What does that say about us?

(no reason for the pic, just we enjoyed drawing to together today when Dino Boy was asleep in the car and I had my iPad handy)

The Pickle was relatively kind on us with what she showed the world when acting out her vision of home; she had a doll baby that she was permanently attached to, kissing it and hauling up her top to allow her baby to breast feed.

A friend was also in smug mode when her daughter put her babies to bed in the play room at the local family centre. There were hugs, kisses and stories, she then pulled up the sheets and kissed them goodnight. She the crept away, turning back only to bark accusingly 'now stay in bed'.

In a supermarket queue a friends child was getting fractious so 'a few words' had to be said. The very public retort from the tot was 'now then Daddy you had better behave or there will be no wine tonight'. He could not get out of the store fast enough, but they had made the day for everyone else in that queue.

There are no more secrets when you have children. Have you ever been caught out?

He is One

Where did a year go? Well I can tell you where the past three months have gone: dashing around after a rather enthusiastic walker. Maybe we should have succumbed to the old joke of giving him Danger as a middle name - it would fit.

He is a great communicator - I must tell you about that at a little great length later - but he has given up on conventional talking. Many months ago he started to say Mama, Dada and a version of Pickle's name in quick succession, then he got board of talking adult English. He instead says random well formed words, then can't be bothered to repeat them; yesterday's was a clear 'Doggy' when normally he refers to the dog as an 'oof'.

He and the Pickle are getting along as ...well...brother and sister. In other words a bit like the weather, mainly sunny, sometimes patchy and the occasional stormy front. For the first time in my life I can take great pleasure in being left out - they have a bond and a relationship that I don't want to intrude on. The pickle is occasionally a little over enthusiastic with her love for the Dino Boy - her embraces are treated as an impediment in his progress towards total carnage.

He has been generally quite amenable to sleep. two good sleeps by day and normally sleep for a good 5 to 6 hour stretch at night - provided he is not teething. Teething seems to be going on forever! Four so far but boy is he suffering at the moment.

I have not had a moments peace all year - but he has been the best addition to a very happy family! Xx

Getting Arty in Oxford

When i mentioned my plans to the local mums you would have thought that I was planning to scale the Eiger in a bikini - but by this stage of the summer holiday I need the sustenance of good art. Besides it was the first solo exhibition for Jenny Saville and the Pickle had been studying Greek pottery at school. Armed with snacks, a scooter and by Viva Glam lippy (no hip flask) I set out for Oxford.





Having escaped the clutches of the Westgate Centre we were on the way. First stop the Ashmolean and Greek Pottery and the first Jenny Saville pics, but only if we can get in through the door. Never fear, my mayhrm barely ruffles a hair on the immaculately coiffed heads of kindly matrons of the Ashmolean. Armed with a selection of possible trails we set out on the first adventure but first time for a snack. Lovely cafe, the cost made my eyes water (hoping it would be the only tears for the day).

It was a perfect visit, we attacked the Eygptian art trail with gusto before heading onto the Greek pottery. Who said antiquity is dull? Dead bodies in Eygpt and silly faces to be copied in Greece - nothing could be better. Just to think I thought that the Ashmolean would be stuffy: perplexed by our giggles maybe, but definitely friendly. We had to quit while we were just ahead and miss their Jenny Saville's but, being a Mum is all about spotting 'the signs'.




The smiles continued to Modern Art Oxford. The art trolley snared us before we even made it into the gallery. next armed with an art box we headed to see the exhibition.

There is a fundamental physics of childhood, one of equal and opposite energies. When faced with a death eater as imagined by Miss Jean Brodie...well, you can imagine the rest. suffice to say that when we made it down stairs to the cafe again never did a coffee taste so good...and the chocolate cake was medicinal (did I mention I left the hip flask at home?).

Aside from the deeds and misdemeanours of a Mum was it worth the visit? Yes. Jenny Saville's is a phenomenal talent - being a contemporary painter she can be too staid for the contemporary camp and too challenging for the traditionalists. Forget the labels, she works on a scale and with the broadest brush strokes that cut to the emotions with the precision of a scalpel. I was trying to avoid the Mummy talk here, but I was still quite pleased that the Pickle did not question me too much on the eye level penis that seems to launch itself into the room from the body of a transexual in transition.

We got home before I had to listen to Alegria for the 30th time that day so all things considered, it was a huge success. V&A tomorrow? NOOOOO I need a fortnight to recover; I got my fix and I will be planning my next visit but first that drink I had been promising myself.

Location:Oxford

The year of the flower press

Hurrah for the good old days? Long summer days and simple pleasures where a colour television was high technology? Forget about the Shipman's meat paste, static shocks from the nylons flares and pseudo victorian family values.
I remember my flower press and a rather dog-eared book on wildflowers. Guess what the Pickle got for her birthday? A flower press and the most amazing wild flower book. We have been so busy since then. Petals are great to make fairy dresses from and of course they make great cards.
Smug mum? Moi? Only totally! Xx

European sizes

This is a very personal post - apologies! European sizes drive me nuts as I can not understand them (my issue not the sizes themselves). Yet again I am sitting surrounded by clothes as I sort out the Dino Boys clothes as he has grown out of the next batch. Just as I have neat piles placed precariously about me I find a t-shirt sized 67cm - what does that mean? I think it is too small, do I get up and check an on line conversion char? Well the piles went flying and I checked - he has not worn it for a while as it is too small, aged 6 month. Must find the momentum again to resort the carnage and finish the job. Next I polish my halo!

further rant...why, oh why do sizes vary according to country? A size 1 in Italy seems to be the same as a six to nine month and in the uk and I put some 1 year trousers on the Dino boy (a fine figure of a future rugby playing fella) and they were so big he ended u streaking!

CHILD'S
56 cms   0/3 months or newborn
62 cms   3/6 months or 3 months
68 cms   6/9 or 6/12 months or 6 months
74 cms   9/12 months or 9 months
80 cms   12/18 months or 12 months
86 cms   18/24 months or 18 months
92 cms    2/3 years or 2 years
98 cms    3/4 years or 3 years
104 cms   4/5 years or 4 years
110 cms   5/6 years or 5 years
116 cms   6/7 years or 6 years
122 cms   7/8 years or 7 years
128 cms   8/9 years or 8 years
134 cms   9/10 years or 9 years
140 cms   10/11 years or 10 years
146 cms   11/12 years or 11 years
152 cms   12/13 years or 12 years
164 cms   14/15 years or 14 years


For everything else i always use http://www.metric-conversions.org/ - just waiting for clothes sizes to go onto it :)

The bean became Dino Boy

It must be because I keep on feeding him, mind you I fed the Pickle and she remained a mini munchkin. My bean has grown into a fully grunting dinosaur.

He is massive! I must break the habit of a life time and actually get him weighed to see if it is my myth or something approaching the truth. I started to call him Thumper the Bumper Baby, on account of his fully formed prop forward thighs - but that seemed a little ... Well ... forward. He snuffled so adorably when feeding (most of the night it sometimes seems) so I have settled on him being my Dino Boy. You never know of he develops his father's nose he may be a triceratops yet.

Olympic torch

How cynical am I about the Olympics? Well, I just don't get sport and I never have, I don't have that competitive gene so it goes straight over my head. I do however being in the states for the LA Olympics (admittedly on the other coast) and seeing the Brit team in the closing ceremony and Daley thompson's 'thank you LA' t-shirt (I was young and it was the 80s). So when the Hubster suggested we go to see the torch relay I went along gladly. Besides it was going past my favourite cafe and there was a decent tea in it for me. From where we were it was a remarkably chilled affair, I gather at other spots it was a bun fight and I have since since many shakes videos of heads to atest to that. We sat and Pickle and Dino boy woofed down their Mediterranean platter and the Hubster a heather beer I felt I had finally made my peace with Reading. It may be a town stuck in the twilight world of suburbia and chain store hell but it does have a beating heart and it was great to see it come together particularly when I could see it from the vantage point of the global cafe. All of a sudden the road outside us was buzzing. Cars stopped in one direction and people surged across to see what was afoot. Dino boy and I stayed in door from where I could see the pickle resplendent in her pink plastic mac complete with cat's ears on the hubsters shoulders. From our vantage point, appropriately in the Global Cafe, the Dino boy gave his best waves, enough to melt this cynic's heart. The Pickle not only saw the torch but she also smelt it - now that is something she could not have got from YouTube.