Author: toughmotheruk

A rule for life.

That’s what my son, 10, announced the other day.

I had to stop what I was doing to listen to this gem of wisdom.

You should never drink orange juice after brushing your teeth.

He’s set for life…

As the snow failed to deliver, our new favourite lockdown activity has been getting out early to crack ice puddles.

The dog walkers may have been a bit bemused the other day when they saw said son rolling around on the ground in his ski gear, sans snow (luckily the deer poo was frozen). Or when they saw him lying on ice to see if it would break. Or when they saw me rescuing him from that ice when he realised it would break if he tried to stand up.

It brought back memories of racing down the hill to beat the neighbouring kids to the bus stop to break the ice there. That was much more fun than the trek back up the hill in the afternoon (although it has been very handy to roll out as example of how much harder we had it when I was growing up).

They are obviously very grateful.

But they have discovered another rule for life….

Make sure the water doesn’t go over the top of your gumboots.

We’re two weeks into the new term of Home Academy Primary…

I have to admit I was a bit dark for a couple of days when the return to home schooling was announced. I had got my head around a fortnight as we’re in the local London lockdown, but to have it increase to six weeks with the prospect of the whole term took a bit longer.

Obviously, logically I know we are lucky with our set up, and we’re in a much better position than many others, but it is hard not to think wistfully of NZ, and the prospect of roaming free, without thinking about masks, (un)social distancing, hand sanitiser, and English lessons.

However, we seem to be getting into a routine. The idiom lesson was quite fun. Rattle your dags anyone?

Although once noticed, it’s hard to unnotice just how many idioms I use…

We’re also part way through a science experiment. My hypothesis is the fizzy drinks were necessary so that the kids could drink the half not needed, and that the length of the experiment will be a factor of how quickly the milk will take to go bad.

Eggs anyone?

So it’s not the Christmas we were expecting. This year was to be spent in NZ. The first time we’d been back for a family Christmas in six years.

It went the way of most plans this year.

Admittedly, I was pretty grateful it meant we didn’t have to quarantine for two weeks, the four of us, in a hotel room. Somehow I don’t think we would have all come out of it in one piece…

Instead, the kids went shopping for presents independently for the first time, we’ve done a tour of local parks, and my daughter explained that we’ll have to wear face masks this evening so Santa can come to visit. Of course, he’ll need one too (that can cover his beard) as he’ll be visiting lots of households this evening.

So that answers the question about whether she still believes then…

The turkey has been collected after some festive, socially distanced, best of British queueing, the presents are wrapped and the negotiations for opening said presents has begun.

Now we just have to find some hand sanitiser for Santa…

Last week, my work did an update which finished off with Alicia Keys playing a few songs. It was quite surreal having her playing in my ‘office’ (aka bedroom).

My daughter sitting on my knee for ‘Girl on fire’ was pretty inspiring.

My son then walked in and broke down when he realised that dad was out and he only had me to solve the problem of a too large glue stick for a glue gun needed to complete his rocket homework assignment.

Luckily with a knife and a cutting board anything is achievable (the potato peeler was quickly discarded, and I can confirm no one ate the ‘cheese’).

It was at the point of gluing one of the thrusters to the rocket (successfully I might add) that he observed he had not asked me to help sooner as I am “not very detailed or precise”.

I replied that actually people at my work probably think I am fairly detailed and precise.

He looked slightly aghast and replied “That surprises me mum.”

Obviously, my Lego Avoidance strategy has been extremely successful!

I was organising to meet up with one of the other mums from my daughter’s class the other day, when my daughter asked if we were going to be friends.

Laughing, I said I wasn’t sure!

She then observed that both of us were married to people with the same name…

That she was really funny… and I was quite funny.

That she had cool hair… and mine was ok.

So… I should go for it.

And then skipped off to school.

Well, at least I know what’s important and where I stand!

According to scientific studies, girls apparently mature quicker than boys.

So to put this to the test, we carried out an unscientific study the other day to check the emotional intelligence of our children.

We were introducing them to more classic movies and my husband casually asked what does Marion mean when she says “cheers” to Robin (Prince of Thieves, of course).

10 year old boy: Um, thanks?!

8 year old daughter: well you see, Marion really likes Robin, but is feeling a little bit embarrassed and awkward so says the first thing that comes to mind…

I’m now wondering whether we will get a different response in 10 or 20 years’ time, or whether both have hit peak maturity…?

You know your kids are growing up when….

My daughter told me I needed to organise a surprise birthday celebration for her dad.

This was announced on the way to school. As his favourite food was burgers, we could do that, and we (me) could make a cake that looked like a burger (obviously).

And because we were only allowed six people, she and her brother could go for a sleep over.

And we probably shouldn’t tell her brother yet because he isn’t good at keeping a secret…

Sorted.

It was an anxious few days as COVID looked to throw a spanner in the works. Again.

But our luck held and more brits were introduced to the magic of egg and barbecued pineapple in a burger.

To the counter staff at the Scilly airport.

I have been meaning to write for a while, about two years in fact, to say thank you.

I was the woman lugging multiple bags and two children in one morning out of the lashing rain. We were supposed to be taking the ferry, which one of the kids had been looking forward to very much. So much so, that he was fighting me every step of the way. Literally.

You stayed cool, even as I had him under one arm kicking and screaming, while piling the bags on the carousel. You found a way to get us on a flight so we could get back home as quickly as possible. You explained that the ferry tickets were transferable so it wasn’t as much as I feared.

Your understanding and patience was priceless.

Your help meant we made it home to see my mother in law before she died. It gave me some special time with her, my husband and his family so we could say goodbye.

So thank you.

P.S. my son is still disappointed he didn’t see a whale on the way back so hopefully we’ll be back sometime soon!

One of my husband’s goals this year was to run a half marathon.

Obviously COVID threw a spanner in the works. The race was delayed from May, then to October and is now maybe in November.

So there was a wee change of plan. Instead of running 21k with lots of people, a few weeks out from the new date, he decided to do it anyway around our nearest park.

He headed out the door as the kids and I were each doing our own thing. No starting gun and definitely no fanfare.

An hour in, I rallied the troops to get ready, including water (for him) and snacks (for them). As usual, the kids took forever to get out the door, with my daughter’s usual complaints about socks and coats.

We made it just in time to catch him at the predetermined meeting place. As we followed him on our bikes for the last three k’s, my daughter pulled out a medal she’d been awarded in her running club.

For Dad’s big achievement.

This heartwarming gesture wasn’t even undermined when she didn’t make it to the finish line due to the emergency snack break… or when she said he could only have it for a week…

Although asking for half his celebratory bacon sandwich was a step too far.

The previous update was a bit of a cliffhanger. So what happened next in the saga of the couch to 5km?

There was quite a lot of debate of what an appropriate reward would be.

The initial suggestion (not mine) of an Oreo milkshake after every run was quickly rejected (by me – in case there was any doubt). It did clarify that I meant a non-food related reward.

Beating her brother was not sufficiently motivating.

So we settled on a trip to the cinema to see Trolls World Tour after the tenth run.

Runs 5 – 10 were actually rather pleasant. Not a lot of whinging, although I swear there was some definite feet dragging. Any slower and we would have been moving backwards due to the earth’s rotational force.

That did result in some encouragement that had innocent bystanders in the park looking around for my dog.

And I am still scarred by the deep philosophical conversation we had about social injustice, while she was holding a toy gun, and playing the birdie dance (yes, there were innocent bystanders then too).

But we did get there – to the end of ten runs that is, not the 5k. And we both earned the trip to the cinema.

My Spotify predictions are still recovering from the experience…