out for more entertainment and company, I think we both might benefit from a bit of change. So today I picked up the phone and booked us in for a couple of nursery viewings next week. Gulp.</div><div><br></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuomch0b36a56Pak61JW0OjfB9K9e4q-uP6kLmUOkQ52-A4nQFalziEn6raPPl4s3eCiKtBQwrj23RFvhe29Aml3viTRIaPujH0H0Uk336aJWzuwzQCCqSOac_h2ASRliEnvgZqn8bCwM2/s640/blogger-image-506904369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuomch0b36a56Pak61JW0OjfB9K9e4q-uP6kLmUOkQ52-A4nQFalziEn6raPPl4s3eCiKtBQwrj23RFvhe29Aml3viTRIaPujH0H0Uk336aJWzuwzQCCqSOac_h2ASRliEnvgZqn8bCwM2/s640/blogger-image-506904369.jpg"></a></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3589804424627003496.post-4612879213872336282014-05-14T13:31:00.001-07:002014-05-14T14:17:08.830-07:00Midwife musingsGiving birth seems like a lifetime ago now. Well, I suppose it was really; Samuel's lifetime. When I think back on it, some parts are fuzzy, some parts are completely - and probably purposefully - blocked out, but other parts I remember with a startling stay-with-you-til-the-day-that-you-die kind of clarity. One such moment came a day or two after Samuel was born when we spent a fleeting morning with a heaven-sent midwife. With a little hug and a lot of kindness, she transformed me from a grubby wreck with no confidence to a clean wreck who was a lot more optimistic about the future. She was awesome. So, when TalkMum asked me to write a post for them about midwives this month, she was the one I banged on about. You can find my piece <a href="http://www.talkmum.com/2014/05/the-midwife-who-went-the-extra-mile/" target="_blank">here</a><span style="font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969); font-size: 15px; line-height: 19px; white-space: nowrap;">.</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0