Happy tenth anniversary Neo

Firstly: Get a drink of your choice (not judging, if you want a beer for breakfast you go for it).

Secondly: If you are of an emotional disposition make sure you have a handkerchief or a box of tissues - just in case. 

Finally: Settle down somewhere comfy - preferably with a pet for company and read this: 

It occurs to me that we are now a nuclear family. Brown Bear - our 'miracle' baby that yoga, a low-fat diet and sheer bloody-mindedness built. Oh and a champagne-filled New Year (he was born in Sept, you do the maths). Blue Bear - his literal brother from another mother - whose personality and appearance are uncannily like Hubbie. Not forgetting Neo who I see as the .4 of our 2.4 children as he is significant enough to be counted, but not entirely a half. 

Three years ago Neo noticed some changes in the household. The small human who had been around for a while now was almost fully trained. He was able to open the cat food cupboard and put biscuits into a bowl. The mini one no longer chased him or pulled his tail and was malleable enough to lie with on his bed at night. Brown Bear and Neo had forged an alliance that was ridiculously cute to witness. He had pretty much got this one to the point that he didn't need us any more (apart from tins - the little one couldn't quite do tins yet and reaching taps was a bit of an issue). Then suddenly the cot reappeared. The buggy came out of storage. He was banished from our bedroom at night. A new small human came to visit a few times. A little bit longer each time. Then one day he didn't go away any more. 

The smallest one didn't just sleep a lot like a baby would - he was walking and made noises. He slept in the cot next to our bed and would reach his hand out to check I was there. I got used to sleeping with my hand out so he could touch it when he needed reassurance. We also had to sleep with the light on as he was scared of the dark. That first night we got both boys to sleep by 8pm and were high-fiving each other and congratulating ourselves on what amazing parents we are. I almost made a space on the shelf for whatever trophy it is they give you for being the best at this sort of thing. The Oscars of Adoption if you will. Our smug celebration was shattered by the sound of crying. Brown Bear was a great sleeper so we hadn't experienced this much before. He wakes up before the sparrows, but he always slept through unless he was ill. Blue Bear was not just a different kettle of fish, but an entire shoal of unfamiliar oceanic activity. 

We took it in turns to try and soothe Blue Bear to sleep. After a few hours I put him in the car seat and drove laps to calm him down and to give the others - and our neighbours - a break. Nothing was working. Blue Bear was crying, I was crying, and we had no idea what to try next. Finally we managed to calm him down enough to go back to sleep. It was not long after that I got a text from his foster family asking how he was. I told them he had been upset, but was finally sleeping now. That single message was a lifeline - for us and for them. I can only imagine what Neo must have thought about the noise, the unpredictability of this new one and the shattered peace in this household he had so finely crafted.  

Seven and a half years ago I went away for three nights. Neo kept looking for me. He had been taking care of me and bump while I was on maternity leave and often slept on my tummy - well until the bump hoofed him and he looked a bit put out. He was such an active baby that we called him Jiggly Puff.  I told Brown Bear this today and he was amused at the revelation that he would sleep all day while I was moving and dance all night when I wanted to sleep. Hubbie brought me and the baby home after three days during which Uncle Adrian had been feeding Neo. I went straight over to cuddle the cat and he miaowed at me stricken that I had been away for so long. In the sprawl of balloons and cards and infant paraphenalia I don't think he even saw the baby. We introduced them and Neo looked unimpressed and went over to his food bowl. We didn't see much of the cat in those early days. 

Neo has always been an adventurer and would be outdoors all day and often we had no idea where he was. With a tiny baby in the house he made himself pretty scarce. Maybe it was the change of routine that he took issue with. It might have been the lack of attention to him since this interloper had arrived. It might even have been that he wanted to give us space. We just don't know. At bedtime, however, it was a different story. He would always go in and check if the baby was asleep before he would go to bed himself. He still does this now and will pop his head round the kids' doors and miaow at them if they are not in bed. He lies with Brown Bear and doesn't come downstairs until the boy is asleep. I often go in to check on them and see the most adorable scene of brotherly love. Blue Bear is put out that Neo won't sleep on his bed, but he does move almost 360 degrees during the night which makes it logistically a bit difficult. Neo is an old cat now and doesn't appreciate being shoved around too much. 

Ten years ago we went to Battersea Cats and Dogs Home to bring Neo home with us. As we tried to leave every one of the volunteers came to wish him well and to tell us what a lovely boy he was. The vet checked him over and when we went to make the suggested donation we were told it was ok they didn't expect any money as he had a heart murmur and they didn't think he would be with us for long. Hubbie and I were insistent that they accept the donation whatever his prognosis. On the train home he was cooed at and fussed over by every other passenger. When we got home he got out of the basket and explored the house. He made for the back door only to be denied by a locked cat flap. As per the rules he stayed indoors and I would rush home from work to see him every afternoon. He hated using a litter box and made many efforts to break out of the house to explore. When the day came to let him out I stood in the garden as he disappeared over the fence. I don't think I breathed the whole time he was gone. What if he didn't come back ? Hubbie assured me he would. When Neo's small white furry body reappeared I was flooded with relief.

Today we celebrate ten years of living with Neo. A lot has changed. He now has a cauliflower ear, is on two different pills and a special diet for his kidneys. He lounges on a beanbag looking out at the garden rather than being in the garden. He still sheds white fur like you wouldn't believe. He now has two boys living in his house and when they are asleep he lies next to me on the sofa with his paws on me to make sure I don't get up. He has his seat on the sofa and if the boys are on it he will miaow at them to move - they do. Despite Hubbie's best efforts to keep Neo downstairs at night I still wake up to find a cat at the foot of our bed. Some days I wake up to find the boys in our bed as well and no sign of Hubbie as he's been uncermoniously shoved out. 

This is our little family. I love every last one of them with every fibre of my being. From meeting Hubbie and realising this was something special and whatever happened I didn't want him not to be in my life. To the cat who was only supposed to have half a year left to live. The baby we were told we'd never have. The boy we cannot imagine living anywhere other than with us. 

These guys are my everything. 

They are the beat of my heart. 

David Bowie didn't worry about being 'normal'

For the first blog post of 2018 I had intended to do one of those looking back on the year just gone and reflecting posts. You know where I would figuratively tip my head to one side and go misty eyed while remembering how Blue Bear started at 'big school' and Brown Bear was chosen for the swim squad. My decision to step down from some community commitments to give myself some more time in my life. Then my return to radio which has been good for my soul and my mental health. How I got back into running and trashed two pairs of trainers in 6 months through hardcore training (well, not quite). The triumph of my completing the full moonwalk almost 8 years since I last did it. Achieving a long held ambition to go skiing at Christmas and finding out that Brown Bear is a natural and I haven't forgotten nearly as much as I had expected.

Then the inevitable forward planning for this year. How I'm going to make a triumphant return to the workplace now my boys are settled and happy at school. My continuing pursuit of fitness and health through running, swimming and making better food choices. The aim to be a calmer and kinder parent than I have been. Some other stuff about world peace, yada, yada, yada.

That was what I had intended to write. Then this evening it was all subsumed by a comment by my father-in-law that got under my skin so much that I did something I haven't done in years. I've developed that capacity to smile and tolerate most of his idiocyncracies. I have even been known to laugh or tease him about his assertions that illegal immigrants swim across to Lymington in their droves. So what did he say this time that led me to bite and then to walk away in silence ? 

It was the word 'normal.' I use it myself. I will plead with my sons to 'act normal' when I've had enough of their constant bickering or demands from me. It's shorthand for 'be nicer' as if that is what is normal for everyone. He wasn't using it in that context though. He was saying that my boys have something wrong with them and by association that I am incapable as a mother. He pointed out that how they behave is 'not normal.' Well I don't really know what that means. I think children aged 7 and 4 can be pretty boisterous and having seen lots of other children on holiday I know mine are full of energy, but they are far from unusual. I know my kids are tiring. Of course I do. I know that better than anyone else, because I'm the one who spends most time with them. I also know that when they are tired or hungry they are unreasonable and demanding and if I'm tired too that's not the best combination. 

My mum looked after the boys overnight a while back. She's had Brown Bear overnight a lot, but never both of them. The next day when I sent a message asking how they were my sister replied, "they're not listening." I looked at Hubbie and sighed. Well, what did we expect ? A miracle ? Since that overnight visit I have had inspirational messages from my mother and whenever I visit she makes me food and tea and insists I rest. I think she has some handle on how hard it is with these boys. Mother in law has two sons, so she has more of an understanding about it. Her husband, however, does not. When he insisted that his children weren't like that I snapped. "How would you know, you weren't around." He carried on telling me how he knew they weren't like that so I ended with, "Well they are children, and they're not the same and you never had an adopted son." I walked out of the kitchen and went upstairs where I'm typing this now. 

I don't like to use adoption as a punctuation mark. I really don't want to draw attention to it as a 'special circumstance,' but our boys are not like his boys in any way. I've seen how far we've come and how much they love each other. The bickering and play fighting (which often ends up not so playful) is testament to how much they have grown together. On holiday when we went to check on them one night Hubbie pointed out that they were holding hands across the twin beds. It was precious. 

It's ok if we're not normal. We don't have to be like anyone else. It's not about how we compare with anyone. I'm not always proud of myself. I shout too loud and I tell them off too much. I give in to them and spoil them. I laugh and play with them. I am blown away by how much they have grown up and how funny they are. When they laugh and smile my heart feels like it is going to burst. They are my gorgeous, loving, hilarious, energetic, unpredictable, infuriating, exhausting, challenging, brilliant boys. 

This is our 'normal.'

Lucky number seven.

My boy is seven today. The first grandchild and nephew in both our families. Seven years ago today I was taken in an ambulance to deliver this boy when it became clear that both he and I were in trouble.  Following a blissful and trouble free pregnancy with a much longed for baby at the last minute it started to go wrong. My husband was told he could lose us both. He never let on to me how bad it was. He stood next to me and held my hand as we joked and laughed - much easier to do when you've been given the drugs, me not him. When the boy finally arrived I told Hubbie to go with him to make sure he was ok and I would be fine. We had done the NCT practice run of this and knew how it would go when an emergency C section took place. The room full of people, the student doctor introducing themselves to us and our baby being taken away immediately for checks. We had agreed that Hubbie would stay with him while I was stitched up. Apparently the boy did a massive poo as soon as he was born. Well his sense of timing is impeccable. We spent the night in a recovery ward and Hubbie went home to sleep for the first time in almost three days. I held my son close and watched him all night. I still go into his room and watch him sleep every night.

Since that day I've experienced more anxiety than I've ever had in my life. I've felt more love than I knew was possible. I still find it amazing that I am someone's mum, never mind two boys. When we talked to Brown Bear about adoption and explained he was going to have a brother he took it in his stride. Until Blue Bear arrived and he had to share me with this little boy who Mummy held and cuddled and protected. They both fought for my attention and I expected this little boy to be the big brother before I taught him what that meant. He was feeling pushed out and I didn't realise. It was difficult. I felt like I was being torn in two and he felt like I didn't love him any more. In his head I only had space to love one boy and it wasn't him any more. 

I look at those boys now and the fierce fraternal bond they have. To anyone who doesn't know they were always brothers. Brown Bear is proud of his younger brother and Blue Bear looks up to his big brother and wants to be just like him. On his first day at school Brown Bear took Blue Bear's hand and walked him to the classroom. When Blue Bear came skipping out at the end of the day Brown Bear was there waiting to greet him with a smile and asked him how his day was. Ok so Brown is up with the lark and annoyingly chipper from the off (he always has been, it's exhausting !) and Blue was born a teenager and could sleep in until ten given the chance. By the end of a school day they are in entirely opposite moods and one wants to play while the other is happy to sit and relax. They are forming a great bond though. They other day as we were driving past a funfair they asked if we could go and Hubbie said no. Brown Bear turned to Blue Bear and said, "Don't worry when we live together we can go the fair whenever we like." I reminded him they live together now and Brown Bear said, "No when we're adults. When we're 45." 

The other night we went out together. Just me and Brown Bear. I am at a conference all day today - I left early and will be home late - and I wanted to do something special for his birthday. We went out for dinner and then to the theatre. He opened doors for me saying, "Ladies first" and held my hand as we walked from the car to the restaurant. He smiled at me in the theatre and asked if I was enjoying the show. When we came home he kissed me good night and said, "I love you more than you love me Mummy." I smiled and replied, "That's just not possible." 

Happy 7th Birthday Baby Boy xxxxxxx

One Daddy, two bears and a cat.

If you celebrate it Happy Father's Day. It's not as big a deal as Mother's Day I grant you. Florists don't rub their hands with glee at the prospect of bouquets flying out of the door and restaurants don't plan extra sittings for lunch and afternoon tea. We've had email offers of a free steak at Beefeater, a free meal for Dad at Giraffe and a special meal deal at a range of other places. The marketing for Father's Day concentrates on terrible CDs, DIY items and even 'a real shave'. Can you imagine if someone suggested you buy Mum a waxing session for a treat ? 

Anyway, I asked Hubbie a while back what he'd like for Father's Day so he's gone for a bike ride on this glorious morning and I'm home with the boys watching Paddington - which is a brilliant film by the way. We're going for a Father's Day barbecue later and as it's going to be scorcher we're probably going for a swim at some point too. 

To celebrate Father's Day here are some of Hubbie's best bits (nothing controversial honestly). 

Hubbie getting some early parenting practice with Neo:

The big day when our Brown Bear met Daddy: 

Hubbie teaching Brown Bear some basic IT skills:

I think this was the reason Hubbie wanted children - to share his love of buses: 

Now I'm outnumbered ! 

London Transport Museum is their happy place: 

Recreating childhood experiences: 

Grandpa and Hubbie 

Hubbie and Blue Bear 

And of course my favourite photo of father and son: 

Whatever you're doing today I wish you a great Sunday.

Bring on the night, bring on sleep.

My boys sleep through the night.

It's not always easy - sometimes it's a rigmarole with endless drinks of water, tucking in of teddy bears and philosophical discussions. In the end though it's a night of peace. 

If you don't have kids you will have no opinion about this. You might be kind and nod and say, "Oh that's good." As a parent you will either grit your teeth at the temerity of my boast or shrug and think, "well that hardly merits a blog post does it ?"

When Blue Bear first came to live with us he didn't sleep well. The first night both boys went to sleep by 8pm and Hubbie and I were fist bumping each other and thinking the top prize for parenting was ours for the taking. We were just about to sit down to eat and we heard a cry from Blue Bear. He was awake and he was not happy about it. For the next two hours we tried everything we could to get him back to sleep. I lay down with him, Hubbie lay down with him, we put on soothing music, we offered milk and eventually I did what I never did with Brown Bear. I put him in the car and drove around to try and soothe him. It was exhausting.

After that first night his nocturnal stirrings became a regular thing for us. We had set up the cot next to our bed and he slept next to me. Often he woke up crying, screaming, hitting out or reaching out for a dummy or a touch on his head to settle him. We found out he was terrified of the dark, so we put a light on for him. Over time he would turn to check I was still there and I'd feel a small hand reach out for me so I'd sleep as close to his face as I could so he would see me. 

We moved Blue Bear into his own room and when settling him to sleep one of us would lie on the floor next to his bed to reassure him he wasn't alone. I would put him down to nap during the day and have to lie down too. In fact the afternoon rest came as a relief after months of sleepless nights. 

The night waking became so regular that even Brown Bear - who has always been an early riser - started to sleep in. He would struggle to get up in the morning and was tired and tearful during the day. At times Blue Bear would scream because he's lost his dummy. Other times he'd be distressed and sitting up unable to express why he was so upset. Then if Brown Bear woke up we'd have two boys to try and get back to sleep. Some mornings both boys would be in our bed and Hubbie would be asleep somewhere else. He still had to go to work and do a full day on very little sleep.

I can't pinpoint when it changed. Maybe it was when we moved him out of a cot and into a toddler bed. He was able to get out by himself so maybe he didn't feel so confined. Brown Bear has a raised bed now and loves the fact that no one else can get up there, but him.

It was only in the last few days I realised that sometimes I have to go in and wake up Blue Bear. He sleeps soundly and wakes up smiling. I like to believe he knows where he is and is happy to be there. That he loves the teddy bears on his bed, the soft light in his room, the plaintive miaowing from Neo to be let out or fed. Brown Bear wakes up early, but plays with lego or goes downstairs to eat breakfast with Daddy before he leaves for work.

Yes there are still nights when Blue Bear wakes up, but he goes back to sleep pretty quickly and without me having to drive him around the neighbourhood.  

At one time it felt like it would never end - like we'd never get through it. But we did.

So when I say that my boys sleep through, please believe that it's not a boast. It's a relief.

Heroes don't wear Fit Flops.

When people hear that Blue Bear is adopted it brings out some strange remarks. I find that it inspires pity, "Oh poor you having to get a second hand baby," or something like awe "I don't know how you do it. You're so good." I am used to both reactions now and try my best to find a way to look as if this is the first time I've heard those comments.

Both reactions baffle me really, but the reason they do is the same. I don't see my son as a good deed. The fact that we tried for years to fall pregnant and were told it might not happen made us determined to adopt. I had been prodded and checked and Hubbie had been tested. The medical professionals didn't sound hopeful and it was increasingly depressing to hear how unlikely it was going to be that we'd ever be parents. So we decided to go ahead and proceed with adoption.

We were questioned and assessed and checked. We had professionals comment on our relationship, our home, our families, our friends, our finances and even our cat. We sat in a room with 13 people who decided if we were fit to be parents and then waited for them to tell us that we would be allowed to adopt. Then we waited. And waited. There were children who we knew we could be parents to and who we asked to be matched with. We waited some more.

After almost a year of waiting and when we least expected it I fell pregnant with Brown Bear. It was amazing and unexpected and exciting. Our families were delighted. I sat in the Sanctuary in Covent Garden with a close friend and told her I was pregnant and she started to cry - to be honest most people did when we told them. Even father in law who is not known for his emotional responses. Our first son was universally adored and everything we had hoped for and dreamed of.

We had always talked about having a few children, but as it had taken so long we were grateful for the one we had and hoped that lightning might strike twice. It did. I fell pregnant again and we rejoiced, but it wasn't quite right. Something wasn't the same and sure enough I miscarried very early on. We made a deal to move on and get on with being the best parents we could to Brown Bear.

Then we made the decision to go back to adoption - we knew the process this time round and it was closer to home. We also had the advantage of being parents already so we thought we knew what we were getting into. Again with the checking and the questions and the visits from professionals. This time it also involved our son and I resolved that if he did not seem to be ok with it at any time we would just stop.

When we were matched with Blue Bear we played it cool. Not because we didn't absolutely adore him and want him to be part of our family, but because we had no idea if this was real or not. If he would be dangled before us only to be taken away and offered to someone else. It was safer for us to just wait and see what happened. Before long it was real. He was in our lives and our home and everything changed again.

In my head the boys would love each other and be great mates. Instead they spent the first 6-9 months fighting, arguing, screaming for my attention and hating each other intensely. I felt torn in two and like a terrible mother for inflicting this pain on my children. Most days I was convinced it would never get better. When people smiled and said, "Oh he really loves you doesn't he ?" I'd nod and smile back all the while thinking, "He doesn't have a choice. No one asked him who he wanted to live with." Even now not everyone knows how Blue Bear came to us. If it's relevant I will mention it, but it's not necessarily an opener for a conversation is it ?

So to come back to the pity and awe that I'm greeted with. I don't need the head tilt and pity. I am blessed to have two wonderful sons who are funny, smart, handsome and kind. They love each other and fight like brothers do. I also don't need the suggestion that we are saintly in any way. For me it's pretty simple. We wanted to have another child in the family. It wasn't going to be in the conventional way and with my history of falling pregnant it certainly wasn't likely to happen 'by accident.'

Adoption was an entirely selfish act on my part. I got to have the baby I wanted without incurring any stretch marks. Brown Bear got to have a brother without having to wait for the boring bit when he was a baby and wasn't at all interesting to play with. At first he was intensely annoying taking toys and things, but now Brown Bear loves having a Blue Bear shadow and is realising the benefits of having a younger sibling who hero worships him. The cat has a new infant to train up and already has Blue Bear bringing him tins of cat food (even if he can't actually open them.) Hubbie has a 'mini me' who adores him - who wouldn't want that ?

Brown Bear is my first born. Blue Bear is my youngest. Neo was my first adoptee. Hubbie has been my constant in all of this. We've shared the pain, the sadness, the joy, the bafflement, the sheer bloody-mindedness and the love.

It's not heroism. It's not charity. This is my family.

Babysteps scratch off calendar - a review

I took they boys to meet their new baby cousin last week and they were fascinated by him. He is - and I accept I may be biased here - absolutely gorgeous. I was talking to my sister about how she is managing and I remembered random facts that had helped me when I was expecting Big Boy. I asked everyone questions all the time about everything. I read lots of books and checked the internet all the time. Anything I wasn't sure about I would check then ask someone who had children already to confirm what I'd found out was correct.

It's difficult enough when you're having your first baby with myriad things you don't know you don't know. I would have loved something that gave me bite sized chunks of information before he'd arrived. That way I wouldn't have been in permanent panic mode about any little thing that someone mentioned in passing.

Splash Brands have created the Babysteps calendar to help explain the stages of pregnancy in daily facts that you scratch off as pregnancy processes. I would have given this to my sis if I'd known about it in time. Now I do know it's going to be a gift for the next friend who tells me they are pregnant. It's presented beautifully in a hexagonal box and has some really nice (gender neutral) images on it. Starting from 5 weeks and with scratch off panels starting at 9 weeks the calendar contains 236 facts, tips and trivia about the different stages of pregnancy. It's pretty large so you won't forget it's there !

You can find out more about Splash Brands here

and you can buy it on Amazon: Amazon

Disclosure: We were sent a Babysteps scratch-off calendar to review 

Where on earth did he learn to do that ?

As many parents are traumatised by their little darlings starting reception this week I feel I may have taken a lackadaisical approach to Big Boy's impending launch into full time school life. To be fair he has been at the nursery for one year and we had all the 'starting big school' drama last summer. 

He has a fab teacher this year and I hope he will be happy. I am relieved we went through all the teething issues of starting school last year as I don't think I could have coped with them now we also have Baby Boy starting pre-school settling in days this week. 

Both my boys are pretty sociable and respond well to play and learning settings. They can find things to do and will engage in imaginative play as well as interact with other children which is wonderful to see and hear about. 

What I cannot get my head round is some of the strange capabilities Big Boy seems to have.

Yesterday at football he managed to persuade Daddy to give him some money then proceeded to 'buy' a bag of crisps for 20p at the shop using what I can only imagine were wiles or menaces ! 

He's clearly destined for a life of crime or a place on the Apprentice with those negotiating skills ! 

When we were on holiday at Coombe Mill I spotted a bite mark on Baby Boy's arm and asked Big Boy if he knew how it happened. He said he'd seen the whole thing and a donkey had bitten his brother. I said that was odd as the bite marks were too small for a donkey and he said, "Oh no it wasn't a donkey, it was a chicken." When I pointed out that a chicken has a beak and not human teeth he finally admitted it might have been him who did it. 

That is a criminal level of dishonesty. He is going to be a politician at this rate ! 

His ambition has gone from being a fire officer, to a police officer, a knight and then to wanting to be Prince Hans, "because he has a sword Mummy." I was becoming suspicious that he admired duplicity and cunning a bit too much, but now he wants to reach for the status of Master Yoda. Green and grammatically challenged that path may be, but a vast improvement it is. (See what I did there ?)

On a daily basis he will invent some partial truth that he makes sound so plausible I almost want to believe him even though I know it's complete baloney. He's had a secret jelly baby eating pact with Grandpa for over a year now, they have been in cahoots without me or Hubbie knowing. That is a disturbing amount of deception right there ! 

I'm not sure how helpful any of these skills will be in his school life, but I do hope that he manages to use his powers for good. I want to believe that he has the capacity to be a Captain Mal* character and to have good intentions even if his route to them is a little dubious. 

Let's face it, even Darth Vader had a mum, come to think of it so did Yoda. When they observed their sons I'm sure they had moments when they wondered what would become of their beloved boys too ? 

All I can do for now is ensure his shoes are shiny, his clothes have name tags in and that he's brushed his teeth and hair as he sets out on this new chapter. I will give him a supportive hug and whisper, "be careful out there' and chuckle to myself at the reference he won't get.**

If your little one is starting reception I hope it goes well and that you're not too upset by it. If you need a cuppa, a biccie and a virtual hug, I'll be here :) 

*if this reference is lost on you then google Firefly and give yourself a telling off for not knowing. 

**Hill Street Blues - seriously don't you watch any decent telly ? 

He can't say Mum, but he can call the cat - pah !

I was dreading the week just gone as it was the only week of the school holidays that I didn't have Big Boy booked into play schemes. He did a swimming crash course every day, but that was only half an hour a day and I had whole days to fill and two boys to keep occupied. I sent an email to the other mums from Big Boy's class and made plans to do things to keep us all from going bonkers with our kids at home. The response was heartening as they all seemed to be in the same boat as me and jumped at the chance to get out and do stuff with us.

In the end we did something every day and I spent more time with the mums than I have since he started at school and it was great. We spent drizzly mornings in the park, a spectacular sunny afternoon at the fire station (more of which in my country kids post later this week) and I had conversations with adults every day. It was brilliant ! As a result I learned some stuff I didn't know before which I thought I'd share.

Samuel's mum told me on Monday that she spends one hour every evening gardening. I thought this was such a genius idea I immediately decided to do the same, so this week I've spent up to an hour in the garden most evenings which means I've already spent more time in one week than in all of the previous months this year. It also means I can do manageable chunks without getting the chronic backache that is inevitable from the 'binge gardening' I usually practice. It has been nothing short of a revelation !

You probably already know I love Waitrose and this week gave me a concrete example of why. I took Big Boy to Asda with me - it was close to where we were at the time, it wasn't my first choice - and as I parked in a parent and child space the women in the car next to me threw a McDonalds bag at the back of my car. I looked at the bag with the remains of a milkshake and various containers in it and looked at them and for a moment considered throwing it back, but decided it wasn't worth the fight that would ensue if I did. The next day I needed to cleanse myself of the experience and while pushing Baby boy in the trolley at Waitrose a man politely pointed out to me that Big Boy had dropped the plastic lid from his disposable coffee cup on the floor. Now I have to explain he wasn't actually drinking a coffee, but he flutters his eyelashes at the ladies on the counter and they always let him have a cup to play with. I smiled and said thank you to the nice man who proceeded to apologise for his presumptuousness in trying to tell a parent how to parent. I told him it wasn't a problem and we went about our shopping trip with Baby Boy pointing at everything in the store and Big Boy going loopy in the aisles. I love that in Waitrose someone would be kind enough to worry about my boy dropping something on the floor and putting it in his mouth that they would tell me.

It was while we were driving to Asda that I heard one of my favourite of Big Boy's latest malapropisms. He is usually a pretty eloquent conversationalist, but he does say some funny words. There's the usual lellow for yellow of course, but when he asked, "why are we going to Asbo ?" I had to laugh. Others that I've spotted include, Teenage Newton Ninja Turtles and when he finished watching Cinderella he told me that it was the garden mother who sorted out her dress for the ball. In fairness to both boys I should also point out that Baby Boy is now saying a few intelligible sounds. His clearest word to date is Neo (of course, they always learn the cat's name first !) and he is also saying something like Hello and Bye Bye, both of which make him sound like a Minion. It's hilarious, but also really cute.

So I'm not saying it's rocket science, but what I've learned this week has given me a laugh and my garden looks a little bit nicer as a result. I call that a win.

Itinerary of this Mum's handbag

It is a cliche, I know, but I do love handbags. I have loads of them. Mostly satchel type or organiser bags with big pockets and compartments for all sorts of stuff. I do have some small evening bags and even the occasional 'proper lady' handbag. I know women who have a lovely dinky postage stamp of a handbag that they keep a phone, a discreet compact and a lipstick in and they go about their day. I aspire to their control. Mine, however, resembles those sacks you see in movies that baddies sling over their backs filled with kittens to drown in a nearby river before the hero rescues them.*

In the recent sales I decided to get myself a beautiful rather than functional bag and I chose a 'slouchy' one that is just gorgeous. In my attempts to go from slummy to yummy I'm trying so hard not to fill it with rubbish, but I took a quick itinerary of it yesterday and here's what it already has in it.

• 2 Ikea straws and a handful of napkins

• Cup sleeves for coffee (I don't drink coffee) 

• Pocketful of loyalty cards - Jojomamanbebe Cafe Nero, Evolution, etc. (I still don't drink coffee)

• Bags for life - I always carry bags for life, well you never know when you might need to pick up some groceries do you ? 

• Wet wipes - however, I did carry these before I was a mum

• Tissues - new in packet infused with balsam and the used scrumpled ones that end up in there

• Two notepads from hotels where we stayed in pre-parenting days, for my profound thoughts and great ideas (they are both blank)

• Half a dozen biros in the front pocket and a pencil case with camper vans on it containing another half dozen pens, pencils and an eraser 

• Nail files - yes plural - I'm a Mum not an animal !  

• An apple, a banana and a bottle of water (oh that's why it's so bloody heavy)

• An oat bar for the boy and a gluten free, dairy free and wheat free bar for me - despite how it sounds it tastes absolutely divine 

• iPad in case of a breakdown - the car, the bus, the toddler or me !!

I wish this was all but I'm trying to tone down the crazy so let's just leave it at that shall we ? I'll skip over the mini pot of dental floss, the two hand creams and the make up bag that is aspirational at best.

I'm a Mum and this is my handbag:

*Just to be clear I do not carry kittens in my bag, nor do I drown said felines.