Blink and you miss it..

I am now the proud owner of three children who can all go to the loo by themselves.

They can all dress themselves (ok the small one still needs a bit of help).

They can all get in and out of bed by themselves.

At least one of them can turn on the TV for the other two.

She can also open the fridge, get out the juice and give her sisters a drink.. or reach up and get them a biscuit from the cupboard.

They all pretty much sleep through the night until 7.30am.

They can all go on scooters, the buggy is becoming more and more defunct.

They can all put their shoes on and hang their coats up.

Two of them can open the front door if someone knocks (not before asking who it is mind).

They can (almost) all get into the car by themselves and two of them can do up their own seatbelts.

Life, is starting to get a teensy weensy bit easier.

I can't quite believe it..

Where did the time go?

Turquoise..

I have a new piece of furniture, an old school cabinet, solid oak from the kids' school.. It was going begging, so I begged and got it. It's a rather horrible bright blue so I am on the hunt for a lovely colour to paint it.

My friend Sarah over at Glad & Albie said she'd paint it turquoise if it was hers.. which got me thinking. Hmmm. Turquoise - what a fab colour and quite often overlooked. It's amazing when you start looking what you find out about the colour Turquoise. With reference to my previous post I have spent far too long on the internet researching the colour. This is what I most love about the world wide web.. it really is world wide. I found this fabulous blog based in the deep South of the US.. I have pored over it for hours and basically want to transplant everything in her house into mine..

Also this popped up at the top of Google when I typed in TURQUOISE. And what a find.. again some fabulous treats to inspire a Shepherds Bush housewife.

I discovered the perfect paint for my cabinet Calypso Blue from one of the aforementioned blogs and fell instantly in love. But having searched high and low it is not for sale in the UK nor is it shipped internationally. I also fell in love with this pink which I'm going to have to use to paint something for the girls'.. Luckily you can buy this one here..

But as I walked around the Bush today it amazed me how when you start to look for something a whole new world reveals itself to you. And it's been there under your nose all along..

like this house that I walk past every day on my way to school.

Or this one round the corner..

Or this car parked on our street..

Or this one round the corner..

or my salt pig



or the lovely cafe (above) that we walked past one day.. that's the colour I want. It's just a question of finding it.

Silence please..

I often feel guilty (another thing to feel guilty about) about the amount of time I spend on my computer. Whether it's Twitter, Facebook, the Blog, Instagram and now Pinterest which I can't quite bear to bring myself to get into as it'll wipe out another chunk of my day when I should be reading to my children or doing the ironing.

Even eight years ago when my eldest daughter came along, I only really used the computer for work and didn't see it as a pleasure tool - oh other than to shop of course. But I didn't spend hours on the internet doing all of the above like I do now. It's slightly terrifying how addictive it can be.. All you need to do is go onto Twitter and see all those Mums on there chatting away.. I guess all the kids are at school or nursery so they can, but it does beg the question of whether they or I should really be spending so much time glued to a screen rather than with the children or doing something more worthwhile?

And then last night I had an epiphany.

As my daughter's playdate left and I trudged upstairs to run the bath surveying my trashed house and dreading the moment I would have bend down to pick up the sea of crap that was now surrounding me, I realised that I was really looking forward to the moment when they've gone to bed so that I can go onto my computer. Christ, I thought, I am an addict..

Surely I should be looking forward to seeing my husband when he gets in from work?, or opening a bottle of wine?, or phoning an old friend?.. no, I can't wait to get onto the 'net to see what's going on, what photos people are taking, what's trending on Twitter, what my friends in New York are up to today..

But the real lightbulb moment was that the reason I can't wait is because it is here, on my trusty Mac, that I find silence. Being on the computer is peaceful, silent, calm. There is no noise - unless you choose to have it. There is no distraction (hopefully) and you are totally in control. This is why I long for my computer time.

I realised that it is ultimately the only peace I have.

I'm fired..

I'm depressed.

I've just been to a coffee morning at my youngest's nursery. I tend to avoid these things normally as by child number three I've definitely got the t-shirt. But I forgot it was on and at drop off was tactfully swerved into a chair with a cup of coffee and a handout to read.. (I should have heard the warning bells ringing then.)

An hour later I left feeling thoroughly depressed. As well as all the usual stuff on routine, early years foundation stage, potty training bla bla bla, the very good head of the nursery gave us a talk on behavioural management. They run courses on this at the school but being the arrogant third timer that I am, I didn't go to them.

And now I rather regret it.

The talk today touched upon some of the stuff they covered on the course - such as 'Catch them being good' - eg don't always focus on their bad behaviour, tell them when they are doing something fabulous as well as when they are being naughty so that they learn the difference. And 'Proximity praise' (my personal favourite) when you praise the child next to the naughty one who then wants a bit of that too and starts behaving well (a policy frequently used in our household).

She asked us politely to please adopt the nursery's behaviour management policy at home, so that we are all talking to our children with 'one voice'. Quite right - jolly good. She then went on to outline how we should always talk through why a child is misbehaving, explain to them on their level what they are doing wrong and why it is wrong. Do NOT exclude them from the room or isolate them. Do NOT EVER shout at them - by shouting you are teaching them that it is ok to shout. Etc etc.

Ummm... whoops.

Basically my last eight years of parenting skills were effectively wiped out in one meeting. I am fully GUILTY of all of the above in some shape or form (although I am quite good at proximity praise). As I sank further and further into my seat in horror at all the things I have being doing wrong I made a mental note to attend the next course 'Building childrens self esteem'. Maybe there is still time to make amends? Maybe my children won't be damaged for life if I start being a good mum RIGHT NOW. Do they have low self esteem? Are they psychologically damaged by being shouted at? How many times have I sent them to their room?

This woman was basically telling us to 'un-learn' everything about the way we were brought up - corporal punishment, shouting, exclusion, being sent to your room. Luckily I was not the only shocked face in the room and a few had that 'Yeah right, whatever' expression on - to my relief.

However I didn't. Because actually everything she was saying made perfect sense to me. It has given me a jolt and made me take a look at the way I 'parent' my kids. I know I shout too much and don't praise enough and don't listen or explain. I know, I know, I know all these things. But being indirectly told them again by a professional when I'm on my third two year old really made me sit up and review. Proof that one can never rest on one's laurels and that you can teach an old dog new tricks.. well you can this one anyway..

So, depressed in W12 today, but just to redeem myself somewhat, I did find this note from my eldest daughter on the stairs up to my room last night.

I must be doing SOMETHING right, right?

When I grow up I want to be like this..

I've just been chatting to my eighty two year old neighbour. I've written about him before as every time I have a conversation with him I am left completely gob smacked at just how amazing he is.

We have two octegenarian grandparents in our family - but I can't say I enjoy their company nearly as much as I do his. Maybe because he isn't family, or because he's a widower on his own, or perhaps because he is so darned independent and active for his age, never moans, always dresses immaculately and has a smile upon his face, that I just love him.

We've been through a lot together. We nursed him through swine flu two Christmases ago when he didn't turn up for his customary glass of sherry on Christmas day and we found him laid up in bed practically dead having not seen anyone or eaten for three days..

We did his shopping when he fell down the full length of the escalator at Shepherds Bush station and ended up in A & E battered and bruised, but still came back smiling.

And my husband has been round there on several occasions when he's had a few too many after an armed forces reunion to heat up his supper or put him to bed.

Today, when he opened his door to me to give me yet another of my deliveries that had ended up in his house, he looked a little dishevelled which is most unlike him. When I asked if he was ok he laughingly told me that he fell off a ladder at the weekend pruning a tree in his garden, landed on the fence, which broke and probably saved his life, and ended up in the neighbour's garden. We were away as were they. He lay there for a few minutes apparently wondering if "this was it" - and all he could think about was whether he'll be able to make the flight to the US in two weeks which he's booked to go to a wedding.

He's a tenacious old boy and clearly wasn't going to let something like falling out of a tree ruin his holiday plans oh no. He picked himself up, dusted himself off and took himself up to the bathroom where he bathed and dressed his fairly significant wounds (he showed me). He is basically black and blue in the way that old people are after any kind of fall.

But he's still smiling.

He then told me about his trip to the US. Remember this man is 82.

He is flying on his own to JFK, then onto Portland for a few days where the wedding is. To get back to the UK at a decent time of the day he then has to fly Vancouver.. then to Toronto back to JFK and home.. When I grimaced in horror at the thought of such a long winded journey home, did he share my view? Oh no.. ever the optimist he is now stopping off in Toronto and going to the Niagara Falls for a day, as he's never been. Then when he gets back to JFK he's going to do a few days sightseeing in New York City, again having never been, before flying to Washington to see the White House and then onto Florida to see Kennedy Space Centre.. then home.

As always with him by this point of the conversation I was standing there with my jaw balanced on the floor in awe. "And they won't insure me, I'm too old" he laughed. And there was me still reeling from the fact that he fell off a ladder onto a fence two days ago, trying to work out if he really was alright. And here he is going off on a three week adventure across America by himself. So of course he's alright, don't be bloody silly.

This, the man that hid under lorries to escape from doodle bugs, who cycled across London to bomb sites to assess damage and call the ambulances, who saw whole streets wiped out from one day to the next, who's lived in the house next to mine for forty years.. of course he's alright.

I just hope when he goes, he goes out with a big smile on his face.

The 'F' word.

I'm in the dog house. Last week when I was having my meltdown, chicken pox week from hell, I went into the girls bedroom at 9.30pm where they were still up, mucking about and shouted at them "will you please just go to bed for f***'* sake".

There was a stunned silence, and sure enough that was my last visit up the stairs. I trudged back down to finally finish my now cold supper and didn't really think any more of it. I mean we've all been there right? Up and down and up and down those stairs long long after the lights have gone out and dangerously into grown up mummy time. I have a friend who simply cannot deal with her children after they've gone to bed. It makes her so angry if they get up again that she has to despatch her husband to deal with them for fear of what she might otherwise say. And she is one of those laid back mummies.

Let's face it, from about 8pm onwards, when we've been up since anything from 6.30am juggling god knows how many balls, we are not at our best.

So when senior turned to me about three days later and said to me very seriously "Mummy, you said a very very rude word to us the other night".. "you said the 'f' word".. "that's the WORST word ever".. I felt a wave of shame engulf me.

A frank and honest chat ensued, with me apologising, saying no she must not ever use that word, that it is a bad bad grown up word, that I will never use it again (fingers crossed behind back), to please not tell daddy, that mummy was very tired because of her sister's chicken pox and being ill herself, that it was a one off etc etc.

I thought we'd got past it. Until late last night when my husband finally re-emerged from his cave of high stress which he has been inhabiting for weeks now.

As we were chatting about the day, getting ready for bed, he suddenly said "so I hear you said fuck to the kids?"

Of course a week after the event, out of context this was never going to look good was it? I feebly tried to justify it.. But even to myself it sounded lame.. So I took the lecture meekly, even the bit about "so what do we do when she goes up to a fellow seven year old in the playground and tells them to fuck off..?" "Or tells her teacher that her mummy said the word 'fuck'."

Ok ok.. Point taken.

Guilty as charged..

But you know what? First time in nearly eight years.. Not bad eh? And not nearly as bad as some kids have to put up with.

The Ministry of Letters..

The girls were beside themselves on Saturday when this mysterious parcel arrived for them.. (and I have to say it has tickled me rather too..)

Inside was a letter addressed to them from the Ministry of Letters, a top secret government department who "until recently have had to operate in complete secrecy on the grounds of national security.."

This secret department has now broken cover and revealed that it is responsible for making up all the words in the country.. You can read more about this yourselves in the Ministry's new book 'Operation Alphabet' which we started last night.. So far it's revealed itself to be a clever, magical story about a little boy starting school, who is having difficulty learning his letters. Beautifully illustrated, it's beyond brilliant as a concept.

They also have a marvellous fully interactive website, in itself a work of art and delightful for encouraging children to read. You can download fab bookmarks and signs for keeping annoying sisters out of your bedroom which Senior was thrilled about. We particularly loved the 'Meet the Letters' section where the letters come to life and read out familiar words in really funny voices.. "B" was our favourite and of course 'Bottom' got peals of laughter from the girls..

Thank you Ministry for a truly original and captivating read in a sea of rather dull children's books. You've got three new recruits here in the Bush who are ready and willing to come and work for you any time you like..

Just say the word..

PS they also write rather a good blog which I for one am now following.. http://ministryofletters.tumblr.com/