Christmas Time

A very merry Christmas... yes, it really was!  Okay, a couple of slightly less than festive moments, but you can't expect any family to spend all day together without incident
(can you?!).

It was a low key kind of day, just the four of us, but as a result there was minimal stress.  We played lots of games, watched some films, had a lovely meal, ate mountains of chocolates, sweets  and biscuits and went out for some fresh sea air, exercise and to test out Tom's new bicycle from Santa. 

Dishwasher died and so everybody has been getting a chance to get up close and personal with the dishes!

Our christmas parcel, in the onesie from Aunty Cath

2011 has been a year of mixed blessings.  Steve being made redundant towards the beginning of the year was awful and was accompanied by rather a lot of anger towards the company, although most of  it, it must be said, came from me!  I was furious that someone who had worked so hard and who had sacrificed a lot of his family life for the sake of work, should be treated so shoddily by said work.  And, okay, it wasn't a great thing to happen in these uncertain times, but it has had some wonderful consequences.  It meant that Steve was released from the soul sapping drudgery of doing, day after interminable day, a job that he had come to hate.  He has been able to spend time with Sam and Tom in way that wasn't possible before, taking them to school, picking them up, attending so of the many school related activities.  Its been wonderful for him and also wonderful for the boys.  

Trying to recreate a picture with Sam, but Tom wanted in!



We don't know what 2012 holds, all the predictions and forecasts are not hopeful for the economy picking up, but we will get through it as a family, one way or another. 

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Where is heaven

I've been a bit of a grump lately, partly just because times are hard at the moment for all kinds of reasons, but also because my 39 year old body is falling to bits.  I woke up 2 weeks ago with a stiff neck, I figured I had "slept funny" (as you do) and it would loosen up over a couple of days.  It didn't.  It has got increasingly more painful until I have a central point of pain in my left shoulder that radiates up my neck and down my shoulder and hurts me all the time!  Boo and hiss.  Paracetamol, ibuprofen, heat packs and ibuprofen gel... all to no avail.  So add that to zipwire injury in my right shoulder, osteoarthritis in my right hip, 2 swollen painful fingers and not to forget diabetes and hypothyroidism - now I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but come on!!!!!


So, yes, a bit on the grumpy side!


Which is not to say that the infectious spirit of Christmas hasn't infiltrated grump central!  With Sam having joined school's glee club, the house has been filled Christmas songs, with Winter wonderland and Rocking Around the Christmas Tree being particular favourites with my two boys.  It's great watching them bop about, knee slides along the dining room floor, air guitar and thumbs for saxophone's!  The Christmas decorations are all up - well, not all, because we are not having our Christmas party this year there are some bits that haven't gone up. 

Christmas Tree!

But the trees look beautiful - I've mostly let the boys put all the decorations on the tree themselves (I say tree but of course I  mean trees plural, as we always have the birthday tree in the living room, for Steve's birthday on the 26th), just moving where they put more than one per branch! 

Birthday Tree!

They've done a great job, now if Tom would just stop trying to remove all the decorations and see how they were put together, it will be perfect!

Mom's gorgeous hessian nativity that she made for us, pride of place!

Talking about Tom, he has come up with some more Tomism's which have amused me.  We were reading a book about a girl called Daisy and I commented that I liked the name and if I had a baby girl I would call her Daisy.  He sat up and spoke with great enthusiasm


"I know what I would call my baby, when I have a baby"


"What would you call your baby my darling?"


"I would call her Mrs Ford" (after his nursery teacher)


I laughed, "you can't call a baby by a title and her surname, you have to call her by her first name"


"okay, I will call her Mrs Lindsay Ford"


"do you mean Lindsay Card"


"no, Mrs Lindsay Ford!", most emphatically.


When I was putting Tom to bed last night, after he had had his book and had his song, and I was cuddling him in, he was procrastinating, as ever and asked if he could jump on my tummy,  I said that he couldn't, because it would hurt me.  He replied


"but your tummy is big and fat, like Daddy Pig's, and he doesn't get hurt".


Mortification is an understatement.  Needless to say, the diet started immediately!


But Tom related stories are not always light hearted.  Tonight when I was putting my little trouble maker to bed, I ended up very upset, tears coursing down my face.  We were at song time stage of our bedtime routine and I said shall I sing Amazing Grace?   I don't know why I said Amazing Grace - I had meant to say Away in a Manager as that is what they have been practising at Nursery for their Christmas Performance. But little dude was quite taken by the title and asked for Amazing Grace.  I started robustly enough, but by the time I got to "saved a wretch like me"  tears were slipping down my cheeks and my voice was broken.  Amazing Grace was a song that my Dad loved, and that we sang at his memorial service.  My Dad has been gone 4 years this coming January and I cannot believe how easily the tears still come.  People tell you that time heals all wounds, well, I'm still waiting.

Tom obviously noticed that Mummy was upset and asked why, I brushed it off, told him the song made me sad and brightly, brittlely, asked if he would like Away in a Manger instead.  He would, so I launched into a rousing rendition and was just tucking him in, covering him in kisses and finishing up when, he (as is his wont) began procrastinating     

" where is heaven that Jesus wants to take us to?"


"Heaven is where you go when you die"


"I want to got to heaven now"


"no, going to heaven means not being with mummy anymore, it means not seeing your family anymore, it is not your time to go to heaven now"  and, being so emotional already, I was, by this time crying again.  And so I started saying things that were more about me my sadness, than about him.


"Grandpa is in heaven, mummy will never, ever see Grandpa again and that makes mummy very sad".  More tears, so NOT about my little boy and his desire not to go to bed, SO about me and my own, still raw, grief.  He started asking about Grandpa, saying he wanted to see Grandpa, me telling him he would not be able to.  And all I could say, all that was left for me to say, was that I could show him pictures and tell him everything I know about the Grandpa that he never got to meet.

Advertise me!

A little while back Sam presented me wth a piece of paper, neatly folded down the middle  On the front was written "Booklet about me Sam". 

"I want you to write about me, about who I am."

"Erm, okay, but why?

"Just to tell people about me."

"Is this for school?"

"No, just because I want it."

"Oh."

And I scribbled a quick paragraph detailing place and date of birth, full name and parent's names.

"Is this alright?"

"Yeah, but write more about me on all the pages, like, advertising me."

"Er, okay."

He loved what I wrote, and I thought I would capture it here, for posterity.

Sam Card is 7 years old.  He was born on the 4th of August 2004 at the Royal Victoria Infirmary in Newcastle, by Cesarean section.  His parents, Steve and Tanya Card chose to call their precious son, Samuel John Card.

Sam is an engaging lad who is generally polite, well mannered and good company.  He is a bright, articulate boy who loves to learn and is always keen to demonstrate his knowledge.

He is by turns earnest and mischievous and developing a cracking sense of humour.

Sam is a sociable character who loves spending time with his friends.  He does have a very well developed sense of personal injustice which means that he often feels his feelings have been hurt, when no offence was actually intended

He is a very creative child who uses his vivid imagination to invent tremendous games for himself and his little brother to play.

He occasionally has a real struggle dealing with his angry feelings.  His mum and dad are trying to help him learn the socially acceptable way of expressing his anger.

Sam has a real talent for and love of creative lego building, envisaging and constructing his own designs and then creating a game and back story for what he has made.

Big Girl's Blouse

My arm is really sore.  The reason why this is, has a story which I completely underestimated, one that I never even knew to fear... I went for an MRI scan.  My shoulder has never fully recovered from the woeful thunk, as I hit the hard ground off a zipwire at the end of February.  I've seen doctors, done months of physiotherapy and seen an orthopaedic surgeon and it finally ended in an MRI scan to establish if what's hindering complete recovery could be fixed with surgery.  I arrived at the hospital without a care, just thinking about using the trip to also get an x-ray on my hip done (don't even ask!) two birds, one stone and all that and confidently approached the desk.  All of a sudden a wave of talking and activity overtook me... 


fill this in, answer that, sign this, take that off, put this on, come this way


... before I really knew what was happening I was lying on a narrow bed, in a bright, white room, hoisted up on my right side, shoulder and arm exposed to the cold air.  A man, who assured me he was a doctor, told me that first he would be injecting an anesthetic into the shoulder joint, and then would be following this up with a long needle full of dye, which he would need to use an x-ray type machine to make sure he got it to the right place, oh, and by the way there was a risk of getting an infection and another risk of something being damaged by the needle, but don't worry, it hasn't happened yet...

Hoping that the worse was over, I was then wheeled to the MRI room and shown the long, thin, low tube I was to lie INSIDE for the next 30 minutes while staying as still as possible, oh and wearing a head set to drown out the racket that goes on in there. 

To say I was apprehensive is an understatement.

I was terrified.  Having to bite my lip and dig my nails into the palm of my hand to stop myself from crying.  The only way I could cope was by keeping my eyes tightly shut so I couldn't see how tiny the space I was in, was.  It felt interminable.  The noises changed in tempo and volume, the tube vibrated at times, stopped and then started again at a different speed. 

When it was finally over, I was shaky and confused, and just desperate to get my clothes on and get as far away from that place as I could. 

Note to self; research any proposed medical procedures thoroughly before signing up for them.  And stop being such a baby!

Mum's the word

My Mom went home this week, after what felt like a very short 4 weeks with us.  It wasn't a particularly exciting trip for her in that we didn't do much, but she did get to experience what a normal month in the Card house feels like!  She did school pick ups and drop offs, visits to the park, watched swimming lessons, came along to rugby training and did the weekly shop... like I said, not exciting, but it means that when we talk, she has a much better of what I am on about, and can empathise with the relentless housework, especially the bloody washing!


All her wonderful help made a big difference in my daily chores and her generosity means that she bought us some household stuff that she felt we couldn't live without!  We had a lovely trip up to Morpeth to a mammoth garden centre, which was so big that we couldn't get all the way around - despite a valiant 3 and a half hour attempt!

 We had a delicious afternoon tea and bought a fair amount, including a beautiful handbag for mom which made me very happy.  We were lucky enough to have the whole day away as agood friend of mine offered to have Tom in the morning and pick both boys up from school, just so that mom and I could get away to do something nice, unencumbered by children.  Such kindness!


We also had a lovely breakfast one morning, to give us the energy to tackle the weekly shop - how I wish that I could start each weekly shop like that! 

We had a family meal out on the Saturday that mom left at a very family friendly Persian restaurant about 2 minutes walk from our house.  It is rather odd, with plastic covers over the table cloths and an eclectic mish mash of ornaments, but the food is delicious and amazingly reasonable.

 My mom is not up to much walking - not that she isnt always on the go with some busyness or the other, but she doesn't move very far or very fast.  Add to this the horrible cold she caught from our germ ridden boys, along with a truly dreadful cough, meant that eating out and wandering around the shops were our main activities (besides houswork!), and so we also had a lovely trip into Newcastle.

One of the highlights in November in Whitley Bay is our firework display and so we all wrapped up warm and headed down to the the links to go and have a look at this year's offering.  In addition to the fireworks the Shimmer Festival was also on, in which various light shows were displayed, including the stunning use of Spanish City as a canvas and also the North Tyneside Youth Circus putting on a fire display... 

Shimmer Festival

 



All wrapped up against the brrrr!



Tom more interested in pulling faces than watching
the fireworks!

            

                       

So perhaps it wasn't the most fun and wowser sort of a trip you could have, but it was so lovely to have mom with us. 

To just be normal be and everyday and "did you sleep well?" and "what do you think of that dress?".  

The house feels empty now.

And the name we have chosen is...

What a great weekend!  I was very lucky to have in my house some wonderful people - Jen and Dan arrived on Friday, Andrea and gorgeous Beth arrived on Saturday morning, lovely Caspar arrived Saturday evening and my mom was here as well. Jen and Dan, well you couldn't ask for a greater couple of step kids, each in a different way good company and great conversation.  Andrea I have know forever and feels like part of me, emotional support bar none.  Beth!  A little bundle of squidgy baby girl delight, casting her web of charm over everyone.  Caspar is the person I have known the longest in the UK, we don't talk for months at a time, but he has a very special place in my heart.  And my mom?  Kind, shy and generous, it is wonderful to have her visiting us.

All of these arrivals were in preparation for Tom's Naming Day on Sunday, followed by a bit of a party.  We had a delicious meal on Saturday with the addition of two more lovely people, John and Joan Hannah.  We have been visitors to their home in Liverpool many times and I can honestly say that I have never experienced the level of hospitality shown by this warm, wonderful couple anywhere else.

The lovely John Hannah

 We ate, we drank, we talked, we laughed, we passed the baby around!  And when this started to draw to close, Caspar and I put some shoes on and took him out to introduce him to the legendary Strip of Whitley Bay.  It was so good to spend some proper time with Caspar again, as the last few years have seen very few uninterrupted conversations as a result of small boys and their incessant need for attention!  

Caspar rocks Havannah ;-)

I did something very silly and added a cocktail and lager to the plentiful red wine I had consumed earlier -I was just so happy to have all these special people in my house, for my boy's naming day, it made me a bit giddy and bit reckless.  

I paid the price for it the next morning, looking grey and feeling sick as a dog.  At one point I was lying on the bed thinking I would feel better if I could just throw up and convinced I was going to have stay in bed while the ceremony went on without me.  But I battled through and eventually the restorative powers of tea and toast worked their magic, the doorbell started ringing and the show was on!

John, Daniel, Gail, Steve, Evelyn, Jen, Tanya, Sam and Tom

Steve and I with our "baby"!

Caspar interviews Tom

It was just plain wonderful.  The speeches and words dedicated to Tom were powerful and moving.  It was an emotional moment but I was keeping it together, until the lovely John Hannah, our reverend for the day said the words that I knew were coming, had helped to write even. 

"Steve and Tanya would like to take this opportunity to give recognition to their own parents.  Steve and Tanya have benefited in their upbringing from the love, encouragement and guidance from John, Evelyn, Peter and Gail."

As he said my dad's name it felt like I had been kicked, and tears filled my eyes.  It was that thought that is always lurking somewhere; my Tom is 4 years old now and was nearly 5 month old when my dad died.  They never got to meet each other, and that makes me ineffably sad.  It is nearly 4 years since my dad died and it still hurts so much.  I have been spending some time with my mom writing down a shortish version of her life story, and when we came to the part she was talking about her own mother's death, she still, 36 years later, filled up with tears.  So much for hoping that the passing of a parent gets easier with time.

Mom and I

But anyway, it was, as I said just plain wonderful.  Each godparent [Andrea, Richard (Steve's oldest friend), Gillian (Steve's sister who couldn't make the trip, and so asked her mum to read out the words she had sent) and Caspar] bought a little bit of themselves to the words they spoke for my boy and Sam finished us off with a joyful "I'd like to propose a toast to my lovely little brother Tom" and we all quaffed champagne.

Lovely Godparents - Richard, Caspar, Andrea and in loco godparentis (!) Evelyn

Once the informal formalities were over, some of our lovely friends and neighbours started to arrive to help us celebrate our strange little ceremony.  I was so happy to have most of my important people from Whitley Bay there with me. 



Yummy milk tarts



Jen and Beth




        

There was lots of food, including my mom's magnificent lamb stew, Andrea's delectable milk tarts and Evelyn's superlative trifle there was no shortage of booze.  The kids ate junk and drank coke, but mostly all got despite the disparity in ages and them not all knowing each other.  People talked, and ate and drank and laughed... and once again, passed the baby round!  



Jen and Cath



Tom, Beth and I





The 3 brothers



Tom was a little star, listening attentively to everything that was said to him.



The day was so special for so many reasons, the feeling of belonging and being cared for, wonderful, amazing people whose presence in my life fills me with joy and so many thoughtful, kind, powerful words wished for my little boy's future success and happiness.

Kids say the darndest things

My kids talk all the time.  Real little chatterboxes.  Both of them started talking young, and haven't stopped since.  Some of it's informative, some of it's forgettable, some of it's interesting, some of it's just plain irritating... but they do come out with some stuff that makes me think "I must remember that" and this is the perfect place to do just that.

On the way to rugby on a sunny Sunday morning in October, as we drove past the church, the bells were ringing and Sam wanted to know why.  Steve explained that it was calling people to a church service.  Tom's explanation was much less prosaic "the church is singing".

Waiting to pick Sam up from school one day.  The class came tumbling out, and soon Sam came bobbling over to me, all arms, legs and floppy hair "Mummy looks old school" he announced.  Eh?  "What do you mean, I look old school?"  The most ignominious reply came "You know, old, from your time".

A large bar of chocolate bought for a friend to thank her for looking after Tom, for longer than we had anticipated her having to be there.  Tom spies the chocolate and asks for some "no, it's for Claire" "why is it for Claire?"  "to thank her for looking after you the other day".  A pause, as he sits, gazing at the chocolate all strokey beard.  And then his face lights up "but I looked after me for a little bit so I should get some chocolate as well!" 

A very happy unbirthday to you

It all happened rather suddenly.  One moment I was talking to my Mom about how wonderful it would be to see her, and how life is too short to spend all your money on your house, and the next thing her flight was booked.  Mom's flight landed in Newcastle on Thursday and she was very quickly swept straight up into the hurry scurry of our daily life.  The boys were very excited and talked about Mama's arrival incessantly in the days leading up to it... and also speculated at length as to whether or not she would be bringing some South African sweeties for them!  Which she did - loads for them, and most importantly, loads for me!!!

On Saturday morning Tom and I were reading a book which ended in a sumptuous birthday tea and we looked at the fantastic illustartions and talked about the sausages, the cake, the jellies...  Tom asked if we could have a birthday tea.  I told him it wasn't anybody's birthday and he said maybe it was Mama's birthday?  I told him that it wasn't and that sadly we were unlikely to ever be with Mama on her birthday. He said that that was sad and in that case we should definitely have a birthday tea for her!  Very cunning at achieving his objective my little lad is!

We made jelly in fancy little cups, made a cake that we decorated with jelly tots from South Africa, we blew up balloons and cooked sausages.  Mama was very pleased with her unbirthday party and we all tucked into cake with gusto.

Summertime and the living is easy

Well, not exactly easy, but man! Doesn't everything feel that little bit better when the sun shines and it's warm?  We have had the most unbelievable weather this week, I am sure that it is the best weather we have had in all our seven and a half years in Whitley Bay.  The breeze on the beach was actually balmy - magnificently, satisfyingly, thrillingly balmy!  Tom and I had a picnic in the park everyday of the school week, before he went in to nursery. 

And we spent some time on the beach, constructing elaborate cities, digging a hole as deep as Tom is tall (well... nearly) and Tom didn't let the still icy temperature of the sea stop him from messing about in the water. 

Yesterday the boys and I had an epic bike ride along our beautiful coast line.   Well Sam and I cycled, Tom sat at his ease in the bike seat!  We went along and met some friends at the park near school and Sam wanted his friend Mark to come with us, and then Mark's sister Kirsty didn't want to be left out, so she would come along and then their dad said he would come along as well, so our party of three swelled to to 6 and off we set.  I really do love being out on the bike, I'm not even that bothered if it's cold (but NOT raining), and it lifts my spirit.  Always having Tom on the front mounted bike seat means that I usually end up singing - some daft song or the other!  We motored along until we got to Cullercoats Bay and then had a lovely stopover there.  We paddled, dug holes and built sandcastles but the highlight of the beach leg of our tour, was a hectic session of bulldog on the crowded beach -loads of fun, our kids and all the waifs and strays who got drawn in, loved it (I did too).  We set off for the next stop, a park in Tynemouth, and had 30 minutes of swings, slides, see saws, rugby and obstacle challenges there, before setting off for our last stop - an ice cream in Tynemouth.  Yum.  Happy children.  Although the smiles did slip a bit when they realised it was already 6pm and they still had to cycle home...

They slept like logs Saturday night though, didn't wake up till after 8am which always makes for a happy mummy!  It did mean a bit of a rushed start to the day as Sam had the first rugby match of the season for Percy Park.  Steve started coaching the under 6 & 7's at the start of the season as that was where it was assumed that Sam would be.  We found out 3 weeks after training started that he was supposed to be in the under 8's, but that they didn't need anymore coaches, so Steve would stay on with the younger ones - needless to say Sam was unhappy.  He didn't want to go without a parent involved or on the sidelines, and sobbed and sobbed as though his heart would break.  He was eventually coerced into going and trying it out, as long as I promised that going forward I would come and watch every game and every practice, so that is how Tom and I came to be accompanying the boys to rugby. 

It was enjoyable to watch my little boy tearing about the pitch, (2 tries, 1 double tag, last man standing in bulldog) but it was also hard work trying to keep Tom occupied on the sidelines - and not running out and causing havoc amongst the teams!  I am also somewhat dubious about doing this every Sunday - going forward into the depths of Winter!  But we shall see what unfolds... it is hard to even think about winter after the glorious last burst of summer we have been lucky enough to experience.

What would life be without homegrown tomatoes?

We are at the end of the third week of back at school and I am crumbling under the weight of Sam's homework!  I was talking to a close friend, Karen, about it the other day as her daughter is in Sam's class.  I will be honest and 'fess up to having a real whinge about it, complaining that it was just too much to keep up, he's only 7 years old for goodness sake and whatever happened to having a childhood???!!!  Karen agreed with me, and added " and we're at home full time, can you imagine trying to keep up with it all if you also worked outside the home?".

I've been musing on it since, thinking about all the pressures, wondering if they are external pressures or if all my pressures come from within.  There is so much to keep on top of!  The house needs to be kept clean and tidy - such an innocent statement!  But my god the amount of work; manual, tedious, relentless work that it entails.  Floors; swept, washed, hoovered.  Surfaces; dusted, decluttered.  Toilets; brushed, bleached, wiped.  Baths and sinks; scrubbed, washed.  Cobwebs banished.  Ovens degreased.  Walls and doors washed.  Clothes scooped  up, washed, hung up, brought back in, folded, ironed, returned to wardrobes.  Beds made, toys picked up.  Oh and the garden, don't forget the garden!  Even if it is only postage sized, it still needs weeding and planting (cat poo picking up), mowing and pruning - tending!  And food - not just any old food of course, something that appeals to all different tastes and preferences (but remains healthy), recipes found, ingredients shopped for (even better, grow your own!), bought home, put away, chopped up, sliced, diced, boiled, mashed, roasted, baked , sauteed and placed on plates (only to be dismissed without even being tasted).  Plates and pots scraped and rinsed and put in dishwasher, cookers cleaned, work benches decrumbed and antibacced.  Keeping your marriage happy and hopeful, spending time together away from the kids.  Having family time.  Making sure you keep some time for yourself - a happy parent is a good parent!  Children washed, dressed, teeth brushed, hair combed, bottom's wiped, manners and respect taught.  Junk food, telly and computer games discouraged.  5 a day of your fruit and vegetables, love of books, daily sport and outdoor play encouraged.  Homework!!!  Every week a spelling test, numeracy homework, school reading book, your own book, handwriting practice, times table practice, mini project and anything extra you would like to do....

I look at that list and think, is it any wonder I am anxious ALL of the time?  Worried that I am not doing it well enough, fast enough, thoroughly enough... Being a housewife is my job.  As thankless a job as it is, with a devastating lack of appreciation, it is what I chose to do when I decided to have children.  Reasoning that it is my job to raise my children, and if we are in the financial position where I don't have to work outside the home, then it is my moral duty to be the one who does all of these things for my children.  Nobody has as much invested in our two boys reaching their potential as Steve and I, and therefor nobody is going to work as hard at helping them achieve that potential, as us. 

And so that is why I do it.  That is why I do it as well as I possibly can.  That is why my standards are so high.  That is why "good enough" is not good enough.  That is why I am so knackered, stressed and worried all the time.  So these pressures are internal I guess.  Do I just keep wading on through it all, or does something have to give?  And if something has to give, which thing would it be?

Communication Skills

We got a form to fill in from Tom's nursery yesterday.  It was all about his communication and understanding skills, and they use what you tell them in conjunction with their own "Communication Toolbox - a box of toys and activities that early years staff use to support their observations about communication development and find out how your child can understand and use language".  Tom actually had the assessment done when he was about 2 and a half because of some concerns I had about his stuttering at the time - they said his understanding was at a 3 to 4 year old level and his communication skills were excellent... which is actually irrelevant to this story, but just made me proud (comes before a fall). 

Anyway, the form asked questions about how well he understood what was asked of him; wanted examples of things he might say; asked what frightened him; what he was especially good at or proud that he could do.  The last question was concerned with burgeoning independence - self dressing, feeding, that sort of thing and then it asked "what does your child find particularly difficult to do".  I had been involving Tom through all the questions and so directed this question at him.  He paused, looking thoughtful, as he does when giving your question due consideration, and then answered decisively,

"juggling"  

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment

Steve and I went to the most wonderful wedding yesterday.  I don't think I have ever seen a couple so in love, it just seemed to shine from them when they looked at each other, as they talked about each other. (Chris, at our table said to his partner; you know, I think I love you , and then I look at these two and wonder if maybe I just like you!)   It was really all rather emotional - and I didn't even know the couple!

This wasn't for the photographer, it's just how they looked at each other

It was Steve's sort of godson, as in, he is god father to the other 2 kids and so a stand in godfather to Ben, who was our invatation to this truly whimsical marriage ceremony.  The bride and groom were atcually legally married the day before, butt they didn't count that as their "real" wedding, the do that we went to on Sunday afternoon was.  It was held at a place called Danby Castle on the Yorkshire Moors, which is not as grand as it sounds - but was perfect for this particular occassion.  We were very lucky in that my wonderful in laws once again came to our aide and came up to look after the kids and get them to school this morning, so that both Steve and I could attend and stay over.

Ben and Siggy did not have a traditional ceremony, they had written a story together that told an allegorical tale of their meeting -  of soul mates and living in darkness before they knew each other, which was very sweet and touching.  They had a Humanist Celebrant who read their story out and then at the appropriate place in the story bride and groom made their vows to each other, which, of course, they had written. 

Once that was done we all went into the marquee where we had a lovely tea party, with bone china cups, little sandwiches and cakes.  This was followed by some lovely speeches filled with emotion and tears - which was lightened by the groom's brother taking a prat fall off his seat! After that we all cleared out of the marquee so they could tidy it up for the evening do, but not before being directed to another room which had been laid out like a sweetie shop, pick and mix heaven, because, as the sign told us "Love is Sweet".

All of this was followed by a barbecue, which I was too full to take advantage of - I would have popped out of my dress, as I was having to suck my belly in as it was!  There was open mic session where guests played guitar and sang (including the bride - who, as I haven't mentioned before, looked absolutely stunning - radiant would not be too strong a word) followed by band who did an amazing job, and this was then followed by a disco. 

Another thing I haven't mentioned previously is that alcohol meandered it's way through this wedding like a river.  I drank a lot.  I drank a lot more than I have since I cannot remember when.  But even then, I started after all the others (planning to pace myself so that I would make it from 3pm till midnight and not embarrass myself (or himself) and didn't keep the pace of them either.  And yet, I was the only one who felt too rough (exceedingly rough, shakes and sweats kind of rough) to make it to breakfast the next morning!!  Blimey, I'm glad I don't live in Guisborough, I would be pickled!
Anyhow, there was drinking, dancing, talking, laughing and lots more dancing.  Absolutely wonderful night, I would do it again, even knowing how sick I would feel the next day (the drive home was HELL).

The loving couple seemed to love every minute of everything.  They spent their first night of wedded bliss in a tent in the ruins of the castle... quirky kids. 

FYI

We had our first ever encounter with head lice at the end of the Summer holidays.  Oh my, the words on their own "head lice"  are enough conjure up an image of dirty, bare footed urchins scratching at their scalps and spreading disease... now I KNOW that it's not like that.  Believe me, I am not one to tackle any new challenge without doing the research (what did I do before google?).  I know that it doesn't mean poor hygiene, I know it's no reflection on my maternal skills (such as they are), I know they don't breed on bed linen... but eeeeewwww!  They are gross - and that is not just me reverting to my teenage slang, if you look at one of these blighters under a microscope they are grotesque.  Just the word is enough to make me start to scratch, I'm scratching as I sit here and we have been clear for a week and a half.  It was only ever Sam that had them, but the whole family got treated  (that was a fun night in) even though you cannot prevent them (only discourage - any questions, I'm your woman!) and you are only supposed to treat where there is a live louse (oh my god makes my skin crawl) and the stuff is bloody expensive... but I was a like a woman possessed, combing this child's hair for hours "I'm sorry it hurts but you just have to put up with - would you rather have your head crawling with bugs, feeding on the blood in your brain" cruel, I know (child sobbing "no, no I don't want them, don't let suck all the blood out my brain") but sometimes, you have to be cruel to be kind.  Whoever coined that phrase had to have had children in mind.

Anyway, it's all clear - for now.

But we have a new tradition on a Sunday night, it's hair combing night as I sit like a mother monkey pawing through my children's hair, looking for those tell tale signs, always on the look out for the trademark scratch.  (although not all people with lice scratch, only those whose skin reacts to the bite - it's amazing the knowledge that motherhood brings...)

Two reasons

Today was a big day for two reasons, first of all my baby, my little Tom, turned 4.  Oh the excitement!  It was the first birthday that he has been old enough to properly anticipate and count down, and to lie in bed the night - before too excited to go sleep. 

It's that old thing; hasn't time flown, where have the years gone... and I really do struggle to come to terms with the fact that my baby...


5th of September 2007

... is now my boisterous, funny, affectionate, curious, sociable, talkative, stubborn four year old of many talents and many opinions.

5th of September 2011

Ahhh, yes, it's a different world of cakes now that Mum has discovered cake toppers on Ebay!!!

The second reason it was a big day is that it was the last day of holidays - diddlie diddlie diddlie dee as I dance an Irish jig in anticipation of life getting back to normal.  Of getting some time to myself, for myself.  Of having a clean house again - however fleeting that clean period may be!!

We have had a good summer holiday;  I've made an effort to stay in touch with Sam's friends and Tom's friends, as well as with my own friends (that's the only reason I am still sane!).  We've been to the park, the beach, museums, visited grandparents, visited friends and had friends visit us, had day trips and also had a good chunk of plain old playing out with the neighbourhood kids and a really nice amount of time when my boys played together beautifully (also a sizable chunk of trying to kill each other, but hey, holidays are over now, time to slip on those rose tinted spectacles).  Okay, so we may not have had the best weather, but it wasn't completely awful - at least not all the time, and bad weather gives you opportunity to read, watch films and play games.

All in all, I don't think we have an awful lot to complain about it!!