Snow. Snow on snow on snow. It looks magical, spreading its white glow across towns and countrysides, creating the illusion of purity.
Purity, however, is far from the thoughts of my boys who are cooped up the week before Christmas when their hyperactivity levels are at their highest. We cannot drive our car - we tried yesterday and had to be pushed back up the hill by two angelic men (well, Max thought they were angels anyway).
We have taken them out to play in the snow, built igloos, been sledging, trudged our way to the shops and had snowball fights but they still seem to have more energy than a duracell rabbit. Wearing them out seems an impossible dream. They are stuck together, doing what they do best - fighting. Unable to see their friends, they are irritating each other (and me). Each time they go outside, they come back indoors with dripping coats, hats, gloves, clothes and wellies, which are dropped in a pile all ready for me to pick up and spread across radiators.
I may sound bah humbug-esque, but I hope this snow doesn't last too long. It looks beautiful, but if I have to pick up another icy, wet glove from the floor or sort out another fight after Toby has thrown a snowball in Max's face (again), then I will be forced to get out my hairdryer and melt all the inconvenient white stuff myself.
On the plus side (and my glass is usually half empty, so it will be a squeeze for me to think of the positives), life becomes simple. We cannot make long trips, we see our friends who live nearby and we don't have to rush from one place to the next. Anyone else think of any positives? Help me out here.....
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Friday, 17 December 2010
Outdoors Unlocked
Some of you will already know that my very own Bear Grylls of a husband is attempting to set up his own business promoting, teaching and training Forest School and Bushcraft skills to anyone and everyone, but particularly in schools. Today he has an interview with some people who very kindly give out money to worthwhile causes.
The trouble is, we have to convince them that it is worthwhile.
If I am honest, when he first began with his business idea I didn't think alot of it. I am married to a dreamer, who is constantly conjuring up new ideas, businesses and ways to save the world. I have heard so many of them that now I tend to ignore as much as possible, knowing that they will never come to fruition.
However, as I have helped him write funding applications and listened to his passion I have realised that this idea might actually become a reality. This isn't a business plan that will make us money, this is a business plan that will improve society. Children who have been shunned by traditional academia will have their confidence restored. Families who only spend time together when sitting in front of a screen will explore the outdoors together. Businesses who want to build teams can go back to basics with fire lighting and shelter building. Boys will be able to climb trees and scrape their knees again without being frowned upon. Girls will be able to make 'fairy dens' and collect flowers to press (I know, girls like climbing trees too... but most boys do not like building fairy dens and pressing flowers). Families will be able to forage for food for their dinner, make a fire and cook it. People, including children (sharp intake of breath required for all health and safety activists), will learn how to use axes, knives and hammers safely. The outdoors will be opened up again. The doors will be unlocked.
If you have been reading my blog for any amount of time, you will know that I find the traditional education system difficult. Jared's venture will enable us as a family to make a difference to that. My heart weeps when I hear 9, 10 and 11 year old boys talking about how they are 'no good' at reading and writing. I want to scream and shout when I read articles that report their surprise in the fact that boys lag behind girls substantially in schools. I see a great injustice in our system and I want to be part of the change, even if my part is small.
We want to open the doors and pave the way to the great, marvellous, exciting, inspiring outdoors and make it a way of life for people who have never even considered the opportunities and adventures that can be had out there. Is it worthwhile? I think so.
The trouble is, we have to convince them that it is worthwhile.
If I am honest, when he first began with his business idea I didn't think alot of it. I am married to a dreamer, who is constantly conjuring up new ideas, businesses and ways to save the world. I have heard so many of them that now I tend to ignore as much as possible, knowing that they will never come to fruition.
However, as I have helped him write funding applications and listened to his passion I have realised that this idea might actually become a reality. This isn't a business plan that will make us money, this is a business plan that will improve society. Children who have been shunned by traditional academia will have their confidence restored. Families who only spend time together when sitting in front of a screen will explore the outdoors together. Businesses who want to build teams can go back to basics with fire lighting and shelter building. Boys will be able to climb trees and scrape their knees again without being frowned upon. Girls will be able to make 'fairy dens' and collect flowers to press (I know, girls like climbing trees too... but most boys do not like building fairy dens and pressing flowers). Families will be able to forage for food for their dinner, make a fire and cook it. People, including children (sharp intake of breath required for all health and safety activists), will learn how to use axes, knives and hammers safely. The outdoors will be opened up again. The doors will be unlocked.
If you have been reading my blog for any amount of time, you will know that I find the traditional education system difficult. Jared's venture will enable us as a family to make a difference to that. My heart weeps when I hear 9, 10 and 11 year old boys talking about how they are 'no good' at reading and writing. I want to scream and shout when I read articles that report their surprise in the fact that boys lag behind girls substantially in schools. I see a great injustice in our system and I want to be part of the change, even if my part is small.
We want to open the doors and pave the way to the great, marvellous, exciting, inspiring outdoors and make it a way of life for people who have never even considered the opportunities and adventures that can be had out there. Is it worthwhile? I think so.
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Bad Mother Day
The conversation I had with Jonah whilst wiping his bottom this afternoon sums up the whole day:
Me: "Sorry, I haven't been a very good Mummy today Jonah."
Jonah: "No, but Daddy is."
Today has been 'one of those days'. How do we diagnose a 'bad mother day'? What are the signs and symptoms you would discover if you googled it?
1. Instead of making an adventure and experience of going to Tescos, I openly bribed Jonah to behave himself.
2. When he rolled around the floor in Tescos, I carried him instead of standing my ground and making him walk.
3. Driving home from Tescos, I went the long route so that he would fall asleep in the car, knowing that I would pay for it at bedtime but desperate for a few minutes peace.
4. When we arrived home, having woken him up, I put on a dvd and tried to make out that sitting on the sofa quietly was an exciting activity.
5. Secretly, I had chocolate spread on toast for my lunch whilst he was watching said dvd.
6. Eventually I made him lunch, which I let him eat whilst walking around the house (standards have dropped extremely low at this point).
7. After lunch, I put the dvd back on for him.
8. When he was bored of the dvd, I bribed him with a chocolate bar to play quietly on his own for a while.
9. After we had picked up Toby and Max from school, I turned my music up loudly so as not to hear them fighting and throwing things around at each other.
10. When Max tried to explain to me about an art competition at school, I ummed and ahhed in what I thought were the right places, until he walked away saying "You're not even listening to me".
11. And now? There is screaming and loud banging coming from upstairs and I am sat here on the computer instead of making the arduous journey up the stairs to discover the carnage.
Anyone else have any 'bad mother day' symptoms? I challenge you to have worse ones than mine!
Me: "Sorry, I haven't been a very good Mummy today Jonah."
Jonah: "No, but Daddy is."
Today has been 'one of those days'. How do we diagnose a 'bad mother day'? What are the signs and symptoms you would discover if you googled it?
1. Instead of making an adventure and experience of going to Tescos, I openly bribed Jonah to behave himself.
2. When he rolled around the floor in Tescos, I carried him instead of standing my ground and making him walk.
3. Driving home from Tescos, I went the long route so that he would fall asleep in the car, knowing that I would pay for it at bedtime but desperate for a few minutes peace.
4. When we arrived home, having woken him up, I put on a dvd and tried to make out that sitting on the sofa quietly was an exciting activity.
5. Secretly, I had chocolate spread on toast for my lunch whilst he was watching said dvd.
6. Eventually I made him lunch, which I let him eat whilst walking around the house (standards have dropped extremely low at this point).
7. After lunch, I put the dvd back on for him.
8. When he was bored of the dvd, I bribed him with a chocolate bar to play quietly on his own for a while.
9. After we had picked up Toby and Max from school, I turned my music up loudly so as not to hear them fighting and throwing things around at each other.
10. When Max tried to explain to me about an art competition at school, I ummed and ahhed in what I thought were the right places, until he walked away saying "You're not even listening to me".
11. And now? There is screaming and loud banging coming from upstairs and I am sat here on the computer instead of making the arduous journey up the stairs to discover the carnage.
Anyone else have any 'bad mother day' symptoms? I challenge you to have worse ones than mine!
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Job
I am writing amidst the chaos of helicopters being thrown at heads, backflips off bunkbeds and general tarzan-like behaviour (and that's just Jared...). Apologies if this doesn't make alot of sense, but amongst the bedlam I am trying to find calm.
I have a job. This has not quite sunk in yet, There are so many levels on which I would like to write about the fact that I have a job, and I expect they will pour forth eventually. The first is that I wish to categorically state that my principles on working whilst having small children have not changed. (And here comes the opinionated bit - look away now if you don't wish to see it). When small children are at home, they need their mummy (or daddy). In January, Jonah begins his 15 hours of free nursery sessions, and my job fits exactly in with these times and with school terms. I would not have a job that meant passing my children from pillar to post just so that I could work. This does not make any sense to me at all. Whilst I have had a 9 years full of nappies, yoghurt stains, mindless twittering (otherwise known as conversation), playing the same games over and over again, loneliness and other undesirable things, I would not give up my time with my boys when they were small for anything - certainly not for the money to have an extra car or nicer holiday. (And here I would like to state that I know some mummies have to work, and do not do it for extra luxuries. I do not judge you at all).
Whilst the last 9 years has been full of all those perhaps unpleasant parts, I have also had immense joy and satisfaction as I have been there to witness the first time they take their tentative steps across the room; I have always been there to kiss the sore bits when they have a bump (or a fight...); I am the one who ensures they eat healthily and I know what they eat and when. I have taught them to dress themselves, to clean their teeth, to put on their shoes and coat, to eat with a knife and fork, to use the toilet, to cross roads, to handle money, to switch on the tv (best thing I've ever taught them!) and to share and play with others. I have been there to see their first nativities, the first time they draw a proper face with eyes, nose and mouth, the first time they write their name. I have taught them their first words.
Would I have given this up to someone else? Absolutely not. There is no way I would let someone else have the joy of having my children. It is my job, my responsibility, my delight and my wonder to have.
My time of pre-schoolers at home is coming to a long, drawn out close now and so I start to find jobs that will fit in with having slightly older children. I will still be there for them, will continue to put them first and will not be drawn into the career / mum 'have it all' game. I have it all, and they're at home.
I have a job. This has not quite sunk in yet, There are so many levels on which I would like to write about the fact that I have a job, and I expect they will pour forth eventually. The first is that I wish to categorically state that my principles on working whilst having small children have not changed. (And here comes the opinionated bit - look away now if you don't wish to see it). When small children are at home, they need their mummy (or daddy). In January, Jonah begins his 15 hours of free nursery sessions, and my job fits exactly in with these times and with school terms. I would not have a job that meant passing my children from pillar to post just so that I could work. This does not make any sense to me at all. Whilst I have had a 9 years full of nappies, yoghurt stains, mindless twittering (otherwise known as conversation), playing the same games over and over again, loneliness and other undesirable things, I would not give up my time with my boys when they were small for anything - certainly not for the money to have an extra car or nicer holiday. (And here I would like to state that I know some mummies have to work, and do not do it for extra luxuries. I do not judge you at all).
Whilst the last 9 years has been full of all those perhaps unpleasant parts, I have also had immense joy and satisfaction as I have been there to witness the first time they take their tentative steps across the room; I have always been there to kiss the sore bits when they have a bump (or a fight...); I am the one who ensures they eat healthily and I know what they eat and when. I have taught them to dress themselves, to clean their teeth, to put on their shoes and coat, to eat with a knife and fork, to use the toilet, to cross roads, to handle money, to switch on the tv (best thing I've ever taught them!) and to share and play with others. I have been there to see their first nativities, the first time they draw a proper face with eyes, nose and mouth, the first time they write their name. I have taught them their first words.
Would I have given this up to someone else? Absolutely not. There is no way I would let someone else have the joy of having my children. It is my job, my responsibility, my delight and my wonder to have.
My time of pre-schoolers at home is coming to a long, drawn out close now and so I start to find jobs that will fit in with having slightly older children. I will still be there for them, will continue to put them first and will not be drawn into the career / mum 'have it all' game. I have it all, and they're at home.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
It's Just A Phase
Poor little Jonah. Not only have we seen everything he throws at us before, but instead of getting flustered and panicking, we just catch it and smile at him.
His latest phase will be well known to all parents who have any children over the age of 2. The "I am not going to stay in bed because I have extremely important things to tell you which I will think of as soon as I get out of bed and see you" phase.
So far the conversations about the 'important things to tell us' have been along these lines...
Friday Night: Telltale footsteps heard upstairs 2 minutes after putting him to bed.
Me: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "I need to tell you something."
Me: "What is it?"
Jonah: "We've got lots of stairs."
Me: "Yes, I know. Now go to bed and don't get out again."
Saturday Night: Telltale footsteps heard again.
Jared: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "How much does my bobby (his muslin which he takes to bed) cost? Is it three pounds or is it six pounds?
Jared: "Three pounds. Now go to bed and don't get out again."
Sunday Night: Telltale footsteps...
Me: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "I need a spoon in bed with me."
A spoon?! He NEEDS it in bed with him?!
He doesn't get the opportunity of being able to blind us with his wise words or his cute little pyjama clad body because we have seen it all before. He is so transparent that we can't help but enjoy a little smirk and a laugh to ourselves when he's not watching (when he is watching, we will of course have our sternest face on). However much he tries it on, we have an answer. He'll still try though. Because he's three, and that's what three year olds do.
His latest phase will be well known to all parents who have any children over the age of 2. The "I am not going to stay in bed because I have extremely important things to tell you which I will think of as soon as I get out of bed and see you" phase.
So far the conversations about the 'important things to tell us' have been along these lines...
Friday Night: Telltale footsteps heard upstairs 2 minutes after putting him to bed.
Me: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "I need to tell you something."
Me: "What is it?"
Jonah: "We've got lots of stairs."
Me: "Yes, I know. Now go to bed and don't get out again."
Saturday Night: Telltale footsteps heard again.
Jared: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "How much does my bobby (his muslin which he takes to bed) cost? Is it three pounds or is it six pounds?
Jared: "Three pounds. Now go to bed and don't get out again."
Sunday Night: Telltale footsteps...
Me: "What's the matter Jonah?"
Jonah: "I need a spoon in bed with me."
A spoon?! He NEEDS it in bed with him?!
He doesn't get the opportunity of being able to blind us with his wise words or his cute little pyjama clad body because we have seen it all before. He is so transparent that we can't help but enjoy a little smirk and a laugh to ourselves when he's not watching (when he is watching, we will of course have our sternest face on). However much he tries it on, we have an answer. He'll still try though. Because he's three, and that's what three year olds do.
Monday, 29 November 2010
WARNING - COMFORT SEEKERS NEED NOT READ
Forgive my old lady-esque blog, but I cannot let this by without comment. I may well come across as old fashioned as the' tights, court shoe and winter coat bedecked lady' who sits on the deckchairs at the beach in summertime, but I cannot help but interject at this point in the year.
Christmas.
The clue is in the title. Yet it is so often missed. Oooh yes, we all love to listen to children singing carols (even if there is always one at the front picking their nose) but is that all we are going to do to acknowledge the truth. It is staring us in the face, and yet we conveniently ignore it by filling our need with other things. The latest gadgets, the presents for the kids, the turkey, the decorations, Father Christmas.
There is a reason for Christmas. I can hear you shouting at the screen now, and readying yourself to flick onto another window or turn me off altogether. Feel free, because what you are about to read might make you feel a little uncomfortable and if its comfort you want, turn away now.
Every year, we sing these words (from Hark the Herald Angels sing)
"Light and life to all he brings
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild, he lays his glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth."
There was, and still is, purpose to Christmas. Jesus was born, yes as a baby in a manger (although not as cute and clean as the cardmakers would have us believe), yes from the virgin Mary, yes the shepherds and wise men came to see him, but primarily he was born to die. He was a man on a mission. He was born to die so that we don't have to. He was born so that God, his Father in heaven, could painfully abandon him to suffering and death. He was born to take our punishment for our sin (ours means mine and yours, I'm not pretending not to have any!)by dying and then by beating death and rising again. Christmas has as much purpose as Easter. Christmas is about new life - yours and mine.
So, next time we're thinking about how to fit all our family into our house, or worrying about how much money will be on the credit card bill in January, just remember what it's all about. It is more important that we meet God, than whether we buy the 'right' toy for our child. It is more important to consider carefully the questions Christmas throws up for us, than whether our Christmas decorations are more garish than next door's. Don't look away, the truth is right there in front of you.
I warned you, it's not comfortable around here.
Christmas.
The clue is in the title. Yet it is so often missed. Oooh yes, we all love to listen to children singing carols (even if there is always one at the front picking their nose) but is that all we are going to do to acknowledge the truth. It is staring us in the face, and yet we conveniently ignore it by filling our need with other things. The latest gadgets, the presents for the kids, the turkey, the decorations, Father Christmas.
There is a reason for Christmas. I can hear you shouting at the screen now, and readying yourself to flick onto another window or turn me off altogether. Feel free, because what you are about to read might make you feel a little uncomfortable and if its comfort you want, turn away now.
Every year, we sing these words (from Hark the Herald Angels sing)
"Light and life to all he brings
Risen with healing in his wings
Mild, he lays his glory by
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth
Born to give them second birth."
There was, and still is, purpose to Christmas. Jesus was born, yes as a baby in a manger (although not as cute and clean as the cardmakers would have us believe), yes from the virgin Mary, yes the shepherds and wise men came to see him, but primarily he was born to die. He was a man on a mission. He was born to die so that we don't have to. He was born so that God, his Father in heaven, could painfully abandon him to suffering and death. He was born to take our punishment for our sin (ours means mine and yours, I'm not pretending not to have any!)by dying and then by beating death and rising again. Christmas has as much purpose as Easter. Christmas is about new life - yours and mine.
So, next time we're thinking about how to fit all our family into our house, or worrying about how much money will be on the credit card bill in January, just remember what it's all about. It is more important that we meet God, than whether we buy the 'right' toy for our child. It is more important to consider carefully the questions Christmas throws up for us, than whether our Christmas decorations are more garish than next door's. Don't look away, the truth is right there in front of you.
I warned you, it's not comfortable around here.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Round One
"I got there first."
"No, I did."
"I want to sit there."
"Well, I'm sitting there."
"Well you are a pooface then." (thump, spit)
"Well you are a bumhead." (kick, slap)
"Idiot fool" (harder thump)
"MUUUUUM!!!!"
Sound familiar? I hope it does and that I am not the only one who has children who fight over one tiny spot on the sofa when there are at least 5 other seating options in the room. Why do they do this? I know, I know, sibling rivalry is a normal and apparently acceptable part of family life. I just do not understand why it has to be. We have no favourites, there is no competition for who is the 'best', yet they still all compete for everything.
I'm sure it is not just boys who do this, I am sure (please, someone reassure me..)that girls also compete. But I do wonder if the testosterone in boys creates more of a need to win, even if it is just winning the right to hold the power wielding remote control. In an attempt to produce a more loving, caring atmosphere, I explained to my boys that the Bible teaches the last will be first and the first will be last. It backfired. They now fight and compete to be last.
Have mothers throughout all generations had fighting siblings or is it a relatively modern creation? Have mothers in history also despaired over the children ever being able to be in the same room together without the next war erupting? I remember some viscious fights with my sister (sorry Trude, but I'm sure you must have started it....) and yet now we are good friends, so I am filled with hope that one day my boys will be friends and brothers who look out for each other and stand shoulder to shoulder with each other.
"No, I did."
"I want to sit there."
"Well, I'm sitting there."
"Well you are a pooface then." (thump, spit)
"Well you are a bumhead." (kick, slap)
"Idiot fool" (harder thump)
"MUUUUUM!!!!"
Sound familiar? I hope it does and that I am not the only one who has children who fight over one tiny spot on the sofa when there are at least 5 other seating options in the room. Why do they do this? I know, I know, sibling rivalry is a normal and apparently acceptable part of family life. I just do not understand why it has to be. We have no favourites, there is no competition for who is the 'best', yet they still all compete for everything.
I'm sure it is not just boys who do this, I am sure (please, someone reassure me..)that girls also compete. But I do wonder if the testosterone in boys creates more of a need to win, even if it is just winning the right to hold the power wielding remote control. In an attempt to produce a more loving, caring atmosphere, I explained to my boys that the Bible teaches the last will be first and the first will be last. It backfired. They now fight and compete to be last.
Have mothers throughout all generations had fighting siblings or is it a relatively modern creation? Have mothers in history also despaired over the children ever being able to be in the same room together without the next war erupting? I remember some viscious fights with my sister (sorry Trude, but I'm sure you must have started it....) and yet now we are good friends, so I am filled with hope that one day my boys will be friends and brothers who look out for each other and stand shoulder to shoulder with each other.
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