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Street Signs

As I’ve been driving around Christchurch over the last six months I have seen loads of street names that mean something to me.  Either they are of a place back in the UK or they are the name of a friend or family member.  So I thought I would start taking pictures of them.  I have ideas of making them into something to put on a wall somewhere, but for the time being I am going to share them with you.

First one.

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I used to live very near the River Mersey and now I live near to this street.  It’s nice to think that we are not the first people to have come over here from Merseyside.  Mersey Street is actually a very pretty, tree lined avenue so whoever named this street must have had good memories of Liverpool.  Much like me.

Potential

One day back somewhere I must have done one of those personality type test things that you often have to do as part of a training day when you work for a company.  I remember very little from these training days other than, sitting in an airless room doing silly tests with a bunch of equally uninterested adults is a drag.  One thing I did learn, that has stuck with me, is that I am a Completer Finisher.  Essentially I like to get things done, fully.  I don’t like to procrastinate, I am not a perfectionist but I absolutely hate being halfway.

I’ve been thinking about this character trait for the last few days and I see how much it effects my life.  One of the ways being a Completer Finisher outworks itself, is that I am uncomfortable with potential.  What I mean is that as soon as I identify potential, in anything or in any form, I get twitchy until it is realised.  Let me give you some real life examples and I know when my family read this they are going to agree wholeheartedly as these are the things that have made me very hard to live with over the years.  And yet they love me still…

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Impatience: I hate to wait for anything.  When I see something that can be done, then I want it done as soon as possible.  My son walking for instance.  He’s the right age, he can walk while we hold his hands, there’s even a glimmer of him wanting to walk but does he do it!!??  Untapped potential.

Dislike of surprises: you might think this is an odd fit for this discussion but the more I have thought about it I do think it’s connected.  It makes me think of when my sister was planning a party for me, can’t remember if it was a birthday party or my hen night but I asked her so many questions about it that she finally blew up and told me I was a control freak and a horrible person to plan anything for.  Or the fact that when my husband proposed to me with a surprise trip to Paris I ended up bursting into tears because I couldn’t cope with the fact I didn’t know what was going to happen next.  This need to know what’s going to happen is obviously about control but I think that comes from the fact that I like to see something to completion, I want to know how things will end, what is the finish point.  To know that in advance, gives me a peace.  This is also why if you tell me the end of a film before I have watched it, I won’t be angry, I like to know, it makes the film far more enjoyable for me when I know where it’s taking me.

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Inability to enjoy now/what I have: this is a particular bug bear of my husband and the source of many arguments in our household.  Above is a picture of our kitchen in the new house in Christchurch.  It’s a very nice, fully functioning kitchen.  But there is so much more potential for it to be better.  I have a list in my mind of all the things I want to do in our house to make it complete, to make it what I know it could be, to make it our home.  We’ve run out of cash until I get a job so we have to wait, which in a way is good because we may well change our mind about what is best for the house as we live in it longer.  But that list haunts me everyday, I want to get through it, I want to finish the changes and I won’t settle until we do.  Sorry honey, I can’t help it, I really can’t!

Frustration: I get frustrated.  Sometimes the need to see something completed and my inability to do just that can be too much for me to bear and I explode with frustration.  This can make for a volatile house mate for my family.  Best thing to do when this happens, send me out for a run.

All that said, I do think being a Completer Finisher is not all bad and certainly in work it’s a useful trait but I can see it makes me tough to be around sometimes.  Sorry.  Bear with me.

Be England What She Will

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I have been living in Christchurch, New Zealand for six months since yesterday.  This feels like it should be an anniversary that is marked in some way so I thought I would write a blog about England, or rather my missing England.

For the first five months of being here I didn’t miss England, which is testament to just how wonderful the welcome to New Zealand has been.  This place is beautiful, their way of life suits us perfectly and the people have been more welcoming than any other bunch of strangers I have ever met in my life – and I’ve been to a few new places in my time.  But about a month ago I started experiencing the odd melancholy feeling for my homeland and in the most curious moments.

The first one was brought on by Postman Pat.  My son requested it, well actually he pointed at the DVD shelves and said ‘pat pat pat’ which I translated as wanting to watch Postman Pat but I’ve since deduced that he uses this phrase for most things he wants, still can’t work out why.  Anyways as the quaint song of our favourite Royal Mail employee tinkled through our play room I felt sad that Yorkshire was so far away, those little, stone wall lined roads, rambling hills and romantic waterfalls – places I’m not going to take my children in a VERY long time now.

Another time was when I was at a baby shower and I met the larger than life father of the mum-to-be who said on reflecting about his last trip to England ‘Why would anyone live there?’ (something my own dad says all the time) and I get it, compared to here everything is so squashed and grey and people are grumpy and tired.  But there is a depth to England, it has character, it’s original, it’s well, frankly, cooler than any other country I know and I am not making a quip about the weather there.

A few days ago my sister-in-law sent me a couple of photos of her eldest daughter, one in her ballet class outfit.  It’s probably a year since we last saw her and she was the age of Minnie then, now she is nearly four.  Looking at the photo took my breath away, how much she has grown up in that time, she is a beautiful girl that doesn’t have that toddler awkwardness Minnie still has when you take a photo of her, Eleanor stared right into that lense and gave the most relaxed and warm smile you can hope for from a ballerina.  It made me sad for Minnie and Jackson that they will miss seeing their cousins as often as we would like them to.

Of course it’s my family and friends who I miss the most, and just this morning I got an email from one of my “deepest level” (I’m not explaining that term you’ll just have to work it out) friends and she was telling me about things that are hard for her and I missed home because I wanted to be with her in it.  There are celebrations there that I am missing but I am missing the fights and the struggles too because I know that’s when you have the most precious connections with people.  At the moment I am meeting amazingly lovely and truly interesting people but we’re just still sharing the nice parts of ourselves and that makes me miss my friendships at home where we know the good and the bad, the lovely and the ugly, the happy and the sad.

I miss Sainsburys, I miss Jack Wills, I miss Candy King, I miss Strictly Come Dancing, I miss my mum.

New Zealand is the best place for me and my family to live right now and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  But it’s actually very assuring that I miss my country, in the words of Charles Churchill, Be England what she will, with all her faults, I love her still.

Before and After

I took my son for his first haircut today.  This was the first haircut I have taken one of my children to.  Yes Minnie is nearly three, but she has gorgeous blonde curls so I’m just letting them grow until they turn into a bird’s nest.  Plus my sister has told me so many horror stories about how hairdressers butcher curls I feel a responsibility to protect her from the abuse.

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Before I took my son for his haircut he looked like the little baby above.

After his haircut (which ran really rather smoothly thanks to a pack of chocolate raisins) he looked like this.

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How to age your child in 15 minutes.  I now have a little boy.  Now I just need to get him to walk…

Water

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Water is a wonderful thing and now that the sun is making a meaningful appearance, my daughter is enjoying the delights of water play.  Almost every day she strips off and insists I give her a bucket of water to sit in.  Occasionally we treat her to the paddling pool but she seems just as happy with a selection of buckets and bowls to squeeze into.

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This weekend she got to enjoy water play with her friend Ethan.  And what a shocker, she kept her clothes on.  Hooray for sprinklers!

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Playing with water is such simple fun for children, and it’s actually an incredible privilege.  Nearly two million children a year die for want of clean water.  Put another way, dirty water kills 5,000 children a day.

If that makes you want to burst into tears, go to http://www.wateraid.org and give the gift of water.

Spring is Finally Here

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September 2011 to September 2012 has been a long Autumn-Winter-Autumn-Winter, so to see blossom on the trees lining Hagley Park, Christchurch has been a very wonderful thing.  So wonderful I joined the tourists one afternoon and took photos of my children in the middle of this sunny magic.

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What I’m really excited about is my little boy venturing into the world of walking in this warm, dry weather, which has timed perfectly with the inevitable tumbles and falls he’ll be taking over the coming months as he finds his feet.

There’s something so uplifting about the sun that it makes us all much happier.  Minnie has stopped squirming at the camera, which means I can stick her in a tree, point the lense her way and still get a smile.

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Taking photos of Jackson is a little trickier.  To be honest I would have tried propping him in a tree too but I think the people walking by would have frowned on it and the ever present policemen of Christchurch would have definitely pulled over and given me a ticket for it.  The result is lots of cute “tucked in the corner” photos of my son.

That said, how catalogue perfect is this one!  The blossom is that way ladies….

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As soon as the nights get lighter I’m running down here, because this long winter is ruining my healthy eating kick…starting a diet still in winter was an unwise idea….ahem…

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The answer to losing the last half stone, in fact the answer to all my winter problems, a summer.

Please don’t…

I am breaking my blogging silence for words that really haven’t been said (see title of my blog site), but they have been simmering under my breath for quite some time now.  The following is to all you mums, young and old, who come across the path of me and my little ones during our days together.  It’s a little harsh but frankly, so are you!

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When I am standing in your shop, at your till, buying whatever essential item your shop sells that my family needs to go on with its week and my son begins to cry because he hates shopping and can’t stand being stationary, strapped into his pushchair….please don’t stop what you’re doing to tell me he’s crying, to tell him he looks tired and suggest he perhaps needs to go to sleep.  Instead carry on with your job, sell me the item, take my money and you will see, the moment I get to push him out of your shop the crying will stop, he will be quiet, peace will resume without the need for any of your prescribed sleep.

If my child crawls two metres away from me when I am using both my hands to pack up our things to make an exit out of the cafe we are in, please don’t pick up my perfectly happy baby, freak him out because he has no idea who you are, and hand me my now upset child with a look that says you think me the worst mother in the world for giving my son such dangerous freedoms.  I have not taken my eyes off my child, I know where he is, I can see the obstacles before him and I have calculated that I have enough time to pack my bag, get my coat on and pick him up before any danger comes his way.  Let my son crawl!

Please don’t expect my toddler to have the maturity of a ten year old.  She is not yet three, so when she slams a door, sometimes in the face of another, please believe this wasn’t some evil plot to hurt someone, in fact it was all about the door.  Right now my daughter’s very favourite thing is changing the status of a door from open to shut and how it makes a really loud noise the harder she pushes it. I am not enjoying this phase and I am trying very hard to teach her the complex lesson of when is the right time to shut a door and with exactly how much force.  In the meantime she gets it wrong, but like all toddlers she is discovering doors for the first time (yes that’s right there weren’t any in my womb or her moses basket), so let my child be two and three quarters and stop rolling your eyes at her!

If my child coughs or has a runny nose when you see us in the park, please don’t tell me my child has a cough or a runny nose like you’re some sage pediatrician and I am some Cruella de Vil dragging out my child from its death bed to endure 20 minutes of play in the fresh air on a sunny day.  Do you not think that out of all the people in the park it will be the child’s mother, who is standing right next to them, has been with them all day since they woke this morning, carried them for nine months in her womb, went through labour to bring them into the world, has given up hours of her sleep to nurse them, has changed 95% of their nappies, provides all their food and who loves them more than themselves, that this mother is acutely aware her child has a cough and runny nose and has decided that fresh air whilst wrapped up in a vest, t-shirt, jumper and coat is the best thing for them?  If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

I could go on but that’s enough to lighten my chest.  Seriously, you are mothers, if you aren’t still at my stage then you have been here at some point.  I am not the perfect mother, I don’t always have it together and my children aren’t robots.  But I am the mother of my children, I know them better than you, God gave me the job of bringing them up so let me do it, just as I let you mother your children your way and give your children the benefit of the doubt when they do something seemingly naughty.

Please do give me encouragement, thoughtful help, kind words and sometimes some privacy!

Pretty as a Butterfly

We went to the Farmer’s Market for our gourmet porridge yesterday morning like we do most Saturdays (I ran there so totally earned my whisky soaked raisins and vanilla custard topping). 

A new thing this weekend was face painting, I was tempted but instead we spent our $2 on Minnie.

This is for the grandparents, enjoy.

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Frittata

In one of my previous blogs I said I hated eggs so it may come as a surprise that essentially I’ve cooked an omelete for my children.  I’m pretty shocked I went for it myself but not as shocked as I was when my children LOVED THEM.  Which is why I have decided to recommend it, I mean who knew!

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This recipe is from the River Cottage Baby & Toddler Cookbook.  This is a good book and they don’t shove their organically charged aspirations down your throat as much as you may think.

As they say, you can put in almost any vegetable into this recipe and I would also be tempted to add in crispy bacon, chorizo or cooked chicken.  What I’ve written below is my adaption of the recipe – if you want the original, buy the book you probably won’t regret it.

Recipe:

350g new potatoes (cooked)

2 tbsp olive oil

1 yellow pepper

8 cherry tomatoes

Handful of frozen corn

Handful of frozen peas

Bunch of spring onions

5 eggs

100g hard cheese (I mixed Cheddar and Parmesan)

Chop up the potatoes into cubes, cover with water and bring to the boil.  Simmer until tender. Lightly beat the eggs and season.  Heat the oil in a frying pan, add the spring onions and peppers and fry for five minutes, until soft and browned round the edges. Add the cubed potatoes and toss around until crisped up.  Add the peas and corn.  Finally add the cherry tomatoes chopped in half. Make sure the ingredients are distributed evenly around the pan.

Now pour in the beaten eggs.  Don’t move the egg around, just keep the pan over a medium heat and let it set slowly.  After around five minutes, the base of the frittata will be set but the top will be wet.

Sprinkle the cheese over the top then put the frittata under the grill for 3-5 minutes, until cooked through and golden brown on top.  This is best served warm.  My children got to have ketchup with it, when they’re older I would make a salad.

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Notes:

I cooked this at lunchtime when I have a little time (pre-dinner time is generally an outing to the park or play in the house so no time for beating an egg!) wrapped it in foil and then put it under the grill for another five minutes to heat up before we ate.

Obviously you could make this, let it cool, wrap it up and present it for lunch the next day.

They both enjoyed eating it with their fingers and dipping each mouthful in tomato sauce – messy but plates were cleaned – job done.

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Thick Vegetable Soup

This recipe is very basic and therefore adaptable.  I am just giving you one example but there are many variants. It’s really more a principle that I am sharing here, which is, if you want to get vegetables into your children, have soup at lunch time.  My little boy has been harder than his sister to wean, and I cried a lot weaning her.  One of Jackson’s top three annoying-to-feed features is he doesn’t want to eat vegetables or fruit so I have to adapt.  I make fruit puree which he eats every breakfast with yogurt and five days out of the week we will have vegetable soup at lunch time.  This may change when we get into the hotter months.

I generally use three vegetables from the following; carrot, swede, leek, parsnip, sweet potato, pepper, tomato, squash, pumpkin.

This is the soup for the next few days (I make a batch and don’t worry if I serve it two days in a row – it’s only lunch).

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(I will try to improve my food photography!)

Recipe:

Olive oil or butter

1-2 cloves of garlic (chopped)

3 carrots, 1 parsnip, 1/2 a swede (chopped)

450 ml of chicken or vegetable stock (don’t use the low salt stuff, your child eating vegetables is the priority here)

Heat the fat for 20 seconds in a pan. Add in the garlic and stir for two minutes. Add all the vegetables and stir for one minute. Add the stock and bring to the boil.  Once bubbling, turn down the heat so it simmers and leave for 45 minutes until the vegetables are nice and soft. Turn off heat and leave to stand for 10 minutes.  Get a stick blender and blend until smooth and thick (you will need to use your judgment on if you need to remove or add liquid before you blend).  Serve with granary bread or toast.

Notes.

I make two batches a week and I make it in the morning so I can have the first lunch from it on the same day it’s made.  Then I put it in a Tupperware in the fridge and heat up portions for lunches later in the week.

I make it in the morning, after breakfast because once it’s all in the pan simmering, I can go off and get the children ready, have a shower and tidy the kitchen in the time it’s cooking, then I just blend and leave it on the hob when we leave the house for the morning.

It’s great to take out, heated in a flask with a couple of slices of buttered bread.

If you use parsnip, add a teaspoon of sugar as it can be bitter.

On the days when we have had vegetable soup, if my one year old swerves the vegetables served in the evening meal I don’t sweat it because I know he’s had three already that day.   That said I always offer him at least 2-3 more vegetables within his evening meal, because one day he will choose to love them or, once he understands words, he will be forced to love them, whichever comes first.