I don't think patience is my thing.

In fact, I know it's not.

It's been over two weeks since I wrote to our sponsored children. Two whole weeks. And I feel like it's been years.

Both World Vision and Compassion state a turnaround time of 3 -4 months for letters to be sent over, read and responded to. That's an age! Despite knowing that it is highly unlikely to hear back so soon it doesn't prevent me from looking through hopefully at the letters on the doormat after the postman has been.

I'm keen to know more about these children whose photographs are displayed with our own. I'm desperate to know that they are ok. Are they happy? What do they like doing? What do they hope for? So many questions and things that I want to know about them like I know about my own children.

Most of all I want to know that they are safe.

So I'm counting the days and wondering if they've received our letters. Did they get the pictures Harry drew for them, and the letter Caitlin wrote to them? Do they know that there is a family hundreds of miles away that think of them and say a prayer for them every day? Do they know that they are always in my thoughts and my heart?

I hope they do.

Everything is breaking!

When one thing in this house breaks down or goes wrong it seems to be the first of many. And always at a time when it's not possible to replace them because any spare cash isn't actually spare but earmarked elsewhere.

Why is this?

During the last two weeks the multifunction system finally gave up the ghost. No printing or scanning or photocopying homework for the older ones, and pictures and worksheets for the younger ones. Oh and there's that "work" thing that it's quite handy for too.

The four slice toaster has decided that only two slices will work. That's not a huge worry. There's still the grill.

The house phones are well on their way out. One base and phone is barely audible, and so out of use. The second will work when it wants to. And if it's had enough of your conversation it will terminate the call. I didn't realise my conversations were so boring that even my phone would give up the will to live.

And now the tumble dryer has packed up. Great. This is the one that hurts a little more. Our laundry pile is now going to be even more fun to get through. Joy, oh joy.

Still, let's be optimistic.

At least the electricity bill will be a little smaller!

Yay!

Do you think this would work?

I'm still festering about the whole asking me to be sterilised for no reason issue.

Yes, I can fester. It's something I do well. And I am doing this bout of festering extremely well.

I am in no doubt that it's not going to be the first time I'll hear it over the next few months. So I'm considering the following shirts from Evil Genius Tees for my upcoming ante-natal appointments to make my opinion on the matter known from the off.

How about this one?

Or this?

Or perhaps this one?

And would I actually be brave enough to wear one?!

More words from Eddie

The children were eating fruit after dinner.

Eddie sat down and said "I can't eat green apples. That means they're not ready. They have to turn red."

We had to try not to laugh while explaining that it's green bananas that aren't ready to eat until they change colour!

Our children have chores

But sometimes things happen which make it hard for them to carry them out. For example, it is Ben's job to hoover the downstairs of the house and wash the floors every evening after dinner. Unfortunately, due to overwork and far too many crumbs on the carpet day after day, the hoover head (not Ben) fell apart and didn't work very well, despite the attempts to tape it back together.

And tape it a little more.

And a bit more.

Ben's cries of "I am doing it properly! It's BROKEN!!!" finally got too much for us to bear. The poor child was suffering in his quest to carry out his chores and his woeful cries pierced our hearts until after dinner one day...



Oh look at his happy face!

Yes, I know, we are wonderful parents aren't we? But just to reassure you that we won't spoil him too much we promise to hold off getting a new mop for him until the old one is well past its best.

What's your perfect evening?

One question people ask is that about going out. Or not going out. Either as a couple or by ourselves. Because, you see, it is sometimes deemed odd to actually enjoy being with your children and to, dare I say it, stay indoors rather than be out wining and dining with friends... or something.

There's nothing wrong with any of that, if that's what you like. But we actually like staying home with our family. Or if we do go out it's as a family. Together. But to some it's quite unreal that we honestly, truly do feel that way.

"Don't you feel you're missing out?". Erm, not at all. In fact, if you want to come and visit and stay for dinner you're more than welcome. We'll even have a games night on the Wii if we're really feeling sociable! But missing out on what exactly? Is it so completely unfathomable that we may really, truly, actually enjoy being with our family?

Last night was a great night. Do you know what we did? After dinner, when everything was tidied and the two youngest were in bed, I popped corn in the biggest pan we have (and that pan is pretty big!). I put on my pyjamas and the rest of us settled down to watch "Fiddler on the Roof" on DVD. How can you not love a good old musical, with popcorn, surrounded by your family, on the sofa in your pyjamas on a cold , autumn night?

OK, admittedly we only got through the first two hours of it because my eyes refused to stay open any longer, but we're picking up where we left off tonight (more popcorn!). We couldn't have done that if we went to the cinema. And we'd have paid a small fortune for the privilege too.

I know that to some it sounds boring, and there are a fair few people who can't believe we're possibly being serious. But to us, it was a perfect evening.

Now to line some more films up for popcorn nights and winter won't feel so bad after all! Any recommendations?

The real Mission Impossible is...

... trying to get a photograph of all the children...

... with nobody trying to run off ...

...and nobody turning around to see what's going on behind them...

... or pulling silly faces...

... or moving...

... or turning away...

... or fiddling with their shoes...


... or nose...


... or sulking...

... or throwing stones down steps...

... until you finally give up on the idea of a perfect family photo.

Again!

The things they say...

Me: "Who do I love?"



Eddie: "Me!"



Me: "Who do I love a lot?!"



Eddie: "Me!"



Me: "Who do I really, really, really love?!"



Eddie: "Me!!!"



Me: "And who loves me?!"



Eddie, looking around: "Sid!!!"

An open letter to the medical profession...

Dear Dr _____ ,

Yesterday I had an appointment with my consultant regarding my much wanted and longed for pregnancy. My last labour ended in an emergency caesarean section due to the baby's heart rate dipping. Out of seven labours this is the only one which ended up with a c-section. Not bad going, I'm sure you'll agree.

I wanted to write to you to let you know that all of my children are loved, cared for and supported by myself and my husband. My children were complimented on their behaviour twice this week already - once by your own staff. Yes, I'm very proud! They are truly wonderful children (most of the time - they have their moments! They're still kids after all!).

As you are aware, we have also experienced the pain of eight miscarriages. The notes you had in front of you stated that two of those were this year alone. The notes also stated that we sought help for the causes into the miscarriages to be investigated. This was the second time that we had sought investigation, yet both times we were refused because we already had children. Please note that we weren't asking for fertility treatment or anything other than an answer as to why we were losing so many of our children. Surely eight miscarriages is rather a lot? Yet still we have twice been refused the investigation, or even simple blood tests which may give us the answers.

I hope you won't mind me pointing out that I felt rather ill at ease when, even though you had these notes and facts directly in front of you, you still asked me whether I would consider being sterilised if this pregnancy ended up in another emergancy caesarean section. While you may have had to ask the question as a matter of course, would you mind telling me if all women are offered this option or is it just me? Would a first time mother be asked that question? I feel that the answer, possibly, is no.

I told you quite firmly, and asked you to put this in my notes, that it is not an option. There is no medical reason for me to be sterilised. I would have much rather you spent your medical knowledge on finding the cause of my miscarriages. That is what I asked for and was denied. I have not asked you to take something from me for no reason.

Why was the question even asked when we clearly wanted this baby, have suffered two losses this year alone and are thankful to be expecting again? Why is it so wrong to want to have children even though we alone raise and support them and for you to refuse us the investigation into losing them, yet it is so simple and acceptable for you to present the option of stopping the ability to have them when there is no medical reason for it?

I did notice that you didn't add this to my notes, and am well aware that I will be asked this question again. But I truly hope I'm not. I am well aware that sterilisation exists, and am quite capable of asking for it if I want it.

I don't.

Yours sincerely,

Perfect Parenting: Tip Number Three - Teenage Discipline

For some, deciding how to discipline your teenager is hard. We've got it sussed...




It's not quite as effective on younger children though. I can't quite work out why!

Any ideas?

When you don't feel like cooking... delegate!

Last week I was feeling quite sickly once again, which had become quite the norm over the past couple of months. I hadn't planned anything for dinner, but had taken out some pastry to get the younger boys to make pizza pinwheels for lunch. Then I had a bright idea (it happens sometimes) that I would stop by the shop, buy some more pastry and get the boys to make dinner for the whole family. We'd even wait until after school so that Harry could join in.

When the school run was over I set the boys up at the kitchen table, each with a roll of puff pastry in front of them. They covered the pastry with a layer of pasta sauce, then sprinkled threw copious amounts of grated cheese over it. We then rolled up the pastry into a swiss roll, and sliced into 1-2 inch wide pieces. We then baked them in the oven and they were the most wonderful pizzas we'd ever tasted*. The boys were extremely pleased with their hard work and I was happy to have had the evening off.... sort of!

*Stephanie also made a big bowl of salad. She's not as cute so doesn't get her picture here but thought I'd mention it anyway lest she start her moaning about how I missed her salad out. However, the day she tidies her room properly (and not just the ceiling half of it) is the day trumpets play and angels sing.

Today so far...

I got up at 5am, got myself ready, got two lunchboxes packed, made breakfast and checked emails before getting the children up and ready for the day. Cleaned downstairs bathroom, kitchen and living room (it doesn't look like it now but it is 1pm now after all!). Set off on school run at 7.30am. Stopped for fuel and a few essentials. Got back from school run at 9am. Hoovered stairs, and all of downstairs. Made younger boys some toast. Packed some bananas for boys then went to the hospital and got this...

... came home. Changed seven nappies over the course of the morning. Folded clothes. Put another load of washed clothes into the dryer and put the fourth load of laundry so far today into the washing machine. Made lunch for boys. Put Paddy down for overdue nap. Spoke to my dad and simultaneously broke scanner/printer/photocopying machine and tried not to curse. Calculated that I'd managed 18 sips of tea since waking which is really poor considering that I had actually made four cups during this time. Spoke to brother. Made lunch at sat at PC to blog. All by 1pm!

What's that you ask? Yes I know! Fantastic isn't it?!!!

A whole four loads of washing so far!

At this rate the laundry basket may be empty by bedtime tonight!

School Dinners and Butterscotch Tart

In the days before Jamie Oliver took on the schools (although not that long ago I hasten to add), and when Spam was a tinned meat, school dinners were very different to the meals that they now offer. The meals themselves I was not normally very impressed with. And we weren't allowed a drink during our meal, instead we had to collect a cup of water from a trolley at the end of the school hall once the dinner ladies excused us from the table... after plates were cleaned up of all the last morsels of cold, lumpy mash and some kind of fish (?) in some kind of sauce (??).

Puddings though, were something different altogether. Who could forget the sponge with pink icing, or chocolate custard, or the jam roly-poly. Mmmm, that was the reward at the end of the gruelling, gut turning meal. My personal favourite though, was Butterscotch Tart. Once I had left primary school for middle school, and traded my weekly brown dinner money envelope for a cool lunch box and flask, Butterscotch Tart was no more. It wasn't the kind of pudding you could find in the shops and nobody ever knew the recipe for it.

For years and years I had no luck, and then later on came recipes which called for tins of condensed milk. This isn't what I wanted. I wanted a proper recipe, with proper ingredients, that I could make from scratch.

So for the first __ years of my life (I'm not telling you!), I went without my favourite pudding, relying only on the memories of sickly dinners and a sip of warm water before the trophy of the school dinner eating champion in the form of the best pud in the world was allowed. Until last year, that is! And yes, it's as lovely as I remember it! Here is the recipe which will make enough for two 9" tarts.

Butterscotch Tart

Pastry:
300g plain flour
150g softened butter
150g caster sugar
1 egg
1 pinch salt
a little water

Butterscotch:

320g demerera sugar

320g butter

80g plain flour

6oz milk

Mix flour, salt, sugar. Add eggs and softened butter. Mix to a dough and leave in a cool place for 1 hour. Roll pastry and place into 2 greased tins. Bake in oven at 180ºC for 10-15 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool.

Melt butter in pan. When melted mix in sugar and stir until dissolved. Add flour and milk and whisk until smooth. Heat for a few minutes longer until mixture coats the back of a wooden spoon. Pour onto pastry. Allow to cool then chill in fridge. So simple, yet so tasty!

This post was brought over from the old blog because I was too lazy to think of anything to write about today.

Click here for the no fuss, printable recipe.

Name three things you always need in your home...

1) Milk - The children drink lots of it. It's normally a choice between milk and water in our house (mean eh?!). Personally, I don't much care for it, but the kids must have the strongest bones in the world with the amount they drink.

2) Toilet paper - Do I really need to elaborate?

3) Jeans - Because when you have four boys five and under you quickly discover that the supposedly toughest trousers actually aren't all that great.

A brief history:

Denim jeans were originally sturdy, hardwearing trousers for wear by workers. They were especially popular for factory workers during World War II thanks to their durability and strength.

So then please someone tell me why my boys' jeans, the Samson of the trouser world with their supposed strength and hardwearingness look like this...

... and this...

... and this...

Most of the jeans they own are ripped and torn at the knees.

And they aren't even old!

So I have a challenge for all the denim jean manufacturers. Before you start making claims on how tough and durable your jeans are, please do send them over here for testing first!

"I'm going to write a book!"...

...I declared.


"On what?" asked Mike


"How to be the perfect wife" I told him


He looked at me silently, then turned away.


I take that as his full support and agreement. Don't you?

I was born in the seventies...

... and hit my teens during the eighties. It was a time of legwarmers and Fame! Of school dinners you hated and school puddings you loved. Of personal stereos the size of two bricks stuck together, and the weight of them too. And it was the time of pictures of flashy cars on black backgrounds in cheap, plastic frames. Do you remember them?

I never had a picture of a flashy car on a black background in a cheap, plastic frame. But I saw them. And I thought to myself that one day maybe.....

But instead I drive this...

A bright blue, 13 year old, 11 seater minibus. Which doesn't have a working window winder on the drivers side, meaning that you need to use a pair of pliers to open and close the window. And the heater doesn't properly demist the windscreen. And the radio is broken. We did sort out the deafening screeching sound it made when you turned the steering wheel though. And it got through its MOT ok.

I hated it when we first got it. I hated it so much I couldn't sleep. I couldn't believe that a vehicle could be so slow that a milk float could overtake it. It was! But Mike suggested I gave it a week and see how I felt about it.

Now I love the little bus! It's amusing to see the looks we get when it's packed with people, like a little blue tin of sardines with windows. But the best thing is that it works! It gets us around safely and reliably. We didn't get into debt for anything flashier and it does the job it's intended for and it does it well. And another good point is that it has another two seats going spare... at the moment! ;-)

So it's not what I thought I'd have back in the eighties, but life doesn't always turn out the way you think. It turns out better!

Mum's way, Dad's Way

Our children have two parents. One is the fun parent. One is not.

Mum makes sure homework is done. Dad plays wrestling with the boys.

Mum doesn't like parks. Dad takes kids to park for aaaaages.

Mum says no. Dad says yes, then claims not to have heard mum say no when mum expresses her... erm... unhappiness. Yes, that's the word. "Unhappiness".

Mum says no throwing balls inside the house. Dad plays catch in the living room when he thinks mum can't see.

Mum nags and moans and scolds and yells and goes on and on and on about what the children should or shouldn't be doing. Dad will occasionally mumble something.

But then one day Dad does this...

Yep, that's telling them! No doubt about it. Stick a piece of paper with some do's and don'ts up in the bathroom and that'll do it.

Let me have a go...

... hold on there's another couple yet...


... I'm not done yet...

And I hadn't even begun! At this rate we'll be redecorating with a coloured patchwork of paper squares.

It's far quicker to say what I want, whether they think I'm nagging or not. I prefer to call it "reiterating previous requests".

I think Dad can stick to his way and I'll stick to mine!

Paddy has a new hobby...

Here is a clue: "Ker-plunk.... SPLOSH!!!"

I defy any parent of a toddler not to know what his new hobby is. Can you guess what it is?

Christmas Boxes and Chaos

This weekend has been as busy as always. I spend the week looking forward to Friday evenings, after the last school run has been done and after Mike has closed the door on another week of work. Theoretically, it's meant to be a time to recharge for the next week ahead. Practically, it erm... isn't.

There is always plenty to do at weekends. Whether visiting, shopping trips or running books to the library before the overdue fine begins, there is always something else to squeeze in.

This weekend was even more chaotic due to Mike (and Eddie) finally tackling the living room.

This is our main room for living in. This is where the kids play and read and we sit and watch the television. This is the room that the piano is played in. This is the room for having a cup of tea in the evenings when the children are in bed. This is the room the younger ones get ready in the mornings, where I can keep and eye on them easily from the kitchen. So how hard is it when the one main room is undergoing a much needed makeover?! To begin with, there isn't anywhere else you can move the two sofas, the piano and the television so it's a matter of (Mike) moving them from one side of the room to the other... and back again. The kitchen was a makeshift home for a pasting table and various other tools of the trade and thankfully it seems that wallpaper paste is non toxic in small quantities. Why does much of the house you need to live in seem to be taken over when just one room is being redecorated? The papering is now done so there is just the matter of ceiling, new ceiling light to be fitted, paintwork along the frames and skirting and walls needing painting, and new fireplace to be put in (once Mike has made the hearth and mantle).

So while it's a matter of looking forward to the end product and finally having a rest from the awful purple walls that we've grown quite tiresome with over the last two years I do wish I could skip the inbetweeny parts of decorating and fast forward to the finished result.

While the man of the house and his helper were busy decorating, Caitlin and I went shopping on Saturday morning. It wasn't a self indulgent shopping though, but to get all the bits and pieces for our Operation Christmas Child shoe boxes.

Despite thinking I'd been saving shoe boxes throughout the year it turned out that I only found four which hadn't been used for craft projects or storage boxes by my own children. Next year, I note to myself, I will a) make sure I save every single shoe box we get and b) hide them... very well.

Armed with our pre-written list of everything we were allowed to include in the shoe boxes, Caitlin and I left the chaos of home behind to enter the chaos of the shopping centre. An hour and a half later we were on our way back.



Excitedly Caitlin and I returned home to show everyone what we'd bought for the children. At first Eddie was quite excited at the sight of all these toys and asked if they were all for them. He was very accepting and not at all disappointed to be told that they were gifts for the poor children who had never had a present which was a great response to get from a three year old, I thought. While sorting through the gifts which included colouring and writing pens and paper, toiletries and toys we realised that although we bought and paid for four cuddly toys, one for each box, one of them was now missing. It wasn't in any of the five bags and it wasn't in the car. Caitlin and I were both pretty certain that we hadn't left it behind at the checkout so assume that it probably fell out on our way back to the car park. I know it's only a small thing but it quite upset me, that this box and the child it goes to will not have the cuddly toy we'd meant for him to receive.


Yesterday morning I set about covering the boxes with wrapping paper. As with wrapping the family Christmas presents I started off very enthusiastically. By the time I had almost got through covering the second box I was pleading to reach the end, and soon! This wasn't helped at all by running out of wrapping paper, and not wanting to use the second roll I had bought for the remaining two boxes I rummaged through the cupboards until I found some shiny, gold metallic paper which I'd saved. I used it to line the inside of the box and carried out with the last two. I'm sure I breathed the greatest sigh when they were done!


And now the fun part, packing the gifts into the boxes...

One by one the gifts went in. Pads and pencils, crayons and pencil case, toothpaste, toothbrush... one thing after another was placed into the box...

... one box at a time until all were done...

...and so full we could barely close them properly! It was fun for the kids and both Caitlin and Harry expressed that it felt good to be doing something for children who weren't as lucky as they are. That made me very proud. Today the boxes will be taken to the drop off point by Mike on his way home from work later. And hopefully next year we'll collect enough boxes to do at least one from each child.

And in case you aren't familiar with it, Operation Christmas Child is an annual project by Samaritan's Purse which takes shoe boxes filled with gifts to needy children around the world. The gifts don't have to be very much at all. Simple things like a pack of crayons, a book, some pencils, a toothbrush or soap or pack of sweets aren't at all expensive or extravagant in the slightest, but will make a world of difference to someone's Christmas. A list of items you can include are on the OCC website (or here if you are in the UK) along with a list of local drop off points, and just to make it easy I'll let you know here that the National Collection Week in the US is November 17-24, and the final date in the UK is November 18th - so plenty of time to get your boxes in! And if you do decide to join in and pack a shoe box, please let me know. Let's see how many we can send out altogether and perhaps set a record for next year!