Dear Mini: With These Teddies, You Are Taking the Piss.

This is kind of a post for Mini, but as I'm kind like that, I thought I'd share it with you all readers. Think of it as a support group for parent's afflicted with bears as I am.

No, these are not my bears, they are Mini's bears. There are fecking loads of the buggers. Or to be specific, its not just teddy bears. We have Hello Kitty. We have Beanie Bears. We have soft bodied dolls.

She has also stolen my childhood bear, Mrs Ted. As well as the three Mothers Day bears she has picked, supposedly for me, but which were pinched within five minutes of being handed over.

It takes me 20 minutes to remove and replace said Bed Bears (as this is just the bears etc on there, I'm not even sure how many are in the toy box under her bed, along with various variations of Barbie, Monster High and Bratz). If I fail to put them back in their "section" (I kid you not), she knows and moans at you whilst removing them to put them back.

Yes, they have categories and sections.

We have the Hello Kitty section. The Cat section. The Teddy White Family (not a section and sounding like a minor furry version of the mafia).

The one that makes me laugh the most is a recent variation. She got around £10 in birthday money, and a few days after, we popped into one of our local second hand shops. It was there that she spotted something she has coveted, and pleaded for, for months.

A Baby Oleg from Compare the Meerkat.

At one point, when we didn't have transport, she tried to explain why it was perfectly reasonable for me to make up a car to purchase Insurance for simply so she could get a Baby Oleg. She saw no reason why this was completely ridiculous.

Seeing a brand spanking new one, in its box for £4 when she had £10 of her own made her jump up and down with glee.

However, this has started the newest "section" down to Oleg's cot/box. The "Under ones" section.

Just a small selection of the bears.......

Included with Oleg is a George Pig, a Me to You Bear with her initial, amongst other little bears. They must stay in their box and they go every where with her indoors.  

I know later I will get told off as I changed her bedding. And I accidentally managed to knock the buggers out the box and I have no idea what bears go in bar Oleg and George.

So, despite me putting clean bedding on, that is new One Direction set, and I've put all the books back on the shelf that Littlest knocked off, she will not notice that, she will notice the bears being  in the wrong place.






How long does this bear nonsense last?  The only bears I had on my bed were the aforementioned Mrs Ted (a mothercare bear given to me a day after my birth in 1982), an orange bear I think I was given by a cousin and have no idea what happened to, and Roland Rat.

Littlest is just as mad about dogs.

Save me from the scourge of bears.

One more bear and neither child will fit in their bloody beds, and if they think they're pitching up in mine, they can take their bears and sleep in the shed.

These are all the ones she wanted to take to her Aunts for ONE NIGHT!

Littlest and his Dog collection. Ridiculous

I think I may need to slyly lose some of the furry critters, especially as Boot Fair season is upon us and will no doubt bring in another influx.

No more bears. Just no. Or dogs. Or Hello Kittys. Enough children!

(Looks shiftily at the enormous pile of records I bought in the last two days and denies all knowledge of hoarding responsibility).

Dear Mini. No, I Am Not Embarrassing (Yet)

As I said in the last post, its my darling daughter's birthday on Friday and her party Saturday. It seems we should be OK with attendees now as we have around 25 kids coming to dance, stuff their faces with food and generally have a good time (well, that's the idea anyway).

With that in mind, I'm baking up a storm in the kitchen, trying to make sure everything is completely allergy OK for Littlest (after all, you don't want to have to call 999 in the middle of a kids party).

I was doing just that for the last hour, aided and abetted by my MP3 player.

At which point, Mini, never shy of telling us what she thinks, caught me in the kitchen dancing to Taylor Swift. Which is only on my MP3 player for walks home with her in the first place.  In my defence its a nice sunny day, all is good so I do tend to sing along to anything that happens to pop up on it when my hands are covered in biscuit batter and I can't skip the song.

If looks could kill, readers, I would be pushing up daisies and my biscuits would be handed round as a teary eyed last hurrah at my wake.

Back in the day (when she was under 6), she would love coming in the kitchen and dancing and singing with me. Not anymore.

According to her strict law, if I dare dance, sing, or horror of horrors (as I did suggest it) twerk, she will never speak to me again, and her name, even worse, will be "mud" at school (I kid you not, her words, not mine).

She flounced out the kitchen and grabbed her iPod to no doubt diva strop up in her room.

Surely, fellow parents, the whole "my parents are so embarrassing" thing is not really meant to rear its ugly "yes you can pay for and organise my party at great cost but please fade into the background pronto" head until she turns 13? Not 8!

Nope, not in our house.

It was the same at the disco, which I stayed at as there were quite a few lovely Mums from school helping out and actually, for a school disco the DJ played some top tunes at the Junior part.

I got death stares, all night. Despite one of the year 6 girls telling her "your Mum can really dance, how cool", I think Mini would have much preferred me to bugger off home and stay there in my slippers.

I'm only 33. I don't even feel like I'm in my 30s (I actually have good excuse for that as I'm constantly asked if I am travelling with a student bus pass). So frankly, I don't consider myself in the OAP, embarrassing parent bracket quite yet.

I think I shall just hide at the party and dance in the corner. Behind a curtain. Quietly.

How about you guys? Do you get told you're embarrassing? How old is your child?

:) Enjoy the sunshine :)

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.....

 

Don't Mention the C Word (Yet)

Why people?

Why is my sodding Facebook feed and my supermarket walk filled with the dreaded Christmas already?

I swear if the supermarkets get any earlier, we'll get the run up to Christmas type adverts from January 1st onwards.

I say dreaded about Christmas, but I do enjoy it, I just enjoy it from the correct time in December.

I don't even start thinking about presents until mid November. Yes I know there will be those of you who have already done all their shopping, and had it wrapped, and their cards written, probably since July. That isn't what Christmas is about.

 Christmas wouldn't be fun in our house if I hadn't left it up until the last minute every year since records began. The only year I was ahead was last year, and it felt weird having everything sorted so early on (by early on I mean mid October).

It should be a law in this country that, until after firework night (another custom hijacked so now you get 3 months of fireworks rather than one night as it should be), no shop is allowed to display anything containing the words "tis the season" or " ho ho ho", or hang anything remotely tinsel related, anywhere.

As soon as Mini brought home an Operation Christmas Child leaflet from school, she came home and stuck her Christmas list to the fridge. It brought me out in a rash. That and my purse hid in trepidation. I don't think she quite got that the child she was meant to sort out for Christmas was many countries away, not in her house.

Every advert break is met with choruses of "I want that" about every multi-coloured plastic tat that the toy companies chose to display. And you just know that, if you do give in and buy a selection of the tat, by Boxing Day most will be chucked in the toy box, and the choruses of "I want that" will begin all over again.

I don't mind planning the food, I don't even mind the hit my bank account takes.

But please, lets be sensible, and celebrate Christmas when it should be celebrated.

A New Frontier in the Parenting Day to Day

That's a bold title right there, isn't it?!

I was quite tempted to title it "True Confessions of a Home Ed Virgin Aged 32 3/4", but was concerned I may get sued by Sue Townsend's people.

By that alternative title you'll gather what we decided to do regards Littlest and his lack of school, not to mention my lack of choice (eg-attendance at shit school or criminal record/massive fine/made out to be a crap mother) of what school he went to.

I got some lovely comments from you guys online, so thank you very much, and I did indeed find out who runs our local council.

Luckily, it was Labour, who are my preferred party anyway and who are clearly after any vote they can get (owing to politics in this country turning into a Democracy version of X Factor).

Bless them, I messaged their Facebook page on a Sunday, not thinking I'd hear for days, if at all. Give them their due, I received a messaged within an hour, saying they'd look into it and suggesting they were as baffled as me.

Down to them, suddenly the Reading Admissions team changed tack. Gone were the threats of court and the "get your kid to our choice or else" conversations. These were replaced with soothing words of consolation and understanding.

I told them though that, politely, he would not be taking a place at the school 9/10 parents we had spoken to would choose not to send  their pet Guinea Pig, let alone their child, and had investigated educating him at home.

No arguments were forthcoming this time, thank the Lord.

So, with my trusty laptop (yet not trusty net connection- bloody TalkTalk, but that's another post to come soon), I researched Home Ed, the Nation Curriculum, our rights and responsibilities, and anything else I could think of.

The Net is great for newbie home educators, its a vast tank of knowledge waiting to be sourced, both for me as "Mum and Teacher" (as opposed to my usual tag of "Mum and Nurse, Doctor and Consultant") and for Littlest too. There are hundreds of websites with age and curriculum appropriate material on them for Year 2, and some of these are already known to Littlest as he used them at the old school last year.

Basically, we can set the pace and style, as long as knowledge gets in his noggin. And, unlike other kids, he doesn't have to share me as a teacher or his source material. If he is unwell, we can do quiet games. If its warm enough we can, as we did on Friday, go on a nature walk. He didn't even realise he was learning doing that.

It has been a bit scary at times- the first day was a nightmare of him being a cheeky sod and telling me I'm not his teacher, I'm Mummy so he can be a bugger as he's not at school. But all I did was fire up my net again and ask for advice from those in the know with Home Ed who suggested rather than sitting down and talking at him, to go and do practical number work with sums in the shops instead. He took far more in that way than he did with it on a page.

We have been playing Boggle and Junior Scrabble which are great fun ways to promote spelling and looking at words which will add up to the biggest score. We even made a full Box Trolls costume from old cardboard boxes- not something he would have done at school due to time and material constraints.

Its not going to all be easy, of course, but compared to what we have been through the last few months, its definitely less stress.

Feel free to say hi if you Home Ed too x :)

We're off to do art ourselves.

Is It Just Me: Or Has There Been a Serious Shift in Power Between Kids and Their Teachers?

Did anyone watch BBC One last night? 

No, I'm not talking about Bake Off and the Baked Alaska scandal that swept Twitter last night with fury only Britain can manage over a baked good.

I'm talking about the show which followed it (when no doubt half the UK was bemoaning said Baked Alaska Sabotage).

It was a Panorama documentary called "Last Chance Academy"  which  centred on a school in a deprived area of Birmingham.

The kids of the small Pupil Referral style unit were, as the title suggests, on their last chance to get an education of any kind. I believe what the school and programme makers hoped to do was to make us all feel sorry for these kids and to anoint the staff with sainthoods.

Well, I watched it but I didn't feel sorry for the majority of them at all. I felt that this £6,000 per pupil was, in the most part, a gigantic waste of money.

I also felt sorry, in actual fact, for the kids in the school- the majority who turned up, in their uniform, on time, with their homework.  You know, like you were meant to and like I should imagine the majority of you reading did in those days when you were at school.

I felt the Head of the "Leap" as it was called was being walked all over and came across as a bit of dick head. I can see most of the kids- as it was filmed- showing no respect at all for this so called maverick.

From pupils turning up when they could be bothered, to telling this Head that they wouldn't sit through 3 classes, they would only do two, while he rolled over to them, I was left completely shocked that the local authority let it be shown.

The thing is I may be slightly biased but I went to a school in a deprived area where we were not seen as having much hope beyond 16. I worked my arse off through little reprobates like those shown in the programme to get my grades. I did it with respect for my elders whether they were right or wrong.

See, when I was at school, that's how it went- you sat up straight, you said yes sir or no mam, you had respect and you did as you were told. The Teachers and the Heads ran things, not us. And no matter how many little buggers tried it on, they never got far further than detention. However, there was a newer breed of teacher who felt they needed to nurture these kids who couldn't be bothered to behave, meaning people like me faded into the background and were left to fend for ourselves. Hence, when I found it cripplingly hard to comprehend even basic maths, because I behaved and turned up on time without a bad attitude, no extra help or consideration was given.

Most of these kids talked over- if not shouted over- their teachers, You would not have dared in my day. Yet these teachers kept bending over backwards regardless.

Even though they supposedly had this extra help, all that money being spent, it was not until the end of her school life that it came out one child had a below par reading age. How the hell did they miss that? What are they being paid for?

I'm sorry, but it's time for Teachers (not all, as I know some great teachers who do a great job) to take back the power from these kids who show no respect yet get all the help and guidance in the world.

Or else I wouldn't like to be them when they find themselves in work having to bow down to a boss.

Prom Related Issues

Mini is in Year 2- I know right? It seems five minutes ago that I was writing about her first day of school, and now, at the end of this term, she leaves to go to Juniors.

Well, actually she (and Littlest) will both be leaving anyway, and if they were already at school in Earley they would stay put and then this whole post wouldn't be here. But we'll let that slide as, until September for Mini at least who finally got a school place, they are stuck in Maidenhead for school.

At their, soon to be ex, school, they have a Leavers Disco come prom thing.

Now, as you know if you read regularly, Mini likes an excuse to go all out and dress up. She has known about the disco since December. And, as a result, she has plans. Dress plans, and hair plans, and having her nails done plans. Don't even ask her about shoes. Of course the "who is going to pay for this plan" is firmly in my lap. Or, by the time I've finished, in Elders.

The problem is that, she gets so into it that my "never did girl things as a kid as I liked cars and bikes and was too tall and gawky and not blonde" side comes out and I tend to join in and get slightly caught up in the excitement too. 

Hence, when we have gone to Slough the odd time, and walked past a shop whose window is full of big dresses with sparkles, and sparkly shoes, and tiaras, we have both ohhed and ahhed and made mental notes of what we think she should wear. 

I did chat with Elder about a big dress, and perhaps a limo (shared with some other parents). He did that look he does where he raises his eyebrow, looks sceptical and then simply says no. And no doubt wonders if it is him who is the ex-traveller and if I'm not secretly ex of traveller stock too.

I will admit, I loved some of the little girl dresses some of the kids on there wore, the kind of white frothy communion dress. I was in love with how happy and excited the kids were on that show to be wearing a big, fancy dress. They looked like they were living out their ultimate princess fantasy. I fail to see what is wrong with that if its for one event once.

As long as this is for one night only, and not taken to the extreme of spoiling a kid every day with horses, toys and stupid designer labels (apart from those craftily bought from eBay), then I am all for it.

As, of course, is Mini.

I am happy to be able to do her hair and nails myself. After the purple hair chalks at the disco, curling her hair with my Angel Curl wand and dabbing a bit of pink nail polish will be tame in comparison. 

She has already spotted that primark have some nice glittery shoes which, granted will probably fall apart after two wears but cost about a fiver.

The Limo isn't happening down to the move as it would cost loads too much to pick her up first from Earley and then everyone else from Maidenhead. Which is a shame but we can always put some ribbon on the Mini (if Elder doesn't do the look again and the no).

Its just the dress t go and I'm tempted to call up my old mate eBay for one, as I'm sure these types of dress are worn once for a party or do and then sold on.

What do you think?

Would you allow your daughter to instigate Princess mode? Or send them in jeans?

Comments below guys :)

The (Not So) Dreaded Parents Evening, 2014 Edition

Tonight, we had to stand around in the cold even longer than usual after school, as it was that time of year again where you are herded into a classroom which comfortably fits 25 5-6 or 6-7 year olds but is slightly tight for space when filled with parents.

Yes, the group Parents Evening.

I think, despite the claustrophobia, that I prefer the mass Parents Evening to the scarier individual one. You can generally get away with a glance at the books, a few positive nods for a certain drawing or piece of maths and a quick chat with the teacher and be done and dusted in under 5 minutes per child. 

I also have to admit, that, now both Brats seems to be doing very well, and Mini's teacher this year gets her and her, shall we say "artistic temperament" (and encourages her), and we are no longer the parent's everyone listens out for, I can now assume the position of eavesdropping on other parent's teacher conversations.

And before you all pour scorn on me, don't say you've never actively tuned in to the discussions between the harassed teacher and the parent's of that kid who you know is always being told off (and in the case of our school, habitually pulled aside outside of the classroom where it is far too loud to listen in on).

 Being nosy aside, I have to say both The Brats are doing pretty well. Littlest is catching up considering he is half a year behind and has time off sporadically due to his ill health. He is far outreaching other's in Maths. They do some new challenge where they ask the kids to pick what maths they do (I'm assuming that there isn't a "not for me, I'd rather read comics or surf the net" option), and how hard the maths in, and he always picks the hardest level. He clearly does not get this maths skill from me. I can barely add up with the aid of a calculator.

Mini is still not interested at all in maths- my fault entirely as to be fair I was exactly the same. However, her handwriting is much improved, and when they all get together to make up a story, she is by far the one who gets into it, and would carry on for double the time the rest do before they get bored or go onto doing something else.

It's nice to see two kids who are mine doing well at a mixture of things. As I said to a disappointed Mini, if you're great at everything without trying, life would be pretty boring. It's much nicer to have something to work towards, and, in the same way she read Green Eggs and Ham over and over for a month before she could read it without stumbling, so she will eventually do the same with maths.

As for Littlest, he appears to be much more able to keep up than previously, and has gone from someone who could barely hold a pencil to writing and problem solving for fun. 

Safe to say that regardless at this age it's all relative, I'm happy if they are happy, and at this age they are still so young and have plenty of time to progress.

I am still quite a proud Mummy this evening though.

Are you off to Parent's Evening? Do you dread them? Let me know below....

Pop Stars Are Not Role Models for Your Child. You Are.

Bless that Rihanna.

Not since Madonna and Ga Ga has someone caused such consternation regards what she wears or, more to the point, doesn't wear. 

Last week, at Paris Fashion Week, she was photographed wearing a mesh top and no bra. Yes, everyone, her Lady Lumps were front and centre.

Now, what Rihanna thinks of bras I don't know. I'm not a massive fan of the buggers myself, and there is no greater feeling than removing one after a long day (especially the scaffold ones I have to wear these days). However, the fact that she has a rather admirably fine pair of them, well, good luck to her. She's a grown woman, she is clearly confident enough to pull it off without a hint of embarrassment, and frankly, boobs are such that you may as well make the most of their flashability before they droop. There is only a short window of opportunity. 

The media had a field day though, and, as per usual, the same "how dare she! She's a role model for Britain's youth!" was voiced loud and clear. 

Well, the thing is, I don't agree. 

When Harry from that crap band my daughter likes goes out merrily shagging anything with a pulse and a Lady Garden, there is mild tuts but he's treated like a legend. Rihanna celebrates her lovely figure and pert bosoms and she gets widespread condemnation. 

The thing which annoys me is not just the blatant sexism, but the fact that there is a suggestion that, down to Rihanna, a load of young impressionable girls will be no doubt going to their local shopping centres with their own burgeoning breasts on show. 

How, though, is that Rihanna's fault?

There seems to be a suggestion, linked to the media, that Pop Stars and TV folk are suddenly responsible  for what our children do. It's their fault if your child goes out inappropriately dressed. Or if they have daft tattoos too young. 

Yet it's not their fault. It's your fault.

Celebs are not there to parent or guide our children. They are not there to show them what is right and wrong. 

I'm finding, as Mini gets older and starts to get to the Tween age (she's 7 in April), that she likes a wide range of celebs and their music or TV shows. She loves Perrie from Little Mix, and as she is blonde too (although I'm not sure Perrie is as naturally blonde as my daughter), Mini wanted to dye the ends of her hair just like her favorite pop star had last year.

This is as close to dressing like Little Mix as my daughter gets

If I had of let her do that, whose fault would that have been? The whole putting chemicals in her hair thing? It would have been my fault as her Mum. 

She also likes Rihanna and Katy Perry, and although both dress the way they do which is, if not age appropriate certainly makes the most of their figures, there is no way on earth I would allow Mini to wear anything like what they wear. Especially not the vest with on show boobage thing.

It's not the job of these people, who we will probably never meet and who, most times, are guided by a need to be in the newspapers and on gossip sites to tell our kids how to behave.

It's about time we told the media that too. Stop making excuses when parent's fail to have the sense they were born with. 

So, next time you blame a celebrity for your child's behavior or dress sense, take a moment and take responsibility. There is such a word as no after all. 

Is It Just Me: Who Thinks World Book Day is the Biggest Load of Parent Annoying Crap, Ever (Or Since the Last Annoying Thing)?

Its that time of year again, no not Christmas. Or Easter. Or Sports Day. No, it's World Book Day. On Thursday to be precise. (yes, Thursday for all those sitting thinking- World Book Day? Shit!).

Another day added to the never ending excuse to bankrupt parents both morally and physically in the wallet. Last time, it was Wear Your Pyjamas to School for Children in Need. Before that it was Princess Day(!) and there was Jubilee day, and of course, last years World Book Day.

Usually, I leave all that crap to the last minute and end up, the day before, at Asda buying whatever costume I can find that will fit the Brat it is intended for. Last year, Mini went as Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, and Littlest went as Harry and His Bucket of Dinosaurs. 

This was for practical reasons. 

The problem with Littlest is that he cannot merrily stroll around in definitely cold, possibly snowy, or damp conditions wearing next to nothing. He is also still of an age where wearing a costume that undoes at the back is a stupid, doomed to toilet related failure. (And why do these costumes have back fastenings? Why not front or side?). Hence why last year he wore jeans and a hoodie, just like Harry. 

This year, I decided to stop being a lazy bitch and get the costumes sorted. Mini currently loves Roald Dahl, and has been reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory at school and at home, so she is going as Verruca Salt, in a costume not so much bought as copied from the Gene Wilder film. She already had a red dress, and black shoes, white tights and a white, puffy sleeve blouse. All I got her was a Golden Wonka Ticket from eBay. 

Littlest is more difficult, as I say, he has to be warm. I had thought about his knight costume, as he likes Horrid Histories, but he owned up to putting it in his "give to charity pre-Christmas clear out", so whilst he has a sword and shield, he has no costume. Instead, I found his Joker from Batman costume, which also kind of looks like Willy Wonka. Sorted.

Feeling smug, I relaxed safe in the knowledge that it was done, and dusted.

Until they got in the sodding car on Friday.

"Mummy, have you bought my costume, instead of making it?" asked Mini.

I said, well kind of, but you already had most of the bits so don't worry.

"No, Mummy", said Littlest "you're not allowed to buy them. You have to make them, and sew them, from scraps in the house. Ms H said so in 'sembley".

It's true. They don't want you to buy something. They want you to make one.

And, to make it more fun, they will be awarding prizes to the best costumes on the day. Smashing.

Not.

The thing is, I am:

a) not Mary sodding Poppins, or Maria from Sound of Sodding Music. I don't have scraps of material lying round for costume emergencies, nor can I take down curtains and run one up either (we have blinds. Not curtains). I also don't have a magical bag like Mary that is a bottomless pit of costumes.
b) I am shit at sewing by hand and my sewing machine is buggered

The last time I actually made an effort, on the Jubilee, I wasted 5 days of my life I will never get back  took 5 days to make not one but two costumes using little more than wonder web, elastic, and two poundshop flags (not to mention blood, sweat and actual real tears) and did anyone else bother?

Nope.

And did either of the Brats win the sodding Best Costume award?

No. One of the same kids who wins bloody everything, wearing a Next Flag dress, just like 85% of the rest of the girls (the others, bar Mini having the George at Asda version) won. You know, cos their Mum made such an effort, driving to town and parting with £24.99.

I hate, actually despise, the whole competition element, and the way they use the kids to pressure you into making the best costume. Plus the upset it causes when they don't win, because, of course, then its your fault for making a crap costume.

Why the bloody hell can't they just say "hey kids, the government thinks you're not reading enough, as you spend every waking non school moment stuffing your faces with crap food, playing video games and having no actual imagination or interest in books unless they are on a Kindle or iPad, so we're going to make you dress up for the day to remind you of actual words and not Text Speak and give you a £1 voucher which you will lose down the back of the sofa or trade in to a swotty kid for cash to buy more sweets or pointless games like Flappy Bird". 

And where has the World element come from? I don't know many kids abroad, but I have a feeling this is done mainly in upper middle class schools where Boden is the parent uniform of choice, and not throughout the UK, let alone the bloody world. It does sound like yet another American thing which, due to our need to suck up and not get blown up by bigger countries, we have joined in with.

What is wrong with saying, wear what you like, if you have no life you want to make it, if not, buy one, and at the end of the day, everyone gets a sticker or a packet of Haribo for joining in? 

I say, this "everything must be a competition where only the same five bloody kids win and everyone else goes home disappointed, wondering why they bothered" must stop.

Now, I'm off to find a Willy Wonka top hat. I wonder if the Pound Shop sells them..........?

Silent Sunday 04.08.2013

Mummy, or Personal Skiv?

As the Brats get older, I always assumed that they would become tidier. I also hoped that they would make me cups of tea and massage my poor feet but I kind of knew that wouldn't happen (not until they are at least 14).

However, despite them being 6 and nearly 5, they have gotten worse. 

Mini is the prime example of this. 

Mini and the Scissors

Before

There I was, thinking this blog was going to move away from talking about the Bratlings as, frankly, now they are toilet trained, sleeping through the night and happy to amuse themselves, they make for pretty lacklustre blog fodder, when Mini had to pull a stroke of epic proportions.

As many will know from watching her grow up from a precocious 2 year old to a Diva-ish 5, Mini has long hair. She always has had long hair, and she's been to a hair dressers only a few times. Yes, the length of her hair is annoying and takes ages to plait before school, not to mention to comb the two times she got nits last year, but its worth it.

Well, it was.

Mini: Not Such a Fitting Nickname Anymore

Mini, as you know, is now 5, and to be fair I was always told that starting school has a big effect on a child and their life.


I wasn't quite expecting her to change quite so drastically though. Until a few months back, she was still quite happy to watch pre-school TV on CBeebies, listen to nursery rhyme albums at bedtime, and generally was just the same old Mini. 

The changes have been subtle but rapid. She has lost those baby features of her face, the chubby cheeks have gone and she looks staggeringly grown up- her height helps and she is often mistaken for two or three years older than her age on a weekend. She is super skinny, mainly down to her being unwell for four days after Britmums Live, so we are feeding her up again, but you'd think she has hollow legs as, no matter how many rich dishes I shovel in, she has hip bones teens would kill for. Her hair has gone from just one colour to having streaks of gold and brown that a hair dresser would be proud of achieving.


Its not just the physical either. She is less likely to throw tantrums, but she is a big softy. I had to ban her from watching The Voice in the end because, when the chairs didn't turn for a singer, she got very upset on their behalf. She cried at Toy Story as well. I now find myself checking the content of programmes just in case! ET, for example, has been deemed a total non starter.


She has started throwing in words like "actually,""fabulous" and "gorgeous" when she talks, 95% of these are appropriately used and its comical when she does use them- she told her brother he looked "gorgeous and super cute" when he came down from getting dressed at the weekend. 


Then there is her love of different music. She loves Jessie J (although the album was downloaded we had to remove certain songs. I didn't really fancy her singing Do It Like a Dude). She has suddenly developed an appreciation of Justin Bieber (a cross I feel  I have to bear after insulting my parent's ears with years of Take That) and has a poster of him next to her bed now. Which I have caught her saying goodnight to.


She's not so nervous now, and fiercely gaining independence from us both. She went to a friend's party on Saturday and usually wants me to stay. This time, she told me to leave and come back later. She's also been helping when the Nursery children pop into her class to see what it's like there for September when they move up a year. Her teacher, who once found her a bit noisy and babyish when upset now says she's one of the most naturally caring children she's ever met, always ready to dish out hugs whenever needed.


Sometimes, when she turns round, I hardly recognise my little girl as this child she is now. She is such a pretty thing and her face is changing as the baby features leave.


Along with the baby features, my little Mini is not so Miniature anymore. But its lovely to watch the changes.

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Jubilee Outfit: 50 Ways to Use A Union Jack

After my post bemoaning the Bratling's school and it's lack of notice about the need for Jubilee costumes, I thought I'd share my handiwork with you.


I can sum it up by saying that, should any publisher's need someone to write a book entitled "50 Ways to Use a £2 Union Jack and a String of Bunting," I'm the girl to ask.


The thing is, I'm a perfectionist, especially when it comes to my kids. I can't help it, I just want them to look great, whether that be by always buying them nice (but not necessarily designer) clothes, or by dressing them in a well made costume. 


It went well, I have to say. Although I am shattered from staying up late, my fingers ache from sewing and sticking pins in the tips of my fingers by accident, and I have super glue stuck on my nails (which wont come off), but the beeps from car horns and the smiles and "wows" made it all worth it. 


We've also decided to take the Brats to the Jubilee Pageant as part of Maidenhead Carnival this Sunday. 


So, here they are, Mini and Littlest in their costumes:

I'll take a few more later, so I can show the full length of Mini's skirt, which, in the end was hand stitched as my sister in law had given her sewing machine away! That worked out better though or I'd have probably blown myself up trying to plug it.

Birthday Party Countdown- 1 Month to Go!

It is Mini's 5th Birthday next month, and now she's at school, she's excited about it and has been for months.

Literally, since just after we threw the last piece of Christmas wrapping paper out for the recycling, she has been asking about her birthday. What are we going to do for it? Can she have a party? Can she have a big cake? You get the idea.


Over the weekend, we finally sat down to officially plan the party itself. We don't mind her having a small party, after all it's a bunch of easy to please 4 and 5 year olds, so a bit of cake and a couple of rounds of pin the tail on the donkey like days gone by parties from my youth will be OK, right?

Mini's Outfit of the Week (The Scruff Edition)

It's Saturday, there's no school today, so here we have Mini's latest offering in the 4 nearly 5 style stakes.


Its a mixed bag today, and slightly delayed due to massive tantrums over what she would and wouldn't be able to do today. I want her to tidy her epic tip of a room, she has other ideas along the lines of making more mess and Mummy doing the tidying on Monday. 

The Gallery: Expressions

Its been a while since I joined in with The Gallery, and this week I am actually going to cheat slightly. 


However, it may be a video, but the way in which Littlest's expression changes in, is excellent. That and I have no idea how to screen grab from video!

And here's some pics too of both the kids and their ever changing expressions

Tired and cross face

Happy with headphones on!

The "would you be happy wearing this wig" face

Boo!

Happy face!

Oi, You, What's Wrong With My Child?

I have got the hump.

I shouldn't but I have. 

In my capacity of Mum to the Bratlings, I feel that it is my duty to defend my children no matter what. To nurture them and to encourage them to be confident and follow their dreams. 

I also feel that if a random fat kid at nursery is rude about them, they have no reason to, and I should stand up for my children.

Now, when Mini says "X child at playschool bited me", I immediately want to know why they bit her, what M the nursery lady did about it (quite frankly if a child hurts my child I'm all for corporal punishment making a comeback), and if she is OK. 

Mini is a happy little soul, and even if she feels ill she will still want to go to playschool regardless. I even said I'd let her bunk off on Tuesday and come girly shopping with me, but she got very cross with me, and told me she was going to playschool. In fact I missed her company so much that I got the train at 9.47am, and was back on a train home by 11.43am, in time to pick her up at 12.15. Even though Elder had given me the credit card and told me to spend what I wanted.

Every morning, she gets very excited on the walk to Playschool, we leave at ten to nine and wander down the hill. She starts by saying good morning to people, complete randoms whom she has never met before, and then progresses onto saying hello to the digger outside the hire shop, the park and the green man on the crossings.

By the time we get to the playschool doors, she is almost foaming with excitement and happiness.

We generally get there at the same time as J and his Mummy, so we all have a chat. At a few minutes before quarter past, the other children and their parents start to arrive. There are only 11-15 children per day at playschool, its very small and based in a mobile classroom outhouse thing near the river, down a private road. That's why I chose it, for its tiny cottage feel, rather than Mini being lost in a sea of busy children. It has helped her grow in confidence a great deal.

She says hello to all the kids and their parents, and obviously, some of the shyer kids don't say it back, but that doesn't faze Mini at all.

This has been the status quo for so long now, that I just let her get on with it. 

We've had some feedback on her progress and M has said what a delight Mini is, that she's polite and a natural leader. 

We thought she was doing OK.

Well, until this morning.

As I said, not all the kids say morning or hello back, but thats normal, never bothered me.

But this morning, one of the kids who has been there before Mini started in January, a quite ridiculously fat child for her age, was told by her Mum to say hi back.

She refused, and in a loud whisper, obviously designed so everyone heard her, the snotty little child said 

"No, I hate her. I don't like Chrissy at all."

Right. 

Her Mum didn't apologise, never even looked our way. But I was quite upset. 

I wanted to ask what was wrong with my child, what Mini had done to upset her? Mini was really happy when she came in, she likes everyone, but this horrid child has decided that such is her dislike of Mini that she will be deliberately rude and nasty in front of me, Mini, J and his Mum and another Mum and her daughter. We all looked quite embarrassed. Luckily Mini didn't hear.

I didn't know whether I should say anything to M or not, or take it up with this awful child's Mum? 

What is the protocol for this kind of thing?

Frankly, I wanted to give the horrid little creature who was so unnecessarily mean about my child a clip round the ear. But obviously that's not allowed in polite society.

Myself and J's Mum, who obviously twigged how annoyed I was, told me not to take any notice- that the child in question isn't exactly popular with the other kids (her son has been there for as long as the girl), and that she is just one of those children who will be the misery guts frowning in school pictures. She said she generally sits in a corner being nasty to the other children, and that M had tried to sort her out to no avail.

Now, my sensible side says that at times, Mini can be over powering. She can be really annoying with all her dancing, singing and bubbliness. She can be like an over eager puppy. But is that a reason to hate her?

She is also quite a pretty child, and I do make sure she is always dressed really well, even at playschool- never has my daughter gone out in tracksuit bottoms or an old top. Her hair is always tidy. People remark on Mini the stylish (in fact just yesterday H who helps M run Playschool said exactly that). But that's purely because I wouldn't and have never gone out in tracksuit bottoms myself, and would never drop her off without clean hair and make up on. 

Is this why the child, who is halfway to growing a 'tache, is so anti Mini?

So, what would you, or have you done in this situation?

Mini Moments: The Origins Of Mini

CyberMummy held lots of laughs and surprises but the biggest surprise of all has led to this post.

I have never thought about it, but obviously not everyone who is reading this blog has read it before. 

Some of you may have been reading for a few days since CyberMummy, or seeing me on the Gurgle's nominee or winner lists. Some of you could have been reading a matter of weeks, or better still, months. And only a handful of people will have taken up the scary task of reading it from Day 1. 

It was, however, a shock when I was discussing the children with a fellow Mummy Blogger and was referring to Chrissy Mai. 

They looked as if they were following me, until they waited for me to finish, and then, looking confused, said:

"Oh, I didn't know you had another daughter. Why do you not blog about her too?"

It was because I was referring to Mini as her actual name, not the name that I call her here.

In fact, even Mini has very little grasp of her actual name, such is the length of time that we have referred to her as Mini.

The lady at Playschool does try and call her Chrissy, yet even she has all but given up now, such is the blank stare/ignorance of being called Chrissy.

So, where did the nickname come from, and why is it so often used that very few people know her by her name?

Well, first up, when she was born, in fact before she was born, we had always said she was to be called Chrissy. It was Elder's Mum's name, and being that Elder is traditional, he wouldn't hear of any other name, not that I disagreed.

The middle name was a sticking point, but we finally went for Mai. Purely because my friend Jodie was discussing her middle name, and I loved the sound of it.

So, that was settled.

Meanwhile, The Nephew was living with us in Kent. 

Cue first variation of nickname.

Just to confuse everyone more, her first nickname was Missy Moo. Bestowed upon her by The Nephew.

Moo is kind of similar to his little sister (and our nieces) nickname Noo Noo (like the Hoover in Teletubbies). Which I thought was very sweet, as Elder had been around when The Nephew was born so it felt quite Wurthers Original advert.

Missy? Well, I thought how sweet on that one too.

Until I found out that, being that he is such a lady killer, The Nephew, on answering his mobile or messenger, never refers to lambs to the slaughter girls by their christian name. Oh no. 

The clever so and so refers to all of them, without fail, as Missy.

(I later found out this was stolen from Elder's variation of "Love". And yes, the first time he phoned me he referred to me as love too).

Took the shine off that nickname I can tell you.

Cue nickname two, and current so-longstanding-everyone (including Mini herself) has no idea her name is actually Chrissy.

M

Due to my having a photo taken of the pair of us for Real People by Elder. And everyone remarking how alike we both are. 

Shockingly so in fact-same smile and everything! I just hope she doesn't get my nose, or I'll be saving for two nose jobs rather than one by the time she's 13 (when I first realised what a Bastard nose I possessed, not because I'd force my offspring to have surgery).

So, Mini stuck, a she is a Mini-ature me.

Gawd help us all!

So, whats the origins of your nicknames?