Dear School..............

I love my children, I truly do, each and every one. I love them all in different ways. I love their quirks and their funny personalities, some of which are only just beginning to emerge. I love that our home is a madhouse full of laughter and fun. I love that when our brood have their friends to play my workload is not increased because I am used to making a mountain of meals and drinks. I love that their friends choose this house to congregate in. In summer our home resembled a half way house most days but that is fine by me.  I love the busy days filled with activity and chaos. I can honestly say I am never bored!

There are days when I am sure everyone has gone bonkers. I heard Steve shouting one day so I went into the kitchen asking him what the matter was, he replied that he was just shouting at the cutlery! No, I still have no idea either but this sort of thing happens here all the time . At the same moment  Elisha was prowling the house declaring that she wished she was mad making us all suspect she actually is........... Then again I have regular nutty days.  We all do.  I think the only way to survive living here is to join in, sink or swim. I think sanity is overrated anyway after all it is only a state of mind.

However I am after all only human. To my lovely mummy friend who recently referred to me as Mary Poppins, I most certainly am not but the mere suggestion made me chuckle.  I try my best to be patient and to understand that with so many people living together in a relatively small space personalities are bound to clash. There are some days when it all comes crashing down.  Some days when it does feel like everyone has got out of the wrong side of the bed. Some days I get them all up and immediately want to put them all back to bed again, the days when you wonder just how long it is until bedtime! Some days the solution is to plonk them all in front of the telly to chill out and calm down or play loud music and all dance madly until good humour is restored.

 I have never made a secret of my opinion that school days are a necessary evil. I did not enjoy school myself but I am very happy that on the whole they are all enjoying going to school. I would have kept them all at home and home schooled however this would not have been what is best for them. They enjoy school, they love the social side of school, the sports, games and activities that I can't offer them in the same way at home.  So off to school they go. They have their own lives a huge part of the day which I am not involved with and have very little control over or input. I am learning to live with this for their benefit. (Yes Dad there is my inner control freak!) I love the holidays when they are all home together and look forward to them with a passion.

As I have said though I am only human, there are occasional days when from the moment they get up nothing appears to be right, nothing I do for them is right and being only human these are the days I am secretly a bit happy to be sending them all to school for someone else to deal with for just a little while. So this was originally my Facebook status on one of those days.

Dear School,

My children all seem to have got out of the wrong side of their beds today, either that or they neglected to tell me they are auditioning as Snow White's dwarfs, but seriously Grumpy, Sleepy and Whatisname' have nothing on this lot!
 Therefore, if you need me I shall be found rocking slowly back and forth in the corner, lovingly cradling the gin bottle and contemplating the perversity of human nature.
 Otherwise please don't send them back before home time and may I offer you 'the very best of British!'
 Fondest regards,

 Their Ever Loving Mother xxx

Big brother is watching.

Lucy is three and a half months old. She is now smiling and giggling, especially at James. She honoured him with her first smile and her first giggle. He is a very proud big brother and she in turn adores him. The two of them bonded immediately probably owing to her recognising his total devotion to her from the moment they met.

He chose her name when we struggled to decide. Well in fairness we had named three girls already. She was due on Christmas Day but we didn't want to choose an obviously festive name. When we were unable to agree on a name we asked the children for their suggestions.  He named her after his little friend at school, the same beautiful little girl who walked up to me yesterday and spontaneously hugged baby Lucy, rather tricky for her as she was strapped to my front in the baby sling at the time.  This simple but lovely act earned her a huge smile from Lucy and was so sweet it made my eyes want to water.

Christmas has always been my favourite time of year. As a child I would spend hours reading my huge stack of books about the festive season and how it is celebrated, both here and around the world. One of my favourite books told of Christmas in Scandinavia, where they celebrate Santa Lucia or Saint Lucy.  As the eldest of four, I loved to read about the eldest daughter of the household waking her family with coffee and special buns made with saffron. She would dress up in a white robe with a wreath of candles in her hair. I am pretty sure that I never tried to recreate this though as frankly the thought of walking around with candles on my head would have scared the life out of me!

 My Mum has now stopped asking me if I would like to take the girls to the Christingle Service.  When I was little the probably all of five minutes the candles were lit for seemed like an eternity. I wanted to blow the candle out so I could sneakily eat the dried fruit and dolly mixtures which some kind soul had spent an age sticking into a ribbon wrapped orange.
 Now I am all grown up that five minutes seems like an eternity as I am consumed by the silent panic that my kids will inadvertantly set fire to the person next to them or infront of them as they wave their candle about during the hymn. Yes, I am sure that the church does look very pretty swathed in candlelight. Yes, it looks beautiful a sight to behold now can we please blow them all out before that wobbly lady in the next pew who can it has to be said, barely stand upright sends up her neighbour's polyester.  As for all the long hair and winter scarves flowing around don't even get me started, it is a nightmare waiting to happen. Everyone knows I am a hopeless worrywort. Just pass me a valium and sit me in the corner I will be fine!

Oops,  I have digressed yet again. Back to James and Lucy. She has ended up with a festive name even though it is not imediately obvious and it is one which gives me special reminders of my childhood as a bonus.  Moral of this story, just leave it to the kids, job done!

James stands over Lucy as she sleeps, watching her and rushing to tell me when she awakes or needs my attention. If I have my hands full he sings to her until I can get to her, he sings to her anyway just to entertain her. She has her own special song, he made it up all by himself when she was only a few days old. It consists of a few simple words.

'Lucy is cute, Lucy is cute, La la la la, la la la la, Lucy is cute. (And repeat!)

He started singing this to her when she cried, now he sings it to her all the time, the other kids have started singing it too. I have even heard him singing it when she is not with him. I pity any boy brave enough to come to our door to take her out, her big brother will be watching.  He is her greatest protector and her biggest fan.  Not bad for someone who demanded a baby brother!

Crumble theory.......

Chloe, our eldest daughter, started high school last September.  This has been an interesting time for us as parents because we both attended the same school. Owing to the ten year age gap between Steve and I we were not there at the same time so we both have very different memories of school life, the teachers even the buildings. To make matters more confusing for us this particular high school has completely changed the way they teach their Year 7 pupils. They are mostly segregated from the rest of the school in separate buildings. Their lessons consist of a series of projects which encompass the more traditional subjects of Humanities, Languages, Science, Maths and so on. The projects seem interesting and varied and Chloe certainly seems to be enjoying them which is fantastic after all disinterest is a huge barrier to learning anything.

 My own opinions on education generally I will save for another day. Suffice to say that having come out of the other side of the education system, and having survived life up until now, working and then raising a family,  I am still frustrated by the amount of time schools spend teaching topics which have no real use to the majority in real life. For example unless you are going to be a mathematician or teach maths when are you ever going to do long division after you have left school? I didn't understand the point back then, I certainly don't understand it now.
 There is logic in teaching pupils how to balance a budget, how to open a bank account and how to look after their finances, there is no logic in wasting time teaching things which the majority of the class are never going to use after they leave the classroom. I mean isn't the whole idea of education to prepare us for our lives ahead?

On this note I was pleased when Chloe told me she would need to take some ingredients for a cookery lesson the following week. I replied that I was going to the shops the next day so if she gave me a list I would buy them and then asked her what she would be making. An apple crumble she proudly replied, so my mouth already watering we set about checking off her list of ingredients to see if there was anything I needed to buy.

Flour - we have plenty in the cupboard
Block marg or butter - in fridge
Oats - In stock
Sugar - we have plenty of that too
A tin of stewed apple

"Sorry Chloe say that again" thinking I must have misheard her.  "A tin of stewed apple" she repeated. She then told me her teacher had even given them the relevant aisle number in asda to assist us with finding this tin of fruit, not sure if she is on commission I thought as I imagined thirty  confused parents wandering the aisles of Asda in search of this delicacy.

 Now I have lots of mouths to feed and we do use quite a few tins for convenience when preparing meals so I am by no means a purist, but come on, surely the point of a cookery lesson is to teach them to actually cook! Chopping up some apples and cooking them down for a simple crumble is hardly rocket science is it? To my mind you need to be able to cook properly then by all means you can use shortcuts to save time but you do need to master the basics first. I don't think it is just me, Delia Smith had a whole series and several books based around this concept.

 I also considered preparing the apple filling with her at home and sending it to school in a nice piece of lidded tupperware but my anxiety about making her stand out came to the fore so the said tin of fruit was purchased (From Morrison's - sorry about your commission Miss it was closer!) and the night before her lesson we assembled her ingredients.

She then informed me she needed to weigh everything at home into separate bags, so out came the scales and she carefully weighed everything out.  Then she needed a suitable dish to cook the  crumble in. A dish was found and carefully wrapped in a clean tea towel. She has to come home on the bus so I suggested that she could used the tea towel to wrap the dish and crumble in on the way home to save burning herself if it was still a bit hot since I had given her a cloth shopping bag to carry it all in. She smiled as she replied "Oh, we're not cooking it in school, we wont have time"  "You wont have time" came my incredulous reply "How can you not have time? You've weighed all the ingredients at home, you only have to open the tin and make the crumble, that is not going to take long" "Oh but we have to plan it and evaluate it as well as wash up." She informed me.
 Dear God please give me strength! Is it just me or oh forget it I don't even have the words!

So after weighing all the ingredients out at home, separating them out into little bags and sending in a tin of fruit she assembled the crumble in school and brought it home to heat and it was delicious. 

Last night when Steve came home from work I told him I was just taking Chloe down the village to fetch some fruit for her cookery lesson. "What is she making this week?" he asked "Fruit Salad" I replied. Quick as a flash he came back with "why don't you just buy her a tin of fruit cocktail to take in?"  

Kerrie's world

Kerrie will start school in September, Nursery class for half a day. I am not sure quite what the school will make of her, this could be fun.

Kerrie is the centre of her own universe. She was ahead of her game when she was born and she has kept ahead ever since. At her six week check our GP was astounded to see her trying to crawl. She pulled her little legs up under her body and moved forwards up the examination couch. Kerrie had been watching the others, she knew where she was going to go and she was determined to get there.

 I am such a chatterbox that anyone who knows me will know that none of my children were ever going to struggle with speech. Each child has been talked to from the first little blue line appearing. Kerrie has followed my lead. We are treated to a running commentary from the moment she wakes up till the moment she falls asleep. I have been known to have small conversations with her during her sleep. If she has no one to talk to she talks to her toys, her ponies, the birds outside the window, anyone and anything. When visitors come to the door, strangers or friends they are greeted with 'Hello my name is Kerrie'  She has been a fluent talker since she could first speak.

'Morning everyone, what about me?, can I sit at the table?, where is my breakfast?, where is Jamesy?, hello Jamesy. hello Lucy, mummy is Lucy awake? can I have blackcurrant, can I have a straw? I've got Shreddies, mummy can you get me a drink? Chloe do you have breakfast? I'm sitting at the table, I'm having breakfast too, I'm going to get my ponies, my ponies want their breakfast too,  I want to sit at the table now, can you play ponies mummy............and on and on she goes in a great long stream of words punctuated by the mischief she causes all around her. She is obsessed with whatever is happening and by whatever should be happening.   I have no doubt that Kerrie will be telling her teacher exactly what is supposed to happen next in the classroom.

Kerrie's nickname is Houdini, she can escape from anything and everything. She climbs on the windowsills, we stop her, she finds another way. Yesterday she told me she was going to take her plate to the kitchen like a big girl, she has seen the other kids take their plates at the end of the meal. I watched her walk up to the kitchen safety gate, in place to keep her out of the kitchen. She realised she needed both hands so she popped her plate onto the floor then proceeded to proudly open the gate! Security breeched she then took her plate into the kitchen and placed it on the worktop. She then walked back out of the kitchen closing the gate behind her.........................I don't think she sees the gate as being there to keep her out at all, she was simply copying our actions. She did the same with the stair gate the previous morning.

High chair straps don't keep her down for long, she can escape baby reins and pram harnesses, perhaps she is Harry Houdini reincarnated, who knows but one thing is certain, the teachers are going to have some fun with her when she gets to school.

Dirty ovens, sticky floors and happy kids!

So we have already established that with five children to take care of, time is a luxury. How I spend my day is very important because, with so many peoples lives to keep organised there is rarely enough time to achieve much more than the basics. If everyone is clean, well fed and watered, having been escorted too and from their various destinations it can be considered a good day anything else is a bonus.

There are things which must be done which are essential to our lives. Meals must be made, food must be purchased, clothes must be washed. We can't go hungry, we must shop in order to eat. We can't walk around naked - well OK we could but trust me this village is never going to be ready to witness that not so delightful sight and anyway do you know how cold and wet it is around here, icicles hanging off nipples not a good fashion choice for anyone - again I digress!

Cleaning however is not to my mind an essential task. Yes it makes the place look pretty and yes OK there is the hygiene aspect but Granny used to say 'you've got to eat a peck of dirt before you die' and we all know that Granny knew best.

The problem with cleaning when you have lots of kids is it is just so demoralising, I mean you start cleaning one spot and by the time you have finished they have reeked their own particular brand of havoc on another three. It is like painting the Forth Bridge, by the time you have finished it is time to start all over again. I can think of so many better ways to occupy my time than constantly cleaning things for them to immediately dirty, if it never looks like I have cleaned it why not just leave it dirty and have done with it. Hell, I could sit down and have a nice cup of tea instead, if I could actually find space to sit down!"

I did try following Flylady once, for those who don't know this is a website designed to break us all out of our 'no time to clean' rut. Flylady suggests baby steps of small tasks which you build up slowly into a routine.  The first idea was that every night if you do nothing else you must shine your sink. She says that in the morning when you see your clean sink it is like getting a hug from yourself. Hmmmm. Well I gave it a go, you can't say I didn't try. I shined the damn sink. I went to bed knackered and got up the next morning ready to feel the hug as I saw the shine..........................thud! As I saw Steve's early morning cuppa and the dregs of his brew blighting my lovely stainless steel I realised that this only works if you are the last to bed, first to rise and even then someone will find a way to thwart your efforts. If you are currently single with no children then please by all means carry on, but for me Flylady is not to be. It's like those bleach block loo cleaners you put down the loo last thing at night which supposedly clean the loo while you sleep so you wake up to a sparkling pan with no effort required. How come in my house someone always needs the loo at 3am? Thwarted again!

There are so many times when the kids ask to do something and my reply has to be 'in a minute, 'maybe later', or 'we can do that when we have more time.' Certain things can't be put off, cleaning can be. I put off enough fun stuff as it is, anymore and there will be no point in getting out of bed.  To my mind anyway. I certainly don't want to wake up one day and wonder when my kids grew up and how I missed it because I was spending all my time in the company of Mr Muscle and Mr Pledge.

My friends know my opinions about cleaning. When we moved into this house some lovely friends came to help us. One of them put the cleaning box (yes I do have one circa 1999 and I'm still not sure what is in it) on a high shelf in the kitchen. Another friend pointed out that me being only 5ft 2ins would not be able to reach it. The reply was 'it's OK Helen doesn't clean'  A fair point.

Actually that is a little unfair, I do clean sometimes, occasionally, before family parties, Birthdays and a token gesture at Christmas, I also clean frantically when pregnant which is apparently why Steve has fathered so many children. When the house goes from generally messy to disaster zone he suggests another baby - two birds one stone - job done!

So if when you call round our home is a mess, if it really doesn't look it's best. I apologise in advance for the carnage you see, I was busy enjoying my kids, too busy to clean.

Ode to Lucy

All babies are different in their own way. I believe that you can have indications of their personality even when they are still in the womb. Some traits are fairly obvious, a baby who is more active at night will probably be a night owl, an active kicker is likely to be a little wriggler and so on. Our baby who refused to turn for the sonographer became Kerrie our three year old and easily our most stubborn character. Chloe our eldest would wake up and kick so hard the mattress would shake disturbing Steve, funnily enough she is like me a night owl.  Tiny clues start to make sense as a baby's personality begins to shine through.

Lucy was nine days late. Due on Christmas Day, she made us wait for her.  After two false starts she made her speedy entrance with aplomb, shocking us all with her arrival. She broke the accepted 'rules' right from the beginning. Cold from her sudden birth she was wrapped up well and then placed under the duvet with me. She remained prone to sudden drops in her temperature, when sleeping she would become so still and cold. She had the whole family checking her often as she slept so soundly. Several times I had to rush to pick her up and warm her. We spent most of her first ten days curled up in bed together, I believe she needed this time to recover, I think we both did.

 Changing times were a nightmare, she hated being undressed. She flinched when items of clothing were put on over her head. No fussy clothes for Lucy, she stayed in sleep suits most of the time, she needed the security.  She needed very gentle handling, more so than any of the others. They were all happy to be passed around like a little parcel. This little one would only oblige for a short while, she knew where her bread was buttered, she wanted her mum. My own mum tells me a wise child knows it's mother, on that basis Lucy is very wise indeed.  Our babies have always been happy to sleep in their pram during a walk. Lucy wanted to be held, she took a dislike to her car seat too.

Slowly she has got used to us, she will lay in her pram for a short while and be entertained by a toy or mobile. She is smiling at strangers and is much happier to be held. I suspect if we hadn't have responded to her needs in the beginning she would still be struggling. She is happy, she is doing well and she lets us know it. I've said from her birth, there is something very special about this little one. My mum says she has been here before, perhaps she has. Either way this is my Ode to Lucy.



This child is different, I knew right from the start.
This little one has her own place deep inside my heart.

Our baby needs a gentle touch, my arms are all she craves.
Do everything slowly lest she flinches at your rush.

Frightened by the slightest noise, your voice you must not raise.
Snuggled up beside my breast is where she spends her days.

The one who kept us waiting ,the gift we all adore.
She knows the world already, she has been here before.

An illicit cup of tea............

I know what you are thinking, how can an innocent, frankly relatively boring cup of tea ever be described as illicit? No, I am not trying to 'sex up' the humble teabag! The sad truth of the matter is that with five children consuming anything whilst it is still hot can be quite a challenge. I am well known for forgetting I've even put the kettle on to boil, if I actually get past this point there is a high likelihood I will only drink half my cuppa possibly even forgetting about it altogether as I answer the requests of my various offspring.

'Mum, can you put the wii on?'
'Mum, I can't find my book/DS/pen/jumper/trainers' delete as applicable
'Mum, Kerrie is pulling the wallpaper off........'
'Mum can I have something to eat/drink'

I am sure you get the idea and you probably recognise the pattern. My cooling mug abandoned as I see to their ever changing needs. But, I am Welsh, I need my cup of tea. Coffee will not do, coffee belongs in cakes, in my world coffee is reserved for the tongue tingling crunchy iced topping of Cafe Noir biscuits, I am still bemoaning the demise of coffee flavoured iced gems - anyway I digress as I often do.

I need my cup of tea, I am addicted. I admit it, I need a cuppa when I wake, breakfast I can postpone but a cup of tea is an essential. I don't do mornings, I am a night owl at heart, I often stay up way too late so this simple act helps my poor brain cells adjust to the shock of waking up and prepares me for the challenges of the day ahead. Equilibrium restored.

It must be a family trait because if my parents or siblings phone me or arrive on our doorstep early-ish in the morning to be greeted by my scatty or befuddled state my simple explanation of 'I haven't had my brew yet' is enough, they understand.
We are all from the same stable, tea flows through our veins like water through The Thames. Two of my siblings even have their own mugs here. We all have our individual preferences but it is tea all the same. Just for the record in case you are ever making it mine is milk, no sugar and if I really get to be fussy it is Co-op 99 teabags unless I'm having a posh day then Earl Grey, yes I have my odd delusions of grandeur.  Then we get to the most important bit, you must only allow the teabag and water to greet each other ' cup teabag- teabag cup' then out, no further conversation necessary. Perfect!

So we have established that my cuppa is important to me, if I ever go off tea I am ill, or pregnant.
Moving swiftly on, at the weekend I awoke bright and early, very odd for me but occasionally it has been known to happen. Lucy was asleep beside me so I popped her back into her crib and crept downstairs and put the kettle on.

There is something deliciously naughty about sneaking downstairs in the early hours, before they all awake to have a sneaky cup of tea. Not a hasty brew whilst getting on with cooking a meal or doing the washing up, but a blissful solo encounter with a cup of that divine amber liquid consumed in peace and quiet before the days activity begins. The hustle and bustle of family life forgotten for just a moment as I enjoy the luxury of drinking my cuppa whilst it is still hot.

Illicit encounters, I have five kids this is as good as it is going to get but this is bliss.