We Are Detective

I have been a parent for a full nine years today and in that time I've acquired plenty of new skills including (but not limited to):

* Being able to pick up spiders without screaming
* Being able to stand on bits of Lego without swearing (when there are children present)
* Being able to function on four hours sleep
* Being able to find a favourite teddy bear in the dark on feel alone

The thing I hadn't anticipated was that I'd become an amazing detective and I realised - as a friend posted on Facebook that she was monitoring what her teenager was up to on Instagram - that I am not alone...  It occurred to me that it is an inherent part of parenting, and one that has very clear stages:

Baby Detective

Hmmm - what is that smell?  Is that my baby?  Well let's find out....  There isn't a parent on this earth that hasn't lifted their child aloft to smell their nappy.  Not sure?  Then take another deep inhalation, consider the richness of the aroma, and pass them to your partner to have a good sniff.  And then get them to change the baby :0)

Toddler Detective

Nappies are gone but oh god, what has happened to the house?!  The walls in the hall look like they have been vandalised and there is a puddle on the floor..  Follow the wet footprints to find your toddler with a dark patch on the front of their trousers, six half-eaten crayons in their hands and a multi-coloured smile. 

See also: your child has chunks missing from their hair and the nail scissors have gone missing. 

Child Detective

The 'potion' that started it all...

Things become a little more elaborate as the acquisition of speech, independence and the desire to create mischief come to the fore:

Me:  "What are you doing in the bathroom?"
Small person:  "Using the toilet"
.......minutes pass.......
Me:  "Are you still in the bathroom?"
Small person:  "Just finishing!"

The door opens, and out wafts a smell not unlike some of my body lotion.  And toothpaste.  And mouthwash.  And my husband's deodorant.  There is a pot on the side of the sink and a pen that has obviously been used for 'stirring'.

Me:  "Have you been making potions again?"
Small person:  "Yes". 
Me:  "With my Clarins?"
Small person: "ummmmm, maybe - I can't remember"
BUSTED!

Biscuits mysteriously disappear only for wrappers to surface in unlikely places, one of the children cannot find their favourite toy and the other cannot stop laughing because they have hidden it away...it's all gearing up a notch.  Pretending to brush your teeth has become an Olympic sport in our house as the children spend longer trying to recreate the effects of brushing (wet toothbrush, minty breath) than it would take them to brush their teeth.  I know they haven't brushed their teeth because I used to do exactly the same thing (and because the sink isn't coated in toothpaste spit - it's all in the details...) 

If this pattern is correct, and if they do indeed use the same methods for finding their own independence as I did then I am dreading tackling the Teenage Detective phase - I'm going to need more than a keen eye and a good sense of smell!

Soundtrack: We Are Detective - Thompson Twins

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Election Day

The most interesting thing about this election for me so far has been that the children are old enough to (vaguely) comprehend what is going on.  They've been talking about it at school, asking questions about the boards and banners being put up in people's gardens, and even had the local MP rock up at the school gates in the hope of catching parents for a chat in that nanosecond that you have between dropping your child off and trying to re-engage your brain for whatever it is you're supposed to be doing for the rest of the day.  I would have loved to talk policies but had the rather more pressing issue of remembering to remove the Power Ranger from my jacket pocket and trying to arrange my features into something other than disheveled bewilderment before the meeting I was heading to.

Introducing the children to our political system has woken me up a bit, encouraged me to be more engaged and given us as a family the opportunity to discuss what happens in our local community and the "building from the HP Sauce bottle".  

Here's what they've thought about it so far:

1. "You should not vote for David Cameron - because he's had a go, now it's someone else's turn."

Why is the man from Hop involved?
(c) The Times

2. "But you should vote for David Cameron if you want to, because your vote is private, and no-one can tell you who to vote for."

3. "Why is the man from Hop involved in the election?"  

4. "Which one in the picture is the politician?"  

5. "Ed Miliband?  Russell Milibrand?  Ed Brand?  Which one is the politician again?"

Cast your vote!

6. "If you vote for my friend's granddad - he'll take us all inside Big Ben.  It's true, he told me."  (I thought this was a big wind up until I discovered that one of his friend's granddad's is standing as an MP. Whether being an MP allows you to take your grandson's friends and family into Big Ben I'm unsure, but nonetheless I owed him an apology).

7. "David Cameron talks nonsense.  My friend told me."

8. "It looks like you need to post your vote in the recycling bins."  They're not wrong!

I also discovered that you can't be too bleeding serious and earnest about this, and if you take your children into the village hall to witness the wonder that is democracy, and living in a country where you can cast a vote without fear of being attacked or intimidated they will do what all small children would do in these circumstances - walk up onto the stage (oh yeah, we've got a stage in our village hall!), pull back the curtains and leap off it like a lead guitarist jumping into a moshpit.  Voting ROCKS!

Soundtrack: Election Day, Arcadia

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Oh I do like to be beside the seaside.....

Never mind all the fuss about the "beach body ready" ads, if you've got small children then there are far more important things to be worrying about than fitting into a minuscule yellow bikini.  Here are the questions I'll be asking myself before we head to the seaside this summer:

Have I got three lots of sunscreen?

One tube to use as soon as you arrive, a second tube because the first one will get dropped in the sand rendering it impossible to apply without exfoliating your children, and a third to use because the second one has only got a teaspoon of sunscreen in it because it's last year's and you didn't check it before you left.

Are the buckets and spades the same size and colour?

The ad they should have run..

"I want the castle-shaped bucket!" 
"No it's my turn to have the castle-shaped bucket!" 
"Mummy; Daddy promised me I could have the castle-shaped bucket!!!" 
Don't let this happen to you - it will end in tears and expense and you can bet the only castle-shaped bucket left in the beach shop is larger than the one you already have....

Have I packed enough carrier bags?

Wet clothes, soiled clothes, nappies, cheese sandwiches that have been left out in the sun, the trainer that fell victim to dog poo.  You don't want any of these working their way unguarded into your bag - they make for terrible discoveries after a four hour drive home in a roasting hot car.

Have I packed a book and a magazine?

Don't kid yourself that you're going to get to read either of them - you'll need the book as a weight for the corner of your picnic blanket.  The magazine should be pre-rolled to hit wasps with / use as a megaphone to beckon your children out of the sea, because at some point during your adult years your tolerance for the temperature of British sea water has dropped to zero.

How much would it cost to hire a donkey?

What with walking miles to find the "right spot", hauling a windbreak and mallet (I cannot believe that forms part of my beach packing - the glamour!), needing to give at least one child a piggy back, carrying a cool bag, beach bag and rucksack filled with towels that will be twice as heavy by the end of the day because everything will be soaking wet, I am seriously thinking about making the investment before my back gives out.

Have I stamped on my sunglasses?

You might as well do it in advance.


Given that family trips to the seaside are technically a feat of endurance, I'll settle for the small triumph that is being able to drop my tired body into a picnic chair with a drink that doesn't have sand in it.  Oh wait - the chairs.....we forgot the flipping chairs!!


Soundtrack: I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside by John A. Glover-Kind

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What I've Learnt About Half-Term

So here I am on the eve of returning to work after a week off and it has been quite an education - here's what I've discovered:

If you take your children to a National Trust Property with your friends and their children this is what will happen:

* One of them will say "booooriing"
* One of them will say "this room smells"
* One of them will unleash a silent but violent guff
* At no point will your group resemble the images in the National Trust booklets of Boden-clad mummies, earnest daddies, and artfully disheveled children in hand-knitted Arran sweaters

I made this!

If you take your children to the New Forest with your friends and their children, this is what will happen:

* One of them will sink their foot so far into a bog that it will suck their trainer off and you will then spend £32 in Clarks
* One of them will manage to get a splinter lodged into their finger that is so massive that blood pours out of their finger tip and you will actually feel the resistance as you draw the damn thing out when you finally get home and locate a pair of tweezers
* You will be in awe of your friend who carries her own mini first aid kit, and it will inspire you to create your own

If you take your children to Longleat, this is what will happen:

* They will be disappointed that the monkeys didn't rip every bit of trim off your car
* One of them will skin their knee on a drop slide and appear in front of you with blood running down their leg
* You will be glad that you have copied your friend's mini first aid kit and feel mightily smug as you deal with the knee

If you take your children on a long off-road bike ride, this is what will happen:

* One of them will hurtle so fast down a rutted track that you will fear for their life
* One of them will manage to introduce their legs to every single stinging nettle in the countryside
* You will wish you'd put aloe vera in your mini first aid kit

If you stick to your promise to not look at work emails for the week you're off, this is what will happen:

* You will marvel at how relaxing it is when your home is not a workplace
* You will marvel at how relaxing it is when you're not worrying about work
* You will realise that big splinters, skinned knees, letting out guffs in National Trust properties and being bored make for some brilliant family experiences.

I'm looking forward to next half term!

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Don't Look Back in Anger

Right, this week I'm going to be 40 and so what?  Well, what it is, is this:

There are times when I have looked back at parts of my life and felt unhappy, angry even.  This has occasionally been a useful tool to spur me towards the things that I wanted to achieve (as John Lydon so beautifully, and accurately, put it "anger is an energy"); had I been brought up in a privileged bubble perhaps I wouldn't have been quite so hungry for the experiences I have pursued.

But enough is enough.  And so I am resolved, that every time I feel a little bit "poor me" I will make a point of reminding myself of all the great things that I have had, and do have in my life.  In that spirit, here are the five very best things that I am grateful for having as a child:

Every child needs this book!

1. Books.  Whatever else we were short on, there were more books in the house than I could read.  Thank you to my parents for buying "Would You Rather" which me and my brother would pore over for hours, and now my children read, daring each other to choose the least unpalatable way to be killed by an animal.  Thank also to my mum for buying me a "Woman's Experience of Sex" which was thrilling, educating and horrifying in equal measures to me and my twelve year old friends (and their parents - it's not every day you can sit on a wall in Winklebury and read an instructive paragraph on female masturbation).

2. Nursery Rhymes.  One of the teachers at my local school told me that she sees children starting school who haven't had nursery rhymes sung to them.  If I find the parents that aren't singing Humpty Dumpty to their babies then I'm going to hit them over the head with a book of nursery rhymes.  These songs stretch down generations, and have saved us more than once - on one particularly horrendous occasion Old MacDonald's farm extended to incorporate a zoo as our infant daughter screamed her head off until we added another animal....

3.  40-40 In.  No, this is not the stronger version of the revolting drink 20-20.  This is perhaps the best game ever and perfect to play on a council estate where there are rabbit warrens of alleyways and where boundaries can be clearly drawn between the houses of your mates.  Whatever you do, don't be a post-hanger.  Nobody likes them.

Credit: Comicvine.com

4.  Living on an estate.  Aged 8, I could walk to the doctors, dentists, Co-op (before they were "good with food" - who the hell thought that up, it only rhymes if you're Scottish!), bike shop, hairdressers, chemist, primary school, grocers, wool shop, and all of my friend's houses without having to cross a road.  It was the safest bloody place on the planet and the doctor's waiting room had a cool picture of Superman defeating Nic-O-Teen.  This was slightly at odds with the fact I could also buy cigarettes if I had a note from my parents.

5.  Freedom.  No devices and rarely any watches meant that we could go out to play "until it gets dark" and could focus on playing 40-40 or fighting or hiding dog poo under piles of grass, or lying on our backs (once we'd checked for dog poo under piles of grass) looking for shapes in clouds.  We never ventured too far, and there was always a parent who knew what was going on - or reminding us when it was time to go in - like the mum who we could set our watches by (if we had one) as she'd bellow "Riiicharrrrrrrd!" when it was time for tea (her son was called Richard, it wasn't her code-name for teatime) but we felt free - something that I now realise was a priceless gift.

So there you go, no looking back in anger, just five reasons to be very, very cheerful indeed.


Soundtrack: Don't Look Back in Anger - Oasis

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You Should Be Dancing

In a bid to stop my bottom pooling (see my last post for more on that), I make time to exercise. Usually it's running but I've been searching for some variety and given I live miles from a gym, and my bike was purchased 16 years ago and is heavier than the shed it is stored in, I was at a bit of a loss. Until something happened in my household ten years after the rest of the Western world:

We bought a Wii

I'm not sure why it took quite so long - we had one of the first Xbox's which was a mixed blessing: on the plus side it was free because Microsoft was feeling generous (result!) but the downside was I had to endure hour upon hour of Mr K playing Final Fantasy to the point where I can still recall the music from the fight sequences...

Oh yes, now I remember why it took so long; we moved house, and then I got pregnant by which point I was not hormonally in the mood for video games that went on for five hours. It didn't even get unpacked.

The Victorian Years

For those of you that are on here regularly, you'll know I'm a bit 'Victorian' when it comes to letting tech within three feet of my children (and Mr K and I are still resolved that they won't get their own tech until they're ooh at least twenty five - haha!) but we have acquiesced with a console that has a reputation as being family friendly and encouraging activity. And oh what a successful eBay purchase it was!

Game on

Not only was it a great purchase for all of the high energy, wrist-wrenching sports games included, but also because it came with Just Dance 3. During a six song dance-off with my daughter I discovered a new way to workout that fulfilled my need for something that was nearby, high-energy and good fun.

House of a thousand dances

With songs that range from 80's classics (A-ha's 'Take On Me') to the frankly bizarre (Sentai Express' 'Spectronizer' which I think is a tribute to Power Rangers) I've already clocked up some impressively average scores with my impressively terrible dancing which reached new heights as I attempted to jig along to Wilson Pickett's 'Land of a Thousand Dances'. I danced, I sweated, I had fun and my body ached like billy-o the next day.

So if, like me, you work from home or if you just fancy a new way to work out - don't bother with the bike and resist that run - get your dance face on and do the mashed potato in your living room instead.

 

Soundtrack: You Should Be Dancing - by Bee Gees

 

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Six things I've learnt (so far) about working from home

Working from home is a luxury when you're normally office-based, but when you have to do it full-time it becomes a slightly different proposition than a way to get in a cheeky lunch with friends, or a chance to walk the children to and from school.  Here's what I've learnt so far :)

1. Inanimate objects have the power of telepathy

Good grief....

The washing up, the pile of post, the Lego that your children have distributed across the carpet. All of them sending out messages to attend to them. You will miss the days when you used to shut the door on it all and head to an office where the carpets are Lego-free.

2. You will get through certain things at an alarming rate

Give it a day and
that'll need topping up

Coffee, milk, bread, toilet roll. When you work in an office there are magical fairies that come and replenish these items. If you have the fortune to work for a large corporate they may even top up your fruit bowl and have themed days in the restaurant where the chef will cook Chinese food for you at a vastly subsidised rate. This does not happen when you work from home.

3. Walking from one room to the other becomes a walk too far

What? You mean I have to walk from the office to the kitchen just to get a drink?! I'm not sure if it's because you have to navigate the washing up / post / Lego to get to your destination but when I worked in a 'proper' office you would have thought my chair was on fire the amount of times I got up. That's why.......

4. Sometimes doing the laundry is ok

I feel a leg stretch coming on :)

With a chair that is not on fire, and a feeling that you can't be bothered to cross even the threshold from one room to another, let alone drive a couple of miles to replenish your coffee, milk, bread and toilet roll, then you are in real danger of your bottom pooling until it cannot be freed from your chair without industrial grease or cutters. Get up, stretch your legs, take five minutes out.

5. Mirrors and visitors are useful

Working on your own at home comes with a real risk of developing disgusting eating habits and unforgivable clothing combinations. Nobody wants to Skype you to find you're sitting in your pyjamas or that you have a big string of Panini cheese hanging off your chin as you eat lunch hunched over your laptop. Arrange to see people or perhaps hang a mirror near your desk - just beware that you don't turn into a budgie and start talking to your reflection....

6. Less time meeting, more time doing!

One of the trade-offs of working in an office is that you must regularly participate in the mind-numbing, spirit-crushing activity that is "being in a meeting". Usually someone will be late because they've stopped to buy a latte, or are in another meeting which is running late because everyone wanted a coffee which held up the start of that meeting by ten minutes. Sometimes you will get to the end of the meeting and nothing has been decided except flat whites are the new lattes. Embrace your freedom to 'do'!