craft fairy

gah

innit

and

more again

for sale

for sale

Project Butterfly

So a new year and the boys are now 13 months and 24 months old. Funny little people they have become, hilarious and sweet, very loving and cuddly, with such amazing senses of humour. Mad about cars and trains and penguins!

We are two days in to Project Butterfly, the boys don't know the culmination of this

, and neither do you. So I'll leave you to await the surprise with them/

So far we have spent some time looking at butterfly songs, drawing butterflies and because toddlers can not live on insects only a little bit of building too.

Sadness

My babies are asleep tonight, earlier than usual, sleeping after a day in sunny gardens, sniffing flowers and rolling on the grass. Outside their window two little girls play on the old tree stump, across the lawn a father sits in his front garden, a toddler's abandoned bike at his side, whilst his wife chats to the neighbour.

It could have been so different. Until last night I have spent many hours lamenting that we moved out of central London before having children. Worrying that they will grow up in an artificial world where they are surrounded by mirrors, where there is little to question and to consider. London; home of assortment, art, action and aspiration. Today I am grateful for the fact that my little boys have not had to sleep in fear, have not had to wake up to destruction and have not had a mummy who is stressed from trying to keep the devastation from their eyes and minds. There is a lot to love about London, it is a truly unique city that I have been lucky to experience so much. Having lived in Kilburn, Leytonstone, Finsbury Park and Southwark and having taught in Secondary schools in Hackney, Wembley and Deptford, I have had so many uplifting and heart-warming experiences of this, our wonderful city. It has comforted me, held me in its warm bright lights, encouraged me, inspired me.

So why were such large swathes of our beautiful, magnificent , strong city reduced to flaming devastation?

Tomorrow, when parliament re-opens, politicians will banter, a game of blame tennis will take place across the partition line of the House. Hours will pass and what will become of it? The police will regain control, perhaps beleaguered, but still in control. The debris will be swept up (and probably not by a mayor bearing a broom in a photo opportunity as opportunistic as the riots themselves). The casualties will become numbers on insurance claim forms. The kids will go back to school in their stolen trainers, the ones who were there will recant their roles, play up theri parts, will claim they were the ones who brought down Carpet Right or Footlocker. Those not involved will keep silent, or talk quietly amongst themselves, keeping their basic mobile phones in their bags. The teachers will hold meetings, discuss how to address the summer's activity, until they are reminded that there is no time in the curriculum to sit down and talk with the kids, that exam league tables are not conquered through exercises in civil rights and civic responsibilities.

In time (a month or so) the stolen mobiles will be outdated, devalued and discarded. The trainers will lose their box-fresh gleam. The television will begin to show Christmas adverts, happy, smiling families around stacks of presents, their consumer needs, nay their consumer rights, fulfilled. They will tell us that the TV sets we currently stare at are inferior replicants of the giant 3D screens that the family in the Argos ad congregate around. Internet sites and magazines will feature the Beckhams shopping for the essential Ralph Lauren outfits their children will wear for a couple of hours on Christmas day.

And our children, London's children, will look around and see what we have placed value on. This "stuff," this shiny, bright, bleepy, fast-connecting, never-sleeping collection of products are what we have taught them to hold dear. We have inspired them to aspire to ownership of material possessions. We have trained to want more, faster, better., getting their fix of satisfaction, contentment worshipping at the altars of Apple. Sony, Nike, Adidas. But we haven't taught them means to acquire what they desire. Instead we have taught them that instant gratification is not only possible but easily accessed.

We live now in a frighteningly fast, disconnected society. Everything is instantaneous; entertainment, communication, shopping, itunes, YouTube. It is also all remote, the human touch is lost to this generation. Of course the rioters didn't think of the emotional consequences of their looting sprees, there is no emotion in buttons and screens. They used what we have taught them to value in order to fulfil the aspirations we have implanted in them. We ask why this has happened? Because we have instilled values in our children that are consumerist, not humanist.

We ask why this happened now? It is not difficult to see how the vigil being held for Mark Duggan may have escalated to protest to riot to looting. What happened next is really a simply and hardly shocking connection. The kids from Tottenham shared their booty pics via mobile networks, TV news programmes showed rolling pictures of emptied shelves, children hauling TVs bigger than themselves. The lights were lit: We can get anything we want. For free. They have, why can't we? We can. We can!

And so they did. And when they did others saw, not lawlessness, not endangered lives, but laptops, mobile phones, ipods, trainers, watches - all for free, as in a dream.

There has been talk that this was political protest, a reaction to cuts. It was not this. We have instilled greed in our children.

Others say that it is race related. It is not this. We have taught our children to lose their uniqueness and want, like robots, what they are told to want. To be who the corporations want them to be.

Some say it is a reaction to the, as yet, uninvestigated shooting. It is not this. We have failed to teach our children to engage politically.

Many more will blame parents, politicians, teachers, the justice system. It is not them, It is all of us. We have taught our children to communicate remotely, devoid of patience, respect, touch.

Some will say the kids are bored. It is not this. It is the opposite, we have overwhelmed our children with a technological society that is moving too fast. Tension, frustration, anger, these base emotions, boil not for a cause, but when they can't instantly access Facebook, when a text remains unanswered, when their video won't immediately download.

I do hope those who comment on what they think the problem is have had the wonderful opportunity to actually speak to London's kids before they make sweeping statements. I'm not making excuses, the riots are horrendous, vile acts but it is not about immigration or teaching, there is so much more to it than that, the cultural undertone of London's teenagers which we adults have failed to address is what lies beneath. The riots are not political they are opportunistic, they are about kids who see have seen others getting free shit and they want some. We shower our kids with images of millionaire footballers, £3000 teles, £500 mobile phones, £200 trainers, what the fuck do we think they will learn to value - property, livelihoods or flashy electronic gadgets.

We, as adults, as parents, as members of society, must now remind our children what it is to be here, amongst others. To enjoy the passing of time, the comfort of friends. To look at life full on in the face, not through a screen. Re-educate ourselves to enjoy simple pleasures, not burden ourselves in the quest for another gadget, another pair of shoes, the latest interactive video game. Talk to our children, redress their values, teach them what really matters.

We can move on, but unless changes are made, we'll be looking back in another decade's time and asking why, all over again.

Sporadic is better than nothing, non?

So in the last month the following things have happened;

I tried hot yoga (still have 8 more classes I have paid for). It was HOT and full of 20-something yoga bunnies in sz 6 lycra crop tops! But I did manage to keep up with the class, despite it feeling about 3 hours long.

It was my birthday! We took the boys up to London Aquarium and I got Merlin Passes, which meant a week of visits to Chessington Zoo, The Aquarium and Legoland before the schols broke up. We will, no doubt return in September when they all quieten down again.

Mr and I went out for the afternoon ON OUR OWN!!! We went to the Vintage Festival on London's Southbank, it was fun and a little disappointing at the same time. We did manage to sneak in two (YES TWO) cheeky alcoholic beverages though before catching the train home to rescue Granny and Grandad from the boy babies!

Apple juice

-- Sent from Camera Effects - http://bit.ly/i0aBo0

I go riding in my car

Wilbur in his cart

trundled round the living room

"daddy this is fun!"

Nightime

I woke in the night,

you were squeezing my thumb tight,

with tiny fingers.

Oh little boys

Huxley wrapped up warm,

Wilbs builds a nappy tower,

Monkey watches them.

Sunday Birthday

Granny Dave's birthday, lots of fun.

Wilbur loved playing with everyone.

Huxley slept all day through.

While Wilbur ate naan for two.

But I'm hungry, not tired.

While Wilbur has finally sorted out his sleep, Huxley has decided that 1am-6am is awake time! Little sweetie spent the whole of this time feeding. But he still looks great this morning!

Sleepy boy and clay

Well, the babymoon continues. And it is lovely! Have only worn pyjamas for the last six days, have had several hot baths and lots of cuddles with both boys. Huxley is a dream and still a teeny tiny cutiepie. I have been eating chocolate and reading blogs and stroking Hux's soft velvet hair.

Also, although Wilbur is too little for it yet, found this fabulous aromatic play clay. Like playdoh but in yummy scents like lavendar and bergamot. Yum!

Welcome to the world little boy, we love you so much,

With a big surprise, in a hurry and with a splash little tiny (6lb11oz) Huxley Winston was born on Thanksgiving. 25th November 2010.

Birth Story

Finally got to sleep at 2am on Thursday morning, but woke up again at 4am, feeling totally alert. Went back to sleep for an hour and woke up with backache at 5am. I got up and went downstairs for a drink and a couple of paracetamol. Put on tv but couldn't comfortably sit down, so I went upstairs and ran a bath, lots of lovely oil and jumped in. Contractions started coming, no problem, could breathe through them, if I was on my knees. After 20 minutes and 3 contractions I got out and decided to try and relax properly. Switched on my visualisation recordings (which I had made on Tuesday night) and tried to lie down (thinking I was in for the long haul).Lying down was impossible and I could only cope if standing up, so got up and danced around through 3 more contractions. At 7am I went in to see Wilbur and Chris who had just woken up. I took Wilbur who was totally confused as to why I wouldn't (couldn't) sit on floor to play with him. He started to get stressed so Chris took him down for breakfast and said he was going to call hospital (my homebirth having been vetoed a few weeks ago because of my blood count). The hospital asked that we come straight in, as contractions were 5 mins apart, but I told them we would have to wait an hour for my parents to come and babysit Wilbur. Chris suggested we take Wilbs and meet my parents at hospital, but I didn't feel right about getting in car, so told him we would wait till they arrived. They went back downstairs to pack a "granny bag" for Wilbur, and as another contraction came my waters went with a gush on top of the landing. I went into the bathroom, expecting that contractions would be faster but pressure would now be less, however the pressure got worse. I couldn't really feel contractions, just a long drawn out ache. I put on my headphones, switched off the light and moved around, holding onto the towel rail and making the famous "mooing noise". I was aware that I had to keep calm and keep the noises on a lower register, so I just went with it. The pressure got more and more and I could feel his head a few inches away. I called to DH to call an ambulance and midwife and tried to stay in the zone. I had about 1 minute of saying over and over: "I can't do this, can't do this," before my concious brain said "Oh that means it's almost time to push". The pressure grew and I half-heartedly pushed through the next contraction. Another contraction came and I squatted on the loo and pushed, but not hugely so. The pressure suddenly went and it took a second for me to look down a see a grey DS2 in the loo. For a second I just thought "oh my god". Then it clicked that I had to get him out. He slipped once and then he was through my legs and on my chest. It was 7.55am. I called down to Chris "he's here, he's here," and he came up, looking admirably calm. The 999 call operator told him to get me to lie down, but I couldn't, it didn't feel right. Chris untangled the cord from around my legs and told me the ambulance was coming. There was a knock at the door, he went down to answer it and as he walked away my placenta just fell out.
The paramedic's face was a picture and he had a huge smile; "wow, a birth, that's a surprise". (He told Chris later that they had been told they were coming to a 38 week miscarriage ???, so quite a nice surprise for them). He cut the cord and his colleague came up to wrap up Huxley and get me in shower. (Chris was still trying to calm down Wilbur, who was hysterical by now). A trainee paramedic made my bed all comfy and found me pads, pyjamas and knickers, so I hopped out of shower and into bed. Chris came up and 5 mins later my parents arrived, expecting to find me in labour! Mum made me tea and toast and dad brought Wilbur up to see Huxley. The paramedics tried to locate a midwife but the cmw office phone wouldn't pick up, so they reluctantly and apologetically transferred me in for baby checks. We were given the home from home room and spent a few hours snuggling and eating croissants. The doctor said Huxley was "perfect" and discharged us. We came home to mum's homecooked food and a clean bathroom (albeit one with no flooring left!).

So amazing. Little man did all the work himself. It really wasn't "labourious" at all. Still on a high!

Toy madness

With Wilbur having Christmas and birthday squashed up in December it is going to be an onslaught here! Especially with mad Granny Dave and Grandad involved. I have managed to do most of my shopping on ebay, Natural Mamas and NCT sales, including this Goethe's Colour Wheel for £3!!! (Rrp £45)!

Officially HUGE!

It's true. I am indeed massive.Goodness knows how big this baby is going to be!

So last few hours. days, weeks? And what to do? Have just recorded my hypnotherapy scripts to take with me, with the lovely waterproof MP3 player my brother bought me last year for Christmas (perfect for the birth pool), I have my bags packed and my notices (ie. DO NOT OFFER DRUGS, WE ARE USING HYPNOTHERAPY) are made.

So what next...

My list of fun and happy things to do over next few days:

Make and freeze dough to defrost later for gingerbread house!

Send off secret santa present.

Meet up with NCT mummies and babies so Wilbs gets some friend time.

Go to Muji.

Baths.

Work the door at the NCT sale on Saturday.And grab bargains.

Go to Eliza's party.

Go to Petworth for a walk and a visit to the fab looking Coco Cafe Sugar Lounge.

Watch Inception

Wax eyebrows

Plan Wilbur's birthday

Make handprint angel cards and decorations

Make sweets.

Kingston craft fair.

Send ebay stuff off.

Bellydancing and yoga.

Type up essay.