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Flying with the kids

Image: Vlado / FreeDigitalPhotos.net I do a fair amount of flying, and  having travelled over the holidays and watched parents struggle with their children in confined spaces think it's about time I offered some of my expertise and experience. It's worse than hard for many....it's a nightmare!!  On many of the flights I do, parents cope admirably, but here are a few tips I can offer that would make your journey all the sweeter and help you enjoy your journey. Travel light.   It's all very well being laden like a pack horse, but do your self a favour...travel light! Take a light weight pushchair. The cheap telescopic ones can be pushed right up to the aircraft door. The larger your pram the less likely it will be loaded into the cabin. If your child is awake on disembarking, you can use the pushchair as a luggage cart, and if they're asleep...well, you have your pushchair. Bulkhead Seats. Very often when you're travelling with an infant, under 2 years you

And I thought I was "Just perfect"!!!

Just an observation really.  Since starting this blog, I've come to learn a lot about myself and my family. I'm often reflective and observing, but I've actually started to notice my bad points of which I thought there were none, pre blogging. I've always asked BH what he didn't like about me and he could come up with nothing...well nothing that is of value.  Where as I'd thought I was always perfect (oh yes I am!), I'm clearly lacking in some a lot of areas.  I'm now beginning to realise that he is less than truthful if only for an easy life...and as I've blundered through life I really should thank him. BH always points out my good points (you have lovely ears, you are a nice person, you are kind), and while that's lovely of him, it's not been terrifically helpful.  Recently, the kids have been telling me things about myself.  Kids are honest, kids are truthful, kids are cruel kids are mean....husbands are not! I suppose that's why I

Moving forward

After a tense couple of weeks (which I'll be honest-had me weeping buckets), we've come to an impasse with the Finn saga.  That's not to say it's an uncomfortable deadlock, and I have hopes that the bullying will come to a complete end and it won't affect Finn or his future in the way it has.  I think and hope it was something that happened last year, but now I'm aware, I can build my son up to be able to tackle it head on and give him back the confidence he's lost. Funnily enough, no one appears to have seen or heard any thing that may have contributed to the incidents, but I guess that's the way with insidious bullying...and because Finn put on a brave face and didn't complain no one really noticed. His new teacher is understanding (and she is fresh out of uni!) and is "up" on the ways to tackle incidents; pinpointing and recognising issues and dealing with issues without laying blame. I'm hoping subtlety will work so in the meantim

What about Bullying?

Now they're all back at school I was hoping life would be peaceful and uncomplicated. Each evening, when the kids come home from school we go through the usual. "What did you have for lunch?" "Something black" "What did you do in class?" "Something about war/drawing/got sent out." "What do you have for homework?" "Nothing." However, today it was a little bit different. I have no idea how we got onto the conversation but I think I asked Finn who he played with at break time. "No one",  he said "I just read my comic"  He wasn't moaning just stating a fact. "...then Tom, Robert and David came over and pulled the comic out of my hands and ripped it up." "Ooookaaay", I said carefully, "What did you do?" "Nothing." My son sat there and let some other boys take his comic and rip it up and did nothing. "Why didn't you tell a teacher? Why w

Why have they changed the school uniform?

Like many, it's time for the kids to go back to school.  Like many, for some very obscure reason, the uniform has changed.  The kids, it seems are happy...they just like buying new things...but FFS I have three of the little darlings!  And I have to start all over again.  No more "hand-me-downs". I can't off load the stuff to friends; I can't give it to the school for re-cycling and it's all still in such good nick! The socks alone cost me £9 a pair (yes, it's a little excessive but they are at a private school and I get a BOGOF!). Finn will be leaving next year to go to "Big School" too, so his hand me downs won't go onto Mimi (and I really can't see her in his shorts!) so it looks like they're going to be relegated to the bin! Bart is starting at "Big School" so he now has a completely new wardrobe. Jude (school gate mum), tells me that the smart new image is to encourage potential parents to send their offspring to t

Life changes.....

Change I may have an opportunity to start anew.  Well, in reality it's always been there but I've lacked the gumption to do anything about it. Not that I'm a coward, but it's been safe in my little world and stepping outside of it has often left me thinking "Naahh, it's easier to just stick with what I have".  But things could be changing and I feel a positive vibe in the air.  Changes are afoot, and when something rocks your world you look at things in a different way.  Nothing is forever, and the only certainty in life is taxes and death. Looking at the kids, I know that they deserve more than I'm giving them now.  I've been away for most of their little lives, relying on the support of my (sometimes) fabulous aupairs, family and friends. I've missed birthdays, sports days, plays, parents evenings....and no-one blames me for it, except myself! I burnt Mimi on the arm the other day, whilst we were baking cookies (out of a packet...shame

My baby girl...

Now Mimi is a beautiful child. She's the kind of child that people come up to in the street and exclaim "Oh my goodness, isn't she pretty!" It's not a question but a statement of fact. When she was a baby, she wasn't so pretty...in fact she was a bit ugly, looking back. But as my ma-in-law would say, she's grown into her face. To look at her one would think that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. Her curly hair and her chocolate brown eyes melt many hearts and she's going to be absolutely stunning. Mimi can do no wrong. She's also a "mean table layer!" She does it properly; making sure the knives and forks are placed correctly.  Unlike her brothers she clears the table of the debris before laying.....and puts it away.  Her bothers just slide stuff to one side or lay the places on top of the piles of papers.  But she's more than just her face.  She has a personality. She's feisty. She's funny, and she has a great turn of ph

I am my voice.....

I've been told many times that I have a "commercially viable voice".I'm not too sure what that means but I think it may have something to do with it's tone and timbre. You see, I have a deep voice. Deeper than most women's sweet  tinkling sounds. I've always had it. Ma used to laugh, especially in the morning when her sweet little girl would croak  "'ello mummy!".  I've also been told that I'd be good working the sex chat lines, but I tend to disagree as the filthiest words I use are generally "Take out the rubbish, you effing lazy git!" When I phone for room service on my many jaunts, it's usual for the room service attendant to reply "It will be with you shortly, Sir." I used to respond "It's Madam, actually", but that sounded too prim, and very often they'd have put down the phone before I'd had a chance to respond. Now, it's quite useful to phone on behalf of BH and pretend tha

I think I may live in Stepford......

I think I may live in Stepford.  I have lived here for 15  years. I don't know anymore people than when I first moved here.  I don't know my neighbours and I don't know anyone who I could borrow an egg from. It's not that it's unfriendly here. I'm on nodding terms with many of the dog walkers, apart from those with dobermans and rottweilers (who freak me out!),  but the only time I actually see anyone is when they're out washing their cars on a Sunday and in winter...forget it, the village looks like a small pox alert has been called! There is a community. We have a community library, a post office, a pub, a sports club and we have a church, but I'm not part of it. My home is my castle. I have built a metaphoric wall around it and prefer not to become involved. I don't see my neighbours, because I don't have to.  I come out of my house and I don't see the houses either side, I jump into my car and off I go.  If I walk around the village, I

Things are changing, and they're not happy!

We're not a morning family.  Our ride to school is generally quiet.  We don't talk.  Bart commandeers the radio as we make our 30 minute journey to the beat of drum and bass.  There's no arguing or fighting.  It really is quite peaceful apart from the thud of the radio. We pass two lollipop people on the way.  One elderly man and one elderly woman.  The lollipop man always waves as we pass and the kids wave enthusiastically back.  For some reason we call him Bob.  He's wiry and small and his bike is always propped up against the lamppost. A further 10 minutes into the ride is the other lollipop person. The lollipop lady never waves back. She never smiles. She too, rests her bike against the lamppost. We call her Miserable Madge.  The kids think that she maybe blind as she never sees them waving.  I've tried to tell them that it would be impossible to have a blind lollipop lady, but they're not having any of it.  We've been doing the same journey for the pa

This is the wrong way to parent....

I'm not perfect.  I wish I was. If I was I'd be like Sookie ( True Blood, anyone? ). I'd be pleasant, sweet and nice.  But I'm not.  Well, sometimes I am. Nice, I mean. People think I'm nice. People say I'm nice.  But deep, deep down I must be a bit mean because I sometime do and say things that no normal person would ever do...because it appeals to my dark sense of humour.  That's not to say I'm not normal. I so am.   I think my children have picked up on this trait and I think they could be developing it themselves. Oh dear. They're in for a rough ride. The other day as I was picking up the kids from school, Mimi and I were having a discussion about whether or not her "bestest friend" could come home that night to play.  They'd decided between themselves and that was pretty much that as far as she was concerned. We'd a million and one things to do, the least not being a pile of reports to write in the hope that I could keep my j

I want to swear...

I find it really easy to swear and have a list of choice words up my sleeve, which I can use on a regular basis depending on who I am speaking with.  I find it hard to swear on paper though! BH swears like a trucker and often does it front of the kids which sends them into either a paroxysm of giggling, or into lectures of anti-swearing.  Now, I'm the first one to be disgusted when I hear a small child using foul language and often blame the parents...but I live in a glass house so I shouldn't be throwing stones should I?   I don't always notice when I'm swearing and I know BH doesn't either, but being reminded by your small children that you swear like a trooper is a little bit of a shocker.  A lot of the time I do it for effect and humour, but sometimes I forget where I am.   This morning I caught Finn telling Miriam that she was a "biatch" because she was making him put his toys away.  When Miriam protested and told him he was a "scumbag&quo

How it began....

Most women make and keep their friends from an early age, or they meet them when they first start work. I made my friends when my children began school and despite the varying age gaps it works well for us. That’s not to say that I don’t keep in touch with my “old” friends, but at the moment I have more in common with this particular group of women. Our ages range from 35 through to 55, but that doesn ’t seem to matter now that we have got to know each other better. It all began with the School Quiz night. I remember BH , (Better half), voicing his opinion that he wasn ’t particularly interested in meeting new people as he had enough friends to keep up with and this group would only add to the list…and he didn ’t like the look of “those women”…they scared him ! Did he have to go? I said that I had no intention in going by myself, and anyway we’d be back by 10pm, plus he didn ’t have to take me out that week as this counted towards our “social life”. I must admit, that I was fair