I've been let loose with a scanner. Try not to laugh please

I LOVE photographs.
I photograph everything because I love that snapshot in time that evokes such powerful memories and tells so many tales.

I have recently acquired a scanner and now all my pre-digital photos, all those forgotten pictures which have been safely locked away in the the pages of endless photograph albums (for yes, I have every one slotted in with dates and captions beside them) are finally free.

So, join me on a short walk down memory lane. Try not to laugh ...

1. A child of the 80s. Oh boy did I embrace Duran Duran and that whole New Romantic fashion thing. Don't really know what to blame the hair on though. Or the fact that I have some kind of black flower thing in it.

2. Cub reporter. Count Duckula was clearly my big inspiration.

3. My favourite picture of me, my mum and her mum. My mum actually had the audacity to look way better than me. How very dare she.

4. Living in a flat above a flower shop. Happy happy times. One of my flat mates? You may recognise her as one of our fellow bloggers . . .

5. On a press trip to visit the Star Wars sets in Tunisia. My nerd tendencies have been embedded for a long long time.

6. Married. We were together for 10 years before we finally wed in 2001 - had to make sure I'd bagged the right man. I had.

7. Pregnant with my first baby. I'm quite possibly the happiest pregnant lady EVER. I did not stop grinning for 9 straight months.

8. And finally . . .

... proof, if proof were needed, that my spirited, tomboy of a daughter takes after me. This is me aged 1 and was my beloved grandpa's favourite picture of me. I think he would have adored his little great grandaughter had he met her.

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How to explain the panto dame tradition to a 7 year old boy

I took my son to see the simply marvellous pantomime Sleeping Beauty at the Birmingham Hippodrome this week (I'm reviewing it at Have a Lovely Time in support of their bid to raise money for a children's charity this Christmas).

We love the panto. The 'he's behind you', the 'booooooo, hiiissssssss', the clapping along to the music.

Dan: "That lady's costumes were amazing. How did she get changed so quickly. And why was one of them a goldfish bowl?"

Me: "You do know that wasn't a lady don't you Dan?"

Pause for thought.

Dan: "It was."

Me: "It wasn't my love. It's a bit of a panto tradition where one of the main lady characters is always played by a man."

Dan: "That was a man?"

Me: "It was. The costumes were amazing weren't they?"

Dan: "But why? Why was she a man? I don't get it."

Me: "It's a tradition Dan. It's just something they do in pantomime."

Pause for more thought.

Dan: "I just don't get it. Seems like a daft tradition to me."

So there you go. I failed miserably.

I'm off to drown myself in a sea of wrapping paper now, but I would just like to say a very happy Christmas to all who have visited, commented, lurked, hung around for a while.

I am grateful to each and every one of you for taking the time to visit and I hope you have a fabulous Christmas and a happy, healthy New Year. x

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What music did you grow up with?

What music is your child growing up to?

My dad was a big fan of Stevie Wonder, The Doobie Brothers, Jimi Hendrix, Ry Cooder. And music was played in our house. A lot.

I have very fond memories of huddling around one of those little portable tape recorders with my brother (the ones where you had to press down the play and record button together) singing I Got You Babe after hearing the Sonny & Cher song.

Today in the car my son asked if I could get Lady Gaga and The Red Hot Chilli Peppers on a CD for our journeys. My daughter is utterly obsessed with the High School Musical soundtrack.

And at the weekend my best friend said she had bought her 5-year-old daughter the latest Lily Allen CD. Ye gods, I screeched at her, you have heard the lyrics haven't you?

No! She looks slightly concerned now. Sure they're about relationships and affairs and the like but they're quite poppy and sing songy and that is what she really likes, my friend says. She doesn't really understand what the words are about.

There is a song on there and the chorus goes: 'F*** you, f*** you' in a sing songy stylee. I'm thinking that's not going to be suitable for your 5 year old!

I was thinking about this after reading a post at I Hate My Message Board where Tracy was talking about the music which reminds her of her childhood.

She was all Simon and Garfunkel and James Brown and Ray Charles - can you imagine our children's memories when they are our age? Growing up with Girls Aloud and Hannah Montana. Hmm, not quite the same ring of enduring coolness about it.

Or am I being a music snob?

Picture: WoodleyWonderWorks

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This is why I worry about her becoming a teenager ...

Mia: "Mummy, only all the children in the world are allowed to climb. You know, like trees and fences and stuff."

Me: "Oh, OK. Why's that? I quite like climbing, am I not allowed?"
Mia: "No, cause all the adults have to hold the children's stuff while they're climbing."

Me: "Did you enjoy the panto with school?"
Mia: "Yes. It was great."

Me: "What was the best bit?"

Mia: "The coach journey."

"Mummy, I don't ever want to learn to drive. I like to sleep in the car and it would be dangerous to do that if I was driving so I'm not even going to learn.

"I don't need to really, cause you can take me everywhere. And if you can't then daddy will have to. And if both of you can't I'm sure I'll be able to find someone who will.

"I'll probably learn to drive when I'm about 60. I don't mind putting the petrol in the car for you though. How old do I have to be to do that?"

Mia: "Why does nana's dog have boobies?"

Me: "It's for her puppies to feed from. They get their milk from there. Like you and Dan had your milk from me when you were little babies."
Pause for thought.

Followed by uncontrollable laughter.

Pause.
More uncontrollable laughter.

Pause.

Mia (suddenly serious face): "I did stop having your milk didn't I?"

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Our Christmas tree tells the story of our family

Our Christmas tree isn't fancy.
It isn't co-ordinated or stylish or like anything you would see in a Good Housekeeping magazine.
We didn't spend a fortune on the decorations and we don't update them every other year.
Our tree is filled with memories and every item tells a tale.

There is the flying sheep hubby and I bought when visiting the Lake District one year before we had children and we stumbled on the most adorable craft shop.

There is the chunky wool stocking which we pop a surprise small present in for after dinner.

There is the silver angel a very dear friend sent to me: A friend who I don't see very often these days.

There is the string of gingerbread men that my nana bought for me when she was alive.

And there are all the decorations that Santa puts in my children's stockings every year which they hang on the tree on Christmas morning.

Our tree isn't anything fancy, but it is certainly something special.

Oh, and not forgetting our own private reindeer who guards our house and keeps an eye out for Santa just in case he should ever get lost.



What about your Christmas tree? Is there a story behind it, do you even put one up? Do you go totally over top or do you keep it simple?
This post is for Violet Posy who is collecting posts dedicated to Christmas decorations. Go and check out what everyone else is doing this Christmas.

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How to entertain 9 seven year old boys at a 'house' party

I did the unthinkable this year and told Dan he could have a party at home.

I said he could invite 5 friends from school. He said he couldn't possible pick just 5 and that he would feel really bad for the friends he had to leave out. Could it be 10?

Like the big ole softie I am, I caved in.

But I have to say, although they were loud and a little bit cheeky and tried to kill each other with lightsabres while waiting for parents to pick them up, they were on the whole golden.

I am also told by two parents that I have now become something of a parenting hero for staging a 'cool' Haunted House party and for making hubby dress up as Lurch (complete with black suit and facepaint) to answer the door.

My success was down to planning. Military-style planning. And a 10-point action plan. I stopped short of drawing it up on Excel (Single Parent Dad and How I Like My Coffee, I'm looking at your two saddos).

But I did make a list Erica.

1. Choose a theme.
Dan desperately wanted a Haunted House party. We toyed with Star Wars, Superhero and Doctor Who but he decided playing in the dark was so much more fun than wearing his threadbare Batman cape. Again.

2. Create a cool invitation that gets everyone talking

3. Decorate the house

Paper ghosts, cotton wool spider webs, spiders made from black cupcake cases and pipe cleaners, bats cut from black card, strips of black crepe paper hanging from the doors and light fittings. Turn the lights out.

4. Enlist a helper.
Dress him up as a member of the Addams Family. Make him walk around the house like he's got two broom handles down his trouser legs. Ask him to 'moan'.

5. Create a spooky spread.

Eyeballs on sticks (grapes), maggot and skin sandwiches (grated cheese and ham), witches fingers (cocktail sausages), teeth (apple quarters cut into jagged pattern), rotten brain (popcorn with jelly snakes crawling out of it), witches brew (red squash).

6. Keep them busy when they arrive.

Cover the kitchen table with a white paper table cloth. Invite newcomers to 'design' the table cloth. They can draw any picture on it and at the end of the party Lurch will judge and pick a winner.

7. Party games.

Bucket head - Lurch has lost his brains (scrunched up white paper) and you need to get them back into his head (a bucket on his head) while he ambles around the room. Groaning.

First one to - Like Simon Says, but you say 'first one to . . . sit on the floor' etc. Last one to do it is out. Just to spice up proceedings I said 'first one to kiss somebody else'. They all kissed each other without thinking (soooo funny) except one boy who kissed me. Instant win.

Ghost hunt - put clues on pieces of paper in 9 balloons. First one to answer a question correctly gets to burst a balloon, read the clue, find the 'treasure' (tubes of chocolates) around the house.

Watching them trying to burst balloons: Hilarious.

Pass the Parcel. With a twist - when the music stops you put your hand in the giant black bag in the middle of the circle and take out an item of clothing and put it on. Whoever is wearing the most at the end is the winner.

The boy wearing a hoola skirt and Peter Pan hat and one of my skiing gloves was so not happy!

Chinese Pictionary Whispers - too complicated to explain but it was a joy to see a bunch of lads get all excited about drawing!

8. Let them let off steam.

They're boys. All they really want to do is fight and kill each other.

All the foam swords, lightsabres, axes, blow up clubs came out and they had a good 15 minutes of beating each other about the head.

9. Party bags

I have learned through bitter experience that you have to give out party bags. But what to put in them?
Cool pen which flips out, packet of Crazy Bones, chocolate money and fake dog poo.

10. Tell them 'whoever clears up 3 items can have their party bag'.

I can't believe this actually worked. One boy did 'cheat' by throwing his stash in the open washing machine right next to him, but all the same, chuffed.

I held a house party for 9 seven year olds and survived!

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Teaching my children about charity at Christmas

In 2 weeks time I will be taking my son to see the big showy pantomime at the Hippodrome in Birmingham.

It stars Joe Pasquale and features 'stunning 3D effects' and (as I've been to many of their shows in previous years) I'm confident it will be fabulous.

Dan doesn't even care that it's a 'girl' show Sleeping Beauty - he's that excited.

We are really lucky to be going to this show. The tickets would ordinarily cost around £50 for the two of us, but we are going for free in return for a review on Have a Lovely Time.

It's an amazing initiative dreamt up by the site's editor Linda, a mum of twin girls, whose Christmas wish is to help other children. Children not as fortunate as our children. Children who may not get to enjoy Christmas like our children will.

I can't think of a better project for parents to get behind as we all decorate our houses, wrap our presents and write our cards.

Leading theatres across England, Scotland and Wales have agreed to give free tickets to a number of bloggers so they can review their local pantomimes.

And it's all being done to raise money for children's cancer charity NACCPO - the National Alliance of Childhood Cancer Parent Organisations which is made up of parent-run organisations who work together with the common aim of supporting children and young adults with cancer.

So how can you help? Comment on the panto reviews, tweet them, Stumble them, blog about them yourselves.

At this time of year it's easy to get caught up in our own stresses and preparations but let's take some time out to think about others.

I have talked to the children about it and told them we're 'buying' an extra present this year for the children at NACCPO.

Then I had to explain charity again ("but why is it called 'charity'?" Errm).

I'm off to donate at Linda's fundraising page and spread a little Christmas cheer to some children I've never met.

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Jumpers for goalposts

Today I felt the chest aching pride of a mother whose son is a sportsman.

I stood in the freezing cold of a December day watching my boy compete in his very first rugby tournament, on a day I thought his dad would burst with pride.

They laughed, they cried, they bonded, they discovered the joy of team victory.

I bellowed, I cheered, I raced down the sidelines, I whooped with joy at every try. I barely noticed that I was losing the sensation in the ends of my fingers.

At this age they play tag rugby. The players wear strips of material attached to belts with Velcro and there is no tackling, you 'tackle' by pulling off an opponent's tag.

Hubby was one of the coaches pulling them into a huddle on the freezing cold sidelines of the pitch as the 10 boys who have never played a proper match against an opposition before (let alone a tournament) prepared to do battle against 4 other local teams.

Our boys beat the odds to make it to the final.

They were rewarded by being asked to form the 'guard of honour' for the home club's professionals as they sprinted out to play their league game.

Our little men dwarfed by huge professionals.

And at half time, as the beefy players left the field for their oranges or whatever rugby players recharge with, there were our boys, in the full glare of the stadium lights, playing their little hearts out.

They lost the match 4-2, but as they sprinted off that pitch, smeared in mud, wet from the light rain and jogging slightly slower from tired tired legs, I thought to myself 'THIS is why it's so bloody great to be the mother of a cheeky little boy with a love of sport'.

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Why does motherhood make me feel so ooooold?

Today was a bad day.
My little man shuffled off to school looking pale and lethargic and I felt the full weight of mother guilt on my shoulders for getting him up and dressed and taking him there.
He didn't have a temperature and said he didn't feel 'ill' as such, but I knew he wasn't himself.

As he slowly walked through the school gate (he normally runs at full speed), I rushed to the fence which separates the mums and dads from their charges and yelled and yelled for him to come back.
I didn't care who was looking.
"Dan" I said. "Don't go to school. Come back with me. You can curl up on the sofa and just rest."
"No mum" he whispered from under his coat hood (he was really cold this morning. He never feels the cold) "I'd better go. I'll be fine. I'll ask my teacher to look out for me. Don't worry."
And with that he turned his back on me and my grown up seven-year-old disappeared into his classroom.

But I do worry and I don't mind telling you, I had tears in my eyes (I told you I cry at everything these days).
He came home at normal time. He was fine. He was asking to open his chocolate advent calendar. He was just a little bit cheeky. I was relieved.

I put him to bed and we're sat chatting and he says: "Were you nearly crying today mum? When you took me to school?"
I laugh and make a joke and we tickle for a while.
Then he turns serious again and says: "Will we have to go in a care home mum. Me and Mia? (they've been watching the TV show Tracy Beaker about a girl in a care home).
"No. Why would you think that?"
"Well, you know, you're quite old now and when you die what will happen to us?"

Oh good god in heaven. I'm 40 not 400.

"Dan, I've got another 40 years in me my love. How old will you be in another 40 years?"
"47"
"Exactly, and by then you'll have a house of your own."
What? I get a house of my own when I grow up?"
"Yes, of course you do."

He makes a little fist, pumps the air and says: "yessss!"

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Wordless Wednesday: Hope

Believe your eyes: That is a sprout.

And he's smiling.

And I didn't have to force him to eat it or anything.

See more of my Wordless Wednesdays or visit 5 Minutes for Mum.

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A personalised message from Santa

A couple of years ago we took Daniel to see Polar Express in 3D the week before Christmas.

We were totally captured by the magic and it became a festive 'event' for us. As part of our family Christmas tradition, we sit together in the dark at home watching this gorgeous movie.

Yesterday I was sent a link from a friend (many thanks Michelle) which looks set to become another.
And it's too good not to share.

In fact, it's so good I wanted to stand at the school gate this morning and tell every single parent who walks through the door.

It's your chance to produce a live video message from Santa to your children. And it's adorable.
You just need to input a few details. You can even upload your child's photo (it appears in Santa's good girls and boys book in the finished video).
Really easy to use and a great (free) early present for the children.

I'm tempted to have one made up for myself because, well you know, I've been a really really good girl this year ...

Visit Portable North Pole to join in the fun ...

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