Microwaves and Muddy Boots: 2013 365 Challenge #103

Muddy Boots

The children dragged me to the zoo today. I was like a small child when they chose it as their place to go, whining and looking for flaws in the plan:

Mummy: “Aw do we have to go? It’s raining.”

Kids: “We’ll wear our waterproofs.”

Mummy: “It’s cold.”

Kids: “Wear a jacket.”

Mummy: “We could go to the Farm.”

Kids: “We always go to the Farm.”

Mummy (in her head) Yes because it’s five miles away and serves great coffee. The Zoo is twenty miles away and serves UHT milk with its tea.

Watching the Servals

So in my new zen of organised calm I packed a picnic, sorted waterproofs, spare clothes, twenty pences for the sheep food, tissues for runny noses and a flask of hot tea. I’m so glad we went. It had mostly stopped raining by the time we arrived but the place was quiet considering it’s still the holidays – I guess because many were deterred by the weather.

It was cold.

Little man kept saying “I’ve got the shudders” (meaning he was shivering). In fact he was full of the horrors of being two today. After lunch, he zipped up his lunch box saying, “I had enough snack,” and then sobbed when I stood up, relieved I could finally go for a wee. “But my hungry,” he bawled as I dragged him to the portacabin containing the Ladies.

We had words.

“I sad cause my boots are muddy”

In the end I gave in and got a fruit pouch out for him.

Then he kept sitting down on the floor in his dejected pose saying things like “I sad that you won’t help me jump,” or “I sad ’cause my boots are muddy.”

Even though it’s annoying, he’s so cute and so aware of his emotions I want to gobble him up in a muddy cuddle.

Little lady was quiet. When I got home she had a temperature so that explained her tears every time Aaron wouldn’t give her a cuddle. I worry about her feelings of rejection when her brother ignores her: it doesn’t bode well for the teenage years.

The only dark cloud on the day was reading an article about how harmful the microwave can be and how it kills the nutrients in food. As I heat the kids’ milk and steam their veg in the microwave it’s left me feeling a bit like a child killer. I really should stop reading such things! Relief came from a lovely friend of mine who regularly debunks the web-rumour posts that I suck in hook and line. Apparently the microwave one is no different, as to the specifics of the article I read (I don’t know about microwaves generally, just the ‘experiment’ in the article). It’s probably still a useful reminder to use the hob more than the microwave where possible.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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“Did you enjoy your cake? We need to head off now. We’re staying in Sheringham tonight and it’s a bit of a drive. We’ll stop off at Norwich to break the journey.”

Sky pulled a face. “Why do we have to move again? I hate being in the car all the time. You don’t even have a CD player. It’s boring.”

Claire curled her hands into fists beneath the table. “Sorry, Sky. I don’t know if your Mummy told you, but I’m working on an assignment at the moment. Even though it’s lovely looking after you, I still need to work. But don’t worry: as it’s the Easter Holidays I had to juggle accommodation a bit, and we’re staying at the next hostel for a few days.”

The little face hidden beneath wisps of blonde hair grew darker and a tiny rose-bud lip jutted out. Claire no longer found it cute. Searching her brain for memories of what Sheringham had to offer, she came up trumps. “It’s near the sea. If the weather is nice we’ll be able to go to the beach.”

The transformation was instant. Sky’s head rose and her eyes sparkled. “I’ve never been to the seaside. Will there be sand? Like at the big sandpit in the park? Can we make sandcastles?”

Claire had no idea if the beaches at Sheringham were sandy, or the pebbly sort she associated with the British coast. She was pretty sure it would be more impressive than any park sandpit, even if it was covered in seaweed and rocks. Either way, now was not the time for honesty. The café was crowded and so far they had managed to have their coffee and cake without any screaming or tantrums.

“Yes, Sky, I’m sure it’s a sandy beach. I will buy you a bucket and spade as soon as we get there. Now, what do you fancy doing in Norwich? We’ll get a late lunch, as I’m sure you’re all full of cake. Shall we have a look at the iPad and see if there’s anything interesting to do?” Clearly keeping you busy is the best way of ensuring a harmonious holiday.

Claire tapped some words into the iPad and looked at the results. “Castles. Gardens. Museums. Hmmm.” She tabbed over to the map and back to the search engine. Even with her head bent over the table she could sense Sky’s growing impatience. I really should have been more organised. I hadn’t realised Sky would need entertainment as well as accommodation. I’m sure when we were kids our parents chucked us out in the garden and left us to it. When we were home, that is. Maybe siblings are useful for something.

She glanced up at Sky and felt a wave of pity for the girl, who would probably never know the pleasure and pain of brothers and sisters. At least I can make sure these two weeks are fun. Besides, it’s all great stuff for the blog. Chucking yourself off the balcony at an English Heritage Castle is probably not what Coca Cola would want as High Adrenalin activity, but mentioning all these places should help my Google rankings.

Dropping her eyes to the screen again, Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “Right, Sky, change of plan. We’ll go via Great Yarmouth and you can see the sea before bedtime. There’s lots to do in Great Yarmouth. What’s it to be? Sea Life or Merrivale Model Village?”

Sky leaned over and stared at the iPad screen, absorbed in choosing their afternoon activity. Claire tried not to look at the entry prices, knowing Carl wouldn’t consider either one sufficiently exciting to claim on expenses. What do parents do when they have more than one child? I could go to Ragdale Spa for the cost of taking a family of five on a day trip. No wonder Ruth is always complaining about being skint. You’d have to be mad to have kids I reckon.

***

The Zen of Cleaning: 2013 365 Challenge #102

Toddler Shirts: Fiddly to Iron

Today witnessed another domestic day of calm which also started with a minor victory.

I decided to download reward charts for the children, for Going to Nursery with a Smile. We haven’t done reward charts before, partly because I think Aaron’s still a bit little and partly because I’m rubbish at that kind of structured parenting. The kids get stickers for good behaviour but it’s incident specific – some days they’ll get them for eating all their dinner, sometimes for washing their hair.

I’ve never wanted them to be always motivated by sticker rewards – I’m naively hopeful they’ll eat their dinner or go to bed because it needs to be done.

Reward charts for Smiling Faces

But the nursery thing has become a bad habit for all of us and I was scraping the bottom of my pot of parenting ideas. Now they get a sticker each time they don’t cry and after they have collected ten they can buy a toy. I think little man might get frustrated waiting the month it will take to earn ten stickers but at least I have a neutral point of discussion. I just need to make sure not to over-use it: I probably said ‘you won’t get a sticker’ a dozen times this morning. He still clung to me and wanted to cry when I dropped him off, but a timely reminder of the promised toy brought him round.

As a reward to myself I’ve been doing housework all day because a clean house is a calm house. It means my Claire post will be a little short but it’s a price worth paying. Three loads of laundry and a batch of spag bol later and I’m back in control, for now. If only little man hadn’t decided he wants to wear shirts like Daddy. I don’t do ironing, it’s practically in my marriage contract. But you can’t say no to a 2-year-old who wants to look smart. If I could also find his missing football top I might earn some major Mummy brownie points! In the meantime I am floating around my clean house in a zen bubble of peace, wiping stains off work-tops and picking up stray socks. It will last twenty-four hours – 48 hours at the most – so I’m enjoying it while I can.

A little aside about today’s post. It makes sense if you’ve seen Tangled (a frying pan; who knew right?) If you haven’t seen it I heartily recommend it.

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“Sky, come away from the edge, sweetheart. Sky? I said come away from the edge!” Claire ran forwards to catch hold of her niece as she leaned over the railings, her feet dangling a foot above the path. She peered down at the two-story drop and retreated to the middle of the walkway, swallowing bile. Honestly, I used to think Castles were a bit boring but I feel like I’ve been on the Big Dipper at Blackpool. She felt the sweat trickle down into her bra, despite the freezing wind whistling around the half-ruined castle walls.

On her right she could feel the view stretching into the distance. If she turned she knew she would see a lake and a glimpse of the village in the distance. If I’d been watching Sky instead of admiring the scenery my niece wouldn’t have nearly thrown herself twenty foot to her death. We should have stayed in Framlingham and had tea and scones, it would have been less stressful.

She turned the little girl to face her and squatted down to allow her to look directly into her eyes. Brushing away the wisps of hair that were escaping Sky’s ponytail, Claire inhaled deeply. “Sky, I know you want to explore, but you must listen to Auntie Claire. It’s very dangerous, leaning over the edge like that. What would your Mummy say if you fell and hurt yourself? Or worse?” Never mind what she’d do to me.

Sky hung her head. “Sorry, Auntie Claire. I’ve never been to a real castle before. I was pretending to be Rapunzel, trapped in the tower.” She shook her ponytail, which skimmed just below her shoulders. “I was letting down my hair. You know.”

It rang a bell in Claire’s mind, but she hadn’t read the story recently. A fact popped up. “Didn’t the prince fall and have his eyes poked out by a bramble bush?”

Sky stared at her, open mouthed, her eyes wide. Thinking that seemed a bit harsh for a children’s story, Claire shook her head to dismiss the image. “Ignore me; that must have been something else. So what happens when Rapunzel lets down her hair?” She stood and led the girl away from the yawning gap and back into the castle.

“She hits Flynn on the head with a frying pan and ties him to a chair.”

What? That’s definitely not the Brothers Grimm version I remember. Sounds much better though. So, Feminism reaches Disney? Probably not before time.

“Well, no hitting any boys on the head with frying pans when I’m around please.” She thought about her own bump to the head. A frying pan would have been a handy thing to have had in the dark lane when she was mugged. “Well, not unless they hurt you first at any rate.”

Feeling she had experienced enough of life trapped in a tower of stone, Claire waited until they were safely away from the railing before tilting her head and smiling at Sky. “Are you about ready for that chocolate cake?”

***

Talked to Exhaustion: 2013 365 Challenge #101

Playing in the Sand

Today has been a great, if exhausting day. As it’s the school holidays we met up with friends to combine childcare and have a good old natter.

My kids were so excited they were dressed and standing at the front door by 9am. This is unheard of behaviour: normally I have to cajole them for at least an hour to get ready to go out. Shame we didn’t need to leave until 10am!

I had to spend the next hour pleading with them to play quietly by themselves while I cleaned the kitchen, knowing we wouldn’t be home until bedtime.

Our kids play so well together even though they’re 1, 2.5, 4 and nearly 5. My friend and I were able to natter for most of the day, interspersed with the kids’ chatter and fairly non-stop feeding of the troops.

Look at my car, Mummy

A slightly nerve-wracking trip to the park chasing my two on their scooters had me aching for bedtime at 2pm (my son apparently has a dare-devil streak and likes to free-wheel down the hill on a scooter he can barely control). We were revived with ice-cream.

Funny how talking all day can be exhausting though, especially when you don’t do it very often. Two days in a row? I’m practically comatose. I fed hubbie frozen chicken and Smash for dinner because I could barely lift my arms or eyes to do anything else. Even typing is using muscles that ache and plea for bed. I certainly don’t have many words left. Thankfully I’ve sketched out my Claire post for today so I can crawl under my duvet in an hour or so and recharge.

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“Auntie Claire, why hasn’t the Easter Bunny been? Couldn’t he find me?”

Claire opened her eyes and blinked them into focus. Inches from her face a little pouting mouth quivered beneath eyes full of tears. Bugger. It’s Easter Sunday. Why didn’t Ruth tell me Sky believes in the bloody Easter Bunny? I mean, who believes in the Easter Bunny? Isn’t that an American thing? The shops aren’t even going to be open today.

Trying to locate some clear thoughts in her cotton-wool brain, Claire felt an urge to pull the duvet back over her head and pretend her niece was a bad dream. The quivering turned into a wobble and Claire sensed an imminent meltdown. Conscious of the four other women asleep in the dorm, she let out a quiet groan and forced a smile.

“I’m sure he forgot you were travelling, Sky, and left your eggs with your Mummy. You can look forward to getting them when I take you home.” The wobbling showed no sign of abating, and the tears were tumbling now, running rivulets down little red cheeks. Don’t cry, please. It’s too early.

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll go to a coffee shop today and you can get a babycino and a large piece of cake.”

A calculating look crept into the tear-drenched eyes and Claire felt able to breathe. “Chocolate cake?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want. With cream and ice cream.”

The face disappeared as Sky climbed back down the ladder. Claire’s duvet clung onto her like a lover, but she knew that her niece wouldn’t sit quietly on her bed for long. Sure enough, a minute later a voice called out, much too loud. “Auntie Claire, can we go to the coffee shop now? Please?”

Claire groaned and wrenched herself free from the warm cocoon of sleep. Leaning over the bunk she hissed in as quiet a voice as would carry, “Soon, Sky, but shush please, other people are sleeping. Get dressed and we’ll go down for breakfast.”

Zoning out the muted grumbling from below, Claire sunk her head back into the pillow and closed her eyes. Moments into a beautiful dream, of lying on a warm beach towel being baked by the hot sun, Claire felt a tug at the duvet followed by arctic air ripping the warmth from her body.

“Sky, did you just pull my covers off? You selfish little brat.” The words were out before she could stop them. Claire felt the blood rush to her face as she realised how awful they sounded in the still of the room. Please god let everyone else still be asleep. Lulled by the ensuing silence, Claire figured Sky must have not heard her harsh words. Then she caught the intake of breath that signalled a brewing storm, and she tumbled down out of the bunk-bed as fast as a Marine called to attention.

Wrapping the quivering shoulders in a smothering hug, Claire stroked her niece’s hair and shushed her. “I’m sorry darling: that was unforgiveable. It’s not nice to pull someone’s duvet off when they’re hardly awake, but it was wrong of me to call you names.”

The sobs still came. Loud wracking cries echoed out through the cuddle, leaving Claire’s skin prickling in mortification.

Thank god we have a private room booked at the next hostel. The sooner we get out of here the better. Claire comforted the child as best she could, then helped her get dressed for the day.

I’m not sure I’m going to survive two weeks of this. Ruth, my dear, I take it all back. You’re a saint. I was right, too. Parenting is most definitely not for me.

***

A note about my 365 Challenge… (starchaserxoxo.wordpress.com)
365 Days Of Awesome (hopefulofwords.com)

Embracing the positive: 2013 365 Challenge #100

Quality time with Daddy

Day two without Daddy and we’re still smiling.

We met baby group friends in the park this morning and ended up spending the day with them, dividing child care and managing the various tantrums of four children aged between 2 and 6. It was rather depressing to discover that 6 can be as whiny and unreasonable as 4 – I’d hoped there was light at the end of the parenting tunnel.

At the park, my psychiatric nurse friend gave me a much needed talking to about guilt and childcare, echoing what hubbie had already said last night, to the effect that writing IS my job, even if it pays a pound a day. The kids will have to go to school so they may as well learn they have to go to nursery, and we manage the tears and tantrums. It doesn’t solve my concerns that nursery is too small especially for littlest Martin but I have to manage that by stopping off at the park on the way home and making their home days active.

It’s easier to moan than fix things and I’m awful at letting guilt excuse inactivity. However, as my husband said when he didn’t really want to get out of bed this morning: Time to grow up.

We realised last night that we’re hippies at heart but ones who like a few material possessions. And certainly hippies that couldn’t home school. So certain things in life have to be put up with. I have to put my fears of school shackles aside and embrace the positive. Not something I’m good at. But as my nurse friend wisely said: “your low self esteem came from being told often enough that you weren’t good enough. If you tell yourself often enough that you are, eventually you’ll come to believe it.”

Sounds like hard work to me but I’m willing to give it a go! Time to accept that confidence needn’t be arrogance and guilt and excessive humility are not attractive traits. Gosh, I feel like I’ve been on the therapist’s couch today. No wonder I’m tired! Embracing the positive: A good thought for my 100th post.

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“I’m bored.”

Claire looked over at the little girl on the sofa next to her. A crumpled magazine lay discarded on the floor and she stared at Claire, arms folded, bottom lip jutting out like a bad collagen injection. The pitch of her voice stabbed through Claire’s headache like a stiletto heel. Swallowing her irritation, Claire pushed a smile in place and lowered her book.

“Sorry, sweetie, have you finished your magazine? We’ll go up to bed in a while but, as we’re in a shared dorm, I thought it might be nice to sit down here in the lounge for a bit.”

Claire had no idea what she was going to do once the little girl was tucked up in the bottom bunk. She wasn’t looking forward to another battle over why Sky wasn’t allowed to sleep on top either. The idea of explaining to her sister that her niece had fallen five foot from a bunk-bed during the night was not something she could contemplate without horror.

Sky’s sulk didn’t show any signs of waning. Claire sighed, her cheeks aching from the forced smile. “What would you do at home before bedtime?”

“Mummy reads me stories, or I watch The Simpsons with her.”

The Simpsons? At bedtime? No wonder the girl has nightmares. Searching her brain for an alternative to enduring whatever banal stories Pony Magazine had to offer, Claire caught sight of a teenage girl on the opposite side of the room, engrossed in a game on her iPhone.

“What about computer games?”

Sky’s eyes lit up and then died, like a short-lived supernova. “Mummy doesn’t allow computer games. We only have one computer and she uses it for her work. She says they’re all silly games that will rot my brain.”

And watching the Simpsons won’t? I wonder about my sister sometimes. No wonder she’s so tired all the time. Aren’t games designed as free childcare?

“Well, why don’t we see if there are any apps on the iPad that your Mummy wouldn’t disapprove of? What about reading and writing ones?”

The tiny face fell. “They sound boring. Jenny has one where you paint fingernails, can we download that?” The girl scooted across the sofa and snuggled next to Claire, tucking herself under Claire’s arm. Not sure whether to sigh or smile, Claire pulled her iPad onto her lap and began searching for apps.

Twenty minutes later she returned to her book, glancing over occasionally at Sky to make sure she was okay. Her niece’s face was tight with concentration and all trace of boredom had gone. It can’t be that bad, surely, if it makes her happy? Ruth doesn’t need to know.

Retrieving her paperback she thumbed through the pages until she found her spot. Katniss was in the trees hiding from Peeta when the shrill of a ringing phone broke the silence. Damn. Turn that phone off, will you? The noise continued until Claire realised it was her phone, jangling in her pocket.

With flushed cheeks she fished it out and looked at the number. Her dinner sank to the pit of her stomach and she considered hitting cancel. Don’t be a coward. Slowly releasing a deep sigh, Claire selected answer and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” With a glance at Sky, she got up and walked over to the window. Her niece didn’t register her departure.

“Claire? Hi, how are you?”

The voice caused her dinner to start a tango in the bottom of her tummy. “Hi Michael. I’m fine, thanks.” She heard him hesitate and hoped her frigid tones would cause him to cut the call short. I doubt it. Michael must have a leather hide not to have got the hint already.

“I rang to see how you are? After the mugging and all. You haven’t posted much on Twitter recently. Not that I’m stalking you or anything,” he added quickly, as that exact thought went through her mind. “I was just worried.”

“I’m looking after Sky for a couple of weeks.” Of course, Michael doesn’t know about Ruth’s illness. It seemed strange, Michael not knowing something so essential to her life. She tried to decide whether he needed to know now, and concluded he didn’t.

“Really?” The shock in his voice made her grimace. “I thought you hated spending time with your nieces and nephews.” There was something else in his voice too. Was it hope?

“I do.” Let’s put an end to that seed before it germinates. “Ruth needed some time, that’s all, and I couldn’t say no.” She looked over her shoulder. “Besides, she’s old enough to be good company. Most of the time.”

“Children are, you know. They say the funniest things, and they make you really live life. Everything is new and fresh seen through their eyes.” His voice was soft; it made Claire shudder.

“Yes, well. It’s about time I put this little lady to bed. We’re in a shared dorm and it might take a while.”

She heard him breathe out, and knew she had offended him with her curt response. Serves him right for not knowing when to quit.

“Of course. Well, as long as you’re okay.” He paused.

Don’t say it, don’t say it. Please.

“I miss you.” And he was gone.

***

Is Low Self-Esteem Making You Vulnerable to Depression? (psychologytoday.com)
Celebrities and Sippy Cups Poppy Montgomery Talks about Mommy Guilt (everydayfamily.com)
Do you have High or Low Self Esteem? (onlyronsworld.com)
That Scary Thing Has a Name. (lettersofreconciliation.wordpress.com)
What price do you put on yourself? (imconfident.wordpress.com)
This is a childcare crisis of David Cameron’s own making | Stephen Twigg and Yvette Cooper (guardian.co.uk)

A Strange sort of Peace: 2013 365 Challenge #99

Kings College Chapel, Cambridge. Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

It has finally arrived. After nearly six months, hubbie went to work today. Suit, tie, the works. He looked very handsome.

It isn’t raining, I have the house to myself. The only sad bit was dropping two sobbing children at nursery and then sobbing myself in the car. I wish I knew the answer to the childcare problem. Hubbie thinks they’ll be better if we put them in three days a week again. I’m not so sure. Besides, Amber starts school in September so it’s just going to make that harder. I think I need to take them out and put them in a preschool – more days, fewer hours. Get us used to the routine shift that school will bring and have them out the house for shorter periods of time.

I’ll miss my long days (and cover during the school vacations as all preschools close when the schools close) but maybe it’s time to grow up and accept I can’t have everything (sometimes it feels anything) my way.

Happiness is a Clean Fridge

Then of course the dilemma is finding a preschool. Amber’s best friend goes to one but I don’t like it: not enough outside space. Not suitable for Aaron. So do I split them up? Send Amber somewhere she doesn’t know anyone, after four years with friends? Stick with nursery for a few more months? Take them out entirely? Put up with the tears and tantrums, knowing they don’t really hate it? Sometimes I feel like I’ve been worrying about childcare as long as I’ve had children. It wakes me at night.

The problem is choice. I have way too much choice. Nothing dictates what days, times, locations I need my childcare to fit. I prefer Mondays and Thursdays but that isn’t rigid (although we dropped Mondays for a while and I hated it, even with having to pay for bank holidays!). My main requirements are friendly staff the children warm to, good clean facilities and space for Aaron to run. Despite the large range of nurseries and preschools around us I haven’t yet found that winning combination.

Anyway, I’m trying not to think about it any more. There isn’t an answer and it just makes my soul ache. Aside from that – and the gurgling tummy of the dog lying next to me on the sofa – I’ve had a peaceful day. I’m a person who likes space and solitude and I haven’t had much of that for far too long. Even though my routine has been the same as when hubbie is here I seem to have written twice as many words today. And I’ve cleaned the fridge. Time to walk and feed the dog before her gurgling tummy drives away my new-found peace.

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The children chased each other along the wall outside Kings, giggling and hopping on and off the grass. Claire, Fiona and Josh followed behind, sharing idle observations on all they’d seen inside King’s College, much as strangers might discuss the weather on a stranded bus. Lily kicked her legs and waved her hands from her position in a sling on Josh’s chest. The air felt too thick to breathe and the spring sunshine failed to penetrate Claire’s skin.

“So, who is hungry?” she called ahead to the children. They turned as one and hopped up and down.

“Me, me, me!”

“Come on then. I’m taking you for the tastiest Greek burger ever.” She lengthened her stride until there was space between her and the hand-holding couple. Sky stretched out her arms and jumped off the low wall into Claire’s embrace, snuggling deep into her hair. The gesture surprised Claire and she returned the hug with closed eyes.

“I love you, Auntie Claire. I’m having the best day. Thank you.” Sky flashed a toothy smile before squirming down again to play with Lucas and Sophie. Tears pricked at Claire’s eyes and she swallowed. Well, Ruth, I was never sure before, but you definitely did something right.

They lined up to cross the road. Claire glanced back but Fiona and Josh were in earnest conversation.

“Right kids, hold hands.” She looked left and right up King’s Parade, making sure there were no cars. Standing, waiting for a taxi to thunder past, she caught movement out the corner of her eye.

“Look at that dog!” Lucas yelled, dashing out in front of the oncoming car. Claire reacted instinctively, thrusting Sky and Sophie behind her and reaching out to grasp the hood of Lucas’s coat. She reached him and pulled, just as the black saloon whooshed past, raising a swirl of litter. With trembling limbs Claire swapped her hold on the hood for a clutch of a little sweaty hand.

Urgent arms took the child from her and he disappeared into a hug of hair and tears. “Lucas, what were you thinking? You know not to rush across the road like that.” Fear made the voice stern and Lucas dissolved into sobs.

“Sorry Mummy. There was a dog wearing a coat.”

Fiona stroked the boy’s hair and murmured soothing words, while Claire clutched Sky’s hand and waited for her pulse to cease its rapid beat. Josh stood jiggling Lily and shushing Sophie who had started to cry when her brother did: big wracking, gulping tears and wails of, “Don’t be mean to my brother.” Claire wondered if she had ever defended a sibling with such passion.

Eventually the tears ceased and life once more penetrated the tight group. Fiona looked up from hugging Lucas and met Claire’s eyes. Her face held a new softness and Claire realised just how beautiful the woman was. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Claire nodded, unsure what to say.

They left the narrow alleyway after their burgers, marvelling at the taste and wiping sauce from their mouths. It was early afternoon, so Claire suggested a wander along the high street, maybe followed by a coffee in the bookshop, where they could also pick up some paperbacks to ease the long journey home. She could see Sky’s eyes drooping. Another hour and hopefully she’ll sleep again in the car. It’s going to take a couple of hours to get to the hostel. Unwilling to admit it, Claire felt, nonetheless, a need to linger. To stretch out these last moments with Josh and his family, knowing they would be flying half way round the world in a few days.

All too soon, the books had been selected, the coffee drunk, the Pony magazine purchased for Sky, to keep her entertained should she not sleep in the car. They stood in the awkward silence of soon-to-be-parted friends, none wanting to start the farewells. The children chased each other round the square, running after pigeons and squealing. Lily slept in her sling, snuggled against her mum. Some unseen communication passed between Josh and Fiona, and the woman wandered away to keep an eye on the children.

Claire felt the timpani drum playing loudly in her ears as he approached: cleaner, more familiar, but with the same crooked smile she remembered from their first meeting at Kielder. It felt a lifetime ago, although she knew it was only a month, if that. She brushed her hair behind her ears and tried to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Claire.”

As he came nearer she inhaled the familiar scent of aftershave, although without the bass note of smoke. Clearly Fiona’s arrival had put a stop to that habit. Any words that might be spoken dried in her throat as he stopped in front of her and reached for her hands. She flicked a glance at Fiona, but the woman was discretely distant, marshalling a game of hide and seek amidst the empty market stalls. Josh turned to see what Claire was looking at, and misinterpreted her gaze.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother one day. You’ll make some man a lucky bastard. If you can’t see it you haven’t met the right one yet. Keep looking. If all else fails, come visit us down under. We’ll hook you up with some bonza fellas.”

She turned back at his words, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. He dropped one of her hands and brushed her cheek, before pulling her into a crushing hug. She tensed, then melted into the embrace.

Memories of their time on the observatory platform shouldered their way into her mind. He never really fancied me: It was all an act. I reminded him of Fiona, that’s all. She realised the thought no longer made her sad. If I hadn’t, would we be friends? Would I have had half the experiences I’ve had these last few weeks? She felt tears trickling down her cheeks, dripping onto his shoulder. Her nose began to run and she didn’t want that to be his last memory of her. Pulling away, she forced the grief deep inside and shone him her brightest smile.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that, one day. I’m still not convinced about the mother thing, but perhaps kids aren’t as awful as I once thought. You have a safe trip home and take care of your family, they are very precious.” She leant forwards and pecked him quickly on the lips, before turning away. Without looking back she strode across the square towards Fiona and the children. Murmuring her goodbyes, and comforting a disappointed Sky, she took her niece’s hand and left the square, staring straight ahead.

***

Picking a Preschool – Toddler Learning Centers – Childcare – Daycare (everydayfamily.com)
13 Fun Activities For Preschoolers And Educational Preschool Activities Have Just Been Released On Kids Activities Blog. (prweb.com)
365: 31.03.13 #91 An Easter egg hunt (ghostwritermummy.co.uk)

Swimsuits and Spring: 2013 365 Challenge #98

Paddling Pool Fun

Despite it being only about ten degrees C outside the kids are running round in their swimsuits and playing in the paddling pool. I think they genuinely don’t feel the cold. It’s t-shirt and jeans weather at best! Who am I to argue though? They’re having the first day of summer fun in half a year and it’s wonderful to see.

As a result, hubbie and I have had a properly productive Sunday. I’ve done half a dozen loads of laundry, stripped the beds, hoovered the carpets and cooked and baked. Hubbie has emptied the garage and put stuff on ebay (a major feat, I should point out). We even made it to the pub, although after a G&T on an empty stomach I remembered why I don’t drink any more. I went through tipsy to hungover in about thirty minutes. Sad.

We spent this evening watching How to Train Your Dragon. What a marvelous movie. I wanted to see it at the cinema and never got around to it. I love dragons and Toothless has to be the most adorable dragon ever. I wish I’d seen it before I wrote Dragon Wraiths, although maybe it would have been a different kind of novel if I had! I liked the ending (I won’t give it away), I thought it a nice touch of realism.

The weather forecast is rain for the rest of the week, so I don’t think there will be much more paddling pool fun, unless I bring it in the playroom and fill it with teddies. Never mind. One step closer to summer and amen to that.

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Claire gripped Sky’s hand and watched nervously left and right. Kings College spread out behind her, stark against a blue sky. Wind whistled along King’s Parade and it was cold in the shade, despite the sun peeking over the buildings in front of them.

The hand in hers tugged and, when she looked down, a pleading face said, “Can I run along the wall, Auntie Claire?”

Claire clutched her paper coffee cup in close and shook her head. “I don’t want you falling and grazing a knee before they get here.” She resisted the urged to check her phone for the fifth time, to see if they were late or if she was still early. Maybe they won’t come. Fiona definitely wasn’t keen. Perhaps they forgot? I should have asked for his number. How did people ever meet up without mobiles?

Sky drew patterns on the pavement with her pink shoes, scooping demi-pliés like a ballerina. Distracted momentarily, Claire watched her performance while Sky used her hand as a bar.

“Do you do ballet, Sky?”

“I did, last term. Mum said we couldn’t afford it once I grew too big for my leotard.”

A worm of guilt wriggled in under Claire’s rib cage. Her sister was always quick to complain about being poor but she’d figured that was the usual moaning she heard in the office, when Account Execs complained they couldn’t afford the coveted pair of shoes or designer handbag.

“Are leotards very expensive?”

Sky shrugged and continued practising her ballet positions in the shade of King’s Parade. Something about the movements snagged at Claire’s memory and she was surprised to discover she remembered the names. First position, second, third. Her feet twitched, as if they wanted to join in.

“Did you enjoy ballet?”

Sky let go of Claire’s hand and twirled a pirouette. “Oh yes. Hannah and Jenny used to go to the same class as me. They’ll be a certificate ahead of me now.” Her pixie face pulled down in a frown, making the cold in the shade a degree cooler. How expensive can it be? The cost of an M&S sandwich and a latte for a class? When we get back I’ll arrange with Ruth to pay for her ballet classes and costumes. Every little princess should dream of being a ballerina if they want to.

“Hey Claire!”

Distracted by her niece’s impromptu performance, Claire had ceased her relentless search of the street, and the hail startled her. With her heart hammering loudly, Claire yanked her head up and she scanned the approaching faces until she located the source of the voice. Without realising it, Claire’s face broke into a wide smile. She grabbed Sky’s hand, as much to resist the urge to hurry over for a hug as to ensure the girl stayed by her side.

And then they were there, facing each other. Claire smiled awkwardly at Fiona, then beamed down at the children. Last of all, she met Josh’s smiling eyes and forgot to breathe.

“Glad you could make it. We’ve been having such fun here: This place is so old. We can’t wait to see round Kings.”

Claire waited a beat too long before nodding. “Us too. Oh, this is Sky, my niece. Sky, meet Josh, Fiona, Lily, Sophie and Lucas.” She indicated each in turn and then looked down at Sky. The girl was peeping out from behind her legs. “Shy, Sky? That’s not like you.”

Josh dropped down to his haunches and twinkled at the hidden girl. “It’s okay, we don’t bite. Are you having fun with Auntie Claire?”

Claire felt as much as saw Sky nodding. Slowly the girl came out and shone a grin at Josh. Claire looked down at her niece’s glowing face and felt a jolt in her chest.

Yes, poppet. I feel like that too.

***

The Parent I Am and the One I Aspire to be: 2013 365 Challenge #97

Amber having her face painted this morning

I don’t have many words today.

Lack of sleep and residual illness has turned me into at least four of the seven dwarfs. I’ll let you figure out which.

Instead of waffling on as usual, I’d like instead to share two thoughtful and beautiful posts about being a parent: both written as letters to a child.

One describes the parent I’d like to be, the other the parent I am far too often. Again, I’ll let you decide which.

It won’t be hard.

An Open Letter to My Son:

Like some poor, naïve fairytale mother, I’m trying to help you navigate your way through a forest that’s by turns enchanted and haunted. The path is familiar, as if I walked it once years ago, but different, too; overgrown and seemingly impassable in some parts, and unexpectedly clear in others. And as we pick our way through the undergrowth, as we do our best not to trip on twisted roots and sharp stones, I try to remember the lessons I’ve learned from all folktales I used to know.

For example, I won’t make the mistake that Sleeping Beauty’s parents did when sending out invitations to her christening. Unlike them, I’ll be sure to invite the dark fairy godmothers as well as the good ones, because I know that they’ll come anyway, slipping in through back doors and lurking in corners where you least expect them. I’ll let them give you their murky gifts in broad daylight, so that I can look them in the eye while they do so. Then I’ll smile and thank them, recognizing that I have to let life give you the bad as well as the good.

And when I send you out into the world alone, as I know that I will someday have to, I’ll give you something more substantial than bread crumbs with which to find your way back home.

And I won’t make you go to your grandmother’s house alone until I can be sure that you can tell the difference between an old woman and a wolf in a nightgown.

…

I Wasn’t a Good Mom:

Dear Daughter,

Today, I wasn’t a good mom. The morning came too soon after a long and exhausting night. I rolled out of bed and put pants on an hour before you normally woke up. When I came into your room you were ready for me, your hair tousled and your smile crooked. “I up!” You said reaching your arms out to me. “I pay wif toys!”

I didn’t smile, not because I don’t love you, but because I just needed more sleep. And then the day came and you stuck stickers to the couch and I grumbled under my breath. You tried to play tag and kicked me in the chest and I yelled, “BE NICE TO MOM!” I realize now, I wasn’t yelling that at you. I was just yelling at the world. But how could you know that? You couldn’t, and I’m sorry.

And when I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and you said, “NO MAM GO PODDY!” And I said, “Shut up!” It wasn’t my finest hour of parenthood.

I’m sorry I cried when you ate my lunch. The lunch I bought for both of us to feed my feelings. Because my feelings needed chicken nuggets, but apparently so did you. And I’m sorry I put you in time out when you made your plate do a little dance on the table. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you when I put you down for nap, choosing instead to run away and lay in the guest room bed and just dwell in some silence.

…

These are only extracts of the posts. I encourage you to read the full version, and to follow these inspiring blogs. They get me through many hard days as a mother and a writer. I’m off now to use what words I have to give Claire some parenting challenges of her own. It’s far more fun making it happen to someone else!

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Claire swore loudly and heard movement from the passenger seat. “Damn. Idiot.”

“What is it Auntie Claire? Why are you cross? You used a naughty word. Mummy says only uneducated people use naughty words.”

Claire gritted her teeth and tried not to utter any more swear words. She suspected Ruth was unlikely to talk to her ever again after this fortnight away with Sky but there was no need to add teaching Sky four-letter words to her list of misdemeanours.

“Auntie Claire is frustrated, that’s all poppet. Nothing to worry about. I’m just trying to find a parking space within a twenty-minute walk of the hostel.”

I knew staying in Cambridge for the Easter weekend was a mistake. I didn’t want to drive far on Good Friday and all the other hostels in this area are on the bloody coast or miles away, or both. How was I to know it was going to be five degrees outside and no one in their right mind is heading to the beach? She glared, as if the weather was solely to blame for her bad humour.

Trying to keep the rage in her head was a new challenge and it seemed to make driving harder, as if the hindrance of not being able to yell at the other incompetents in their protective boxes affected her judgement. She braked suddenly to avoid a gaggle of cyclists. Damn those egotistical morons. Pay some damn road tax and then you can swoop in front of me and cut me up with the impunity of an HGV. She swerved around a woman dawdling on an old-fashioned bike, complete with wicker baskets front and rear, pedalling as if she was on a country lane.

“Where are we Claire; is this Cambridge? I’ve never been to Cambridge. Mummy says it’s full of tourists and shops and it costs too much to park. Nana was going to bring me but then Mummy got sick and now she has to take care of Mummy. Are we nearly there? I’m hungry and I need a wee.”

The blood drained from Claire’s face. Need a wee? Now? I have no idea how long it’s going to take to get parked. What is a six-year-old’s bladder control like? Is it urgent? I may not love this car but I don’t want pee on the seats, never mind getting the booster seat washed. Claire forced the brakes on her runaway thoughts, realising that her mind had taken on the urgent, rolling interrogation style favoured by her niece. As if every piece of information in the universe needed to be questioned and answered that instant or the world would fail.

Taking a deep breath, Claire tried for calm. “Not long now, sweetie. Cross your legs. We’ll get you to a toilet as soon as we can.”

Claire found herself swept back into the one-way system and cursed the Sat Nav for not keeping up. Useless box of junk. You’re quick to give me the same instruction twenty times when it’s obvious I need to bear left. Now, when I could use a hand, you’re two streets behind. The swear words built in her mouth, demanding to be freed. Claire tried to remember what stupid words Ruth used when she was irritated.

“Fumbling fiddlesticks!”

Sky giggled and the carefree sound released some of the tension in the metal box jammed in by a hundred other metal boxes. Deciding to pursue the happy accident, Claire pummelled her brain for ways to distract Sky from her need to pee and her incessant questioning.

“Did I tell you we’re going to meet friends of mine tomorrow, for a day out at Kings College?” Hmm, okay I don’t suppose Fiona counts herself a friend, but you can give a child too much truth. “They have children, too. A bit younger than you. Hopefully we’ll have some fun.”

Sky swivelled round in the seat, tearing her eyes away from a Disney advert on the bus in the next lane. “What are their names?”

“My friend is called Josh and his wife is Fiona. Their children are…” Claire paused, searching her brain for name cards. “Um, Lily, Sophie and, bugger what’s the boy called? Er Jack? No, what was the name of that dancer on Got to Dance? Lucas, that’s it.” Claire smiled, pleased at her miraculous recall.

“Auntie Claire you said another naughty word.” Sky sniggered and then covered her mouth with her hand.

Claire turned her attention to the slow moving car in front and cursed her unruly mouth. I’m going to have to get a swear-box, otherwise I’m going to have Little Miss Prim pulling me up every five minutes. She decided the best plan was to ignore Sky’s comment and continue with her conversation. “So, anyway, Lucas is the eldest – just a bit younger than you – then Sophie and then Lily is still a baby. Will you help me show them round Cambridge? They’re from Australia and this is their first visit to England.”

“Wow, do they have a pet kangaroo? Do they speak funny, like on Home and Away? Wait until Hazel finds out at school, she’s going to be pea green with envy.” Sky turned and stared out the window, lost in a world of one-upmanship.

Glad to have finally struck on something to stop Sky’s verbal diarrhoea, Claire concentrated on squeezing the Skoda into an on-street parking space two blocks from the hostel. I just have to remember to move it before 9am or I’m in trouble.

***

Sharing the Load: 2013 365 Challenge #96

Amber’s artistic photo of Daddy

Today was the last week-day with all of us at home together, hopefully for several weeks. Hubbie starts work on Monday, fingers crossed, and will be out the house from breakfast to bedtime (the children’s bedtime that is – I rarely snuggle under the duvet before midnight).

The little ones are going to miss him and – for all my moaning about space and routine – so will I. Today was a fairly typical day in our recent lives. I stayed in bed writing my blog while Daddy fetched breakfast for the kids (The lie-in was allowed because I spent last night formatting hubbie’s manuscript for Kindle).

I got up around 9am and took over child care, although I actually baked a banana cake while the kids were in the toilet, not realising 2yo was wiping 4yo’s bottom (a job I still do normally, since she got a bad infection). Poor hubbie wasn’t quick enough out the house, so ended with the clean-up job. He won’t miss doing that, I guarantee it. [Just re-read that bit: too much information. Sorry.]

Dressing up fun

Hubbie then escaped and came in only for cake and lunch. But he was there, pressure-washing the decking and patio, where we could see him. At 5pm I legged it to the shops, having realised earlier that I had no gift for the party Amber’s going to tomorrow (blame the illness!). I tried to go earlier with the kids but they were resistant and I was weak in my still-a-bit-ill fragility. Got back from town an hour later to find the kids playing football with Daddy on the sparkling clean decking. I unloaded the shopping and left them to it, after a quick kick about, to come walk the dog.

The only downside to the day I can see is that hubbie’s clearly had too much childcare duty and is losing his sense of humour. I don’t think he’ll be sad to miss breakfast to bedtime. And once we hit our stride the kids and I will be fine too. But it’ll take some adjustment, as all routine changes do. At least the longer days mean I’ll still be able to walk the dog when hubbie gets home. Not sure what’s going to happen to Claire, when I lose my precious mornings in bed dreaming up her adventures. Certainly the quality of my writing has been badly affected by two days of illness, so I guess we’ll see.

________________________________________________________________________________

Claire glanced at the slumbering child in the passenger seat, and smiled. I survived my first twenty four hours with my niece out in the wild, with no A4 sheet of instructions to guide me. Honesty compelled her to add, just about.

She thought about the lunchtime battle to get Sky to eat her sandwich, which had unexpectedly resolved itself when Claire got up and left the café. She had only been aware of a need to put distance between herself and the tantrum. Standing outside the door, watching her niece turn purple in fury, was definitely a low point in the day. The outraged looks on the faces of the other customers in the tiny and crowded room had caused Claire’s face to take on a similar hue, albeit for different reasons. Their looks of condemnation prevented her re-entering the room, even when Sky stopped crying and sat – shell-shocked and alone – at the wobbly Formica table.

The quiet and contrite child who had emerged ten minutes later seemed to justify the action but Claire had been conscious of a terrible surge of guilt at her behaviour. She’s the child not me. Sky took back her angry words of hatred and declared she loved her Auntie Claire so no lasting damage seemed to have resulted from the incident.

Still, I hope it doesn’t happen again. What if we’d been in Starbucks or a restaurant instead of some tin pot coffee shop? Claire thought of the decibels of noise that had leaked through the prefab walls and shuddered.

There was more to this parenting lark than first appeared. If Sky hadn’t been an angel since lunch she would have been strongly tempted to take the girl to her Dad’s; to spend the two week Easter holiday with reinforcements. It just confirms my long-held view that I wasn’t born to be a mother. Auntie maybe, but that’s it. Michael was wrong when he said he saw maternal feelings in me. Silly deluded idiot. Unhappy memories of that night swirled around her in the car. Claire gripped the steering wheel and frowned them away. There was still an hour’s driving to the hostel she had booked them into for the night.

She turned the stereo on to Radio 3 and drove into the evening with Mozart and a peacefully sleeping girl for company.

***

Sleepy day and Stone Heart: 2013 365 Challenge #95

A gripping tale after a slow start

I spent today – my first day without the kids in a week – stuck in bed with a poorly tummy. I think it was caused by dehydration from the wind and lack of water during my day out with the kids yesterday. I can be prone to dehydration, especially when I’m writing – forgetting to eat and drink because I’m so engrossed – and I end up with a twisted gut and a sore head. Or I might just have girl flu.

Whatever it was, it floored me. I slept until 2pm, after cobbling together yesterday’s rather rubbish Claire installment, then spent the afternoon engrossed in Stone Heart by Charlie Fletcher.

I initially stopped reading the book after the first couple of chapters, as I found the writing style opaque and overly-cryptic and the main protagonist unlikeable. But when I finished Shadow Forest I ran out of things to read and picked it up again. I’m glad I persisted. It is hard to read – especially for a children’s book – but the characters are endearing and develop beautifully. It’s always a challenge when a character starts out annoying and then grows throughout the book. They have to be annoying in order to have room to grow, but it’s hard to read through the early part when you just want to give them a slap.

It turns out there’s a sequel so I shall be looking for that next time I go to the library. So far it’s two out of two for my random charity shop purchases. Just the Wendy Holden to go.

I’m still feeling ropy so my Claire installment today is likely to be a bit shaky. I’m taking her to Hamerton Zoo – it’s near where she and Sky stayed last night and I should be able to write it without any research. Hopefully normal service will resume tomorrow, although I have an obscenely early kids party so will have to get the post written before bedtime!

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Claire stared at the tiger. The massive white head faced away from her, as if ignoring her scrutiny. Then it swung round and seemed to acknowledge her gaze, before its flat eyes slid away and his attention moved on to the other side of the enclosure.

You poor old brute. What a life, sitting on a platform being watched by things you’d rather eat. Like sitting in a cake shop while the Belgium Buns take photographs. She shivered as the timeless eyes swung round to face her again. The tiger looked down his proud nose at Claire and stood, stretching like a domestic cat, before jumping silently off the platform to walk outside. On the far side of the enclosure Claire could see the orange tiger dozing in the sun. Between them was a giant red football. The sign said they spent hours knocking the ball to each other, but clearly not today. I’d give something to see that. I bet you do it when the zoo is closed right? Why perform for these strangers? You’d like us all to sod off, I bet.

“Auntie Claire?” A hand tugged at her jacket, reminding Claire she wasn’t at the zoo alone. Bugger. That’s going to take some getting used to. What if she’d wandered off, or been snatched, while I was communing with tigers? She turned and squatted down so her face was nearer Sky’s. “Yes poppet?”

“Can we go through the Tiger Tunnel? Can we, please?” She pointed through some pampas grass to a man-made tunnel that looked like it had been constructed from shipping containers.

“Sure, sweetheart. Although the tigers are here, darling.” She gestured to the specks of white and orange; all that could be seen of Blizzard and Lady-Belle.

“The map says there are sheep and goats through there though. And camels.”

Sheep and goats? We could have gone to a farm to see them, instead of this wind-swept, freezing zoo. Not camels, though, don’t remember seeing camels at any farm nearby. Claire stood up, ignoring the protesting creak in her knees and back. The hotel bed had done enough damage; she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Bad enough waking in a different bed to the one she’d gone to sleep in. As far as she could work out, Sky must have crawled in with her in the night and she’d crawled out the other side to sleep in the child’s bed.

I hope Musical Beds isn’t going to be a nightly occurrence. It’s hard enough dealing with all that chatter, without a head full of cotton wool and a broken and bruised body.

Claire let the girl drag her into the tunnel, which had been painted a vile sort of green with pictures to alleviate the metal expanse. They stopped at glass windows to search for Maned Wolves and more tigers but saw only scrubby grass and grey skies.

At the end of the tunnel, wooden gates opened into a small grassed area surrounded by animal enclosures: from reindeer on their right, past rheas, alpacas, sheep and goats, to camels far away to their left. They stood for a moment to get their bearings, when a flash of white and a bleating noise announced the arrival of a mob of miniature sheep, which flocked around their feet.

“Look, Claire, we can feed them. Can we, please?” Sky turned her sweetest smile on Claire and she nodded, pushing through the sheep to reach the food dispenser. As she inserted a twenty-pence piece and turned the dial, another flash of colour alerted her to new arrivals. Four short, fat, black goats came leaping across the grass and, before the food was even cupped in her hand, started jumping and head-butting her legs.

Sky shrieked, as the goats shoved her so hard she fell backwards into a muddy puddle. Oh great, Claire groaned. I hope there is somewhere here we can change. Though I don’t know what I’m going to change her into. What was Mum thinking, packing dresses and tights? Did she think we were only going to do little girl things, or did she hope rich Claire would take poor little Sky shopping? Claire swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth before reaching over to scoop her niece out of the gloop and onto a bench. She worried that Sky would shirk from the boisterous goats butting at her hands, demanding food. Instead the girl giggled with glee, seized the tiny horns and pushed the heads away.

Standing there, mud dripping from her pink dress and leggings, with her once-pink coat flapping in the arctic wind and her hair flying behind her in a stream of gold, she looked like a superhero, saving the world from vicious horned beasties. Claire felt a strange sensation in the pit of her tummy as she stood watching her niece. Something warm and almost maternal; something she didn’t remember feeling for another human being before. It felt like pride.

***

Dinosaurs and Prison Ships: 2013 365 Challenge #94

Victorian Operating Theatre

I took the children to Peterborough Museum today for a change. Even though the sun made an early appearance, the arctic wind is still blasting through Northamptonshire and it’s not much fun outside.

It wasn’t much fun walking across town either, although I had the kids pretending we were on an expedition searching for polar bears as we pressed on, head down, through the gale. I’m not sure they bought it. Think they would rather have been hunting mermaids on a sunny beach. Me too!

We have a nice little museum at Peterborough, with dinosaur fossils from the local area (it seems weird to think of Mammoths and Ichthyosaurus here where it’s so flat and dull!), a mocked up prison ship with hammocks the kids could climb in, a Victorian operating theatre (The building used to be a hospital) and other interactive displays and things for the children. Mine are a bit young but they still had fun.

Station Master Aaron

The only negative experience was waiting thirty minutes for two harassed but helpless coffee shop staff to bring us a pot of tea and two toasted tea cakes. They could do with putting their better staff on at lunch time. I was naughty and spent the wait grumbling loudly. What I wanted to do was get behind the counter and sort them out!

A lovely day, but definitely one that reminded me why I could never home school. I know so little about things like the Battle of Waterloo or the different types of dinosaur and, though I remember enjoying learning about them once, I have little desire to learn it all a second time. I’ll help them with homework as much as I can, but I’m happy to leave the teaching to the professionals.

Short Claire post today as I’ve been crook since getting back from the museum and can’t seem to get my brain into writing gear. Forgive me, I’ll try and make up for it tomorrow!

_______________________________________________________________________________

Claire looked down the list of hotels on her iPad, conscious of eager eyes watching from the passenger seat. Scanning the Laterooms site, her eyes noted the hotel rooms near her budget. A B&B in Peterborough, a Days Inn hotel near the services. She looked over at the angel in pink sitting on a booster seat and kicking her feet. Do I really want our first night to be in some grotty hotel by the motorway? That’s not an adventure.

She examined the list again. Hotel and Spa, that sounds perfect. A quick trip to the sauna might just warm me up after this charming trip to see my mother. In the corner of her eye she could see Sky’s pointed toes trying to reach the glove box. Bugger, I don’t suppose I can take a six-year-old into a Spa. What do parents do when they need to relax?

Then a name stood out – a Country Hotel near Huntingdon. Clicking on the picture, her screen filled with an image of an ivy-encrusted building full of charm and character. That’ll do. She selected a twin room, trying to ignore the £89 price ticket. It does come with breakfast. I’ll just not include this receipt next time I file my expenses. My treat. A quick internet search revealed a zoo nearby. That settles it. We can go to the zoo first thing and then drive to the hostel after lunch.

By the time they reached the country hotel thirty minutes later Claire regretted passing up the Spa. Sneaking down for a dip after her niece was asleep seemed idyllic compared with enduring more hours of endless chatter. How does she manage to talk non-stop for so long? And with such shrill enthusiasm?

Claire’s brain rang with the high-pitched babble and her throat felt parched after answering a stream of random questions. The two-week Easter vacation stretched ahead of her like a desert road: long and relentless and without relief.

***