Words on a Wednesday...

Thank you so much for all of your empathy, kindness and advice following my last post. Wonderful to know that there are those out there who understand! Somehow it has lessened the burden knowing that. Honestly - thank you.

Photograph by Elizabeth Messina via happiness is

So what else is new?

I have never been one to hold back on the shopping front and this habit is reaching new proportions as I revel in dressing my daughter! Girl's clothes can be the stuff of dreams and I would go as far as to say most mothers who have boys will mention that they would love to be able to dress little girls. The pinkdom of it all...

via ilovegorgeous

With my daughter, suddenly she has tipped over from a little girl to a 10 year old; not a young woman by any stretch, but on her way. I am loving choosing clothes for her now. The absolute flawlessness of her (in my eyes) means that I do, I admit, get great pleasure from seeing her look comfortable in her own skin. And rightly or wrongly in our house that has something to do with nice clothes. Have I ruined her already?! I realise this is wildly superficial and children shouldn't be bothered by what they wear, but the point I am making is that she is on the verge of growing up and she is finding her style. I find this fascinating! She makes these cool little outfits which are appropriate but also fun. I think it's just lovely. If ever I wanted a mini me; I got one.

via dreamy whites

I have thought a bit recently about why people choose to have lots and lots of children. You know those families where there are three or four siblings all bustling along together at the school drop off like baby ducks following their mother? I find myself wondering what that would be like, although I know for sure I don't want more children. I have huge admiration for any family where the children outnumber the parents. And there must be something incredible about having lots of brothers and sisters; of that feeling of solidarity and unity. I am one of two and I have two children. It's all even for me. I am also fascinated by those mother ducks who have a gaggle of beautiful, tousled blonde children and look amazing and have tidy houses. Oops there I go again comparing myself...female angst at it's best.

via a lady's findings from dream spun kids

I have been running this morning. I find that I want to run the most when I think of it, usually late at night, with a little fission of excitement at the prospect of running the next morning. Then the morning arrives and I am less keen..but the schedule dictates. During the event, hmmm there are definitely moments when I wish I was not there. But after - when those endorphins kick in and my muscles feel tightened, then it's all good.

I went to a parent's talk yesterday at my kid's school, on Internet safety. It was given by the Police and seriously it was an eye-opener. Given that social media sites are kinda my thing, there wasn't anything technically that I didn't know. But what shocked me was the way in which young children, when online (facebook accounts at 10 - eh? no thanks) are so vulnerable. The point most laboured was this: do not share personal information. Of course the fact that I have a blog sent a shiver of worry through me. Am I putting my family in danger by sharing? Ugh...does not bear thinking about. Why is it that something I love could become something so ugly when looked at through different eyes?

'you can't wrap them in cotton wool...' via here from Southern Weddings Magazine

I am being everything to everyone this week, with far too many social engagements and events and work things happening....when does that down time I said I needed start?!

Be better...

So back to school they went, that early-term keen after a summer of few demands. For both of the Boos it's time to step it up. Be better. Try harder. For my daughter this is an important academic year so I had 'the talk' from the teachers and we know; it's time to work. As for my son, he fell behind last year. On the one hand I think he is so young, he should concentrate on kicking a ball and digging mud. That logic is fine so long as all other parents subscribe to it, so my son's habits are not therefore conspicuous. If he is the last in his class because I have chosen to disregard homework in favour of chucking a rugby ball, then that hardly seems fair to him.

via are so happy

I have to look at my reactions to this prospect of trying harder. Instinctively I like it; I feel like September is a gift of a month as it has that 'back to school' sensibility that should be grasped. But at the same time I can sense the work that lays ahead for them both and my involvement in it. I just know that at some point in the cold, dark winter months, when my husband's new job has taken hold and I am sitting at my kitchen table with whichever child, trying to explain the difference between tens and units or learning the order of the Solar System I will think 'what IS this?!'. What I am saying is: it will get old. And it won't take that long! And by the way, it's not as if we are home schooling - when did parental input become so pivotal?

I wonder where my internal measure comes from - why the need to try one's best? For me it's an in-built engine that motors along all the time; analysing, thinking of ways to improve, trying. I apply it to all things...from what to wear to how to have my hair to what I do at work to how the kids do at school. I think it's a good thing, a positive force!

So here is my be better plan:

1. eat well; always got to start with this.

2. walk outside every day.

3. read with my kids every night (no excuses).

4. homework IS a priority.

5. plan holidays - they are the elixir of life...

Check back in a few months time...let's see where this one takes me...

via it's mary ruffle

Ballet days again...

Today Boo has a ballet recital...well, what this really means is that the Mummies go to school to watch their girls do a show of what they have learned this year in ballet. Of course attendance is optional for the Mummies; but of course all Mummies attend. For me, today is a working day, I am lucky I have a lot of flexibility in my job and can schedule it so I work from home (nice cuppa tea?) and then nip to school at the right moment so i) Boo sees me, ii) I get the full rendition of the show and iii) it's noted by other other Mummies that even the working Mummy amongst them has turned up. I am amongst the few working Mothers at my children's school; there are a few dotted about, mainly those who run their own businesses and have that charging entrepreneurial spirit that actually suggests it's 'setting the world on fire' with their product or service rather than 'working as a corporate slave' like me.

The one thing that I feel really, really strongly about is that my kids should not be the kids who are  'unrepresented' at school events. Be it assemblies or shows or sports, I just feel that I should be there. I want to be there, but more than that, the feeling they get from seeing me there is priceless. They have never said whether it matters or not...but I know, when they say 'will you come Mummy?' that the only possible answer is 'yes, of course'.

But it does mean there is a bit of jiggery-pokery from a work perspective and so time needed to make up tonight when the house is quiet again.

The truth is, I would not miss a ballet recital for the world, as I think little girls learning ballet is one of life's beautiful things, always to be applauded! And on that note, how incredible is this image? Ballet-beauty personified...

Cupcake fairies...

Do you recall that scene in 'Titanic' where the ship-maker chap eases himself onto the lifeboat, even though it's reserved for women and children, and his face is just a picture of shame? On a magnificiently smaller level I had my own 'walk of shame' this week. Picture this: my children's school; a requirement to bring undecorated cupcakes, to be iced as part of a special visit, from a well-known British TV programme. I had not had time to make my cupcakes. By the time I had remembered to even get said cupcakes, Waitrose (lovely grocers) was shut. Cupcakes were purchased from the local corner shop which stocks every imaginable item on its packed shelves as long as it's the long-life version. Cupcakes could have walked out on their own considering the amount of preservatives they had in them.

Whilst I was hoping to drop off cupcakes at school in secrecy, I instead ran straight into wife of another well-known British TV 'star' whose son is in my daughter's class. This mother is a cupcake master. Her cupcakes (nestled sweetly in gingham wrappers in a Nigella cake tin) were the talk of the school at the summer fair. In one glance she heralded in me that spine-tingling motherly shame of having brought shop-bought cupcakes. Why oh why did I not make my own? Why did I not (even better) enlist the help of my Mum, who is another cupcake extraordinaire to make some for me?

Why is it that these little things have that way of making me feel - like I could have done better? Hmm sensing a theme here - see previous post! Another mother commiserated and said '...yes, but you are working...' as if that excused my lapse. The thing is, even if I weren't working I may still have forgotten this crucial activity.

So to all you wonderful cupcake makers out there (there is atleast one I know of here) - next time I have a need like this...can I please enlist your help? Maybe we could get some shipped in? I'm sure they travel well...I think I need a lifeboat ;-)

Memory lapse...

So today, work - more big meetings (more big shoes), more travel, more concentration, more 'to do' lists in my mind. Work has suddenly gained pace and its having an affect; a head full of things and none of it getting done! So I am feeling rather tired...

Today I forgot, as in completely forgot, to arrange for my son to stay on after school. This did not occur to me until I left my meeting a full hour after he had finished school. Eeek. Well, actually Arggghhh, S**T, other expletives, frantic calling to the school (it was all fine, they guessed he was meant to stay on and be collected with his big sister).

So - for Boo 2, here is another of those 'mother-love' pictures that only I would 'get'. Here he is running towards me as I took the picture so all this captures is those blonde curls! But to me, its just so him...

'Mean Mummy'

I am the tiger.

I am shameful as I write this as, yes reader, yesterday I was mean to my kids. This is a taboo Mummy subject - its the unwritten rule; meanness is unacceptable in Mothers, we must be calm, supportive, loving, forever reasonable, funny, nurturing, definitely not shouty - yes. But mean - no.

So here is how it went (the confession starts...). It was early morning yesterday, husband gone already, me getting the children ready for school and no matter how many times I said 'get dressed', 'have breakfast', 'brush your teeth', they just did not move. Like sloths...they lolled, my two children, as if they had all the time in the world. I had aforementioned (previous post) big meeting at work and was wearing the big heels that prohibited the usual running around the house trying to get everyone sorted. My son, who is 4, decided he wanted to build a Lego castle. My daughter could not find her reading book - one that she had had in her hand minutes before. More running up and downstairs ensued...until finally we all get in the car - late, harassed but on our way. By this stage I am fuming...why is it always such a struggle?! What follows on the journey to school is a lecture from me...of the worst kind...about how frustrating it is to me that they don't get ready on time, that they need to learn responsibility (locate the reading book as its important for school, save the Lego castle til later as there is somewhere we have to be right now, like school assembly...). I can see their sullen faces in my rear-view mirror, yet I press on! What was I thinking? We get started on the worst topic ever as it transpires that neither of them brushed their teeth....well, off I went. Like some woman possessed...on the merits of appropriate dental hygiene, how their teeth will literally fall out if they don't look after them, how the dentist will blame them for their tartar build-up...

By this stage, I am even starting to wonder why I am on this rant - we near school and I realise...I have gone too far. Rapidly trying to back-track so they don't go off to school with memories of their mother screaming at them about tooth-brushing in their minds, I try to lighten the mood; my guilt is setting in. As we get out the car I can see two chin wobbles and finally my daughter succumbs (one suspects linked to her abject fear of having to have a filling at the dentist, which I have now single-handledly upped on the anxiety list in her little life).

Tears fall, I feel wretched, we hug but its no good, the damage is done. So I have to leave her, red-faced and over-emotional as I walk away feeling ever so slightly ashamed.

'Where did that mean mummy come from?'
When I collected them from school they asked...ummm I have to say I am not sure where she came from...the pressures of modern life? No excuse! We all really hope she stays away...

Talking of mother-love...this set of photos I just adore. Its pinned up in my kitchen, pulled out of a issue of Vogue last summer. Especially the one at the top left which so utterly captures that mother/daughter emotion.

So, this is for Boo 1: I am sorry xx

Amanda Harlech and Tallulah Ormsby-Gore