Introducing Ieuan

And here's my little menace number 2, Ieuan, who will be 6 in June.  There are no signs of his Spiderman obsession waning anytime soon.  I'm hoping he grows out of it by the time he's 30, otherwise I'll just throw in the towel and buy superhero morph suits for the entire family.

Actually, I always fancied a Wonder Woman costume.  Never sure about the scary American Tan tights though....

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Introducing Caitlin

So we've finally been playing around with the camcorder to give you an idea of who we are. Ieuan promises to introduce himself tomorrow when we can coax him out from underneath the table.  He's suffering from some sort of existential superhero angst this afternoon (also known as "being in dire need of a nap").....

By the way,  the glasses frame is a genuine 1950's frame which my mum made me wear to school. Marginally better than the standard black NHS frames of the time but still ever so slightly "Dame Edna".

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Silent Sunday - 29/03/15

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5 Random Things I'm Not Good At

Some people are good at everything, don't you find? Generally they are the type of people who feature in the Mail on Sunday's "You" magazine. Glossy, enthusiastic,  no stranger to a blender and able to display their knick-knacks like a display in Harrods. (I'm not displaying my holiday souvenirs darling, I'm curating my life).

Here's a few of the things I just can't do. And I've tried. Possibly you may sympathise or you may be one of those smug so and so's who can crochet whilst whipping up a meringue and sanding your floors. In which case, try not to chortle too loudly at my inadequacies.

Source:  Wikipedia

1.  Knitting

Ah. Knitting. Very popular again these days but try as I might, I can only knit vertical things. Long stringy scarves are a bit of a specialty.  I'm not sure I even know why I want to do it, except it has a kind of retro-ey coolness about it.  I walked into the pub Ieuan and I frequent whilst Caitlin is in ballet and there were a group of women, one of whom was knitting furiously like Madame Defarge at the guillotine. I hope she didn't have wool-based evil on her mind.  I should probably explain at this juncture that I have a coffee and Ieuan has an orange squash and a packet of Quavers, lest you fear that the moral compass I'm instilling in him has gone severely south of "responsible motherhood".

2.  Deciding

Source:  funnyjunk.com

I don't know what has happened to my ability to make a decision but since I had children the smallest choice seems to leave me in a quandary. If asked what I would like in a sandwich, my standard response is "well, what are you having?" Once I have made a decision, I have to pick it apart in case it's the wrong one. Every decision seems to come with large, life-changing consequences attached to it, which is great if it is an important decision but totally ridiculous if you are choosing between a latte or a cappucino.  Still, there's the time-honored route out of this conundrum by using the magic words "go and ask your father".

3.  Map Reading

Source:  Telegraph.co.uk

Allegedly one of the great gender divides, I'm afraid I'm letting the Sisterhood down badly with this one. I just cannot read maps. I can work out where I am on one. But I can't work out which way I need to go. Now, I have to say this runs in the family. My dad was a great one for trying to shave chunks off journey times by finding alternative routes using his trusty collection of battered, tea spattered and generally knackered OS maps. If you remember the sketch Jasper Carrott once did about guide-cats for the blind, you'll get a sense of what it was like being in the car whilst my dad navigated.

We always knew when trouble loomed as he'd take his mug of nuclear tea (poured by my mother during a major health & safety infringement in the front of a Renault 4 named Tootles (honestly,  a psychologist could have a field day..), get out his pipe and tin of Whiskey Ready Rubbed tobacco and rustle his maps of Devon whilst sitting on the car bonnet in weather conditions which Bear Grylls would find challenging.

On one memorable occasion we managed to cut through Bristol and cross the Avon suspension bridge twice, adding a helpful 45 minutes on to the journey. No,  it's Stephen Fry on the SatNav for me.  Who could resist a man who says "I say, would you mind awfully doing a U turn?".

4. Sunbathing

I just don't understand how people can go on holiday and spend all day on the beach baking themselves.  It's right up there with cataloging cotton reels or cleaning bicycles on my scale of "things I might like to be doing instead of watching "The Littlest Pet Shop" with the kids. I'm not good with sun or heat, possibly because I am a redhead and possibly because I have a terror of wrinkles.

I remember on a holiday to Majorca many moons ago, come supper buffet time, the Brits would all troop in from their beach towels and lilos looking like lobsters.  After 24 hours, some even had blisters from the sun.  All that peeling skin tends to put you off your paella.

The kids are slathered in Factor 50 as soon as the sun puts in an appearance. Sun hats are de rigeur, no matter how unflattering. Actually, I don't know why I worry so much. After all, I live in Wales.

5.  Finishing Books

Finishing pretty much anything if I'm honest. I managed two episodes of the BBC's Wolf Hall and despite having Hilary Mantel's books sat on my bookshelf, I can't quite get round to reading them. I have a huge pile of books by my bed, all of which have been read up to about page 20.  This is generally because I make the mistake of going on Amazon and downloading those under-a-pound Kindle books (you know the type of thing "how I sold my grandmother and became an overnight millionare") which join my endless queue of books to read.

Source:  doodlebugd.wordpress.com

Perhaps I am a good example of what happens when you spend a bit (cough) of time on the internet / iPad or mobile. I now seem to have the attention span of a gnat.

Oh look over there.  Shiny things.

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Hunt 21.5 tonnes of Cadbury Eggheads At The National Trust This Easter!

Over a quarter of a million Cadbury Eggheads are being delivered to National Trust properties ahead of the annual Cadbury Eggsplorers Easter Egg Trails , a fabulous easter egg hunt for kids, taking place over 3rd-6th April.

National Trust staff have taken delivery of 21.5 tonnes of chocolate eggs for the event. 

With thousands of eggs to store, staff have been getting creative about where to conceal the eggs so no one finds them before Easter.

Temporary locations include inside of grandfather clocks, pianos, vases and bookcases.

The 250,000+ Eggheads are now ready and waiting for our kids (and us!!!) to unleash their inner explorer at these adventurous trails taking place across the country.

Now in its eighth year, over 300 properties are taking part and with 680,000 people getting involved last year, the National Trust is expecting a huge turnout, especially if the sun makes an appearance!

Every trail will start at base camp where kids will receive their Eggsplorer Trail Journal, their Eggsplorer trail map and clues to help them stay on track.  

At the end of the trail, each Eggsplorer will receive a Cadbury's Egghead.

The trail costs £2 per Eggsplorer on top of the usual admission fee and I'd advise you to check the opening times of your chosen trail before you set off.

Our nearest is at beautiful Dyffryn Gardens in the Vale of Glamorgan.

To join in with the fun and find a Cadbury Eggsplorers Easter Egg Trail near you, visit www.eastereggtrail.com . 

It's an easter egg hunt that will give the kids some fun whilst protecting some of the most beautiful historic sites in Britain.

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Photos That Make Me Happy

I had Caitlin when I was 43 in 2007 and had, frankly, given up on the idea of motherhood.  She has always been a natural poser. This is in her old bedroom in our first house in Dinas Powys.

Caitlin born 15/11/2007

This was at 'Barrybados' in the summer of 2008. We had just completed a ninja nappy change on the grass behind Mathew.

Daddy and Caitlin at Barry Island

Ieuan, looking like a naughty Christmas imp. He appeared just 20 months after Caitlin when I was the scandalous age of 45!

Ieuan's First Christmas in 2009

This was taken in 2010 in the play area at Dyffryn Gardens. Unfortunately Ieuan decided the mulch looked like chocolate and tasted it. It might be a coincidence but we were at home to "Mr Puke" the very next day.

The Mulch Monster at Dyffryn Gardens, Vale of Glamorgan

Caitlin was flower girl at our wedding on 25 September 2011. We had a beautiful civil ceremony and reception at the St. David's Hotel & Spa in Cardiff.

Our beautiful flower girl at our wedding in St. David's Hotel & Spa, Cardiff

Ieuan, looking like Little Lord Fauntleroy.  Those curls!  Actually he was very well behaved during the ceremony and a good friend took him off for a nap once it had finished.

Our page boy, Ieuan - look at those curls!

The Happy Couple. I had managed to lose my baby weight specially for the wedding.  I managed to put on 4 stone with Caitlin - I couldn't stop eating cheese!

The Happy Couple - 25/09/2011

I loved my dress - a Maggie Sottero with a puddle train. It's still hanging in my wardrobe. I did think about having it made into an evening dress but the thought of cutting the train off is too upsetting!

My beautiful Maggie Sottero Wedding Dress

I love this photo because it captures Caitlin's and Ieuan's mischievousness perfectly.

The Naughtiest Pirates in the Vale of Glamorgan

This is us all sat on the kitchen floor. Caitlin has traces of the obligatory face painting from a party and Ieuan has the purple dummy it took us an age to prise off him. My dad says at this time Ieuan used to remind him of Al Capone because he would never actually take the dummy out, just roll it from side to side whilst speaking as if it were a cigar.

Camping out on the kitchen floor

Ieuan 'blending in' at someone else's birthday party.  You have to love kids' self confidence. Both Caitlin and Ieuan are happy, 'take charge' types.  Long may it continue.  I wouldn't want them to become shy and retiring like their mother (stop laughing at the back)!

Spiderman arrives at Hamleys, Cardiff

Ah.  The "Potato of Doom".  If Grayson Perry had produced this, nobody would be laughing I tell you. Suffice it to say Gregg and John would probably refuse to let me put the Masterchef apron on even for the first heat!

The Potato of Doom

Late parenthood is a brilliant excuse to relive your childhood.  As you can see, Mat hated every minute.  This was last summer in Cardiff Bay, after pizza, ice cream and two nausea inducing rides on the carousel.  I love that carousel.  It's the only fairground ride you'll get me on with the exception of junior roller coasters and ghost trains  I LOVE ghost trains.

Daddy & Ieuan on the helter skelter at Cardiff Bay, Summer 2014

The Hobbis team.  Nothing makes me happier. I sometimes look back on my days in marketing (over 20 years worth!) and wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. I'm certainly proof that your life can change for the better in the most unexpected and sudden of ways.

The Hobbis Family

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A Rough Guide To The Land Of The 7 Year Old Girl

The Land Of The 7 Year Old Girl is a strange place where all time stops.  There is much drifting and random staring out of the window.  

Curtains may be thrown back in the middle of the night to inspect the moon.

In the morning,  the donning of uniform may be halted many times whilst old handbags and giftbags are filled and refilled with shiny objects of disparate value.

These bags are subsequently dotted around the house and hidden in corners and may well contain the property of siblings.  

Thus, a doll's head may lurk with a fork, a water pistol, some old beads, a lip balm and a deflated beach ball.

It is practically impossible for the inhabitants of this land to avoid the urge to dress up.  

So bad is this compulsion that an old Halloween costume or a princess dress three sizes too small may be modeled at 7 in the morning, when the subject may terrify the living daylights out of parents by appearing silently at the end of the bed whilst resembling an extra in a "Zombie Apocalypse" movie.

Bathroom routines are endlessly redesigned with tooth cleaning requiring the creation of fountains using the cap off the toothpaste and three glasses of water.  

There is some apparently mandatory regulation that tooth cleaning must be carried out whilst singing and standing on one foot.

Hair is seldom brushed but perfume may be liberally sprayed.  

Plaits, buns and ponytails are demanded and promptly removed 5 minutes later.  

Pink is everywhere.  

If combine harvesters came in pink there would be one on the lawn.

Their love of certain TV theme tunes must be expressed through the medium of interpretative dance - particularly during the middle of any meal in front of the television.

Knives and forks are frequently laid aside in favour of pulling food apart and creating crumbs. 

This is particularly noticeable with any type of biscuit or pastry based item.  

In contrast,  the inhabitants generally have no problems with ice cream which is vacuumed with impressive rapidity.

Questions are frequent.  

In this house the questions are about topics such as space, how many ways you can die, whether nails can be painted (and whether you die if you eat nail varnish),  if it hurts to have a baby and whether we can go to Claire's Accessories,  

Handy phrases to note are "but Mum, you just don't understand" and "listen Mum, I'm just a child and you're the adult".

Cuddles are swift and violent.  

Hugs are demanded often.  

Tears appear at the drop of a hat and vanish just as swiftly.  

The beauty of the woman she will become is emerging through the mists of childhood. 

The love these inhabitants inspire is by turns humbling and terrifying. 

Their confidence is like the wings of a butterfly, opening for the first time in the sunshine. 

And I am terrified to crush those wings, despite knowing that 'fitting in' comes at the cost of some of that amazing uniqueness.

The skin of the inhabitants is smooth like a peach. 

Untainted by sunburn or bad habits, their faces radiate their feelings through an opalescent, sometimes be-freckled glow. 

You cannot observe one of these creatures without thinking back to how things were when you lived in the Land Of The 7 Year Old Girl. 

You remember the thickness and luminosity of your hair, the dresses you loved, the shoes you coveted (but were generally against school rules) and your hopes and dreams.

And you hope that their hearts are stronger than yours, their courage is greater than yours and that they carry the flame of innocent youth for as long as they can.

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