Project Wild Thing and our children's Future.

Memories of my childhood have played a big part in this week. I don't tend to hark back to times gone by, but over the last seven days I have had cause to remember and enjoy those memories.

 I went to a fascinating film called Project Wild Thing. I didn't know what to expect, but if you follow the link you will be able to find out more and watch a trailer ... I came away from the film both inspired and sad. Inspired because I wanted to do something in my own life to get the children I live and work with outside again... and sad because my own children and the children around me spend so little time outdoors.

The film is about trying to get children back outside. Did you know that, on average, children, our children, now spend about 4% of their time outside? The rest of it is indoors, playing on screens, watching tv ... They are losing out on the things I remember as a child...

I remember spending whole days outside, mostly by myself, up the top of our garden playing out imaginary scenes in trees, setting up show jumps made of brooms and bamboo and making my siblings run around the garden as horses. I remember camping in the New Forest and being allowed to go off into the woods by myself, or with my brothers and sister, playing King Arthur and the Round Table. One of my best memories ever is of a forest glade, lit by shafts of golden light, utterly silent other than the whispers of the breeze and the occasional birdsong. I recall believing that I had truly found a place of fairies, of magic. I got lost several times, but I didn't panic. I remember trying to make my way back to the family caravan, going hopelessly in circles, but logically ( eventually) finding my way, using landscape and landmarks to get home.

photo courtesy of Project Wild Thing

Our children are trapped inside by our fear, not their own... our fear of stranger danger, of cars, of children's incompetence. But a child is actually more likely to be struck by lightning than to be abducted. There is more danger in keeping them in, in not allowing them to learn by exploration. Social skills are learnt by exploring together. Physical skills are learnt by pushing their boundaries - climbing trees, rolling down grassy banks, building dens out of sticks and mixing potions from mud and grass and rain water.

photo courtesy of Project Wild Thing

The Project Wild Thing site has been set up to try and spread the word that we need to let our children be free. We need to enable our children to spend time outside, away from screens and games, making their own fun and testing themselves in Nature. This is easier said than done when you live in a tower block or the inner city. The film shows a boy in London showing a tiny triangle of grass that is his green area. The organisation has considered this and have even created an App to give people ideas as to what to do ... WildTime. Its free and it will give you inspiration, whether you have 10 minutes or 2 hours to be outside.

Part of me is sad that children or parents need an App to give them ideas, but at least its there and its free! Whether its drawing something or hunting for something, climbing a tree or rolling down a bank - the ideas are there for you.

I know that in the past my own boys have groaned at the thought of yet another family walk, but when it comes down to it they do actually enjoy themselves. Once outside they love the freedom of running, climbing, jumping, exploring.

One of the things I want to encourage at school is Wild Time ... We are so fortunate to have a Nature Reserve and it would be so wonderful if we could take the children up there and say "Right... here we are ... now off you go ... Enjoy!!" For the children to be able to just explore and wander and imagine without rules would be fantastic.

I really encourage you to think about this... think about your children and the amount of time they spend indoors and how you could get them outside. I don't want you to think I'm preaching here because I know that everyone's circumstances are different ... and goodness knows I understand how hard it is to peel them away from the screen they're on. But its worth it if you can do it ...


Update:  Following the publication of this article I was contacted by the National Trust who told me about their excellent project "50 Things to do before you are 11 3/4" . Its well worth a look at if you need a bit of inspiration and best of all ... its free!

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Celebrate Teaching Assistants ... we might not be here for much longer.

I received an email yesterday from my union. I am a member of Unison and the email was to tell me about a day - 29th November 2013 - a day to celebrate Teaching Assistants. Now why would they be wanting to do that? Why celebrate Teaching Assistants? Well, the reason is because if the UK Government has its way there might not be any Teaching Assistants in schools in the future.

Unison is fighting to save Teaching Assistants. The Government has decided that Teachers can do the job of Teaching Assistants. We are an expensive luxury.

So, let me tell you a little bit about my day and you can decide whether I am an expensive luxury and whether my Teachers can do my duties instead.

I am paid, as are my colleagues, from 8.50 am. I actually arrive each day at 8.25 am and start to prepare for my day. I help my Teacher welcome the Year 1 children and look after any of them who are upset or wobbly that day. I am there for any parent who wants to chat. If a parent needs to chat to my Teacher, I take the children in so they don't have to stand in the cold.

I have organised a rota for myself, (in my own time,) so that I can fit in all the children who need extra help. Working from information collated by my Teacher I have organised the children so that all of of them can reach their potential. By 8.50 I have started 1 to 1 work on phonics, handwriting, reading, number work.At 9.05 I bring out my 2nd group for 15 minutes, catching up on phonics, High Frequency Words. During this time the Teacher has taken Register and is into the Phonics session.

All the time I am listening to the lesson in the classroom, ready to go in if needed, because there are children who have Special Needs and I might be needed to sit with them. In Year 1 children very rarely have been statemented yet so there is no funding for 1 to 1 support. Therefore the General T.A (me) has to be there for them.

By 9.15 the Literacy Lesson starts and I either sit on the carpet with particular children to support them or spend time writing up my interventions so far that morning ( because I have to provide evidence of the work done with the children). Then I start checking reading books. I either change them or initial that the record has been checked. When the children go to their tables to work I go with them. I know which table because I have spent time (my own time) reading the Teacher's detailed plans, emailed to me each week.

Most of the time I work with the children who find school tricky. The Teacher and I alternate daily with the groups so that she spends time with all the children. There are children who find it so hard to sit still, concentrate, form letters. I am there to encourage, push, support, explain.

Its amazing the number of ways you can find to explain a single thing! And its amazing how many children find the simplest thing (to you and me) impossible to grasp. If I or the Teacher wasn't sitting with them they would not know what to do, how to start. One of my greatest skills is patience. To find yet another way to explain something, but to do it with kindness and humour is what I love to do. And at the same time as I am helping this child there are another 5 on the table who need me too.

Of course the Teacher could sit with them ... but what about the other 25 five year olds?

By 10 am its time for Assembly and I keep a group back to read with. I read with every child in the class at least once a week, assessing their skills and giving them tips and encouragement as we go along. Whether that child gets lots of support at home and loves to read or receives minimum support and finds reading hard, hard, hard -  I find the way to help them achieve their best, help them enjoy reading. The joy of seeing a child move up a level or get excited about a book is just wonderful.

After break (10 minutes) I read the story while the Teacher reads with another group (they try to read with every child once a week too).

Then its Maths and the same sort of support as I have given in Literacy. My last group goes out with me at 11.50 for a quick recap on numbers - formation, number lines, counting. Then at 12 its time for home ...

But we don't go home do we? Most T.As in my school stay and get the jobs done that they couldn't do in the morning...like changing reading books, putting up displays, changing the roleplay area, filing ... Its a rare day that I go home before 12.35 and some days I stay until 1pm, an hour over my paid time. Obviously this is up to me. Its my choice that I stay, but then that's the sort of people T.As tend to be. We don't do our job for the money, we do it because we love it, love the children.

An ordinary morning is what I have described above. I haven't told you about my playground duties, my chats with children whose parents are breaking up, whose granny has died, who have seen their dad beating up their mum... I haven't told you about the chats with parents who are worried or don't "get" phonics. I haven't mentioned helping children who have wet themselves or been sick everywhere or had a massive nose bleed.

Of course the Teacher could do all these things too. She gets into work at 7.30 and stops for lunch at 12.55 ( 15 minutes break ... soooo lazy!!) then works through until 5.30 when she goes home sorts life out for her own children and then carries on with school work. The thing is though that if she did my job, the things I do, then when would she actually be teaching? Or maybe we should just forget about all the small groups I take out, forget about reading with the children?

There are Teaching Assistants in my school who work 1 to 1 with children who are autistic or have long term illness, children with behavioural problems who, if left to their own devices could be dangerous both to themselves and other children. Without their T.As these children would be lost. As it is, their parents have to fight for help. How could they access education without the care and 1 to 1 support of a Teaching Assistant? T.As deliver physiotherapy programmes, Speech and Language interventions, administer medication...

Teaching Assistants are the unsung backbone of the education system. We work for just over minimum wage and we work because we choose to give our best for the children in our care. In my school the T.As are hard working, intelligent (many are Graduates) and very caring. Often it is the T.A who has the time to sit and listen to a child, who picks up on the underlying problems a child faces. We are part of a team, with our Teachers, trying to create an environment where children can learn and enjoy learning.

Teachers work incredibly hard already. If we were not there to do the things we do then I really hate to think what would happen to the children who need us. Teachers cannot physically do their own jobs and ours. Its impossible. I despair at the short sightedness of the UK Government and their plans.

If you have a child in school then please celebrate how fortunate they are, not only to have Teachers who work their socks off, but also Teaching Assistants who do their best to support, care and guide. It has been a long time since all we did was wash up paint pots.

Preparing your children for the big bad world.

I remember when my first son was about to start school we went to a meeting with the Head Teacher. She told us that the best thing we could for our children was to make them as independent as possible. She said that being able to sit still and concentrate, to be able to listen to an instruction, to be able to get dressed and undressed - these were all skills that would be invaluable.

I thought that this was sensible, sound advice and made sure that my boys were able to do these things. To be honest I had been working on this since they were born. It seemed like common sense for my children to be able to choose their clothes in the morning, dress themselves, use a knife and fork correctly... After my second son's first PE lesson the teacher told me that he had been the only one who had been able, in a class of 30, to undress, fold his clothes, dress for PE and then after the lesson get dressed and put his kit away.

Before you think that this post is going to be a great long brag of how wonderful and incredibly advanced my boys are ... its not. Trust me, if you've read any of my other posts you will know that my boys are a mixture of good, bad, loveable and infuriating...

The reason I'm writing this is because the quest to prepare children for the big bad world starts as soon as they are born and continues. As parents we all do our best, but sometimes its hard to know where the line lies between giving them freedom and being a control freak. I am ... a control freak!

I was chatting with my sister yesterday and we were talking about the perils of drugs. Her son has just started at Uni and my sons are in their teens, so drugs are most definitely on the agenda. The thing is we have to, at some stage, trust our children to do the right thing. We have to trust that we have brought them up to be sensible young people and by teaching them to do things for themselves from an early age we are doing exactly that.

The thing is though that its quite scary to trust them. I know, from working with hundreds of children, that parents don't want to let their babies go. Mums follow their children into school on the pretext of making sure they hang their coat up properly. Children have their crisp packets and snack bars pre-opened so that they don't have to do it themselves. Helloooo???!! Children are picked up, dropped off, dressed ... they have their noses wiped, their food cut up ... And when, all of a sudden they are at school, some of them are absolutely incapable. That is not helping your child.

I once saw myself on a holiday video, following my 16 month around, frightened that he would fall. I hadn't realised how hideous I was. For goodness sake!! I needed to let him find his own way, let him fall. We learn from our mistakes, don't we? Children have to be able to push their boundaries so they learn how to look after themselves in the long run. Its a juggling act of giving them firm 'rules of engagement' so they know where they stand in the great scheme of things, and yet letting them test themselves with new challenges.

I am the first to admit that I am rubbish at this. I am a control freak who wants to keep my boys with me all the time. But I know this is my failing and I've worked hard to try and let them be independent.

When my boys hit 10 I started to let them walk up to the shops by themselves. It terrified me. Some of you may think that I was late letting them do this, but I have always been a bit over-protective. I knew, however, that I needed to let them learn.They knew that they had to use the zebra crossing. What they didn't know was that I used to time their trips initially and stand by the window! It scared me to start with. I would imagine all manner of disaster, but amazingly they survived the peril of buying a loaf of bread. And they thrived in the knowledge that they were grown up enough to walk alone to the shops. I trusted them.

Of course you don't go straight from being a control freak, standing over them so they don't fall, to letting them go on holiday to Ibiza with their mates in one short time span. All this takes time and happens in small steps over the years, obviously. And each child is different. As a parent you know your child's limits and personality.

But, for me, giving your children independence and teaching them life skills is so important. Knowing how to open the top of a yoghurt and how to cut up their own food before they reach school age is really important. There are so many children who can't do these things. So many can't turn their jumpers the right way round if they are inside out. The time between being a toddler and being a teenager goes so quickly and even though they will always be your babies, they don't have to be treated like babies.

We are entering a whole new world now - a world of exams, parties, university ... I cannot be there to bodyguard my sons every step of the way. Can you imagine??! I just have to hope that I have given them the confidence and ability to make their own way. They are responsible for their own lives and actions and I have to trust that if they are faced with a difficult situation they will do the right thing. I have no control over other people, over the future, but by allowing them to 'fall' sometimes I hope they have learned how to avoid falling or, if not, how to get back up again.

School Cookery Lessons Stink.

My son cooked cottage pie at school today. "Good!" I thought " An easy dinner tonight!" How wrong I was!!

I really have no idea how his cookery teacher ever got a job passing her cookery skills onto the next generation, because she clearly has none to pass ...

Cottage pie should be a delicious, tasty meal of beef mince cooked with onions, maybe garlic, seasonings such as salt, pepper, herbs, and then perhaps some carrots, tinned tomatoes - all topped with creamy buttery mashed potato then baked in the oven until golden brown and a little crispy on top. Each family will have their own variation - perhaps cheese on top of the mash ...

photo courtesy of glasgowguide.co.uk

My son's version consisted of fried mince, chopped onions and carrots from ... LAST WEEK ... when they practised their knife skills ... and instant gravy. It was then topped with a thin grey layer of mash.

I took one mouthful and really couldn't eat any more. It was gross.

We do quite a bit of cooking in our house. My boys are quite capable of cooking several meals including cottage pie and this travesty of a meal was revolting. My son said that as he cooked it he knew it needed seasoning and suggested that if he had used various ingredients, seemingly unheard of by his teacher, it would have been better.

What sort of cookery teacher, what sort of person, used carrots and onions that have been sitting around for a week?? No wonder people these days rely so much on instant meals, take away food. I see it as part of my job as a mum to teach my boys to cook and thank goodness I do.

They know how to whip up a cake, cook sausages, pasta. My eldest son can make pastry and won a cooking competition with his chicken pie a couple of years ago. He was 12. It doesn't have to be rocket science. I always cook from scratch, using the best ingredients I can. I try to cook vegetarian meals each week as well as meaty meals and yesterday they wolfed down a hearty stew of root veg, beans and pasta. I know I complain sometimes about their eating habits, but they are actually pretty good and I am proud of their ability to follow a recipe. We like tasty, healthy food and my boys know and appreciate food that tastes good. They might complain sometimes, but faced with a choice of grey, week old cottage pie or a version that actually tastes good and is made with good ingredients, they are not fools.

So why are they being taught such rubbish at school? Its not a new thing. I remember my own cookery teacher at school turned out tasteless slop week after week.I learned to cook from my mum and did my best to ignore the school lessons. But what happens to those children who don't have mums who enjoy cooking?

Perhaps its a prerequisite of secondary school cookery teachers? If you are absolutely incapable of cooking anything tasty and have no idea about how to create a fresh, delicious meal then you get shoved into Home Ec.

Jamie Oliver had a brilliant campaign over school dinners. Maybe I need to start a campaign to teach our children how to cook? Clearly if I rely on my son's teachers things are going to go horribly wrong. Oh, and maybe I should think of buying shares in the local chip shop?

Homework Help - How much is too much and why help at all?

My son is upstairs doing homework - writing a newspaper report on China's One Child policy. He is 13.

He has had a week to prepare and write the piece and has lots of information on what is expected and what he needs to write and include to gain certain grades. I can't remember having to write things like that for my homework when I was 13, but then times have changed. He is in a very bad mood because he hates having to read anything and one of the main tasks for this is retrieving information from various sources.

I have to admit that I have helped him. I pointed him in the right direction as far as web sites are concerned, but he was decidedly bad tempered about the whole thing.

I am torn between feeling sorry for him and just being downright frustrated by his obstinacy. It seems like a pretty interesting task to me and, for goodness sake, he has the whole of the world wide web from which to draw information. When I was at school the most advanced equipment we had was a slide rule. Gathering information meant sitting in a library trawling through dusty, well thumbed reference books...

He doesn't know he's born, does he? Can you imagine his reaction if I told him he had to hand write his essay and then only after he had gleaned all his facts from books which may or may not contain the right info? I find it hard to instil a sense of work ethic, a pride in his work. He wants everything to be done instantly, easily. But life is not like that is it? Achievements to be proud of do not come easily. They take work and sweat and worry.

I ask myself whether I should help at all - whether I should let him sink or swim by himself? Every part of my motherly instincts tell me to help him, but by helping too much I will end up hindering his progress. We have all seen homework projects supposedly done by children when its obvious their parents have spent most of half term crouched over a glue gun and a cardboard box. I am not one of those parents, but equally I want to show him where to look, how to structure, what questions to ask.

Having said that he's lucky I didn't throw the laptop through the window at one point this evening ... So, we are at the stage where he is upstairs doing it by himself and I will read through it when he's finished. I have to be patient. He has to work hard.

The time children spend on computers ... how long is too long?

Our house is filled with electronic stuff. I love my laptop, my husband has one too. Both boys have computers ... But how long should we be spending on them? I heard on the radio today that children were spending far too long on screens and that those under 3 years old shouldn't even be watching tv, never mind spending hours on computers. So ... what to do??

My sons' laptops have security on and at the moment I am monitoring their usage. There is the facility to be able to lock the computer automatically after a certain amount of time. I think I may use that facility soon.

At the moment both boys are barred from using the X Box during the week, but they do go on their laptops. They also need their computers for homework.They live in a different age to that in which I grew up and using a computer is a relaxing pastime to them. And me actually. They have only had the capability of using their laptops in their rooms for 2 weeks and I am monitoring which sites they visit, how long they are on them. But they do seem to be becoming more and more obsessed. This is not a good thing. I have always been against having tv or computers in bedrooms - they are for sleeping in - and I feel that we have to be very careful as regards this sort of thing.

Its a balancing act between letting them use the devices, trusting them ... and doing what is healthy and sensible. I trust them both and at the end of the day ( sorry, hate that expression!) we have to have a trusting relationship.

They are very good compared to some of their peers and given the choice of being on Minecraft or going out to play football they would choose football every time. However, as the nights draw in and "Ugh its boring there's nothing to doooo!" the temptation of the computer grows ever greater.

So I think that I need to step in and apply a limit. I am going to allow a certain number of hours per week and then that's it, they can find other entertainment. I am also going to apply a lock so that after a certain time they are unable to use their devices. I really don't want them in their rooms at midnight watching God knows what...

Is this too 'Nanny State' ? Or am I just being sensible? What do you do with your children? Mine are 13 and 14. I would love to know your opinions!

My children's eating habits drive me insane.

My children's eating habits drive me insane. There ... I've said it. It's not that I don't try - but they are stubborn and bloody annoying.

Please forgive my swearing and frustration, but I have just cooked the most delicious chicken noodle soup for lunch and have been met with attitudes that would suggest I had just served up a pile of cat food. What, may I ask, is there not to like?? Chicken? Yes, they like that. Noodles? Yes, they like them. Soup? Yes, they like that. Ginger, coriander, spring onions?? Yes, they have eaten them in the past. But put them all together?? They hate it.

chicken noodles soup just like mine, courtesy of BBC Good Food 

Son #1 who is nearly 15 refused point blank to try it even until I shouted at him and threatened death. Then he ate one piece of chicken, one noodle and declared it was disgusting. Son #2, who is 12,  did reasonably well, saying that he liked it, but I have never seen such a performance of attempting to get noodles and chicken into a mouth. It involved spoon, fork, fingers. He would get enough noodles on the spoon, but the chicken piece would be, in his opinion, too big, too small ... Give me strength!!!

I am so bored with cooking for them. I always cook from scratch, use organic veg and free range meat. I do my best to cook tasty food. But Son #1 doesn't like ham, bacon, cream, cheese, salad. Son #2 doesn't like curry, spice, mince.

Yesterday I cooked chicken fajitas and made my own salsa ( delicious even if I do say so myself!) and I nearly fell off my chair when BOTH of them said it was yummy. Son #1 never eats tomatoes and he tucked into the salsa as though it was pure chocolate. This success was, however, a rarity.

So, what can I do? I am certainly not going down the route of smiley face oven chips and processed chicken nuggets. I just don't understand the fussiness, the lack of desire to try new things, to appreciate fresh flavours and good quality ingredients. My husband and I love food, love cooking, love trying new recipes, new ingredients. The children are getting worse.

I suppose I should be grateful that they do like some things. On holiday a friend's children would eat nothing more adventurous than pizza, whilst our boys were ordering duck medium rare. So maybe today is just a bad day and I shouldn't get so frustrated, but I hate cooking the same old things. Dull, dull, dull.

I am certainly not going down the route of cooking different food for different people. I cook one meal and if they don't like it - tough. Ok. Rant over.

A confession ... my throat is sore from screaming at my son.

This is a confession. It has been a lifetime since I confessed to anyone. This morning as I drove to work my throat was practically bleeding from screaming at my eldest son. Bleeding...

I heard him, the other day, on the phone planning a sickie and when he started to tell me he felt ill last night I girded my loins for trouble. In our house you don't get a day off school or work unless you are vomiting or bleeding all over the carpet and it takes a mastermind crossed with the acting ability of Robert Downey Junior to get past me.

So, the huffing and puffing last night and the early night didn't cut it. Especially as he was still listening to the football on the radio until 10pm. When I went in to get him up this morning he told me he felt sick and couldn't possibly go to school ...

I'm afraid I gave him short shrift. It is the classic tale of the boy who cried wolf ... he has attempted to pull the wool over my eyes (unsuccessfully) so many times that I have no patience. He forgets that I have known him for 14 years and have nursed him through various bouts of genuine illness, from chicken pox to tummy bugs. I have mopped his brow and his vomit at all times of day and night. I have sat up with him stroking his hair until he slept.

So I am the wrong person to try to trick when it comes to illness. It does you no favours to borrow the thermometer and hold it under the cold tap and then come downstairs complaining of a temperature. As I said to him "You look remarkably well for a boy in the last stages of hypothermia ..."

This morning I am afraid that his refusal to go to school was greeted with less than usual humour from me. As his protestations went from light groaning to full scale "You are EVIL!!!!" I could take no more. I am a good mum. I am patient, understanding and prone to helping with homework, but today he was right ... I was evil.

I screamed at him. The dam of my emotions burst and I turned into a screaming, shrieking lunatic. I told him that if he hadn't left for school before I left for work I would phone the school and tell them he was refusing to go. I told him the x-box was gone until the end of February and as my heart beat in my chest like a battering hammer my final words before I swept from the room were "If I die of a heart attack right here on your carpet, it will be your fault!!!!!"

Oh, good grief ...

And this from a mother who had vowed never to tell her children even to "Shut up".

He dressed and left for school on time.




p.s. We have talked calmly since this. We have apologised to each other and I have enquired what problems he has at school - none. I have informed him that honesty is the best policy and we have both told each other we love each other. My throat is still sore .... I may have to have a couple of days off work ...

A special kind of lie?

I have two sons. Ever since they were born I have tried to create a magical world for them when it comes to Christmas, wobbly teeth, Easter. I wanted them to feel the same way I did, when I was little, about Father Christmas, fairies ...

All went swimmingly for a long time. Each Christmas we would read stories by candlelight about The Polar Express, The Night Before Christmas, A Christmas Carol ... We would watch films about traditional Christmases and happy families touched by the warmth and magic of Santa, tooth fairies, Easter Bunnies ...

And then, one day, I went too far ... further than glitter sprinkled as fairy dust on my hearth, further than leaving teeth marks from Santa's reindeer on the carrots we left out ... One day I wrote a letter 'from Santa' to my son. I disguised my writing and wrote what I thought was a lovely heartfelt letter from a magical old man.

I reckoned without my son's razor sharp intelligence and powers of deduction.

He knew the letter was from me. He recognised my handwriting even though I had written with my left hand, in green ink, in curly wurly writing. He was not overjoyed to receive the letter, he was suspicious. That suspicion led to investigation and the investigation led to my house of magical cards crumbling before my very eyes.

In his eyes I had deceived him. All his life I had lied to him. About everything. Santa, The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny ( although, in my defence I don't remember introducing the Easter Bunny - even for me that seemed a step too far towards the ridiculous!!)

In his words "My whole life has been a sham." ... Difficult to take from an 11 year old. And strangely over-dramatic, I am tempted to say ...

So. Would I do the same again? My youngest son continued to believe until this year and the reality of the whole Father Christmas situation seemed to dawn on him without too much trauma. It was more a "Well, it was good while it lasted, Mum and do I still get presents even if there isn't really an old bloke who climbs down the chimney?" kind of scenario.

So ... two boys, two very different reactions. I think I would do it all again.After all, I think its part of my job as a mum to create a world of imagination and wonder for my children. I remember how I felt at Christmas and I wanted my boys to feel that same joy and excitement. But is it right to lie? I spend my whole time putting emphasis on how absolutely essential it is to be honest. Lies will always catch you out. And yet I lied through my teeth to them for the first 11 years of their lives when it came to such things.

I suppose its one of those things you can only decide for yourself when the time arrives. As a parent you just try your best to do the right thing.

The loneliness of the long distance mother ... or pass the wine I've had enough!!

Having done a full day's work and having been up since 6.30 am I walk into my house to discover my boys have dumped all their belongings in the hallway and melted onto the sofas each with a laptop open and glowing.

I now begin my second job of housekeeper/cook/psychologist/nanny - and I'm not even paid for this one. As I start to clear the kitchen of the debris left from breakfast, sort out the laundry and think about cooking dinner number 2 son calls me to help with his homework...

I wouldn't mind helping with homework if I wasn't met with constant grumpiness and rudeness and I'm afraid after a long day at work I do not have a lot of patience with bad tempered 12 year olds. I calmly direct him in the ways of research and revision and then suggest trumpet practise.

This suggestion is met with what borders on derision and if it had taken place on board a boat would have given me grounds for having him keel hauled. You will, I hope, admire me for keeping my cool and walking away.

I often think its a fortunate thing that we humans, and especially mothers, do not have message screens on our foreheads because mine would be constantly streaming a mixture of profanities and plans of somehow escaping to anywhere but here. Being a mum, in my house, is not all sweetness and joy.

My reaction to a friends saccharine Facebook post that "The most precious jewels you will ever wear around your neck are the arms of your children..." was to fake vomit into my fake bucket. Is it just me or are children sometimes a bloody pain in the backside??

As I write this they are oblivious to the effect they have on me most days as I sail regally on helping with homework, cooking teas which they turn their noses up at and clearing up the endless trail of crap that they trail behind them like exhaust fumes on a winter's day.

Thank God for this blog where I can release my bile and avoid being removed to the nearest high security mental institution by men in white coats. 

Older Children & getting your life back.

I have just got home from a morning's campaigning at a local shopping parade. Part of having older children now means that I have got my life back. I don't mean that in a horrible way, but really ... how lovely is it to be able to say "I'm just off up to the allotment for an hour" or "I'm going out to get people to sign the petition"  - and be able to pop out leaving the 2 boys happily in the house by themselves?

I remember when I couldn't leave the house without a small trailer attached to my back pack carrying nappies, spare clothes, food, drink, wet wipes ... My life revolved around their meal times and bed times. Now I am free again to indulge in life as I used to know it.

This morning I was part of a team campaigning against a massive new development by a major supermarket chain who I refuse to even name on here. We set up our stall outside a local shopping parade and asked people to sign our petition. I absolutely love doing it. I enjoy meeting new people and, strangely, saying "Good Morning!" to a complete stranger and then getting them to join the campaign is a real pleasure.

I would never have thought a few years ago that I would have the nerve to do that, but now I do. Obviously not everybody says yes to us, but that's fine isn't it? Each to their own. I do find though that when people are given the facts of the matter they tend to be a) shocked and b) willing to fight.

I feel so fortunate to be in this situation now. Not only do I have 2 lovely boys with whom I love spending time, but I also have the chance to do my own thing. When I was struggling in the dark days of PND I never thought that I would get out the other side and bathe in the light of this sort of happiness again. It just shows you that there is life after such things.

Right now my life is so full of 'stuff' ... be it the allotment, study, work, campaigning, family life ... Yes, there are days when I wonder quite why I do so much, but most of the time I count myself so very lucky to have the chance to do it.

When to say no to x box games - even if your kids hate you.

My son is currently not talking to me. The reason is this ...

He wants to buy Blood Diamond James Bond for the X Box. It is a game and its certificate is 16. My son is 11, therefore he is not getting it. I think that's fair enough, don't you? As I have explained to him at great length and with great patience, games and films are given certificates for a reason. It is not appropriate for him to play games that involves killing, maiming, swearing and general horribleness.

Personally I don't understand why anyone would want to spend their leisure time playing such games.

He nearly tricked me not long ago, wanting to buy a game that was certified 15. He gave me the box and the money and asked me to go and buy it. I really don't know what came over me, but I went up to the till to buy it without looking. I suppose, foolishly, I trusted him.

Luckily the lady at the counter asked me who I was buying it for and whether I realised it was a 15 certificate. Although it meant losing a sale she advised me not to buy it, saying that it was violent and totally inappropriate for an 11 year old. I was so impressed by her and felt so stupid to have not checked the box properly. She was excellent - advising me without being pushy or making me feel useless.

She worked for Game and I wrote their Customer Service team an email as soon as I got home. I am not afraid to complain if I am not happy about something, but also I am quick to praise. I wrote about how grateful I was for her professionalism and wanted to pass on my thanks to both her and the shop generally.

It does get to me though that games depicting death, blood, destruction, wounding, swearing - all these things - are sold at all. What is there that is entertaining about killing even a virtual person?? My son tells me that lots of his friends have such games. Their parents are fab because they allow them to have what they want. I have explained to him that actually I am the fab parent here because I won't let him have them.

It is so easy as a parent to go for the easy option. Let them have what they want and bypass all the bad feeling and grumpiness. Part of being a good parent however is to take the difficult option and be cruel to be kind. I hope he appreciates how brilliant I am some day!!!

Coping with a teenager... just about.

My little blond boy has turned overnight into a teenager ... I have never had a teenager in the house, but I am doing my best to cope. It is really quite odd... one moment he is my boy - well behaved, polite, caring - the next moment he is scowling, angry and bolshy.

I am trying my best to KEEP CALM. I am trying to be reasonable, pick my battles and not raise my voice. This is sometimes easier to aim for than actually do. When confronted with a lumbering mass of hair and hormones who is refusing to empty the dishwasher it is sometimes tempting to just let him get away with murder or, on the other hand, just scream at him to empty the bloody thing and do as he is told.

I do remember, however, the advice of my grandmother who told my mum ( who now tells me regularly) "If you let a 5 year old get the better of you, God help you when they are 15! " I have just had a 'moment' over the dishwasher emptying thing. Apparently it was absolutely unfair of me to ask him to empty then load it. He did, however, eventually do what I asked. 15 minutes of arguing the toss, 5 minutes of doing it. I didn't lose my temper and when he had done it he was fine.

I suppose things could be worse. He is basically a good young man. He likes being at home with us and most of the time he gets on well with his brother. If the worst thing that I can moan about during his teenage years is him stealing a bag of mini cheddars or arguing about whether or not he wants to empty the dishwasher I reckon I will look back and be happy.

Somehow I need to keep him onside and keep our relationship on an even footing. He has to realise that I am in charge.There are rules. Its a question of give and take isn't it? I suppose he's testing the water to see what he can get away with ...

This evening I have won the battle. He is sitting here clean, happy, watching football on the telly and unharmed from his foray into the world of dishwasher work. Let's hope I keep winning and one day I will wake up and a fine young man will emerge from his bedroom like a butterfly from a cocoon - sweetly smelling, on time and offering to make me a cup of tea.

The allotment, my herbs and strawberry tarts.

Gosh I have been busy this week!! I haven't posted since last Thursday and this is mainly because the weather here has been glorious. I have been outside, either on my allotment, in my garden or out and about with my boys.

The allotment is coming along well, but I haven't taken photos this week. I will be down there first thing in the morning so I will post photos tomorrow. Because the weather has been so warm I have been going down there early each morning and then again in the evening to water both times. Yesterday I set my carrots and some runner beans. I will have to go to get some more runner bean seeds tomorrow because I ran out! L has had his hair cut and has been digging like mad. I do worry about him working so hard in this hot weather. I keep telling him not to overdo it. He just laughs and tells me not to worry.

In my garden I have been planting herbs. I only have a tiny garden, but wanted to have lots of herbs on my back yard this year a la Nigel Slater. I have a herb trough which has survived for a couple of years now with chives, sage and thyme and have planted more - lemon balm, oregano, French parsley,chocolate mint and a curry plant. I also planted 3 tomato plants and am going to set some lettuce seeds so I can have a container of mixed leaves to snip each time I fancy salad. I also put some charlotte potatoes in containers.

I have been really spoilt by my boys this week too. Son #1 offered to cook dinner on Tuesday and made us chicken pie, complete with his own homemade pastry and then eton mess. For the pudding he made his own meringue, beat the cream up and decided to add a mixture of blueberries and blackberries. It was delicious!!

I did try to persuade him to cook some purple sprouting broccoli with it to give a little bit of green, but that was a vegetable too far!!

He did, however, inspire his brother and our neighbours to have a cooking competition. They decided on a recipe for strawberry tart, put themselves into teams of 2 and had a cook off with me as judge.

They were both delicious, but I plumped for the top one as winner.

So... a pretty busy week and I didn't even tell you about our walk. I'll leave that thrill for another day - I don't want you to keel over with the adrenalin rush! I will come back tomorrow and show you how the allotment is doing...

Happy Mother's Day - coffee machines, allotments and happiness.

I am sitting at my laptop with a mug of tea at my side typing this. It is mothers day and I have had a lovely time today. My back is sore from digging the allotment, along with most of the other muscles in my body.

I had a nice lie in this morning, dreaming of strange gifts my boys had bought me for mothers day. At one stage I dreamt they had bought me a selection of gas and electric fires ... duh?? What was that all about? When they eventually came in we had lots of cuddles and they gave me a large box. Inside it was a gorgeous coffee maker.

Its quite small and retro looking with one of those shlurpy milk frothers on the side. I have been playing cafes all morning!!!

It inspired me to tidy my kitchen so that it could sit looking all lovely and minimalist!

Then, after a lunch of French bread and garlic cheese I went down to the allotment. My old friend was down there digging and sieving, digging and sieving. You will not believe the difference in my plot.

The allotment is coming on in leaps and bounds. I had a smashing couple of hours with Len, digging and chatting. He is a great old fella - full of tales of being in the army 60 years ago and having to forage for food. We talked about all sorts of things. He is really quite amazing and is incredible for 79 years of age!! He has been working on my allotment most days, for probably 5 hours a day and you can see how he has cleared the pile of green waste. What a kind man. He just helps everyone out of the goodness of his heart. I am very fortunate that he is helping me.

I came back after a couple of hours and here I am ... sipping tea, getting ready to put my lasagne in the oven. I plan on a quiet evening in front of the tv with my boys. I just wish my husband was here. He is working today and won't be home until around 11 pm. I miss him so much when he is not here - he works so hard and I wish I could whisk him away somewhere and have him all to myself ( and the boys of course! )

So... I am going to put the lasagne in the oven, have a nice bath while it cooks and then come downstairs in my pink fluffy dressing gown to have a glass of wine infront of the telly. Life is not all bad!!!

I am an angry Momma. Anyone want to adopt a muddy 13 year old?

What is it with kids? My throat is sore from yelling at my 13 year old. My heart is beating out of my chest and I have had enough.

The other day I rushed to pick him up from school to take him to casualty and get his leg checked out because he hadn't worn shin pads to football and had got kicked. I knew his leg was just badly bruised, but I did the decent motherly thing and got it checked out - leaving my work in the lurch for a couple of hours.

Today he wanted to go into town to buy a new game for the Wii. I duly took him, despite having worked all day and having had a rubbish day at that.

I wash, I clean, I ferry, I help and care in every way I can.He had new school shoes in September, which he has worn to play football in on a muddy field most days. I have cleaned them regularly and when they eventually gave up the ghost on Friday my husband went out and bought a new pair.

So today he wore them for the first time and totally trashed them. He, allegedly, had to referee a game of football during PE. Obviously the fact he did not have his football boots with him was my fault as I had written to say he was to be excused football due to his bruised shin... yeah, right. So he wore his new shoes.

Not only did he not have the courtesy to mention the shoes when he got home, he certainly did not see fit to clean them. I rad the riot act and insisted he did so when I eventually came across them.Well, I have never see such a kak handed attempt. There was mud everywhere. All over my sink, my draining board, my scourer.... obviously still all over the bloody shoes, which, by now, were also soaking wet.

I am afraid to say that this was the final straw. I went totally mental.

Suffice to say his shoes are now clean, stuffed with paper and drying nicely by the radiator. So - he got what he wanted... again.I got a sore throat from shouting and a lump in my throat from frustration. He is banished from all electrical goods and can kiss goodbye to any sort of treats or pleasantries.

Right now all I want to do is cry, drink and have him adopted.Yes, I know Urban Cynic, you told me so.... Give me a cat any day of the bloody week.

Today I have been a marvellous mother... and remarkably stylish too.

Today I have been a marvellous mother. I do not say this lightly.Having spent most of the week being generally hated and reviled by my children because of my cruelty ( this with particular regard to bed time ) I still managed to be wonderful today.

I happened to check my phone at work and found 2 missed calls, a voice mail and a text. All were from my son, needing me to bring his school bag from my car.I cried off work for 20 minutes, drove like a madwoman to his school and discovered... that his bag was not actually in my boot.


Panicking, my first thought was that someone had stolen it from my car. Strange... a bag full of dog eared books and old Twix wrappers... Then I decided to rush home where I ransacked the house and eventually woke my husband to ask if he knew where the silly bag was. He had been in bed for 3 hours...

It turns out that my son, having phoned me, woke up my Man who drove to where I work, got the bag from the boot of my car and took it to my son's school.He then went back to bed. Nobody thought to contact me to tell me the crisis was over...

Its funny isn't it? Children consider it utterly acceptable to treat you like a complete idiot all week and then, in their hour of need, expect you to still drop everything and come to their aid with a cheery grin and a doffing of your virtual cap...


On a further note, I would like to thank Louba over at her blog for nominating me for a Stylish Blogger Award. I have obviously slipped into a little black dress, draped a cluster of diamonds around my decolletage and will continue to blog in this stylish way!

I am turning into a shabby, overstuffed hobbit with a teenage son whom I plan to have adopted.

I am sitting here in my dressing gown having tidied my bedroom to a certain degree. It now looks like a slightly messy 'ready for Christmas' room rather than the scene of a suicide bombing. This makes me happy as I have achieved something this weekend, other than eating my body weight in Christmas fare and generally lolling about like an overstuffed hobbit.

I have not been on my blog for a little while and I have not visited other people's blogs either. This is most remiss of me. My absence from other people's blogs is verging on the rude and I apologise to you if I have not been by.I think the reason for my lack of visits is a feeling of guilt. When luxuriating in the world of the blog I always feel that I should be studying, or cooking tea, or perhaps talking to my husband about... well, anything really.

At this moment he is downstairs sorting the boys out. One of them has lost the keys to the side gate and my Man is not happy. This is a kind way of saying that he is very pissed off and thinking of having said child adopted.I can understand his anger as the keyring also carries our back door keys and if we are burgled it will be down to our 12 year old.

We will not let him forget that blame for any future criminal activity involving entry via the side gate or the back door will rest entirely on his shoulders.

This event is setting him up nicely for his teenage years, which, by the way, start on Thursday. On Thursday my little man will be 13 and he is obviously preparing us in advance for a deluge of teenage-ish irresponsible behaviour. I fully expect him to come downstairs on Thursday around 2pm with the beginnings of a beard and a full blown bad tempered grump.Obviously he will no longer be able to talk in fully rounded sentences and I imagine he will start going to all night cider parties in the park.

The loss of the keys is a nice way to start the week.

A week of spooky happiness.

I have had a good week this week, complete with spookiness, friendliness and success. I have tidied my house and this in turn inspired my lovely husband to follow suit. The houses is neat, tidy, clean and uncluttered. We have, as a family, decided to put things away when we have used them and to keep everything looking as neat as possible.

At work all is lovely and I even had a spooky moment! I was in a room with a colleague when she went to leave. She reached for the door knob, but before she could touch it it was opened from the other side of the door. I saw the handle go down and she moved away from the door to let the person in .... only there was nobody there. After a second or two she opened the door and the corridor was empty.We just looked at each other...

Something happened today at work which was lovely. I was due to be there until the end of the day when news came through that my son's cross country competition was starting earlier than planned. My immediate thought was that I would have to sort out a lift for him and miss his race, but my colleagues leapt straight in before I could say anything. They offered to cover for me so I could leave early. How kind is that? I was so touched by the way they wouldn't hear of me missing his race. Lovely.

And the success? Well, that came in the form of my son. He ran in a cross country race and ran a blinder. Absolutely fantastic to see him both enjoying the run and doing so well. He was thrilled too as he and his team  did brilliantly.My throat is sore from shouting him and his team mates on and I am sitting here feeling relaxed and happy.

So... maybe my week is not the stuff of film scripts and thrillers, but it suited me fine!

Late party problems and decisions to be made...

My son has been invited to a birthday party.My son is 11 on Monday and his own birthday party consists of 3 friends, his brother and my husband and I going to the cinema and then out for lunch. The party he has been invited to is for 50 children, at a swimming pool from 8pm to 9.30pm some other day.

My son's usual bed time is 9pm and although he does sometimes stay up later than this the thought of him being in a swimming pool at that time of night with 49 other children... is ridiculous to say the least. Call me old fashioned and an over protective mother, but I am feeling really quite irritated that the parents of his friend have been so blasé and, frankly, irresponsible.

I could, of course, tell him he can't go, but then his friend would be upset because this friend is supposed to be his best friend.I also do not want to upset his friend's mother. However, their feelings are not really my priority - my son's safety is. I know the sort of behaviour that will be acceptable at the party and its not the sort of behaviour that I am comfortable with.

In the past I have avoided play dates because of lack of supervision. The last time my son played at their house he came home very proud that he had saved his friend's life.When I asked how he had saved him he said that they had been playing out in the front of the house and his friend had been in the road. A car had come down the road, not seen the boy and my son had dragged him out of the way just in time.He was 8 at the time. When I asked why they were out on the road and where the mummy was I was told that this was usual practise and mummy had been in the house.He has not played there since.

I am too much of a wimp to be honest and up front about this event, but it has tainted my opinion ever since and I have backed off from my friendship. This latest problem is just another example of how different we are. I suppose, to be honest, I am controlling, she is easy going. We each have the right to parent as we please. She is a lovely person and if our children were not an issue everything would be fine. But they are an issue. I am unhappy trusting my children with her or her offspring.

Next year they will all go to new and different schools and the problem will be over hopefully, but for now I have to decide what to do. Do I let my son decide for himself and hope everything is fine? Do I say no to the party and tell the truth as to why he can't come? Or do I say he can't come and make up an excuse, somewhere between the truth and a kind place? I just don't know...