Domesticali

Fern printing

As soon as I saw the beautiful fern printed tote over at Painted Fish Studio, I knew we would be giving the idea a go. A vest, though slightly unseasonal, seemed the ideal trial item - my boys constantly put theirs on backwards, so a little motif is always helpful.

Like all the greatest ideas, it is so simple, and needs the bare minimum of materials. Jen's tutorial is here. And here's the finished article.

(I made the mistake of asking Mark to pose for me and he took the request very seriously.)

The boys don't wear their vests in the summer generally, unlike my Dad. He favours one of those holey numbers and swears they keep you cool in hot weather by preventing your shirt from sticking to your skin. Luckily, he seems to get his the right way round all by himself, because I don't think fern printing would work so well on a holey vest.

Biscuit

We were visiting Granny a while back. I had put Johnny to bed when my Mum emerged saying he was asking for a biscuit. What??! At bedtime? (Guess who's the snack police in our household?) But when I went to investigate, he had actually been trying to tell her that he was a bit scared (bi-sked).

I'm feeling a touch 'biscuit' myself (though it's taken me a week or so of feeling blue to admit it). We're due for Mark's annual follow up hospital appointment and I am dreading it.

Not because he's not doing well. In fact, in many ways, the child I am mother to this year is a totally different character from the little boy of this time last year. A year of a more understanding and accomodating teacher, a family who are unapologetic about what is and isn't best for him, enough fish oil to float a boat and a dairy free diet have all played their part. But in the main, I think he has just grown into his own skin.

I should be happy to go back then and trumpet his successes, but I am filled with dread. It just takes me straight back to the emotional turmoil of last year. And I resent that. And it makes me scrutinize him all over again, and question my own parenting. And nobody ever comes out well when you do that do they?

Mona

Want to see a 4 year old trying to look enigmatic?

I'm not so sure - he looks vaguely in pain to me. But who am I to say.

Went on a post pay-day yarn buying spree today for my ready-for-winter project. A Sarah Dallas Blanket Cardigan. Not that I'm wishing the summer away or anything. Through frankly, with hayfever this bad, Autumn will be most welcome. At leat when my yarn arrives I can hide from the pollen indoors and knit.

Happy weekend. 

Small pleasures (on a large scale)

Friday was picnicing, with Johnny's pre-school buddies, to celebrate Father's Day. We went up to the top of Wittenham Clumps. There were plenty of Daddies, lots of happy small folks and Felipe, from Orange Lobster.

He's a bubble sculptor and we had the most magical picnic watching him. Bubbles are truly one of life's simple pleasures. There's something hypnotic about watching them float away

But these were no ordinary bubbles - they were the big Daddy of all bubbles. Bigger than the children. We had a turn on the smaller giant bubble wand (the kids couldn't have lifted the big one).

And of course, one had to come home with us. So we needed industrial quantities of bubble mix. Luckily, Felipe has a recipe for the homemade stuff on his website. It does require glycerine, so off I went to Boots to get some. It was a rather strange shopping experience.

Me: Can I have some glycerin please?
Pharmacist: Here you are (giving me a teeny weeny bottle).
Me: Oh, I need more than that. Could I have 500 ml please?
Pharmacist: Weeell, I'll sell you 200ml.

I mean, what was I going to do? Lubricate my throat into oblivion?? Do I look untrustworthy?

Anyway, it was enough to get us started.

 So if you want me, I'll be out the back perfecting my technique. Or back at the chemist, begging for my next glycerin fix.

Glorious weekend

What could be better than a sunny Sunday spent in the strawberry patch?

They always taste amazing straight off the plant.
I ate so many I gave myself stomach ache.

Luckily, the boys are made of sterner stuff (or are a little less greedy).

But I think the evidence on Mark's chops may have blown our cover at the pay station. When the man said "You've got a lot of washing to do", I thought he was referring to the fruit, but it seems he may have had an eye on my laundry pile.

The first strawberry picking session of the year seems to signal the official start of Summer for me. I've got some freshly made scones waiting for me downstairs and a bowlful of berries in the fridge to try a go at the Tessa Kiros strawberry jam recipe from 'Apples for Jam'. But before I go and get stuck in, I need a bit of inspiration.

The scrapstore yesterday yielded these cones of chenille - the colours were totally irresistible, but I'm slightly stumped as to what to do with them. Any ideas? I had intended to knit with them, but they have zero elasticity and the swatch I tried didn't look great.

Did you notice how rainy it's been the last day or so? There are a number of legitimate reasons for this:
1. It's a Bank Holiday Weekend
2. We decided to go camping. Because that guarantees excellent weather, right?

(Photo taken indoors before we left. There are no actual camping photos. That's how wet it was.)
3. The summer skirt that I've been ruminating over since last year is complete bar the hem.

(Photo also taken pre-deluge - although now I look closely, the clouds do appear to be gathering...).  Just be grateful it wasn't a sunhat on the sewing machine. Because the last time, that gave rise to one of the worst episodes of flooding in recent memory. Stay dry!

From the mouths of babes

Johnny:  I want to play Mummies and Daddies, but we need a Mummy.

Me:           Shall I be the Mummy?

Johnny:  Yes.  (pause)     Why are you sitting down?

Ah yes, sometimes those little tongues speak the truth as they see it.

Have yours come up with any corkers recently?

Al fresco cooking

Is it shameful to be constantly tapping my children for blog fodder? Thankfully, someone in the household still has time to be creative. It isn't me, that's for sure. But I would miss the act of blogging sorely, so you'll have to indulge me. And today, it is worth it. Because there was something very special happening in the garden.

Mark's friend Chloe came to play after school, bringing with her this gem of a book. And what marvels it contains.

No supermarket is as well-stocked as a forest, a sand dune, or your own backyard, and everyone knows that dolls dote on mud, when properly prepared. Invite everyone, for Pencil Sharpener Pudding, Dandelion Souffle, Wood Chip Dip, and, of course, Mud Pies.

I knew as soon as I saw it, that we needed a copy. It is utterly charming and funny for the way in which all the recipes are presented so seriously.

FRIED WATER
Melt one ice cube in a skillet by placing it in the sun. When melted, add 1 cup water and sauté slowly until water is transparent. Serve small portions, because this dish is rich as well as mouth-watering.

Unfortunately, it is out of print and has proved a bit tricky to track down. But  for something so enchanting, it was worth the effort.

Hors d'oeuvre anyone?

Toothpick Engineering

Do you ever see a project here in blogland and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you will be giving it a whirl?
Looking at The Small Object's epoxy scultures yesterday and reading about their marshmallowy inspiration had me scurrying for the toothpicks almost immediately.

We substituted playdough as the bonding element - bluetack probably would have been a better choice, but no matter how much of the stuff I buy, it always seems to disappear round these parts. Most of it resurfaces as little black patches where it has been ground into the carpet. Small boys and interior decor are not a marriage made in heaven. I will have clean carpets when they leave home -  a treat I am looking forward to greatly.

Mark, in his typical 'unable to execute any project as originally envisaged by an adult' way, went off piste in his rendition of the Eiffel Tower. He then proceeded to conduct seismic testing (shaking the table until his structure toppled over). You have to imagine the whole episode, accompanied by never ending monologue, describing what he is doing in the manner of a documentary voice over. What a child. He's clearly been watching too much 'Big, Bigger, Biggest'.

Oh and guys? Thanks so much for the toothpaste appreciation!

The tale of Tommy Thumb

Johnny asked this morning, "Is it true? Daddy says we are banned from A&E". Not strictly true, but I appreciate the sentiment. This was the evidence of the latest visit (a fortnight or s0 ago).
The result of attempting to cut a door in a box too sturdy, with a pair of my very sharp scissors. Not less than 2 minutes after I suggested that he should ask his Dad to do it  (I was in the bath at the time).

Poor Mark - I confess I felt really irritated with him for not listening to my warning until through the tears he wailed "I feel so stupid". Oh, the guilt.  

You see, he has SPD and really struggles with his fine motor skills. Unfortunately, it's not a very well recognised condition in the UK as yet and we don't have any professional support for him, so we're trying to help (albeit in a bungling, don't really know how to help sort of way).

Once the thumb was back in action, I thought a bit of controlled cutting practice might be in order. Kirsten had mentioned the Kumon workbooks recently, so when I saw this recently, I thought we'd give it a whirl.

It's been a huge hit. Helped by the fact that both boys can find something appropriate in it to do and work alongside each other.

It's fascinating to see how different their approaches are - one slow and self-critical and the other gung-ho and haphazard. Although from the photo above, I can see similar thumb in mortal danger tendencies.

But it's a testament to the workbook that they both seem to enjoy it. Johnny, for the mechanics and mastery of a new skill and Mark for the fun of the end product.

If anyone else has any great tips for fine motor control practice, do share won't you?

Eventful weekend

A peaceful weekend of visiting, cousin bonding, delivering (and trying out) birthday goodies - it all seemed so promising.

But somehow, it turned into:

A broken barometer, a good deal of mercury on the floor and two fire engines with flashing blue lights. Just for the record, I would like to state I did NOT dial 999, I just called the Fire Brigade for advice. Well, would you know what to do? Actually, Val probably would. And it was a better response than the man from the Environment Agency "Ooh, I don't know. I've never had this before. Hang on a minute and I'll just Google Mercury".

Anyhow, it's nasty stuff and it took the Environmental Health clean up man a fair few hours to do his thing. Alarmingly, he used my Sister-in-Law's vacuum cleaner to finish the job. Needless to say, a new one is on her shopping list for Monday.

Oh and on other news? It snowed. Very pretty. If only we weren't heading off glamping tomorrow...

Now excuse me,  I'm off up to the loft to locate thermal underwear. One thing's for sure, life is never boring round here.

Something different

I couldn't tell you how I came across Camp Creek Press, but I've been reading over there for a little while. There has been talk recently about sitting down to draw with your kids. It's not something we've done as a family before. Painting, yes, play dough, yes, but never just looking at and drawing an object together. When it rained and rained and rained on Sunday, it came to mind as something different we could try.

Now, I'm not telling whose is whose, but they come from  4, 7, 36 and 40 year olds. We did observational drawings and contour drawings.  And to my amazement, everyone was quiet and happy and concentrating and having fun. Who'd have guessed it? I'm sort of looking forward to the next wet weekend.

Baking my way out of a hole

Mark has been on a quest at school recently. In pursuit of the elusive Pineapple Upside Down Cake. You see, it appears on the Jamie -inspired, on-the-premesis-prepared, turkey-twizzler-free, PC-school-lunch-menu. But in real life, it has failed to materialize on his plate. These menus - easy to compile, seemingly trickier to deliver to the hungry punters .

Now I haven't had pineapple upside down cake since my own schooldays (even if I do know a woman who has). But Nigella has an Express recipe for one. I even found a little linky for you.

So, we made one. And little bro had to taste test it. Thankfully it passed, although there is no way one of those suspiciously lurid cherries is passing his lips. This may be a good thing, because I have no idea what colouring is used to make them quite so bright, but I am 100% supportive of refusal to ingest any food which appears to glow in the dark.

Teatime tonight, in honour of his prizewinning World Book Day Book Token Card design, Mark will be having the victor's slice. [The Iron Man (by Ted Hughes) is a classic - if your 7ish little people have missed out, you're in for a treat. It has just the right amount of menace in my opinion. ]

Quest over. If only baking were the answer to everything. Or perhaps it is.

 

The postcard says...

This arrived, a little while ago, with a challenge from five and a half.
It says: Use junk mail, catalogue, old magazines & clean trash. Recreate your face with them (3 - dimensional). Take picture and share with your friends.

So, friends, want to see?

My alter ego is a leftover balloon from Johnny's party. Discarded tissue from a package, magazine cuttings and shredder hair. I loved doing that hair (probably spent more time on it than on my own this morning).

One of my real life friends couldn't understand the project - "But, why?", she asked. But to me, it's obvious - the chance to play is a gift.  If you want to join in, keep an eye on the five and a half blog, because Judy promised a chance for anyone who missed out on getting a postcard to take part too.

And before I head off for an early night, Happy Mothering Sunday  to all you mummies who were celebrating today, but especially to mine, because she's always there for us. And she's really good at playing too.

Belated celebrations

We've been partying today. A belated 4th birthday celebration for Johnny and his friends (with no pesky elder-sibling-limelight-stealing!).  I'm whacked.

We had a good time though. Especially the Mummies.

See what happens when the power goes off and you are forced to drink wine at lunchtime because a cup of tea is out of the question?

Happy Birthday

My baby boy turned 4 today. Four - that's scary stuff.  I hadn't given too much thought to not having a member of the three-and-under brigade in our household. But evidently my subconscious had been working overtime on it. Because this morning I woke up from a dream about delivering Mark to university. When I told hubby, he said "Which one?" - how's that for intellectual snobbery?

Thankfully such thoughts were quickly swept aside by the excitement of unwrapping of parcels, a spectacular new birthday shirt (thanks Auntie Tess) and a visit from one of my oldest and dearest friends and her brood.

Cake and candles  had to wait until later than scheduled though, because a quick trip to Accident & Emergency got in the way.

Mark went flying over the handlebars of Johnny's scooter onto the tarmac. Thank goodness he was wearing a helmet or the damage would have been a lot lot more serious.

As it is, they stuck him back together again and he seems none the worse for wear. At least he has learnt some valuable life lessons - Mummy's draconian rules regarding wearing helmets when riding bikes are there for a reason and in a contest of flesh vs road, there is only ever going to be one winner.

I deserve a large glass of wine and an early night. Giving birth often seems the easy part of bringing them up and keeping them in one piece. I would share Johnny's birth story, but the straightforward ones which are done and dusted in three hours seldom get air time. That's my little (big) boy. Uncomplicated, undemanding, but very special for it. Happy Birthday Johnny.

Belated Valentine's Wishes

This morning, my friend asked: 'Did you do anything for Valentine's Day?'

Me: 'Oh yes, but not with my husband. '

I didn't realize how it sounded until I registered the shock on her face. I meant with the children. Really, my life just doesn't have room for that sort of drama.

Just cards made by little people.

And the odd cupcake.

We aren't much for big romantic gestures at our house. Though I did manage a gift for hubby.

Because home really is where my heart is.

Hope your day was sweet and special.

Helpful hubby

Proof, if ever any was needed, that I did indeed marry a saint. Because not only did he chop up the old Christmas tree for next year's firewood (with 'help' )...

But he also spent the afternoon doing 'kitchen experiments'. Knew that DPhil would come in handy somehow!

His patience is astonishing. Nice to know you can still be impressed after nearly 14 years of marriage.

Preparations 6 - letter to Santa

Raymond Brigg's 'Father Christmas' has a lot to answer for.

The antics of this off season Santa - a grumpy glutton who's catchphrase is 'Bloomin' Christmas' - have captivated my boys. So much so, that Mark's letter to Santa this year started with 'I hope you won't be too drunk to get here'.

This was the home version and not the one they were asked to write at school. He proudly informed me that one had gone on for two-and-a-quarter pages! I shudder to think. How did I breed such a consumer?


But at least he's hospitable. Because he's designed a sign to direct Santa to refreshments. As an 'in return' gift.

Holiday Traditions Exchange

As much as I would love to claim 'being super-organized' as one of my Holiday Traditions, I feel it might be stretching the truth somewhat.

But I did manage to get my parcel for the Holiday Traditions Exchange posted off to Eren today.

Recently, I watched a documentary series called ' The Mummy Diaries'. It followed 5 families, where mothers had been diagnosed with forms of incurable cancer. As they struggled to prepare their children for the loss of a parent, the women were encouraged to write a Mummy Manual, covering all the details of domestic trivia which would be useful to their families in the future.

As you can imagine, it was harrowing viewing, but it did bring home to me how truly important our little rituals are to out families and how special a Mother's role as their caretaker can be.

So Eren, I hope you don't mind, but when I sent off your parcel, I made a copy of our Christmas Traditions for here too. Because some of them are silly and may make you chuckle, but to us, they are priceless.

Small pleasures

A morning shaft of sunlight in our bedroom (something of a rarity in these grey November days). The simple delight small boys take in the antics of a naughty shadow-bird.



Preparing some jars of Vanilla Sugar for friends.

A timely reminder to notice the little things.

Trouble brewing

Two steps forward, one step back. Mark's ever patient, ever smiley teacher wasn't looking too smiley when she cornered me in the playground this afternoon. I know that look and it's not good.

The irony of it is, I saw the latest episode of this coming. Parents' evening was 2 weeks ago. She was really smiley then, but I told her, trouble was brewing - I have learned to recognise the early warning signs, but I don't think she took me seriously.

This time of year is a nightmare with Mark. The endless Nativity Play rehearsals which bore him rigid, the attacks of the wanties brought on by the proximity to Christmas, the appalling weather thwarting every opportunity to let him burn off some steam outside.

I can't do much about the triggers and I am so utterly fed up with having to cope with the outcome. And so we enter a spiral of negativity, at home and at school, that sweeps everyone along with it, miserable and clinging on for dear life.

The Autism Support Outreach worker is going in to school to observe him on Monday and the Sensory Processing Disorder lady on Tuesday. And on Thursday I am running away from it all to Bath with Hubby for a few days of pretending it's not our problem.

And then, just maybe, I can summon the energy and the insight to get us moving forward again. My newly framed print by Jen of Swallowfield is called 'I feel lucky'. Let's hope it's a talisman.

Lurid cupcakes

There's no place for subtlety in the world of child-pleasing cupcakes. Bright is good, but lurid is better.

Cupcakes for Children in Need cake sale.

Mark had to go to school today, dressed as something he'd like to be when he grows up. Amidst a sea of firemen, pop stars, policemen and footballers, he stood out somewhat in his Daddy's tie. He's a Town Planner (I blame the Lego Corporation).

Preparations 2

With my big ball of string I can do anything,

anything, anything, anything at all.

Christmas cards in progress.

Life this week has been a bit like wading through treacle. The Dinosaur School (which goes on for the next 12 weeks) was a huge hit with Mark. Well pitched with lots of adult attention and activities he really enjoyed. He's looking forward to his session next Monday.


I can't say the same about the parents' group. I found it very difficult, sitting and sharing thoughts with people who are struggling with violent family members or getting the next meal on the table. It was heartbreaking and energy sapping and I dearly wish I didn't have to go back.

Reality is uncomfortable to face sometimes and the fact that I would rather not confront these people's realities makes me feel guilty. And over privileged.

New seasons

Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influences of each.

Henry David Thoreau

Giving in (reluctantly) to the reality that cold weather has arrived.



The car has needed de-icing on two mornings already and I'm very glad that I brought my Jade trees in from their summer holiday outdoors when I did.


They are also known as Money Plants and they are meant to attract wealth - or so the Feng Shui experts suggest. One of the few bits of Feng Shui information I ever retain is the importance of shutting your toilet lid, or else your good luck goes down the pan. Fat chance of implementing that one in this house. It would be a miracle if I could get the boys to remember to raise and lower the seat appropriately.

Random acts of total stupidity

We all know what today is don't we? I baked the pumpkin muffins (Amy's yummy recipe).

I consulted with the boys and translated their designs into pumpkin form.

We dressed up and hit the neighbourhood for trick-or-treating. And we returned home to find this on our doorstep.

What kind of genius courier thinks leaving a glass aquarium on the front doorstep of a pumpkin lit abode at 6pm on Halloween is a sensible idea? Miraculously it seems unscathed. Thank you pumpkin gods. Our incredibly fast growing goldfish will be eternally grateful.

And thank you all for your sympathetic response to my whining last post. When we were going through Mark's assessment, some kindly professional asked me if I had any support. I don't think she knows about the force that is craft-bloggers.

Fed up

Hubby is in the middle of a four-business-trips-abroad-in-as-many-weeks cycle and I am feeling fed up. Tired, lacking in adult company and somehow devoid of joy.

The first needle felting first efforts were fun though. Perhaps if I created a corporate effigy to stab I'd feel better.

Whooooooo

Halloween preparations in full swing here this weekend.


Cute skeleton cut outs from Sewing Stars. Oops, he seems to have lost a leg.

And white chocolate ghosts courtesy of Martha Stewart. These look really impressive, but are dead easy to make. I don't know if my white chocolate got too warm to set hard again, because the lollies are great straight from the fridge, but a bit on the bendy side at room temperature. Any chocolate melting experts out there?

Clocks went back today - our first dark evening of the year. We have a family movie night planned, so I need to go and make popcorn. They rented 'Garfield - the movie'. I do not have high hopes.

Half Term

How quickly this week has passed. A trip to the grandparents at the seaside coincided with a couple of gorgeous autumn days. I love the beach in summer as much as the next person, but there's something great about enjoying it in the low sun all wrapped up.


Granny (the expert) led the boys in a crabbing adventure -six in total! Apparently crabs love bacon - I never knew that.
We staked personal claims on our favourite beach huts.



And had earnest conversations on the true meanings of signs.



Luckily it was too chilly for the nudists, or Mark would have been asking them all about it too. Seven years of parenting and I still find myself fumbling for answers to so many of his questions. Actually, perhaps I'm getting worse.

So what have your kids stumped you with recently?

Almost show time

And to think I nearly didn't make it to Alexandra Palace yesterday for the best exhibition I have seen in ages. Because at 5.30pm on Saturday, I was sat in A&E with a rather forlorn little Johnny. I thought he had broken his arm.


He was playing happily by himself and no one knows quite what happened. Johnny says he leaned on his hand and stretched too far and Andy found him whimpering and clutching his wrist. He wouldn't let us anywhere near it and was as white as a sheet and sweaty. Shock. So off we went for some x-rays, which didn't really show anything conclusive. So home we came again and have been dosing him up with alternative hits of Paracetamol and Ibuprofen ever since. He has still not used his arm though, so I think I am heading back there now to check it is really okay, because I'm not convinced.

And this is a bummer because I'm desperate to tell you all about the Knit and Stitch show. But I must sort out little one first.