Mummy at the School Gate

I've just been told to eat more if I want to lose weight. Whilst I know that it's logical, the thought of eating more food is really playing havoc with my thought processes.  I've spent the past 20 odd years starving myself so that I could fit in to my size 10 skinnies and now surprisingly find that I can't even fit into a size 12! Beautiful Ben (my nephew), has asked me to keep a food diary for the next 7 days, so that he can analyse my eating habits and see where the problem lies.  He's told me that most people put on the unexplained weight due to stress or issues within the individual and can generally pinpoint the problems when looking at the body.  He's a devotee of Charles Poliquin, a gentleman who is a renowned strength coach. Never heard of him!  It seems that he's very popular amongst the athletic fraternity.  Now I don't want to be an athlete, but I'd like a little bit more energy....and be able to fit into those size 10 skinnies! Every

I missed their first day back to school, but left it in the very capable hands of BH and Miriam (the au-pair). I had made sure their clothes were laid out and their bags packed and all that was needed was a pre-school bath night and breakfast in the morning.  Not too difficult really...so why is that walking into the house this morning did it look like I'd been away for several years.  The kitchen resembled the aftermath of a tornado, and Peewee had assembled a various assortment of school clothing in his bed and was chewing happily on a trainer.  The house is empty bar the dogs, but I feel as though I'd trudged into Armageddon! I don't usually like to leave home for too long for fear that they'll have moved away without telling me....now I wish they had! I don't expect too much from Miriam.  I only have to open her door to freak out slightly.  I'm not even sure she's in the room when I peer in, for the piles of clothes on the floor which resemble several

No, I'm definitely not one of those mothers. I have enough on my plate without encouraging them to make collages out of the remnants of my wedding dress so that I can hang it on the wall. If they want to make something I send them to the after school club.  They proudly bring home their attempts, and I proudly display it in the kitchen for a month or two then it goes into their bedroom.  I know in years to come, I'll probably coo and marvel at their skills at a tender age, but at the moment it's more clutter to add to the clutter. I now have a clear plastic box for each of the kids.  The work they've done for the year goes in the box along with all their books.  When they leave home I reckon they'll be about 10 boxes a piece...which they will be taking with them!! Mimi, often asks if she can bake because as she says, "You're not very good at it, are you mummy?". Finn begs to go to the Bake Sale, because "There are mummies that bake cak

My sister phoned me yesterday with some sad news and some...well, good news (I think).  She's moving away for a while with husband. That's the sad news, because I know I'm going to miss her.   We're very close and she's my role model because of Ben. Ben is my beautiful nephew, who is sweet, shy, funny, clever...and dyslexic. He has overcome hurdles and worked incredibly hard to put aside his problems to get where he is.  He's focused, motivated and has developed his own strategies to overcome his difficulties and I am proud that he graduated from university this year with a Bachelor of Science!  No mean feat for someone with learning issues. Ben was diagnosed with dyslexia at 7 years old. Sis had a feeling that he was, because as she said "I showed him flash cards from when he was born, I bought him puzzle alphabets, and every educational toy I could lay my hands.  I sent him to Montessori nursery from the age of three, and do you know what his teacher s

The kids are fighting and so are the dogs.  It's time for them to go back to school and even though I've loved having them at home I can't wait to have the house back to myself, if only for a few hours. I wish I could be one of those mothers who take pleasure in their company, bake cakes with them, or create wonderful object d'art, but unfortunately I'm more of the "go and watch the TV" or "lets get someone over to play" type of mother who abdicates responsibility for their fun to something or someone else.  Not good for their soul I know, but soooo good for mine.   During arguments Bart often brings in the "show stopper". "WHO is the child, here?” It always stops me dead in my tracks and makes me think...yes I am a terrible mother.  I look at other mothers and know they are doing a far better job than me, but I know my children and I know that they will always come and tell me what is bothering them without me apportioning b

As it's a new year, I decided that I would do a bit of research to find out what makes a good blog, and change mine accordingly if that's what is needed. It's not a NY's resolution, but mine looks rather drab after reading and viewing a million "mommy blogs" realised that words alone are not going to make me popular. The American blogs are the slick, professional and achieve some purpose. Many of the UK bloggers are concerned with traffic and getting as many people to read them. "Be my 1000th follower!" "Read my 1000th post" "Follow, follow....". They promote products, show offers, advertise their talents, and are there to either make money (how?), or to be popular in the popularity contest. Many are there to raise awareness (those are the ones I really like to follow!), and some are just like me! I follow around 30 on twitter and am followed by even less (lucky 13! Whoops...just dropped to 12!!) and read around five blogs da

It's 23.54 on New Years Eve. The fireworks are  already filling the air with thuds and bangs, and I'm imagining  everyone dancing and singing in the new year. My babies are all in bed, BH is flying through the night from a far flung destination, the dogs are fighting at my feet, Peewee keeps nipping me (by accident, I hope) and I am sitting here, alone, reflecting on the past year. It's probably far from unusual for many people, but its something I've never done before.  New Year was always a bit of an anti-climax. People trying to make merry, forced gaiety, dancing madly and trying to snog anyone they can lay their hands on. It's the one night I've always felt uncomfortable with. Men making a beeline and me ducking to avoid their well aimed kisses. Usually at midnight, I try to lock myself in the toilet (accidentally) missing the very sad and depressing "Auld Lang Syne".  It's not to say I haven't experienced rough times, I have, but 2010 ha