TGI March!!

We've done it!! Survived another February, that is! The wintry weather wasn't the problem, nor the depleted post Christmas bank accounts (although they didn't help matters!). I'm talking about emerging relatively unscathed from a month of birthdays, birthday parties and half term holidays. All those years ago Nic and I failed to foresee the chaos which would ensue from deciding to make babies in the Spring. Must have been seeing all those cute lambs skipping about that made us get broody at that time of year. Lambs don't insist on birthday parties for the rest of the flock though! You can see where I'm going with this now.

I was initially filled with trepidation when Sam declared he wanted his party at home this year, but as I got into the swing of planning it with him, I started to warm to the idea. He's quite wise for his age and I think he had realised that he would have more fun with less friends in an environment he could control, as opposed to running about with his whole class at Jungle Gyms. He had some quality male bonding time with his best friends and I think it's helped him day to day at school too. For us it was 2 hours of controlled chaos, as we were besieged by 9 boys and 3 girls (who exercised more than enough girl power to hold their own!). Being a control freak I had organised them into 3 groups doing a kind of game circuit, switching between the Wii, Scalectrix and table football. The time flew by and before we knew it we had parents turning up to witness the battering of the pinata. The day was topped off by the now obligatory sleepover - not all 12 thank goodness - just 2. I've come to the conclusion that boys, although more boisterous (or "boysterous") are much easier to manage than girls. More on that later.

After several years of a less is more attitude from Abigail towards birthday celebrations, I was taken aback when she insisted on a party for her whole class at the community centre. I thought we'd exited that phase and had expected to be taking a few select friends to the cinema, followed by pizza. Somehow I found myself agreeing to a Wild West themed party, with the catering and entertainment to be provided by yours truly. Sorting out the food was the easiest part, although I agonised over whether there would be enough sausage rolls, chocolate fingers, token healthy cucumber etc. The bouncy castle was the star attraction but we had to appoint bouncers to manage the numbers and keep them from maiming each other. The craft activities kept them occupied for all of 5 minutes and I had to do some improvised games for the final 20 minutes, having already run out of prizes. It was actually a great success according to Abigail and her friends, but I never want to put myself (or Nic) through that again. Party organisers and children's entertainers are there for a reason.

In another moment of complete madness I had agreed to 5 girls coming for a sleepover the same evening. In a sado-maschistic way I sort of enjoyed it - watching Abigail as the centre of attention doing all the girlie stuff that I don't remember ever doing (applying make up to each other whilst blind fold?!). And they were, for the most part, self-sufficient, not needing or wanting any adults present (so I resorted to eavesdropping instead). I lost count of the number of little tearful spats, complaints of "it's not fair, I don't have a Go Go pet / lip gloss / Hello Kitty teddy". I also stopped counting spilt drinks, mashed in popcorn, french fries, sticky lolly sticks on the floor. The three fat ladies show was absolutely hillarious - Nic and I were in stitches and have encouraged them to do it for "Wincham's got Talent" at school this month. The only moments I didn't enjoy were at 12.30a.m., 1.30a.m. and 2.30a.m. and I don't think our little house guests were very fond of me then either! Have you ever tried shouting in hushed whispers?!

But as ever, we did have fun, the kids loved it as evidenced by the photos and it's over for another year. In years to come when they are celebrating their birthdays at the pub with their friends, we'll look back with rose tinted glasses and say how wonderful it was.

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

For Doting Dad

Abbie is 9 today and I know Nic is heartbroken that he can't be here and is missing her like mad. Hope this little write up helps him feel a little less far away! Abbie loved her presents - new baseball boots (wish they did them in my size), a lava lamp (cool!), a Hello Kitty friendship book and a sew it yourself racoon key ring (from Sam of course!). But my grown up 9 year old had a tantrum worthy of a toddler when she realised she hadn't got a birthday badge to wear for school. There's no pleasing some people! Determined not to give into her demands I settled down to some work, but somehow found myself in town later, wrestling with a Hello Kitty balloon and carying a bag with birthday badge and banner in it. I came close to tying her up with the banner and attaching the badge to skin when I picked her up from school still bemoaning lack of badge!!

Anyway, all's well that ends well. We nipped out for a birthday tea and in spite of the lack lustre service at Pizza Express we had a great time. The kids had taken pens and paper to keep themselves occupied and we designed a host of hilarious anti Hello Kitty characters - my favourite was Bog Off Bunny! Both kids are now tucked up in bed - I shan't breathe a sigh of relief until I know they are asleep, but I am having a well deserved glass of wine. I should really be getting an early night as we still have a party for 30 and a sleepover for 6 to survive at the weekend.

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

10 years wed....

I'm torn between asking myself where have the last 10 years gone (which makes me feel old!) and reflecting with amazement on how much has happened during our first 10 years of marriage. Just looking at the number 2010 staggers me - it only seems a few short years ago that we were discussing how we would celebrate the eve of the new millenium and looking forward to our January 2000 wedding. 2010 looks like a number from a futuristic movie - we should be wearing silver suits, eating meals in tablet form (do diet shakes count?!) and travelling around in flying cars. We could have done with the latter last Friday when we were sat as good as stationery in a traffic jam on the M62 for the best part of an hour, with me desperately regretting having downed a large Costa coffee (I was even contemplating flagging down a nearby campervan and asking if I could use its facilities!).

We were on our way to York for a childfree weekend to celebrate our tin anniversary, looking forward to mooching around, sleeping a lot, sharing some candlelit meals and a few bottles of wine. York is an ideal city in which to do all of that and more. The shopping looked great - lots of variety with some lovely boutiques amongst from the standard high street bunch - and coffee shops, bars, ice cream parlours, ye olde tea shoppes on every corner and in between. We abstained from shopping - January is a rubbish time to have an anniversary as we're usually on a frugal stint - but we indulged in lots of liquid refreshment and sampled some of the international food on offer. We found a wonderful little bar serving beers from around the world and spent a couple of hours late Saturday afternoon cocooned in its cosy and unpretentious upstairs room, shut away from the outside world, immersed in our books, and drinking fruity Belgian beer. The sort of Saturday afternoon we took for granted pre children!

But we did miss the little horrors a lot. We spent far too much time planning where we would take them when we returned to York as a family (have already booked a hotel just outside York with a family room for half term!).

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

Didn't she do well!!

Abigail hates it when we describe her as "arty", but ever since she's been able to wield a paintbrush she has shown a bit of an artistic bent. I've always loved her works of art, even when I didn't really know what they were, but then I am somewhat biased. I still have a cupboard stuffed full of stiff pieces of coloured paper with flaky poster paints, glitter and pasta (!) dropping off every time I move them. Over the years I have become increasingly hard hearted, relegating pictures to the bin when she isn't looking, but there are certain ones which make it onto the notice board next to my desk - her incredibly detailed cartoon strips, with tiny, intricate drawings and deadpan scripts and the card congratulating me for doing well at the dentist, amongst others.

It's one thing for us biased parents to think she's got a talent for art, but it's fantastic when she's recognised by less subjective judges! When Abigail's design for the Wincham village logo won I was beside myself, especially as I was privy to this information about 10 days before her, as it was revealed at a meeting I attended. She was presented with a certificate and prize in school and we look forward to seeing the logo in use. (Picture & article are from this week's Northwich Guardian).

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

Another year younger

Sometimes life can feel like a bit of grind - especially at this time of year when Christmas lights are no longer twinkling, the family of santas, reindeer and snowmen that used to live on the back of the sofa have emigrated and the recent thaw has uncovered streets that look dirty and grey. Luckily our everyday lives are filled with little moments that make us laugh out loud or perhaps just chuckle to ourselves. My kids are at their funniest when they don't know they've said something hilarious. I was trying to persuade a sleepy and reluctant Abigail out of bed yesterday by getting her cuddly polar bear to give her eskimo kisses and telling her in my best polar bear voice that "Mr Polar Bear says it's time to get up." Abigail's deadpan reply "Mr Polar Bear can go fish!" had me rolling on the floor much to her bemusement. (She got it once I explained it to her!)

We were all giddier than usual during tonight's evening meal, as it is Nic's birthday today and I had whipped the kids up into a frenzy of birthday excitement with present wrapping, cake decorating and plates full of calorific and E-number-laden goodies. Daisy was tormented with the chocolate fudge cake placed tantalising out of reach on the table alongside Count Ducula - a squeaky duck from the kids (in Daisy's world if a toy squeaks it's hers). Conversation at the table was unexpectedly challenging with the opener "can our hamsters have sex?" (from Sam who is 6 and who, as far as I am concerned, hasn't even been given the "mummies and daddies have a special cuddle" explanation yet). Apparently the book I bought them on keeping hamsters had 3 whole pages on breeding i.e. having sex. Didn't audit that one very well did I? Never assume that if a book has cartoons in it that it's suitable reading material for 6 year olds. I hardly dare check what pictures are on the afore mentioned 3 pages! Probably the hamster-sutra. This was swiftly followed by Abigail's rendition of "Let's talk about sex, baby", - we've always subsituted the word "sox" for "sex", so her sock puppetry was particularly amusing. So life is anything but boring and all this laughter must help to keep us young. I hope I'd still be decorating cakes with smarties and candles and buying squeaky bath toys if we didn't have kids, but knowing how much they enjoy it all does make it even more fun.

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

Stick to the knitting

Crocheting - it can't be that hard can it? I can knit, so I think I'd like to learn to crochet. So I booked a place on a crochet workshop for beginners and with lots of enthusiasm turned up full of anticipation at a heavenly wool shop (Fibre & Clay) in Knutsford. I would spend the day chatting with like-minded ladies, drinking coffee and eating a nice lunch, whilst learning a new skill.

Hmmm! It didn't quite turn out as I expected. Firstly I have to confess to having a raging hangover having spent the previous evening (and early morning) at a charity evening, where wine flowed freely. As we don't get out very often we made the most of it and went on to a bar for cocktails (de rigeur in Knutsford anyway). Some bright spark (neither me nor Nic!) then voted to have a night cap at someone's house - logically this had to be whoever needed to send the babysitter home. 2 hours later we ejected some well oiled neighbours out of our house and a short 5 hours later my alarm clock went off! My lasting memory of the evening was sharing with the group that I didn't want to drink too much, otherwise I would be breathing alcoholic fumes over the ladies on the crochet workshop. Some smart Alec from the group quipped that "at least it would disguise the smell of wee" - see blog below for stereotypical views of people who knit (or crochet).

Sitting on Saturday morning, sipping coffee from designer mugs, surrounded by hand crafted bags and garments (still feeling dreadful), I couldn't wait to get my hands on a crochet hook and some nice wool. We all browsed through magazines and books, picking out items we would be rushing to make by the end of the day... We established that we were all more or less crochet virgins (some had dabbled a little long time ago) and so were all at the same stage. 4 hours later I was still at the same stage at the bottom of class, along with Nicola (it's always nice to have some company), whilst other members of the group were flying along with their chains, treble trebles, gaily changing colours and yarns and discussing how many fluted scarves they could make in time for Christmas! Nicola and I on the other hand would have been happy to finish a coaster for a shot glass by Christmas - the same one we started but came nowhere near completing in 5 hours! Nicola labelled us the "special needs crocheters" as we seemed to be so differently abled to the rest of the class! We couldn't even master wrapping the yarn around our fingers to get the right tension, never mind pull a tiny loop down through 3 or 4 equally tiny loops with a hook that seemed to be like a cricket bat!

By lunchtime I had completed 2 whole rows of my coaster - ignoring the fact that it was shaped like a banana and I had an epiphany when I realised that I could turn the crochet hook, rather than holding it rigidly at the same angle all the time. Imagine trying to use a knife or fork without flexing, turning your fingers or hands comfortably around it. Lunch seriously eased my hangover and I returned to the crochet cell with renewed vigour... until I realised that we were now embarking on a new adventure - crocheting in a circle to produce a so-called granny ring. I almost lost the plot completely until I decided to rebel slightly and continue with my coaster. By 4.00pm I was the proud owner of half a coaster (it's not actually level enough to risk placing a drink on it) and had mastered the double, half treble, double treble AND the treble treble. Rashly I bought some gorgeous pink soft yarn and a hook with the aim of crocheting a bag for Abigail. I set off home eager to put my new skill into practise.

Halfway through Strictly (about three hours later) I abandoned the crocheting, having cast on 30 chains and completed 1 and a half very bumpy rows. I picked up my knitting and quickly finished another hat and made significant headway on the next one by bed time. I came to the conclusion that trying to crochet on my own at home could be compared to leaving the hospital with your new born baby for the first time. At hospital with the midwives on hand to help all the time you think you think you've mastered it, but flying solo at home is a whole different ball game. And I don't think Sarah, our wonderful and extremely patient teacher would want to move in and nursemaid me until I could go it alone.

Don't get me wrong - crocheting and me are not finished - I'm still very enticed by the wealth of delicate items that can be crocheted (fluted scarf for one) and I will pick up the hook and go back into battle another day. I will not be beaten!!

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!

My guilty secret

I've got a guilty secret and only my family and closest friends know about it (and come to think of it my hairdresser and some complete strangers in Costa Coffee). It's something I used to only do behind closed doors but have recently taken up in public places too... Before you ring the police and /or a psychiatric help line, I'll enlighten you - I am a knitter! After a period of abstinence I am now completely addicted once more and am rarely seen during my "spare" time without wool, needles and flying elbows.

Like all embarrassing secrets I have to weigh up who I tell about my yarn yearnings. It's amazing how knitting polarises people into 2 distinct groups - firstly the "Oh god, you don't, do you?!" group, who burst out laughing and then mentally take you off their list of exciting people to invite round for dinner. Secondly there's the "Oh so do I - isn't it great" group who share your passion and completely understand it.

Perhaps it's my snobbism but I also think that you can break the group of knitting lovers down further as well (well my marketing background encourages me to segment the market!). There are those knitters who fit the stereotype to a "T" - cardiganed grannies knitting endless blankets, sweaters, hats, scarves and socks out of leftover balls of wool that are then presented to family members who are too tactful to ask them whether they are a) colour blind or b)stuck in a 70's time warp. For those of you that believe all knitters fall into this category, you've obviously missed the knitting revolution and I would challenge you to put your prejudices aside and look again. Knitting just got SEXY! Well, not just - It's been that way for some time now. Designs and yarns have caught up with the times and it's now cool to be handknitting. People all over the country are picking up their needles and creating fashionable garments, cushions, bags out of the most amazing colours and textures.

When I tell people my little secret now I usually make sure I've got something I've recently made about or on my person (or on one of the kids), so that when they give the usual "Oh god, you don't do you?!" reaction, I can quickly blow apart their preconceptions by showing them a natty little hat out of baby soft yarn in delicious colours. I usually find that they are astonished and quite often start to hint quite heavily that they would love said garment themselves.

By Jane Burkinshaw. Share this post by clicking on one of the Share buttons on the right hand side. I'd love to hear your comments too!