A friend of mine just moved to the area and wanted a housecleaner. I said I would ask our cleaner, Ivana, if she was taking on new clients. Ivana is from Poland and very hard working. She lives here with her 14-year-old daughter; they have a flat in the center of …
Last year I made a huge effort to get the girls to eat "regular" food (as in not "kid food"). Though sausages and baked beans and fish fingers were popular and fairly easy to make, I knew it was time to make the switch. I was also tired of preparing two meals … one for them and one for me and my husband. After lots or trial and error, it worked! Now I get really excited when I find a recipe that we all love. Especially one with a really cool name. Here's how the conversation at the Scott household went last night:
What's for dinner mum?
Dirty rice.
Giggles.
You mean we're eating DIRT?
Imagine having three children in less than three years (no multiples, I’m talking every 13 months or so). Three different sized nappies. A fridge of bottles, parsnip puree, cheese squares and carrot batons. Did you know, BTW, it’s nearly impossible to find a good pushchair for three. Our local school thinks it is really funny …
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The lovely Karen at The Rubbish Diet has asked me to talk about compost.
I can just see your eyes glazing over now.
Wait! Don't hit delete.
Composting is easy. If I can do it then the barrier to entry is obviously not very high 😉
In my experience, charity dinners are usually the result of the hard work of at least five mums. The committee is formed eight months before the event, and it meets at least twice a month. Hours are spent agonising over chicken dijon or beef medallions and if it should be black tie or let's be crazy, how about a Bollywood theme? Activity increases to a crescendo in the last three weeks leading up to THE EVENT. Are the raffle tickets back? Can you go to HobbyCraft to pick up silver coated twigs? And some white silk lillis? More meetings. Lots of phone calls. Texts. Add it all up and it must be at least 200+ woman hours. 160 coffees. 240 chocolate digestives. Not to mention the lost sleep.
I first thought about this in relation to blogging thanks to Jen at Alpha Mummy. She had just been to Blogher and Megan from Velveteen Mind had posed the question. Anyway, it's been bouncing around in my mind for a little while now and has been itching to come out…
Is being a good writer enough anymore?
If you don't care about readers, comments, and community – the kind of stuff that rattles around in my mind– stop reading this post RIGHT NOW. It will just annoy you. Then you will annoy me by writing some sort of "anti post" that is not "meant to be interpreted as an attack" (BTW – if you have to say that it obviously is). Just humour me and go somewhere else. Thanks.
I did my time yesterday. Lunch duty. I was in the hall with about 150 kids and trays and trays of fish and chips.
After pouring 100 glasses of water (half-full, so the little ones don't spill) I looked out upon the sea of children. The floor was slightly damp from the rain and the greasy smell of chips permeated the air. Groups of friends were talking. The buzz loud, but comforting. I saw my youngest (nearly 5!) with rosy cheeks, laughing with her "boy" friend. She was surrounded by a table of other 4 and 5 year-olds. She looked happy.
FYI — we were given this DVD to review.
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I've put my (nearly) eight-year-old to work. Here's her first review: the DVD Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
It was great! It was about a boy called "Flint." He changed water to food with a machine he invented. It wasn't a very good idea because there was a spaghetti and meatball tornado. Then giant food rolled to all the people all over the world while Flint was trying to turn the machine down.
At the start it rained hamburgers. The next day it rained orange juice, bacon, eggs, and toast for breakfast. Then it rained ice cream for Calum's birthday (the police man's son).
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