Organising Parties: Pre-Kids and After

Can you believe it, Mini is 8 next Friday. Eight! Where did the time go?

(Although, to be fair, sometimes she acts far older than 8. I have to remind myself that she is so young still).

Thus, after much moaning by Mini discussion by us parents, we decided to have our first party for a birthday since her 5th one.

Its taken three

At the last party. No those aren't very big 5 year olds at the front. 

years to get over that one. The mess, the screaming masses of kids running around and the cost- blimey the cost alone could have paid for a small weekend mini break away from the Brats. Which was frankly what we would have liked to have done directly after said party but no such luck.

However, being that she's still relatively new, we thought that to aid her in the fitting in process we'd throw a kick ass disco and up her cool points. Or at least give me an excuse to go baking mad in the kitchen for the first week of the Easter holidays.

Invites went out at the end of last week, and I did expect a few yays and a few nays quite swiftly as I put my email and mobile number on them and a request for a response. After all, an email costs nothing, and, as with the old school, when we swapped numbers we'd immediately add said Mum or Dad to Whatsapp.

No such luck. We did get a few no answers as some folk (it would appear half of Earley) go away to far flung haunts the minute anyone cracks out the Easter Decorations. We have had a couple of yes votes, mainly though from Littlest's little contingent of friends we've allowed him to invite so he doesn't get too pissed off by the no doubt questionable music that Mini has personally chosen.

So now I'm kind of twiddling my thumbs, not quite knowing how many party bags we need, or how much food. I was going to collar some of the yet to answer lot yesterday but, alas, both the pair of them had succumbed to plague like symptoms so were confined to the sofa.

In desperation, I even group emailed all the rest of the Brownies that she had not had enough invites for to at least up the numbers. Responses thus far? Two. One yes, one no.

It makes me remember that organising a party pre kids was so much more easy and fun.

Before kids, you needed some crisps, perhaps some chicken nibbles from a very cheap box from Iceland, at the most a bit of a pasta salad.

Now, you have cupcakes with obligatory cupcake toppers. Ours are sadly and unforeseeably out of date now being that they feature the original line up of One Direction before Zayn buggered off to go in a, erm, another direction shall we say. If it wasn't bad enough that him leaving made Mini bawl her eyes out (he was her fave that week), they cost me a bloody fiver for 10.

Then you have to make sure as not to offend anyone with certain food groups they don't eat, or poison those with a genuine allergy, like Littlest.

Back in the heady no kids days, the main ingredient of a party, a barbecue or just a Saturday night was a good amount of alcoholic beverages. No one cared what type, if it said Vodka, Lager or Wine, so long as it didn't feature Tesco Value stripes, it was all good.

Now its sugar free, organic, no fizzy, no added shite stuff. Preferably with bits of fruit in it. When I was a kid, no one cared how radioactive it looked, but now they do and folk prefer their kids to keep their teeth intact for as long as possible.

Then there is music. Pre-kids tunes were tunes, the bassier and throbbing the better. Turn it up loud, turn off the lights, Bobs ya Uncle. Party.

Now I have to spend 5 hours going through every single rubbish song that my daughter has liked since age 6. Swearing in music and sexual references are a complete no no. Which you'd think would mean spinning a Pop Party album as they're meant for kids.

Hell no.

It was a good job I checked owing to the amount of use of the words "sex", "fuck" and "shit" amongst others and variations of those that were peppered on these albums. Sesame Street words of the day these were not. One record started with the rallying cry of "Fuck you Muthafucka" shouted at top volume. Lovely.

No one wants to be that Mum who allowed the offspring of other Mums to come home swearing like a docker after their do. So even though the music is enough to bring me (and Littlest) out in a rash, it wont lead to children learning new vocab.

Then we have the hall hire, the disco hire (although we do luckily know a very nice mobile DJ so we do cheat a little on that one) the outfits and the party bags.

The bloody party bags. We didn't have those bastards at parties before Brats. Can you imagine leaving a party as a young, child free adult and being given a party bag (or tat bag as I like to call them).

No such luck with this day and age.

Its not difficult to find stuff to shove in the buggers, in fact God bless Amazon and Job Lots on eBay for saving me cash. Its the stuffing the buggers afterwards. Its a military operation  of checking for anything sharp, anything inappropriate, and do you put sweets in or not? If so, how many and what do you do about allergies and religious food no nos?

See, its a mental minefield.

I can already feel new wrinkles and grey hairs sprouting with every day that passes before this sodding party. And its not even here yet.

I'm off to make 50 soft baps, and find more music.

I'll let you know how it all goes down.....

 

Blogger Does Cribs: Inside My Fridge

I have been tagged to show you the wasteland that is my poor fridge by Emma at Me, The Man and The Baby. After promising I wouldn't go shopping and pretend that we eat very healthily, and also having to chuck out certain items which I have no idea what they started out as, here is my fridge:

The Love List

Yes, its time for a list which I will start off trying to do once a month and then will completely forget about (until someone asks me when the next one is coming on Twitter), or I will get bored by. Come on, help me out here, I have such a crap boredom thresh hold that I find films hard to cope with- by 45 minutes in unless something really captivates me I get up and grab a book. Don't even ask me about subtitled films, Elder has tried several times to get me to watch Amelie, but I just can't be bothered to read whats going on and my french is very poor.

That said, if anyone wants to join in with The Love List, feel free! I may even make a badge. If I can remember how to.

Anyway, here's what I am offering a big thanks for to whoever makes good stuff happen. The nice stuff in life.

1) The Bratlings and what they say:

In my house, Action Man is not Action Man. He is Action Dude. He even has his own song, which is loosely based on the old 80s ad theme, which went "Action Man the greatest hero of them all", but ours is " Action Dude he is a Dude who is a Dude". Yes it needs work. The cutest thing is Littlest's way of really elongating the dude bit, so its exaggerated. Bless.

2) Sunshine!

I know its only been here for two days (well it has in Maidenhead), but yay, its sunny. Not warm, granted, but fine enough for me to disregard my parker and buy sandals. I hate wearing shoes, boots or trainers, so the buying of sandals marks a change in my general mood. More up beat.

3) Twitter

I hate to say it, but I am a certified (or certifiable, perhaps) Twitter addict. However, I'm not big on the whole following celebs. The only interest I have in them is when they look fat in Heat (tee hee, Cheryl Cole in this weeks edition). No, what I love is the power of the thing, to help raise awareness of new musical talent, new authors, new ways of thinking. When Japan got hit so badly, and we would previously not known what to do to help, within minutes everyone was reposting and linking to charities you could donate to. Also, it was an affective way of people caught up in the disaster to let worried loved ones know they were safe. I follow a Japanese blogger, who happens to create cheats for a game I play on Facebook, and was worried that she may have been hurt (or worse), but within a few hours she was able to let us know she was safe and well.

Whenever I feel like the day is just that little bit too long, I can guarantee that I can log in and there will be something to make me laugh.

4) Babies

Everyone is having babies, I know its spring but blimey! However, being of the mind that 2 is quite enough, its lovely to see all the ickle baby pics on Facebook. Looking, mind you. That'll do me!

5) Freedom!

After the chat at Christmas with the Sisters in law,(OK I chickened out and told Elder to have a word. And he chickened out and asked his eldest sister to have a word) we've been able to go out without the kids. I love the Bratlings so much, but when you're with them 24/7, you need a bit of peace, a bit of time to be a couple again. Not just Mummy and Daddy. And its not like we go out clubbing until 3am. In fact, when it was Elder's birthday this weekend, we went out, had a game of pool (I nearly beat him), a few drinks in a few bars, then decided to jump in a cab and get a take away delivered. If you don't like the music they play in the pub, I say go home and play your own!

Speaking of which:

6) Mad conversations in a cab

We were waiting for quite a while for our cab on Saturday. It was 9pm in the town centre, so no surprise. As we were waiting, a young guy asked for a cab at a bar right near our house, so we let him jump in our cab when it came. Obviously, we got chatting and he had come to try and chat up a girl he really liked, even though he wasn't from  the area. Bless. He asked us our tips for being a couple, which was funny, and turned out his Dad was a Gills fan too. He wouldn't let us pay our share of the cab, so I really hope he got the girl. Bless.

7) Mini will eat!

Yes, the fussiest of fussy mares has finally decided what she likes to eat other than sweets and cheerios. My Girlie has discovered a love for good old fashioned Macaroni Cheese, made with ham (and not macaroni. She didn't think it was pasta so we use the stuff we usually buy), as well as Pizza as long as I make them myself. Her fave is sausage, ham and salami on top with lashings of cheese. I know they aren't perhaps the healthiest of options, but its better than her refusing to eat.

8) Wardrobe Love

Have you ever gone to your wardrobe and hated every single thing in it? I did two weeks ago. I finally managed to ditch the wardrobes of doom, which had gotten so dangerous and precarious that when I wanted to open them in the morning, I had to step back in case they fell on me. Not good. So I bought a pair of very nice new ones, and being that these were smaller, set about having a clear out.

Said clear out resulted in me owning 2 pairs of jeans and a few tops. Not great for a working wardrobe. The thing is, the things I had that I didn't like were still in good nick and perfectly serviceable. So the pile went to the Land of EBay, and I made a tidy sum. It started a mass clear out, so then I had the fun of replacing the stuff I'd gotten rid of with stuff I like. Which means I now have space in the cupboard and a wardrobe of stuff I actually like, which fits.

9) Cybermummy excitement

Its soon people, its very soon, and I cannot wait to see you all. Especially with the party that Mocha Beanie Mummy has promised us for afterwards.....

10) Going to London

I am a lazy cow. I am always getting invited to do's in London, and I wuss it at the last minute. Well, not anymore. I intend to go to the opening of an envelope if it means I can network. I love London, but I get quite intimidated by the idea of tubes and places and I've always thought it was quite a scary place. However, if I want to get somewhere with this here blogging lark, I need to go shake some hands!

Bravery, people, that's the buzz word. Feel the fear and do it regardless.

What are you loving?

IMAGES:
Image: nuchylee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Image: Idea go / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Comment: Hospital Food Sucks!

I am writing this post after watching the Dispatches programme on Channel 4 last night (at last, a fair and well researched programme from them!) about Hospital food.

After spending 10 weeks in Traction, reporter Mark Sparrow started a Food blog, chronicling the awful fayre served up by his NHS hospital. However, he did say he managed to have a few great meals, such as salmon with new potatoes. He was lucky!

 

Now, I can completely sympathise with Mark, and agree wholeheartedly that food in NHS hospitals is appalling beyond belief, food so bad you wouldn't feed your dog, let alone your worst enemy it. I experienced this first hand in 2008.

Due to my waters breaking at 27 weeks when pregnant with Littlest, I was forced to stay at my local ante natal care ward for a week, followed by 5 days on the Maternity ward. I then spent 4 days on SCBU just before Littlest came home 3 and a half months on from having him.

My first introduction to hospital food was dinner, and I was told it was really important to keep eating and eat well, for Littlest's sake. Off I went to the little side room to get something from the large trolley, queueing up with the other women.

What I saw was six large silver catering dishes, filled with violently coloured slop. Yes, that's the only word I can use- slop. I asked the Nurse who was over seeing the food (and making sure we all ate something) what was available, and was told it was Ethnic choice food, and the slop was in fact different forms of lentil curry. So I asked where the non-ethnic choice was, and was pointed to some half mashed half whole boiled potatoes, grey in colour and hardly edible looking (I couldn't stomach the idea of tasting to find out if they tasted as bad as they looked). That was it, potato, nothing with it. She then told me I must eat something, so I took a sandwich, and an apple.

The sandwich, on reflection, seemed like a great idea, yet the next day I realised that these were brought up to the ward at 12pm, and then left out all day, on the side- not refrigerated at all. So when I picked one up at 6pm, it had sat for 6 hours sweating in its plastic tray. No wonder it was stale and curly at the edges.

That meant sandwiches were off the menu after that as a dinner option.

We could, however help ourselves to coffee and tea, but were expected to put some coins in the jar. We also had water jugs, but again, these were left out all day and very rarely refreshed, and when I asked a few times for a re-fill, I would find myself snarled at by the less than friendly staff. Whilst I was sympathetic of them being understaffed, it was August, it was hot and the room was unventilated with no air conditioning.

All week, all that was available was the same "ethnic option". There were quite a few ethnic groups on the ward, however, I spoke to a number of differently raced women whilst there- it passed the time if nothing else, and everyone moaned about the food. Regardless of what we all ate at home, those brave enough to try the lentil concoctions did so once and regretted it after. 

Halfway through my stay, I went to the room, pondering whether to have a pear instead of an apple, and there was excitement from the queue as there was fish for dinner.

Well, yes and no. It was served up as fish in white sauce. What I got was a plate of runny yet lumpy white sauce which had the hint of the sea about it in that it was salty beyond belief (I'm not going to say what I thought it reminded me of as I'm too ladylike. It was white, salty and fishy, you work it out). It had burnt onion in it. 

Fish, however was lacking. Apparently, if I'd been in the first, not the third ward of 4 beds called for dinner, I'd have got some fish. By the time I got there and was served by the bored nurse, there was none left. 

So a plate of white salty slop, with burnt onions, and those ubiquitous grey lumps of mash and spud mixture.

Over the week in ante-natal care, I felt tired and ratty, I was always hungry. I have a good appetite and a good cook at home, I'm used to eating nicely sized, nice tasting food. Its not even posh what we eat, and not expensive, just good, old fashioned grub like Shepherds Pies and stews.

Luckily for me, one of the breakfast trolley ladies on my last day on the ward before I went into labour in the evening asked me whether I'd like toast or cereal for breakfast (the only time we had a choice was between the two at breakfast, and which we were woken up for at 7am), and I asked if I could have both!

She was so lovely, not one of the midwifery staff but an auxiliary, and she gave me three bits of all be it cold toast, and a generous helping of cornflakes- probably the only time when cold toast has tasted so good!

Typically, the one night when a possibly edible meal of fish and chips was served and I was in labour- I could see the food, yet despite calling for help I couldn't move as when I stood up even slightly I felt like my legs didn't work and felt lightheaded too. It took for one of the woman on my ward to go and shout at the desk staff before they came and attended to me- even though I had been telling them since 2pm and it was now 6pm.

Anyhow, back to the food.

After Littlest was born, I was then in the Maternity ward, and hoped the food would improve.

Some hope! 

On the Sunday, I thought I might be able to eat my first proper meal since the week before at home, as we were told it was Roast lunch day- a possibility of which caused me such happiness I could almost have salivated.

Sadly, the promised roast was worse even than the curly sandwich- beef which was 95% gristle and 5% mush, in a small round shape. I suspect it was very cheap sandwich beef, which would account for the shape and the gristle. 1 small spud, not roasted (not even the plague of Aunt Bessie fakery either), it was cold and grey. The gravy was thin and greasy- how they managed that I'll always wonder. Plus a carrot. Not a whole carrot, a slice of. Great.

Luckily, one of my co-patients Mums very sneakily brought in a massive bucket of KFC, although she had to hide it. On one occasion she had brought in "outside food" and had it taken off her and chucked away. We all had to do a Mission Impossible movement round the ward to her curtained bed, keeping an eye out for the staff. My God it was worth it though! Yum!

All in all the food over that close to two week period was so rotten, I lost a stone, and was close to back to my pre-pregnant weight, not bad after a c-section and all the swelling that causes.

Then, when I had to go in to learn how to care for a sick Littlest at home, and manage his oxygen intake, I thought I'd be given a meal. Wrong. 

We were told we had to go to the canteen and buy our food ourselves. That wasn't cheap.

When you factor in the £6 for 24 hours TV, 75p a minute calls, and then close to £20 a day for food, it all adds up.

What has always baffled me was that the canteen food, although quite expensive, was gorgeous, with huge servings available of food ethnic and otherwise, loads of choice and steaming hot. 

So, why was the patients food so awful across the board?

Seriously, I am that confident that the food was so inedible that I think WP hospital should close as a proper hospital and open as a fat camp. Serve the morbidly obese types you see on programmes like The Biggest Loser the food there, they'd lose weight in weeks refusing to eat the stuff they tried to force on me.

I even looked up WP on Netmums- whilst overall the staff get the thumbs up, the food is overwhelmingly slated. Even by Ethnic ladies!

The lack of food choice was introduced when the people behind the food had to factor in that Slough and the surrounding area is a culturally diverse place- hence the chick peas and lentils. 

However, one Asian lady, who spoke very poor English, managed to agree with the rest of us patients, by complaining that even in her country, they offer more choice, and that even at home she would eat the lentil option with a meat or fish dish, and certainly not with grey spuds or congealed rice! And a Polish patient who said she wouldn't expect us all to eat the kinds of food Polish people eat (there are a vast number of Polish immigrants in Berkshire) and despite there being just as many Polish patients they weren't catered for either. But she didn't expect them to be, as it was an English hospital, so surely the food should reflect that too?

Could it be that the food served up, not only satisfied the ethnic lobby who demand, quite rightly, that minority groups be catered for, but also because it was cheap. That's probably, in my view, more the case.If there was such a concern not to insult these minority groups, then why not serve Halal meat, at least that would have been a more edible option than lentil curry, and would have satisfied the cultural needs of a rich and diverse area.

Why also, on the scarce nights when food like the fish in sauce was available did it not stretch to all the women on the ward? Eight beds in and the fish was gone, surely the catering team know how many women are on one ward?

Tonight, local chef and Bray Botherer Heston Blumenthal, is on a mission to create better food at Alder Hey Children's Hospital.

However, without doubt once those TV cameras disappear, the food will return to its usual poor, cheap, and nasty status quo.

Its time that food, which is vital to help us keep our strength up (and get us out the hospital quicker) is overhauled.

I can't see that happening anytime soon.

If you haven't discovered Mark's Blog, Notes From a Hospital Bed  yet, it's well worth adding to your reader.

No Potatoes, I'm dieting

This is a spud free zone. And Pasta too. Carbs you see.


The diet is now a week old, and thus far, due to my new found love for throwing any old ingredient (although now I check the wheel thing for nutritional info first) its not been that hard to give up my spuds and pasta.


I generally get bored of diets after a week. I love my food you see. As a teen, I found it very easy to just not eat for 6 days, go out to my local goth club (hence the diet to fit in a dress) and then stuff a Maccy Ds on the Sunday, and start again Monday. I used to easily lose weight. I was very skinny, and to be frank, I took it far too far and ended up eating a bowl of spaghetti or two fish fingers every other day by the time I was in my first flat. I think back then I lived on alcohol. But then it didn't matter because I couldn't cook and wasn't bothered by food.


Enter Elder and his love of fry ups, eating out (and not just in McDonalds, in pubs and curry houses and proper restaurants) and cooking good Irish stews and Shepherds pies. He would demand I throw food in the trolley in Tesco (which I didn't know existed until meeting him), and bought me sweets when going to the offy, finding chocolate to be my weakness in the "must diet to extinction" drive.


Two kids and 5 dress sizes later (yes from 8-16), all be it with a short respite and sudden size 10/12 drop whilst breastfeeding (The Child Formerly Known as) Mini for a year (where I could eat family sized pizza and not put on a pound. Truly the best 12 months of my life).


Now, I don't blame Elder at all. I think he opened up the food love for me, but someone had to.


And then I got a bit pee'd off not knowing how to cook. So I have taught myself- I have near blown my own head off with over chilli usage in early attempts. And some things really didn't work how I thought they would. But now I'm definitely competent, but from the school of whack it all in one wok/pan and see what occurs on it hitting a plate. 


My faves are lemon juice, soy sauce (light soy now), chilli (moderated and definitely de-seeded) and garlic. Easy peasy and go with most stuff. I also love adding cream cheese to stuff- the light one is just as nice and it goes a long way to replacing oily sauces like mayo. 


But its not just food. Its exercise.


I bought my Nephew's Wii console. He got a Connect for Christmas, so I offered to buy his Wii so he can buy his BMX fancy bike he's been diligently saving every spare penny for for months. Win win.


I now box my way round the living room every night, and play a good few games of tennis too.  Daytime and cabs are kaput, and I have walked to town and back, with heavy shopping everyday this week. If I had no bags, I pushed the buggy up the hill whilst power walking.  I also have an Ab Slider, which hurts like hell, but no pain no gain, as well as a Yoga and Ministry Aeroburn DVDs, which you can do in 10 minute routines. 


As I write this, I am sore. I have done a 20 minute work out, walked to the town centre and back with bags of spuds and four pints of milk (amongst other food) and have done quite a bit of Wii Boxing and tennis. I danced to the kids music DVD (including a rather over done Hokey Cokey).


But the whole thing may not have meant I have shed stones in weight in a week. I am sleeping so well. Knackered by 9 now. Which is brilliant as my energy levels are right up there for the first time in 3 years.


Yes, I call the Nutritional Wheel the Wheel of Doom (if its salt filled or fatty its not going in my food), I miss my take out and sweets. But its worth it for the feeling that I may just fit into my fave Karen Millen jeans by Easter, and even better hopefully my first fave Diesel jeans by Christmas. Slow and steady, but progress indeed.


Pass the sweat bands please!