Magic potions


Cough cough. Insert inadequate excuse for blogging failure here.

Then insert apology for the lack of posts here.

Now read on for today’s post…

The boy has a collection of funnels and old shampoo bottles he plays with in the bath.  I buy him cheap bath products from pound shops and he spends his time splashing about being a crazy scientist, magical potion creator extraordinaire.  

Today he called me in to announce he had: 

Really made a potion mummy! Come and see!

Lo and behold, he had mixed up colours and liquids, and filled a small clear bottle with a new colour.  A very pleased small person announced that this potion was magical and “brings you love”.

So I’ve smothered myself with it.  Bring on the love.

Got to be as (un)likely as pressing ‘like and share’ on some random Facebook post anyhow…. 


Alternatives to resolutions


I mentioned in my last post that I quite like the idea of a new start.  There’s something special about the concept of choosing to improving your life at the point of a new year.

However, resolutions almost seem to be made to be broken:

So this year, I have resolved to do something a little different.  The boy and I have made a list.  

It is a list of good things.  A list of things the boy and I are going to do this year to make 2016 amazing.  There are places to visit, things to do in the new house and getting our lovely rabbit a new bunny friend amongst other things.

Welcome 2016 – you’re already sounding brilliant.

Happy New Year


Welcome 2016!

New Year is an odd one.  A time when we are supposed to go out and celebrate a clock striking 12.  Enforced frivolity. This year I gave up on that and spent the evening cozied up with my boy, eating pizza and wearing pyjamas.  By 12 we were both happily asleep.

Instead I welcomed the New Year with a refreshing walk on New Years Day in the woods with friends:

I’m thinking this may well be my new tradition: get outside and welcome the New Year on the 1st.

Of course there’s more to the New Year than the night, it’s the idea of a fresh start and new beginnings.  Part of me is highly sceptical about a new start at an arbitrary point in time:

On the other hand, somehow I still like the idea of something new, of writing a new chapter in your book.  2015 taught me quite a lot: the first half of the year was well, pretty darn awful.  I fought back through heartbreak, work shocks, stress, and ill health.  To something brighter: ending 2015 several dress sizes smaller, in a new job role, and in the midst of buying a new home.

2016 will therefore see me and the boy moving to our new home, an exciting new future awaits:

Bring it on.

Another year…


I wish to complain: Christmas has been and gone again.

Each year it is too fast.  One more day and I’m back to work.  I’m not ready – can we rewind and start again please?

The boy and I have had a lovely Christmas once we got past various winter bugs.  Full of food, mulled wine, film watching, presents, family and friends, joy and magic.  

The one exciting thing about the approach of the New Year? House moving starts to loom in the distance. 

Bring it on.

Christmas magic


Happy Christmas Eve folks.

It has been a truly lovely and magical day, full of friends and family, mulled wine, snowman soup, films, food and fun.

I love the fact that my son still believes and enjoys the magic of Christmas.  Long may it last.

Wishing you all a happy and joy filled day tomorrow.

Elf accessories


Charlie the elf has kept busy – by which I actually mean that I have just about managed to find things for him to do.

The last few days my mind had been blank. Where else could he climb? Hide? Play?

Unable to come up with an answer, I realised it was like having nothing to wear – what we need are accessories!

Miniature skittles from a cracker led to a Christmas championship:

It was complete with scoreboard and Christmas pals:

Then he did a spot of painting:

I brought this mini easel and canvas at Tiger for £1:

Luckily the boy is still at an age where he is impressed by my/Charlie’s (limited) artistic prowess!

Norovirus watch 


Thursday last week I went on a school trip. Festive shenanigans at a pantomime with 90 primary aged children.  I expect you’re all smiling about this, thinking how cheery and Christmassy?

Well bah humbug to that.  Describing it all would be nigh impossible but I will say that one parent helper sent out a Facebook plea reading simply “send help”.  I think possibly “send help and alcohol” may have painted a clearer picture.

Here’s what I remember of Thursday – numbed as it has been by exhaustion, sleep deprivation and a mix of wine and chocolate:

1) The teachers had stationed two of us ‘mums’ by the gents toilets…. The result of this was that I have now spent significantly more time in the blokes’ loos than I ever had in the entirity of my previous 30 something years.  In turn this means I’ve learnt:

  • 4-6 year old boys cannot reach a urinal.  They should be strongly urged to not try.
  • Blokes really can’t aim. By the end of the show the floor was absolutely a puddle.
  • Men stink.
  • Children cannot hold their bladder.  

2) Pantomime villains can be terrifying to the very young.  How many children can one teacher have on their lap? I didn’t quite complete counting as there was a lot of squirming and moving and I wasn’t sure which limb belonged to which little person, but it seemed to be quite a lot.

3) A journey back from the pantomime which ends in a city centre rush hour, will not be short.  It will be significantly longer if it’s also dark and pouring.  Longer still if you get stuck due to an accident and police closing the road.  A wee bit longer again if the bus is too big to perform a turn in the road.

4) 4-6 year olds on said bus at said time will be very tired. They were indeed Very very tired – to this extent:

5) Such a long journey with the above described little people will require a roadside stop for a toilet break.  This break took place on a grassy verge in the dark.  Two people on the bus passed children to me, I held them up as they watered the grass.  I passed them back to the adults on the bus and this cycle continued.  Later I would discover that my only option to wash my hands was  with a baby wipe.

6) The joy of this journey was completed by a child having a number two accident on board.  More than once.
Anyhow we made it home, and considering it all the children were remarkably well behaved.  Our arrival back was accompanied by the sound of parents waiting to collect children cheering, the little ones on board snoring and us helpers yawning.

Of course what I hadn’t bargained on was the text message the next morning:

We have a confirmed case of norovirus. You have the choice whether to bring your child to school.

Well. I thought about it.  I had spent 8 hours with the children.  I had spent much of that time helping them go to the toilet and hand washing was not always an option.  I gulped.  I began watch.

Every twinge, every tummy rumble was noted.  

Norovirus for Christmas? Not quite what my wishlist had contained.

I’m relieved to say now that I escaped it. And have solely gained a cold and lost a voice.

The school is now fumigated and out of quarantine and the countdown to holidays continues.  Righto, it’s off to move an elf for me…