My husband is away at his work Christmas party so I settle into a night at home with my baked potato and an episode of Grand Designs.
I decide to retire to bed early with a pile of unread magazines. The house is blissfully quiet and as I update myself on the latest celebrity gossip, the stresses and strains of motherhood momentarily drift away.
Just as I switch off the light, my daughter appears. “Mummy, I just wanted to check you weren’t feeling lonely,” she says. She looks longingly at the space beside me. I pull back the covers and in she climbs. I drift off to the sound of her voice running through her class register alphabetically.
The pounding of small feet running along the landing into my bedroom suddenly wakes me. The Toddler appears beside the bed; his face inches away from mine. “I need the loo,” he announces. He hops from side to side shrieking that he needs my help. I relent and prop myself up against the bathroom wall trying to keep my eyes closed. “Can I have my breakfast?” he asks. I quickly try to dampen his eagerness to start the day. He begins to cry. I scoop him up fearful that he might wake the Baby and settle him in bed beside my daughter. He wriggles and kicks for the next hour or so but eventually we drift back to sleep.
Suddenly another small figure runs into the room and makes a giant leap onto the bed. It is the six-year-old mumbling something about Sarah Jane’s adventures. I curl up on the very edge of the bed embraced tightly by the Toddler.
Just as I am beginning to drift off again I hear a familiar noise. It is intermittent at first and then more constant. The Baby is awake. I glance at the clock. It is 4.30am. I briefly consider surrendering and going downstairs to prepare the lunch boxes. After settling the Baby I head back to my room to discover the three other children asleep, sprawled across the bed. With not an inch of mattress to spare I head back to my son’s now vacant bed and clamber in.
If I am lucky I can get another hour and a half in before they work out where I am.
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
Friday, 11 December 2009
Father Christmas On Line
This morning Father Christmas sent the children an e-mail. It seems even Santa Claus is now surfing the world wide web and probably Twitters away whilst logging in to check his Facebook page.
Via his Portable North Pole console, Father Christmas now has a video link. He sits in his chair in the North Pole and talks to each child. The children were mesmerized as they opened their e-mails to discover Father Christmas welcoming them personally. He invites them into this study where he opens his book telling him all about the children. The book cleverly displays a photo of the child and he refers to their hair and eye colour.
The three-year-old hides under the table as Father Christmas congratulates him on remembering to brush his teeth before bed. Once he has overcome his shyness, he begins nodding and answering Father Christmas’ questions. “Is he ‘skyping’ us?” says my rather confused seven-year-old daughter. In a round about way I reply. Our six-year-old is praised for not having tantrums anymore and our daughter for going to bed when she is asked. Even the Baby is congratulated on eating all his vegetable mush. Much to the older two children’s delight he lets them into some of his inner secrets. He describes how he manages to visit every child in the world in one night, how his reindeer fly and how he finds out which children have been good.
In our house we take on our own childhood tradition of writing a letter to Father Christmas on Christmas Eve. We sit round the fire toasting marshmallows and then post the letters up the chimney. The children run outside to watch the sparks floating off to the North Pole. I wonder whether Father Christmas and his interactive on-line web page might have an impact on our rather simple tradition.
Sure enough, that evening when I put the children to bed their minds are buzzing with excitement over the personal video link. My seven-year-old is clearly impressed by Father Christmas’ technical ability. “Mummy, does this mean we should e-mail our list to Father Christmas on Christmas Eve now?” she asks. “Absolutely not,” I reply. “Father Christmas loves letters.” My six-year-old adds, “He’s probably got an ‘iPhone’ though so he can check his e-mails while he’s on his sleigh.” I do hope not.
Via his Portable North Pole console, Father Christmas now has a video link. He sits in his chair in the North Pole and talks to each child. The children were mesmerized as they opened their e-mails to discover Father Christmas welcoming them personally. He invites them into this study where he opens his book telling him all about the children. The book cleverly displays a photo of the child and he refers to their hair and eye colour.
The three-year-old hides under the table as Father Christmas congratulates him on remembering to brush his teeth before bed. Once he has overcome his shyness, he begins nodding and answering Father Christmas’ questions. “Is he ‘skyping’ us?” says my rather confused seven-year-old daughter. In a round about way I reply. Our six-year-old is praised for not having tantrums anymore and our daughter for going to bed when she is asked. Even the Baby is congratulated on eating all his vegetable mush. Much to the older two children’s delight he lets them into some of his inner secrets. He describes how he manages to visit every child in the world in one night, how his reindeer fly and how he finds out which children have been good.
In our house we take on our own childhood tradition of writing a letter to Father Christmas on Christmas Eve. We sit round the fire toasting marshmallows and then post the letters up the chimney. The children run outside to watch the sparks floating off to the North Pole. I wonder whether Father Christmas and his interactive on-line web page might have an impact on our rather simple tradition.
Sure enough, that evening when I put the children to bed their minds are buzzing with excitement over the personal video link. My seven-year-old is clearly impressed by Father Christmas’ technical ability. “Mummy, does this mean we should e-mail our list to Father Christmas on Christmas Eve now?” she asks. “Absolutely not,” I reply. “Father Christmas loves letters.” My six-year-old adds, “He’s probably got an ‘iPhone’ though so he can check his e-mails while he’s on his sleigh.” I do hope not.
Friday, 4 December 2009
Food Tasting Day
It suddenly occurred to me the other day that I am not a big fan of vegetables. Despite my desperate attempts to maintain a flourishing vegetable patch and my joy at feeding the children our home-grown vegetables I am ashamed to admit that I am more of a frozen pea kind of girl. I religiously encourage my children to eat their five-a-day. I regularly tell them how much faster they will run and how they will crack their times tables in record speed if they eat that large sprig of broccoli.
Our village school recently decided to hold a ‘food tasting’ day for the children. The objective was to encourage every child to try a selection of fruit and vegetables that they might not have tried before. A good idea I thought and a relief to have conquered the five-a-day consumption by lunchtime. The school were looking for some volunteers to help prepare the food. I jumped at it, along with some other mothers, thinking it would make a nice change from loading the washing machine.
We arrived to find large crates stacked full of pumpkins, papayas, sharon fruit, celeriac and countless other produce. It was our good friends at Waitrose who had come up trumps and generously decided to support us. We all marvelled at the food and even I had to admit that it looked quite appealing. Our headmistress popped her head round the corner and casually dropped in that the tasting would be at 10.30am. That gave us one hour to peel, chop and in some cases cook 160 portions. We searched the small school kitchen for peelers, knives and chopping boards and then began our monumental task. Whilst peeling 35 parsnips with a blunt peeler and very sore fingers, I decided that parsnips were definitely axed from the Christmas lunch menu.
We accelerated our chopping at an impressive rate as the countdown began. This was ‘Ready Steady Chop’ personified. Finally, we hit the deadline and the children began their tasting. Thankfully they all enjoyed it and I am told the sharon fruit was a big hit with the aubergine not being quite as appealing to 160 small taste buds.
That afternoon my children arrived back from school chatting excitedly about the Tasting. They both keenly asked what we were having for supper. “Please can we have parsnips,” said my six-year-old. “No, it’s frozen peas tonight,” I quickly replied.
Our village school recently decided to hold a ‘food tasting’ day for the children. The objective was to encourage every child to try a selection of fruit and vegetables that they might not have tried before. A good idea I thought and a relief to have conquered the five-a-day consumption by lunchtime. The school were looking for some volunteers to help prepare the food. I jumped at it, along with some other mothers, thinking it would make a nice change from loading the washing machine.
We arrived to find large crates stacked full of pumpkins, papayas, sharon fruit, celeriac and countless other produce. It was our good friends at Waitrose who had come up trumps and generously decided to support us. We all marvelled at the food and even I had to admit that it looked quite appealing. Our headmistress popped her head round the corner and casually dropped in that the tasting would be at 10.30am. That gave us one hour to peel, chop and in some cases cook 160 portions. We searched the small school kitchen for peelers, knives and chopping boards and then began our monumental task. Whilst peeling 35 parsnips with a blunt peeler and very sore fingers, I decided that parsnips were definitely axed from the Christmas lunch menu.
We accelerated our chopping at an impressive rate as the countdown began. This was ‘Ready Steady Chop’ personified. Finally, we hit the deadline and the children began their tasting. Thankfully they all enjoyed it and I am told the sharon fruit was a big hit with the aubergine not being quite as appealing to 160 small taste buds.
That afternoon my children arrived back from school chatting excitedly about the Tasting. They both keenly asked what we were having for supper. “Please can we have parsnips,” said my six-year-old. “No, it’s frozen peas tonight,” I quickly replied.
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