We're on the home straight now. The presents are bought and wrapped. The shopping's ordered.
We're going out for Christmas lunch, so I won't be spending all day in the kitchen.
Surely it's time to relax - preferably with a large G&T?
Not quite. The Princess is fretting because she hasn't got me a gift yet - it doesn't matter, but she's determined, bless her.
There's the (seemingly) ever-present threat of snow - we're due another load on Thursday, apparently, which is when the lovely Tesco man should be bringing my festive goodies. I'm really hoping he makes it - the last thing I want to do then is face the supermarket in person armed with a full shopping list.
We've also got to get over to the second salsa club Christmas party - again, the ice and snow adding an edge of anxiety.
In spite of it all, though, I'm enjoying it. The Boy is home, everyone's happy and, while it's been a hell of a year one way and another, we've all emerged unscathed and more appreciative of what we've got.
I'm sorry if that sounds sentimental, but it's the truth - and anyway, it's Christmas. So put Fairytale of New York on the iPod, hand me a mince pie and a glass of fizz, and let's raise a glass to family. I wouldn't be without them.
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Thursday, 14 October 2010
Flying the Coop
It's been a month since The Boy ventured over the Penines to Preston, and I can't deny it's taking some getting used to.
It's a strange situation - it's like he's gone to university two years early, but technically he's still a child. It makes it that bit harder to let go.
The good news is he's loving it. He's already made some great friends, he enjoys the social side and he's enjoying his new-found freedom. In typical teenage fashion, the biggest news of his first week was: "Guess what? I can wear my trackies to lectures!"
He comes home at weekends to dump his dirty washing - I've never been so glad to see a bag of mucky socks before! Of course, he wants to catch up with his mates and girlfriend too, but family has always been important to him and so far we've always had some "us" time - be it watching the Grand Prix and a Sunday roast or pizza and a DVD on Saturday night.
The Princess is always thrilled to see him. She's found it very difficult - she adores her big brother and misses him terribly. She's devoted herself to looking after Bunny, the cuddly rabbit he's had since he was born..... If it hadn't been so uncool, I'm sure he'd have gone to college, too, but the second best thing is to be looked after by Little Sis.
For us? Well, personally I'm working hard to let go as much as I can. There's a subtle but very different shift that means The Boy is inexorably becoming The Man.
And I can't deny we miss our in-house babysitter..... Our social lives have taken a hell of knock since he left!
It's a strange situation - it's like he's gone to university two years early, but technically he's still a child. It makes it that bit harder to let go.
The good news is he's loving it. He's already made some great friends, he enjoys the social side and he's enjoying his new-found freedom. In typical teenage fashion, the biggest news of his first week was: "Guess what? I can wear my trackies to lectures!"
He comes home at weekends to dump his dirty washing - I've never been so glad to see a bag of mucky socks before! Of course, he wants to catch up with his mates and girlfriend too, but family has always been important to him and so far we've always had some "us" time - be it watching the Grand Prix and a Sunday roast or pizza and a DVD on Saturday night.
The Princess is always thrilled to see him. She's found it very difficult - she adores her big brother and misses him terribly. She's devoted herself to looking after Bunny, the cuddly rabbit he's had since he was born..... If it hadn't been so uncool, I'm sure he'd have gone to college, too, but the second best thing is to be looked after by Little Sis.
For us? Well, personally I'm working hard to let go as much as I can. There's a subtle but very different shift that means The Boy is inexorably becoming The Man.
And I can't deny we miss our in-house babysitter..... Our social lives have taken a hell of knock since he left!
Thursday, 2 September 2010
A Sigh of Relief
He's in! Thank goodness for that!
It's been a tense couple of weeks at Media Manor. The Boy was among those waiting for his GCSE results and, as time wore on, he realised that when we suggested that perhaps a tad more revision was in line, our sole aim wasn't to ruin his social life.
In a year when, yet again, average results rose (and don't get me started on that), The Boy didn't, frankly, live up to expectations. Ours, the school's or his own.
There were tears (mine), mutiny (his), anger (Media Dad's). The problem was that he'd been offered a conditional place to follow his heart's desire at college in Lancashire - and while he'd got the right number of passes overall, he'd missed out on one of the stipulated subjects.
We had to wait a week before we could talk to the college. In the meantime, Plans B and C were formed, but it was still an anxious time. The important thing, though, was that The Boy knew we still loved him regardless and that there were ways forward - just not necessarily the ones we'd originally hoped for.
We found out yesterday, though, that they'll take him anyway, even though his science grade wasn't up to scratch. The rest of his application more than proved his passion for the subject, and I guess they'd rather have that than someone with straight As who's just dabbling.
He's learned his lesson, too. He knows he has to work, and it was a hell of a shock to think his dreams might be tumbling down around his ears.
I'm so pleased for him, so proud of him.
I cried again, too. Not with relief, though, but shock - when I paid the bill for his text books and specialist equipment. Still, I'm sure it will be worth every penny.
It's been a tense couple of weeks at Media Manor. The Boy was among those waiting for his GCSE results and, as time wore on, he realised that when we suggested that perhaps a tad more revision was in line, our sole aim wasn't to ruin his social life.
In a year when, yet again, average results rose (and don't get me started on that), The Boy didn't, frankly, live up to expectations. Ours, the school's or his own.
There were tears (mine), mutiny (his), anger (Media Dad's). The problem was that he'd been offered a conditional place to follow his heart's desire at college in Lancashire - and while he'd got the right number of passes overall, he'd missed out on one of the stipulated subjects.
We had to wait a week before we could talk to the college. In the meantime, Plans B and C were formed, but it was still an anxious time. The important thing, though, was that The Boy knew we still loved him regardless and that there were ways forward - just not necessarily the ones we'd originally hoped for.
We found out yesterday, though, that they'll take him anyway, even though his science grade wasn't up to scratch. The rest of his application more than proved his passion for the subject, and I guess they'd rather have that than someone with straight As who's just dabbling.
He's learned his lesson, too. He knows he has to work, and it was a hell of a shock to think his dreams might be tumbling down around his ears.
I'm so pleased for him, so proud of him.
I cried again, too. Not with relief, though, but shock - when I paid the bill for his text books and specialist equipment. Still, I'm sure it will be worth every penny.
Tuesday, 10 August 2010
Glitterati? More Like Drowned-Rat-erati!
They're rare for me, I admit, but every now and again there's one of those days when you just know you look good and it makes you feel fabulous. I had one yesterday.
We got back from our holiday a few days ago, so I'm tanned. The sun was shining. I wore some lovely cropped denim trousers, cool shades, a new Dolce & Gabbana top, new Jimmy Choo sandals and carried my gorgeous new designer handbag. Ok, the top and shoes aren't as impressive as they sound - they're copies (albeit very good ones) from a Turkish market.
I met a friend for coffee, safe in the knowledge that Princess was happily ensconced at her best friend's and The Boy was with his girlfriend, and sauntered home afterwards feeling like a chilled-out million dollars.
Then the rain came. No worries, I thought. On a day like this, MediaMum is savvy enough to have an umbrella stashed in her bag.
That's when it all went horribly wrong. I pressed the button to put up the umbrella - and the end shot off and landed in a puddle. The rain got harder and my feet got wet, which made my new sandals rub. I still had half a mile to walk and, by the time I got home, any remaining feel-good vibes had been well and truly washed away.
Oh well. The brief period of feeling like a Yummy Mummy About Town was nice while it lasted. Maybe I should leave it to those who do it so much better in future though!
We got back from our holiday a few days ago, so I'm tanned. The sun was shining. I wore some lovely cropped denim trousers, cool shades, a new Dolce & Gabbana top, new Jimmy Choo sandals and carried my gorgeous new designer handbag. Ok, the top and shoes aren't as impressive as they sound - they're copies (albeit very good ones) from a Turkish market.
I met a friend for coffee, safe in the knowledge that Princess was happily ensconced at her best friend's and The Boy was with his girlfriend, and sauntered home afterwards feeling like a chilled-out million dollars.
Then the rain came. No worries, I thought. On a day like this, MediaMum is savvy enough to have an umbrella stashed in her bag.
That's when it all went horribly wrong. I pressed the button to put up the umbrella - and the end shot off and landed in a puddle. The rain got harder and my feet got wet, which made my new sandals rub. I still had half a mile to walk and, by the time I got home, any remaining feel-good vibes had been well and truly washed away.
Oh well. The brief period of feeling like a Yummy Mummy About Town was nice while it lasted. Maybe I should leave it to those who do it so much better in future though!
Wednesday, 7 April 2010
Never too old for Easter eggs!
It's Easter - well, technically that was three days ago, but when you work from home and the kids are off school, the holiday atmosphere tends to prevail longer than it should.
There's still plenty of chocolate kicking around, but we nearly had a disaster.
The Boy is 16 now, which meant some people thought he might be a bit old for Easter eggs and would probably prefer a fiver instead. Can't fault them there - under normal circumstances I'd bet on him choosing cold hard cash over soft melty confectionary every time. Life's tough when you're a teenager who doesn't know where the next Jack Wills top is coming from.
But for some reason, Easter is different. When I mentioned that his Nana - for one - was thinking of slipping him a crisp banknote instead of his usual chocolate treat, he looked appalled.
"But The Princess will get loads of eggs - that's not fair," he wailed. "She can't have more than me, she'll just insist on eating them in front of me to wind me up."
The fact he could buy twice as many eggs as she had once they dropped to half-price after the weekend didn't deter him. Come Easter Sunday, they had to have the same number of eggs.
And so it was. Peace prevailed. I was quite glad of this as I tucked into my own Cadbury's Flake goodies!
There's still plenty of chocolate kicking around, but we nearly had a disaster.
The Boy is 16 now, which meant some people thought he might be a bit old for Easter eggs and would probably prefer a fiver instead. Can't fault them there - under normal circumstances I'd bet on him choosing cold hard cash over soft melty confectionary every time. Life's tough when you're a teenager who doesn't know where the next Jack Wills top is coming from.
But for some reason, Easter is different. When I mentioned that his Nana - for one - was thinking of slipping him a crisp banknote instead of his usual chocolate treat, he looked appalled.
"But The Princess will get loads of eggs - that's not fair," he wailed. "She can't have more than me, she'll just insist on eating them in front of me to wind me up."
The fact he could buy twice as many eggs as she had once they dropped to half-price after the weekend didn't deter him. Come Easter Sunday, they had to have the same number of eggs.
And so it was. Peace prevailed. I was quite glad of this as I tucked into my own Cadbury's Flake goodies!
Friday, 12 March 2010
Music to our ears?
It all started harmlessly enough. A letter came home from school with The Princess saying there was an opportunity to learn a musical instrument - for free.
I admire anyone who can play as I never learned. I'll never forget a works' Christmas party one year - one of those hotel bashes where four or five companies share the same event. We'd all poured out into the lobby at the end of the evening and were waiting for taxis - the usual long haul you get at that time of year. It would be at least an hour.
One of our number sat down at the piano in reception and began to play Christmas songs - everyone started singing along and dancing and the party carried on for quite a while longer. It was fantastic - and I thought it must be wonderful to have a talent like that.
So I was quite happy for Princess to have a go, and signed the form saying she could take part, that I understood we'd have to pay if the whatever-it-was got damaged or lost, etc etc.
Hmmmm. The 'whatever-it-was' turned out to be a keyboard that's bigger than she is and seems to weigh almost as much. We have to drag it into school once a week and then home again the same day, where it sits behind the sofa waiting for its next outing.
Don't get me wrong. I'm glad she's got the chance to learn and I stand by what I said earlier.
I just wish she could have chosen something small and light.....like a recorder.......
I admire anyone who can play as I never learned. I'll never forget a works' Christmas party one year - one of those hotel bashes where four or five companies share the same event. We'd all poured out into the lobby at the end of the evening and were waiting for taxis - the usual long haul you get at that time of year. It would be at least an hour.
One of our number sat down at the piano in reception and began to play Christmas songs - everyone started singing along and dancing and the party carried on for quite a while longer. It was fantastic - and I thought it must be wonderful to have a talent like that.
So I was quite happy for Princess to have a go, and signed the form saying she could take part, that I understood we'd have to pay if the whatever-it-was got damaged or lost, etc etc.
Hmmmm. The 'whatever-it-was' turned out to be a keyboard that's bigger than she is and seems to weigh almost as much. We have to drag it into school once a week and then home again the same day, where it sits behind the sofa waiting for its next outing.
Don't get me wrong. I'm glad she's got the chance to learn and I stand by what I said earlier.
I just wish she could have chosen something small and light.....like a recorder.......
Sunday, 21 February 2010
Up With the Lark
I don't know how she does it.
During term-time you can guarantee that, come 7.30am, The Princess is still dead to the world, far away in Dreamland with Prince Charming, and I have to be the Bad Guy and wake her up.
I have to virtually prise her out of bed with a crowbar and chivvy her along constantly to make sure we leave for school on time, because she's just soooooo tired.
Then there's school holidays. While not officially taking the week off myself, I was looking forward to a few days without the alarm relentlessly blasting me awake at 6.45am. Not to mention stealing some extra time under a warm, cosy duvet with a cup of tea and the latest copy of Autosport.
No problem with The Boy, of course. He's 16 - enough said. Always a good sleeper, it would take a bomb under his bed to move him before 11am during the holidays - and even then I'm not convinced it would work.
But The Princess? I don't believe the little madam ever made it past 7.45am before she was up and about, talking to the cats and singing. And as soon as she got the slightest hint of movement from my room, her little face would appear round the door with its usual cheery grin.
And that's why, although I was exasperated at her not taking the opportunity to sleep in while she had it, I couldn't be cross with her. That smile would melt the hardest heart - never mind one that's biased to begin with.
Ok, forget the tea and quiet reading time - let's have a cuddle instead!
During term-time you can guarantee that, come 7.30am, The Princess is still dead to the world, far away in Dreamland with Prince Charming, and I have to be the Bad Guy and wake her up.
I have to virtually prise her out of bed with a crowbar and chivvy her along constantly to make sure we leave for school on time, because she's just soooooo tired.
Then there's school holidays. While not officially taking the week off myself, I was looking forward to a few days without the alarm relentlessly blasting me awake at 6.45am. Not to mention stealing some extra time under a warm, cosy duvet with a cup of tea and the latest copy of Autosport.
No problem with The Boy, of course. He's 16 - enough said. Always a good sleeper, it would take a bomb under his bed to move him before 11am during the holidays - and even then I'm not convinced it would work.
But The Princess? I don't believe the little madam ever made it past 7.45am before she was up and about, talking to the cats and singing. And as soon as she got the slightest hint of movement from my room, her little face would appear round the door with its usual cheery grin.
And that's why, although I was exasperated at her not taking the opportunity to sleep in while she had it, I couldn't be cross with her. That smile would melt the hardest heart - never mind one that's biased to begin with.
Ok, forget the tea and quiet reading time - let's have a cuddle instead!
Friday, 12 February 2010
Can A Leopard Change Its Spots?
A slightly different tone this time as I've got something on my mind.
Yesterday, I heard a story on my local radio about a support group for new mums. The organisers were looking for mums who'd been there, done that and bought the t-shirt to lend the benefit of their experience to those just getting to grips with the parenthood thing.
It made my ears prick up. I had terrible post-natal depression after The Princess was born, and this sounded like something that could help save other women from the same experience.
Granted, I wasn't sure how I'd fit it in, what with looking after my own family, trying to run a business and have a life, but I wanted to try. Until I heard the spokeswoman, and realised it was someone I used to work with. Someone who had turned out to be not much of a friend, without going into details, and with whom I didn't really want any contact.
Part of me says it was all a very long time ago, let bygones be bygones, and put aside any negative feelings for the greater good. Part of me says no, it's unlikely she's had a personality transplant and stay away.
So I haven't called. I'm telling myself I don't really have the time, but I know that's not the real reason. I do think I've made the right decision - but I also feel guilty in case I could have helped somebody.
Am I wrong - could the leopard have changed its spots?
Yesterday, I heard a story on my local radio about a support group for new mums. The organisers were looking for mums who'd been there, done that and bought the t-shirt to lend the benefit of their experience to those just getting to grips with the parenthood thing.
It made my ears prick up. I had terrible post-natal depression after The Princess was born, and this sounded like something that could help save other women from the same experience.
Granted, I wasn't sure how I'd fit it in, what with looking after my own family, trying to run a business and have a life, but I wanted to try. Until I heard the spokeswoman, and realised it was someone I used to work with. Someone who had turned out to be not much of a friend, without going into details, and with whom I didn't really want any contact.
Part of me says it was all a very long time ago, let bygones be bygones, and put aside any negative feelings for the greater good. Part of me says no, it's unlikely she's had a personality transplant and stay away.
So I haven't called. I'm telling myself I don't really have the time, but I know that's not the real reason. I do think I've made the right decision - but I also feel guilty in case I could have helped somebody.
Am I wrong - could the leopard have changed its spots?
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Just Give Me A Minute......
Or a month.... Ok, nearly two months.
Where does the time go?
I had such good intentions, yet here we are again with another barren spell.
The Christmas demos seem an age ago. They went well and were lots of fun, and I was incredibly proud of Media Dad for winning 'Student of the Year'. It's given to a new recruit each year who doesn't just demonstrate ability but also inspires the teachers to teach. I'm dead chuffed with him.
So, my very belated New Year's resolution as far as this blog goes is to post more often. I will, honest. I'll be back very soon - just give me a minute.....
Where does the time go?
I had such good intentions, yet here we are again with another barren spell.
The Christmas demos seem an age ago. They went well and were lots of fun, and I was incredibly proud of Media Dad for winning 'Student of the Year'. It's given to a new recruit each year who doesn't just demonstrate ability but also inspires the teachers to teach. I'm dead chuffed with him.
So, my very belated New Year's resolution as far as this blog goes is to post more often. I will, honest. I'll be back very soon - just give me a minute.....
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