Chocolate Cake in a Mug - The cake anyone can make.

Here is a recipe so easy, so simple, so basic, that even Mike's cousin "K" (you know who you are!) can make it.

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons plain flour
4 tablespoons sugar
2 tablespoons cocoa
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk
3 tablespoons oil
3 tablespoons chocolate chips/mini marshmallows/chopped nuts/cherries/anything else you fancy throwing in (optional)
drop of vanilla extract
1 large microwavable mug

Method:

Add dry ingredients to mug and mix.

Add the egg and mix thoroughly.

Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.

If using chocolate chips/mini marshmallows/chopped nuts/cherries/anything else you want to throw in add them now.

Add vanilla extract. Mix again.

Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts (high). The cake will rise over the top of the mug.

Allow to cool a little.

EAT!**

**You may want to serve on a plate and share the cake with a second person. Then again you may not. I will not judge you.

Spring forward

The clocks went forward a couple of nights ago. While I like the signs of spring, and that summer is around the corner, I absolutely don't like the clocks changing. I hate having my body clock thrown off, and I really don't like that the kids body clocks also have to be reset.

I normally wake up at 5am. I find it gives me a chance to do several things in peace before everyone starts getting up, including having a couple of hot drinks to get myself ready for the day. For the first few days after the clocks go forward the conversation in my head goes like this:

"Wake up. Time to wake up. It's almost five."

"Ugh, but it's really only four."

"Well, it's not four o'clock any more. It's five o'clock."

"But it's actually four o'clock!"...

And so the conversation goes.

Now apart from letting you in on the voices in my head, does anyone else resent the clocks changing as much as I do or is it just a personal dislike that only I alone make a job of disliking with a passion?

What number of children makes a family large anyway?

Even though my blog is called "Larger Family Life", and I claim to blog about living life the larger family way, I really am not sure whether I have a large family or not. I mean, how many children must you have before you are classed as a large family?

I suppose one indicator is thinking back to when people chose to become more vocal with their comments and opinions. I've been trying to pinpoint when the comments started. Perhaps when we had Harry who is the fourth child, I think it may have been.

When you are parents of a single child you may find yourself often asked if you'll be having any more, along with "only child" comments. Two children seems to be society's accepted number of children, moreso if you have one of each as you are then considered to have the perfect family set-up. Three children is where you're starting to step over the line. I mean, why a third when you already had the "perfect" two? Surely this has got to be it, right? So if you do get to four, well, that has got to be it.

It just does.

Right?

Anyway, I digress. Like I said, the comments, I believe, became more noticable after number four. But when Eddie was born we seemed to have stepped into new territory, where the remarks would begin to come through thick and fast. And when we found out we were expecting number six, when Eddie had only just turned four months old, we were officially labelled insane.

I'm not going to go into the comments side of things too much in this post. I'll be saving that for you for another time so you have something to look forward to, you lucky, lucky people ;-). My reason for this post is to say that personally to me, seven (or eight) doesn't seem particularly large. I know of several families much larger than my own. I feel like a bit of a fraud when I write out my posts on this blog, which claims that I'm blogging about living life the larger family way because, quite frankly, it doesn't feel like I do. The Duggar's with their eighteen children are a large family but us, we'll we're tiny in comparison.

Even with the whole family in one room it doesn't feel like we're all there. It feels like someone isn't there. Always. And not just to me, but on different occasions and at different times one of us will comment on how "It feels like somebody's missing!".

Yes, we'll count heads. Then we'll count again. And go through the names. But it feels like there are fewer people present than there are meant to be. To us, a real large family isn't us. It's more than we have in our family. We don't feel particularly large, but we are to others because that's the reaction we get from people. The comments, the looks, the people trying to discreetly count how many of us there are as we walk or drive by all indicate that we're a little... unusual, for want of a better word.

I'm sure that when I had two children, or even three for that matter, I would have thought that any more would have definitely been classed as a bigger sized family. I knew someone who had five children and saw the "How many?!" reactions she would get, and even that I had given myself when I found out. That was certainly a big family in my eyes and something I couldn't imagine myself being a part of. Until I got there. And then it didn't seem such a big deal. It didn't seem any kind of a deal actually. It was just my family.

What is the magic number then? How many children would a family have to be considered a large family? What do you think?



This has also been posted at the Lots of Kids: 4 or More Blog.

Twitter. I just don't get it.

All this talk about Twitter has got me curious. But I just don't get it! What is it? How do you use it? Am I completely beyond help for not knowing?! Am I the only one?

Credit where it's not due

Or it could also be titled "Parenting Lots of Boys".

Sorting through the laundry I was impressed with the amount of small boy sized underpants I was coming across. Finally, I thought, they were taking notice of lectures on hygiene and changing their pants every day.

Until Stephanie snapped this:

The younger boys had created their own Captain Underpants
costumes comprising of underpants worn outside their trousers and/or on their heads, and a muslin forming a cape.

Three boys aged six and under are now running around shouting the catchphrases "Tra-la-laaa!" and "We fight for truth, justice and all that is pre-shrunk and cottony!", and a fourth boy, aged one, is trying desperately to keep up with the fun. I'm sure the oldest boy would have joined in too if he were here.

I realise now that I have to accept several things.

1. That it was better to have a moment of false pride in their increased "personal hygiene without nagging" efforts than none at all, even if it was just in my imagination.

2. That the personal hygiene talks are going to continue for some time yet.

and three, that the above antics absolutely, positively...

...must be a boy thing!

The baby blanket is complete... now what?!

Last week saw the final stages of putting together the blanket I've been knitting for the new baby over the past couple of months. Finishing off the edging, I remarked to Mike how, while happy as always to see the end product, I'd be sad to go back to having no project to relax with of an evening.

Then yesterday I came across this. Perfect, I thought, for finishing up all the odds and ends of wool except, when it came to it, I don't actually have that many. I don't want to go and buy new balls of wool for the sake of this project as it seems to defeat the purpose, and if I were to spend the money which I can't excuse doing at this moment in time, I may as well do so to carry out a "proper" project. So it seems I'll be keeping my eye out for odd, mixed balls in the second hand stores, and seeing what my £4 Paypal payment from a survey last week will buy me.

And then it remains to be seen whether my creation will look as good as the one in the pattern or whether it'll just look like a bunch of, well, squares.

I'm in the PARTY spirit!

Saturday evening was one we'd all been looking forward to. The church was holding it's St Patrick's night party and this crazy bunch of partygoers wasn't missing it! The younger children were very excited, constantly asking if it was time for the party yet, and Mike was looking forward to a Guinness or two.

Finally, it was 7.20pm and time to leave. Ireland had minutes ago won the Rugby Grand Slam for the first time in over sixty years, and we were on our way to the party of the year!

We reached our destination and settled at our table with soft drinks for everyone except Mike who wasted no time starting on his first Guinness (well, it was a St Patrick's Day party after all), and the kids eagerly tucked into the nibbles set out at the table (though I promise they did eat before we left). The band (who seemed to attribute their many years of age to supplying their livers with alcohol very regularly - well, it was St. Patrick's Day...etc etc) played on and the Irish Dancers entertained us wonderfully, yet I appreciated the end of their performance given that we were right at the front and I narrowly escaped butchery by flailing legs several times.

It was going well. But with one problem. We were so tired! The younger children are not used to being out and about at gone 9pm. To be truthful, neither are we! Harry set his head down on the table, and Sid just wanted to climb on my lap. At one point my 30+ week pregnant belly was central to Sid precariously balanced on my left knee and Paddy on my right. By 9.15pm we were heading home, too tired to stay any longer.

Hold on though!

Because if all that partying wasn't enough we then decided to... stop at the chip shop!

Yes, I know. There was no stopping us now!

Well after that manic Saturday night, followed by Mothering Sunday yesterday and eating almost an entire box of chocolates before church (no, not by myself. It seems that encouraging the children to share means that I should lead by example. Even with chocolates. Pah!), I this morning feel really, really tired with a headache to boot.

Now, I know you think I've learnt my lesson after this fast paced weekend. (And though it is more likely the result of several bathroom trips during the night, low iron levels and coming into the final run of pregnancy the rebel in me is insisting that it's down to the wildchild behaviour of the last couple of days). But hey, you aren't going to stop me now that I've begun!

I'm partying for the rest of the week! I'm joining in the ULTIMATE BLOG PARTY!

So, I'm going to fight through the fatigue in order to mingle because, well, that's what we party animals do isn't it? Except, it doesn't matter if I sit in my pj's with a cup of coffee while I do so, and no-one need know if I slip away early to go to bed. It's all about the image, right?!

And if you're a fellow party animal who has found this blog via the social whirlwind we're currently on, please do stop to have a look around and say hello. And if you're an old reader, come and join in the party with me and I'll take full responsibility for leading you astray!

Taking things literally

Our food shopping was delivered yesterday, and the younger five were all busily working together in the kitchen, helping to unpack.

Suddenly, there was an excited cry from Eddie as he pulled open a bag containing three loaves.

"Our Daily Bread!" he shouted, "Just like we prayed for!!!"

Paddy would like to wish you a Happy St Patrick's Day!

As do this lot...



... and the rest of us!

And remember the wise words of the Irish...

When we drink, we get drunk,
When we get drunk, we fall asleep,
When we fall asleep we commit no sin,
When we commit no sin we go to heaven,
So let's all get drunk and go to heaven!

Happy St Patrick's Day!

Must try harder...

No, not the children. Me. I've just noticed that I only made one post throughout February. I promise that I will make the effort to keep in touch more. I can't promise that the posts will necessarily be interesting though!

Homeschooling - Our first few weeks in pictures...

Patrick starts the day off with prayers with the rest of us...

Learning to make burgers for dinner...

Painting (yes, they were sent outside. It wasn't raining!) ...

... and inside (because it was) ...

Helping Dad make a gate in the garden...

Making fish...




... not always drawing on what we're supposed to be drawing on...



... studying ants...




... and completing our workbooks...

The waiting is over

After what seems like the longest time of our lives the waiting is finally over. The past few weeks have dragged and we subconciously seemed to put things regarding the pregnancy on hold. It was as if making plans would tempt fate and make it harder to cope in the event of bad news, so we didn't make them. We barely spoke about the pregnancy at all. Even the blanket I'd been knitting was continued at a slow pace, but without the excitement of new baby expectations knitted into each stitch.

Of course, every day life still goes on and we also had to contend with a couple of weeks sickness during these last few weeks as well as embarking on our homeschooling journey. We've been so busy but still taking things a day at a time and I really felt ok up until the few days before the scan, where the worry and panic set back in resulting in a few sleepless nights.

Finally, we had our scan last week. We weren't sure whether our test results would be back or not yet. Part of me felt happier with the ignorance of not knowing anything. Another part wanted desperately to know and hopefully be reassured.

The oldest two children were at school and so the five youngest came along with us. Thankfully Mike had managed to book the day off which was a huge help and comfort to me. We sat in the waiting room, taking up a row of seats ourselves. The children all immediately settled with some books we had taken along and, despite us waiting for almost an hour from when we first arrived, were quiet and perfectly well behaved the whole time. I was so proud of them all, especially given how young the smaller ones are.

We were finally called in by the sonographer and he immediately began scanning. There were three people in the room, the sonographer, a lady who was entering the measurements onto the computer and a third lady who left to find out if the test results were back.

It wasn't a "normal" scan where the sonographer points out different parts and talks you through, not that we expected it to be. The sonographer would relay the measurements to his colleague and they would whisper between themselves. I would pick up bits and pieces of conversation, straining to hear better, constantly moving my head to see if I could understand anything on the screen.

After what seemed like an eternity but was in truth only about 10-15 minutes the third member of staff returned with our results. She immediately went over to the lady entering the details on the computer and they began to whisper. I then heard two words... "Cystic Fibrosis" and the whispering continued. My throat tightened and felt like it was being squeezed even though there was nothing physically around it. I turned to look at Michael to see if he'd heard what I had just heard but I couldn't see his face as whichever child was on his lap at the time (I really didn't notice) was in the way. I felt the bile rising in my throat and I swallowed and felt my heart racing.

Then the lady who had gone for the results said my name and walked around to where I was lying, still being scanned.

"Tania," she said, "the tests are all negative."

I think she may have gone on to say more - something about no genetic or chromosomal problems but I can't remember her words. I remember feeling so relieved, and thanking God over and over. And feeling the weight of the previous five or six weeks lifting off me. And trying not to cry.

The sonographer then said that the scan was over. He and the lady at the computer said that the results, along with the information they'd got from the scan indicates no serious problems at all. The hyperechogenic bowel is still present, but the absence of something else which I can't remember the term for indicates that it isn't a blockage which would need operating on either. I have to continue to return for four weekly scans in order to keep an eye on the hyperechogenic bowel and the growth of the baby, as there is still the possibility it could be an indicator of placental failure, but the chance of this is tiny, given that the baby's growth hasn't been affected so far and the blood flow is of no concern at all.

Yesterday I had an appointment with my consultant who gave me the final reassurance I needed to hear. Everything looks to be wonderful. The baby appears to be completely healthy and although they do want to keep a closer eye than they normally would, it is purely precautionary.

Many, many people all over the world have been praying for us during the last few weeks - most of them people we've never met and are highly unlikely to get to meet. Thank you all so much for your thoughts, prayers, support and messages. You have no idea how much they have meant.



This post has also been posted at Lots of Kids and Pregnant Again.