tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11727925246172713322024-02-19T05:22:22.131+00:00The Aluminium Foiled My PlansHollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.comBlogger357125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-83913100500481431472022-08-20T14:24:00.003+01:002022-08-20T14:24:34.916+01:00Ode to Grandma D<p> First written just before her death in January 2014, found today, and posting to keep it safe for future me.</p><p>I travelled to Lincoln Hospital yesterday to visit my Grandma the matriarch of our family, who is on her deathbed. A very emotional day. If it wasn't for this woman, for the choices, both good and bad she made, for the life she has led, my father and his brothers would not be here, myself and my sibling, our children, and those still to be born. We would not be here without her. </p><p>How incredibly vital her life is, no matter how insignificant or small it may have seemed at times, how unbelievable epic and life changing it has been.</p><p>Three children, four grandchildren, twelve great grandchildren and two more on the way this year.</p><p><br /></p><p>Technology is a marvellous thing though, my brother showed her pictures of his children on his phone, I showed her a video of my three laughing and giggling through breakfast while she stroked the screen and marvelled at just 'so many babies'. </p><p>She told me I had my hands full. I smiled and tried to not reel off my usual comments instead telling her, 'I do Grandma, in the most wonderful way.' For a long time she just kept repeating, 'I don't know how you manage', over and over to herself, and ' you're having another baby, I don't know how you do it'</p><p>The irony of someone on their deathbed thinking that I had the worse deal in life was not lost on me, in fact it really made me smile :D everything she said came from a place of love and wonderment. She is baffled by how we are doing what she feels would be beyond her.</p><p><br /></p><p>She is suffering now, I have never been one for euthanasia, but ten minutes into her begging us to end it, to stab her, to let her die I would have, gladly. </p><p>My family have chosen to tell her she is getting better, it's a complicated decision and one the younger generation of our family don't agree with, she has possibly days, no more than weeks left. She has broken bones in her back, cancer in her spine, cancer in her lungs all diagnosed in the last week. It is highly unlikely she will live to see her newest great grandchild, I had been hoping she could hold on just long enough to meet the baby, but after seeing her suffering, well she is just waiting to die. And she has been waiting ten long years to go and join my grandad, it feels wrong to try to keep her here any longer.</p><p><br /></p><p>I have many countless memories of the love and joy I felt in their house, of the chemistry set given to me one Christmas (along with directions for how to call the fire brigade and retreat to the bottom of the garden should black smoke appear) the dolls house they renovated for me, the sweets sneaked, the pebbles collected on the beach, the hours spent watching magic tricks and trying to foil them. The impromptu carol concerts and performances on their living room carpet, the conversations about gardening, the cuddles and the kisses. </p><p><br /></p><p>I am going to miss her, the last link to my Grandad and the strongest, most admirable woman, from the outside seeming so fragile and reserved, but forged from steel.</p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-5830606552870844742020-10-19T14:38:00.002+01:002020-10-19T14:38:35.385+01:00A million years ago<p> Where did the time go? I've read back over previous posts and WOW so much time has passed, so many memories I would have forgotten had I not documented them here. I always say it doesn't feel likea long time has passed, but reading all these stories definitely makes it feel longer. I now have eight year old triplets, and a wealth of funny stories that I hope to upload here as time allows. That said time with a sporting dog, four kids and a full time business is perhaps why I've not written as frequently in the past few years as I did before! I think I've actually missed it. I'm hoping to remedy the quiet years with a handful of updates from this year of 2020 and what covid-19 has done for our family, both for the better and worse. </p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-39550122103328017732020-05-22T01:24:00.001+01:002020-05-22T01:24:14.306+01:00The Adventures of Calliope<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Hello <span class="_5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; margin: 0px 1px;"><span class="_6qdm" style="background-image: url("https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tde/1/16/1f43e.png"); background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: contain; color: transparent; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16px; height: 16px; text-shadow: none; vertical-align: text-bottom; width: 16px;">🐾</span></span>My name is: Calliope</div>
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My nicknames : Cali, Scallywag, SuperCalifragalistic, pupper, pup tart, pu-ppee (high pitched), pup pup boogie, cali-lally, butthead.<br />Whose a good girl, whose a good boy (I'm not sure she means me but I likes the praise), 'what's this' - she's usually looking at the kitteh but this is the bestest nickname as it has foods in it and if I use my super stare powers I can gets some. My hooman only says Calliope when I'm in troubles.</div>
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My age is: I'm 4 next week, and I wants beef cake and a new squeaky.</div>
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My favourite human food is: pizza, duck, prawns and roast beef, I also LOVES chocolate and jaffa cakes, but everyone gets really mads when I sneak them so they hide them from me <span class="_47e3 _5mfr" style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px 1px; vertical-align: middle;" title="frown emoticon"><img alt="" class="img" height="16" role="presentation" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/tcb/1/16/1f641.png" style="border: 0px; vertical-align: -3px;" width="16" /><span aria-hidden="true" class="_7oe" style="display: inline; font-family: inherit; font-size: 0px; width: 0px;">:(</span></span></div>
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My biggest fear is: Bangs, bangs are the owies for ears and make my body do wobbles.</div>
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My favourite things to do: When my hooman says "agility?" we have the best fun's, taking toys on walks, digging up molehills until my hooman says enuff and squeaky disc jumpy game in the garden. Other hooman's too, they give loves, play with me in my house and agility hooman's give me foodies.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlpmt2AEsK8VKgfw1omTcDBk30Ccoq0gaiFN5wv-IIHFAE-S5KqXpmpHec27KrQIa6SmTWsGr7qFiuslvYZ3hYSAWJeR-XiwmxZiV5DvExZfFRRln2c1pD29UeVrm1LkrA0nYEnRognb_/s1600/56917929_10219037125225161_1043773157116215296_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlpmt2AEsK8VKgfw1omTcDBk30Ccoq0gaiFN5wv-IIHFAE-S5KqXpmpHec27KrQIa6SmTWsGr7qFiuslvYZ3hYSAWJeR-XiwmxZiV5DvExZfFRRln2c1pD29UeVrm1LkrA0nYEnRognb_/s320/56917929_10219037125225161_1043773157116215296_o.jpg" width="180" /></a>What I hate the most: Dogs - they are scary, I used to have friends but my hooman says I "can't be trusted" and am "a pain in the butt" whatever that means. Most dogs are worry monsters and need to go away from me so my body doesn't do wobbles. I try to be scary to frighten them away. When we play agility I always want it to be my turn to go play, and all these other dogs keep taking my turns so I have to woof to tell them to stop it's my turn! It makes my woofer hurt and my hooman sad. I'm scared when my hooman leaves me she won't come back. I knows she comes back to the hause so I'm not scared theres, but I think she might forget me if I don't shout HOOMAN HOOMAN at her, that hurts my woofer too.</div>
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Where do I sleep: On the floor near my hoo-man, except bedtimes when I sleep on the sofa in my bedroom because the bed is not for doggies and the man-servant says I'm not allowed upstairs in case I give him too many kisses when it's morning or try sleeps on the bed, I thinks he knows I will push him off to sleep next to my hooman. He says the kitteh can sleep on the bed though which is no fair, so I push her off my sofa.</div>
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Do I love car rides? No, except Mel's car mel's car means AGILITY and I have to dance around in the back whining to remind the hooman's we are going to agility - in case they forgets.</div>
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Do I snore? My hooman says the only time I snore is when I'm having bad dreams so she wakes me up.<br /></div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-52119389967413098632019-09-09T08:17:00.001+01:002022-09-09T08:18:57.007+01:00Kid Lyrics! <p> I just had the BEST conversation I've ever had with Ayla. She was singing me a song for bedtime.</p><p>Ayla: "Away in a manger no crib for a bed, the little lord Jesus, asleep on his head...."</p><p>Me: Sorry, did you just say asleep on his head?</p><p>Ayla: Yes</p><p>Me: That's not how it goes!</p><p>Ayla: It has to be, it can't be asleep in his bed as the sentence before said he doesn't have one so that's why hes sleeping on his head with his legs in the air. </p><p>Me: (this is funnier than anything ever) Yes, you are right, always, ALWAYS sing it that way. </p><p>#kidlogic</p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-39576041928338911722018-08-24T19:47:00.002+01:002022-08-24T19:49:02.763+01:00It’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye… too late<p> An uneventful chat with nhsdirect tonight when Gaius challenged Zarek to pop the bubbles he was blowing, out of the air with his rubber band plane. Zarek enthusiastically took up this challenge and managed to hit a bubble - and his soap covered, propelled glider straight into Gaius' eye. Queue lots of screaming about being blinded, flushing with water, and some concern over the discolouration of his eyeball 🙈- Gaius should be fine, but in fairness to Zarek, he nailed the shot 😂 #brothers #horseplay #doubledare #parentingmishaps #itsallfunandgamesuntilsomeonelosesaneye #toolate</p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-52016464766368421482017-03-20T08:22:00.001+00:002022-09-09T08:27:27.615+01:00Methinks Tesco has got it wrong…<p> </p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p>That of course, the kids will refuse to eat, since it contains green things; throwing it across the floor and making Ella wonder why she even bothers, before throwing quavers and choccy biscuits at Rupert, Archibald and Petunia, (the triplets), since it's the only thing they will eat, and then opening the wine and ordering herself a takeaway while the dog 'helps' her clean the kitchen floor. </p><p>Ella should stick to chicken nuggets, or pasta in sauce... as long as it's not tomato...Archibald hates tomatoes... #truestory #realmumoftriplets #thisblessednest</p>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-35404694793827897602017-03-04T13:13:00.002+00:002017-03-04T13:59:22.954+00:00You're doing it rightLast night the kids were being little demons - fighting, screaming, shouting at each other, us, themselves, it was noisy, so, so, noisy and stressful. <br />
The bedtime run up - where even more stress can be made by the tiny one procrastinating getting dressed into pajamas for up to <b>forty minutes</b>, I had enough.<br />
Ever the devious mother, casually I mention that the first person to get their pajamas on, gets first pick of the colour of bowl in which supper is contained. <br />
They were massively underwhelmed by this and continued to argue about paw patrol and whose house is whose and which figure they are playing with, and will be buried with, so no, you can't ever, ever have a turn.<br />
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I sat watching them, wondering how they had forgotten to share, how sick of each other they seem to be, and what a rotten job we seem to have done at times.<br />
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I quietly pointed out that the FIRST child to get their pajamas on, could also sit on my knee while we watch my little pony on the tv.<br />
I have never seen four kids get dressed so quickly, around 90 seconds, - a world record.<br />
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Ayla was first, sparking tears from the other three. <br />
Quinn had forgotten how she loves to draw-out getting dressed for as long as possible until mummy turns a special shade of purple and starts screaming "get dressed" like some kind of banshee. Quinn's favourite place to sit is on me and she panicked she might be relegated to, the horrors "daddys knee". However, being the only kid who has to get a nappy on for bedtime she was slowed down more than the others.<br />
Zarek who had dressed himself a mere fraction of a second behind Ayla, was very upset until I pointed out I had two knees and they could each have one.<br />
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Gaius who accidentally put two feet down the same trouser leg, which slowed him down, was screaming and crying, Quinn is sobbing on the floor at not being quite fast enough to win, when Ayla said "it's okay, I'm going to give my place to Gaius". Gaius stopped crying and Zarek piped up "Quinn, you can have my knee", and Quinn stopped sobbing.<br />
I looked at my two generous children, who despite being cross earlier, had done something so altruistically kind and thoughtful to help someone else they could see is hurting, I realise we've not done such a bad job after all. <br />
The look on Zarek and Ayla's faces said they were both sad to not get to sit on my knee but had decided their sadness was less than the two who were crying on the floor.<br />
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We went into the kitchen where the fastest dresser could now choose the snack bowl colour and again tears broke out from the two who got the colours least matching their favourites. (It's friday, everyone is tired and easy to cry). <br />
Ayla and Zarek negotiated with each other to swap bowls around until Quinn had the green one, (her favourite), Zarek the blue (his favourite), Gaius the orange and Ayla the purple (the smallest unwanted bowl) as a compromise to make the most people happy.<br />
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I gathered all four up in my arms, smothering them with kisses and telling them how kind they are and how proud I am before we all snuggled together on the sofa to watch the tv.<br />
These precious moments, often discovered, or greater appreciated an afternoon of fighting and arguing just further demonstrate that while they might bicker over toys from time to time, when it really matters they always choose kindness.<br />
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<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-45613279539469233032017-01-14T14:06:00.000+00:002017-01-14T14:06:06.879+00:00Chunky Minestrone Soup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's meaty, rich and chunky. The perfect indulgent winter warmer.<br />Freezes well and defrosts well too without becoming watery.<br /><br />(I have made both a more watery version, and a thicker version to trial it, and I prefer it thicker and chunky. If you prefer it more liquidy, add more water to the pot when cooking.<br /><br /><br /><u>Ingredients:</u><br />
<u><br /></u>3 Small cloves of garlic<br />1-2 Carrots (I use two)<br />1 Potato (any size)<br />2 Balls of frozen Spinach<br />1 Vegetable Stock Cube<br />2 Tins of Chopped Tomatoes<br />Tomato Puree (roughly 2 tbsp, a little more is fine)<br />
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1 teaspoon Dried Mixed Herbs<br />4 Rashers of unsmoked Streaky Bacon<br />30-60g of Dried Spaghetti snapped into pieces (I probably use whats left in the tail end of a spaghetti pack) and I definitely don't weigh it. Just grab a small handful ;)<br /><br />(Pinto Beans can be added for the last few minutes before serving if desired or instead of bacon - one of my kids hates them so I exclude them if he is eating this too)<br /><br /><br />
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<u>Recipe:</u><br />Put a tiny splash of oil (or a few sprays) into the bottom of a deep(ish) pan.<br />Finely Dice the garlic and add to the pan, setting onto a med-low heat (don't let it burn!)<br />Peel and finely chop the potato and carrot(s) then add to the pan with the garlic until the garlic has softened or browned. Give it a stir and let the flavours permeate through the veg.<br /><br />Boil the kettle and add 300ml of boiling water in a jug to the stock cube. Mix until dissolved and then pour into the pan and turn up to a medium heat.<br /><br />Pour in two tins of chopped tomatoes and your tomato puree - mix well.<br />Pop your spinach into the microwave for 1 minute to fully defrost - chop it roughly and then toss it into the pan (otherwise i find it all clumps together in one sodden yucky heap and the kids can spot it!)<br />Add the mixed herbs.<br /><br />Snap up your spaghetti (4 times per length) and throw it in, turn the heat up to boil and let the pasta cook and the liquid reduce slightly.<br /><br />Cook your bacon however you like (for this recipe I put them on a sheet of foil in the oven for about 10 minutes to get them dried and crispy) but you can fry it in a pan.<br /><br />Once your spaghetti is cooked (6-8 minutes ish) turn the heat back down to low and stir.<br />When the bacon is cooked to your liking, remove from the oil and snip it up with scissors into little chunks and chuck into the pan.<br /><br />(add beans if using)<br /><br />Stir through for a couple of minutes and serve. If you are making it in advance, this soup actually gets better if you let it cool down, thicken and reheat it later on to eat. <br /><br /><u>Serving Suggestion: </u><br />I like to toast some pitta breads, cut them up with a pizza cutter and let the kids dip the warm dough in the soup.<br /><br />Bon appetite!<br /><br />
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-75947198782389907932016-11-17T14:48:00.001+00:002016-11-17T14:48:53.415+00:00World Prematurity Day 2016<div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
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Little babies, born too soon,</div>
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Cared for, in a glowing room.</div>
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Tiny fingers and tiny feet,</div>
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Cuddles, when finally we get to meet.</div>
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Nurses care for and ensure your survival,</div>
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While empty homes await your arrival.</div>
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Parents cry to leave your side,</div>
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As they endure this unexpected ride.</div>
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But slowly, you grow, and progress is made,</div>
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This place where you are, is not where you'll stay.</div>
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Little babies, born too soon,</div>
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Growing, in a perspex womb.</div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-42633786677428824422016-11-06T23:07:00.002+00:002016-11-06T23:07:37.776+00:00Bonfire Night 2016<span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I still recall now, times after "lights out" when my parents would sneak up to my room with a KFC, chinese food left over from a takeout or to wake me to come see a lunar eclipse; and how special and exciting it was.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Tonight a truly mega firework display began in a garden nearby thirty minutes after the kids had gone to bed. Unable to contain my excitement, I snuck into their bedroom and whispered "is anyone awake?"</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Gaius was, so I literally snatched him from his bed, threw him into my dressing gown, and carried him out of the house and down the street. He was bewildered, but excited - and I'm fairly certain I looked like a kidnapper. (I did take this opportunity to explain that if anyone who isn't mummy tries to take him out of the house at night, he probably shouldn't go with them)</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I stood on the field near my house, holding him close in my arms, whispering to him that I hoped there would be some special fireworks and that we weren't too late when WHOOOOSH - the sky was filled with them, big ones, small ones, noisy ones, whistling ones, all the colours of the rainbow, as we stood, snuggled together, enjoying a special moment, just the two of us. He delighted in counting with me as we waited for new fireworks to begin, guessing what colours they would be and how many more before they end. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">We stood out there for twenty minutes, cheering, belly laughing, counting and snuggling (boy do my arms ache) before the display ended.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">I'm sure tomorrow he might think it was all a wonderful dream - but I hope he will remember this for his entire life. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">When his Mama woke him in the middle of the night and carried him out into the darkness, to watch the sky explode with colour, I know I will.</span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-9982397115419971642016-08-12T11:10:00.005+01:002016-08-12T11:22:26.744+01:00The Dog Days are ComingI am now 30 years old. <br />
This is an age I always looked forward to, much like Jenna from <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/13_Going_on_30" target="_blank">13 going on 30</a>, I saw my thirties as a time for ME, 'thirty, flirty and thriving.'<br />
My twenties can definitely be labelled the "family years". My entire twenties were taken up with getting married, buying a house, two pregnancies, birthing four children, and breastfeeding for a long, long, long time. This equated that for 42 months (or 3.5 years) in which my body was not my own. It stretched to grow people, it deflated to birth them and it leaked to feed them too (sounds glamorous huh). <br />
I always viewed my twenties steeped in creating a family and building a home, and while I wouldn't change a second, I also saw my thirties then spent achieving other, possibly more selfish goals. Things for ME, things I want to do, or always wanted to do now that I'm an 'adult'. Yes for me turning 30 finally puts me in the realm of adulting. <br />
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After three and a half years my body has been lived in and used to sustain others.<br />
And now it's mine again.<br />
<br />
I want to make something of it. I'm exercising more (and actually enjoying it) and chuffing down bags of crisps and plates of cake (the hazard of small children) far less than before. I am at a point where I want to be healthy, physically fit and able to accomplish runs, swims, climbs and sports. I always saw my body as a machine, a machine that should be able, if called upon, to run, walk, swim and climb my way through any situation. Rather than turning into a gelatinous sofa-blob monster.<br />
This isn't to say I want to be thin (though a little off here or there might be nice) I just want to be healthy. I don't want to run a marathon - I just want to run through the park without collapsing after.<br />
I want to work hard to grow our <a href="http://www.facebook.com/adamontise" target="_blank">business</a> into a thriving, multi-outlet venture.<br />
<br />
So, I did something new.<br />
I say<i> I</i> because I may have unwittingly strong-armed, (some might say bulldozed) the Hubster into it.<br />
<br />
For the longest time I have wanted a dog. A canine friend to go on adventures with, exercise, have fun with. I quite like being on my own but when I'm out in the world, I prefer company, someone to share the scenery and to explore with. And oh, how <a href="http://thealuminiumfoiledmyplans.blogspot.co.uk/2010/12/gifting-and-why-d-sucks-at-it.html" target="_blank">I wanted a Dog</a>. <br />
Ever since I was a kid. I used to pretend to walk 'Sandy' my imaginary labrador to school each day, he would meet me to walk home each night, and as a grown up - that feeling never lessened (though I did stop walking an invisible dog down the street - its the stares that did it).<br />
I heard the warnings that my life will never be my own again, and how I'll have to factor a dog into everything - but since having triplets wasn't exactly conventional - I have to factor them into everything anyway and my life is not my own anyway - why not factor a dog in too.<br />
<br />
So - officially being an adult now and everything......I got one.<br />
<br />
The Hubster - (and boy did I pick a good hubby), got how I felt. We had waited years for the time to be right to get a dog and now, it just fit. He figured that people already think we are crazy anyway, so we casually enquired about a rescue puppy - who happened to be the breed we had both wanted (smart, clever, agility potential, good with the kids) - expecting this will be a long, road of disappointment before we finally do get a dog - only to my utter shock, they rang us back later that day to say she was ours.<br />
<br />
Our nine week old puppy Caliope "cali" joined our family on the 5th of August 2016. <br />
<br />
I may have had a slight meltdown the first few days after she arrived with us (a story for another day). My dream had finally and overwhelmingly come true. Only now, despite hours of reading and watching dog training information. I wasn't sure how to handle it happening for real, and ended up freaking out I might just be making a huge mistake (since plenty of people felt like telling me I was).<br />
<br />
Many thanks to the terrific Hubster for taking the lead (I may re-title this post, 'oh hubster, how great thou art' ), giving me space to regroup and recover my sensibilities. Thanks also to the really good people in my life for reminding me that I am raising triplets, I have totally got this.<br />
<br />
My thirties shall henceforth be known as the Dog Days.<br />
Long may they last.<br />
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<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-517748140998365812016-06-18T10:22:00.006+01:002016-06-18T10:29:28.662+01:00As Mighty As The AntsThe news is portraying a very sad and dark world this week. So many attacks, injuries and deaths. It feels almost overwhelming.<br />
<br />
I left my house this morning and almost directly outside, a man and woman were having a fight in the street, her imploring him to calm down and him adamant he is going to go kick someone he was out with last night's, head in. <br />
On the bus we have to redirect as the main road into town is closed. There are ribbons of police tape cordoning off the street, a riot van, police car and another car with its boot open. I don't know what has happened there, but you can guarantee it's not good news, it feels like the world is going mad.<br />
<br />
I sit on the bus and think how right George Lucas was; fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate leads to the darkside. <br />
I'm scared.<br />
I'm scared and I'm angry, not angry, I'm f<i>urious</i> at how out of control things seem to be, how it feels like we are sat in a trolley, hurtling down a hill with no way of stopping before it crashes at full speed into a brick wall.<br />
I'm angry that the chaos feels out of my hands, how it feels like parts of my life are spinning off their axis and I am powerless to stop them.<br />
<br />
And then I remembered the ants....<br />
<br />
Yesterday I was weeding our front garden while the kids were eating ice creams on the front steps. Next to the steps was a large mound of soil with plants growing on it. I pulled up the plants and a very large wad of soil came with me, along with a decent swarm of red ants.<br />
Uh-oh.<br />
I plopped the earth back on top and told the children it was time to go inside. Then I fetched a shovel, boiled the kettle, and went out to wage war. <br />
I dug up the entire mound of earth, pouring boiling water on the ants and their desperate attempts to rescue the eggs. I dug and dug until there was no longer a live ant in sight, and no mound of mud on my concrete path, just a tiny hole in the concrete where I can only assume the rest of the red ant nest thrives on below my house.<br />
<br />
(I am actually itching all over as I just think about that)<br />
<br />
When I was a kid, from the first time I ever drowned a mound of ants - I felt guilty, such senseless destruction, and why, because I didn't like them being in my way?<br />
With red ants it was different, taught at school they would bite me I always felt vindicated in their destruction, I would tell myself "well they had it coming, they are evil". <br />
<br />
Yesterday I was afraid of the ants biting my children. <br />
The very idea that whenever we walk down the path to leave the house, or when Quinn shuffles her bum down the earth mound to reach the ground or whenever we sit on the step they could attack them, made me afraid.<br />
I decided to remove them, and I became angry. How <b>dare</b> they build a nest on my path where we walk everyday, this is <b>my</b> house, what do they think they are doing! This was a personal attack on my and my children, and I began to <i>hate</i> them, with their swarming masses, their bites just waiting to hurt us, their disgusting egg sacks. I felt victorious in every ant I killed, every egg broiled alive, every shovel of mud removed.<br />
Last night a hedgehog was out snuffling around their corpses, eating a few survivors, bringing it's own destruction to their lives, I felt further vindicated in my act of destruction and I was glad, glad they were gone.<br />
<br />
This morning, as I was leaving the house I saw something that really made me pause.<br />
I killed hundreds of ants yesterday, possibly thousands, and now, maybe fifty, were carrying dirt and rebuilding the home I had destroyed. A couple were even bringing back the eggs that had swept away down the path in the rivers of boiling water, trying to save them, trying to rebuild.<br />
I had wrecked such immense havoc on them, and there they were, just keeping going.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure I have the heart to kill more of them. Who am I to argue with that utter determination. And while they are hardly some higher functioning intelligence or consciousness, they sure have some guts.<br />
Plucky bastards.<br />
I'm going to have to relocate the mound, probably to the other end of the garden, away from the path - and fill the tiny concrete hole, because the mound <i>is</i> in the way, but that utter destruction I wrought? It was mostly unnecessary. <br />
These survivors, really don't deserve my rage, hatred, anger or fear. I just need to encourage them to come away from the path, it's not going to actually negatively affect my life to have them living across the yard, or round the corner from me.<br />
I feel guilty.<br />
<br />
There is so much going on in the world right now, that makes me want to bury my head and give up on humanity. The ants faced a massive cull to their numbers, their home, and they still rebuild. <br />
There is so much anger in the world right now, that it can feel justified to be angry too, to be livid even at everyone, and everything, and all those opinions that don't match your own, and all the stupid people doing, saying and being things you just don't agree with. But that's not okay either.<br />
<br />
No darkness is so all encompassing that you cannot shine a light through it.<br />
So I have a challenge for you, I don't care if you are reading this the day I write it, when the world seems to have gone mad and lost it's way, when the angry voices are louder and seem to be the majority, or if actually its years later and you stumble upon this by accident.<br />
But please, <u>today do one selfless and kind thing.</u>Hold a door open for a stranger, send a friend a text of love and support. It doesn't need to be a big act, just a small one, the only way to turn this tide of darkness, is to shine a light.<br />
Be as mighty as the ants who carry such a small mound of dirt to help make something big together, do just one small act of good, and together these small acts can add up to something incredible.<br />
There is so much dark, and sad and angry in the world right now, the world <i>needs</i> you to do something good today.<br />
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<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-45482186590872865012016-06-06T19:48:00.001+01:002016-06-06T19:48:23.796+01:00Shrimp Girl and the Emergency SituationToday I am feeling EPIC. <br />I took the gang into our local town center so they could each buy a football (of their chosen colour) from the poundstore. To kill time before our bus journey home I was letting them play on the large assortment of those stationary "penny" rides which can be found in the shopping mall while the Hubster has gone to the post office.<br />Ayla is pretending to ride a carousel horse (because I won't put any pennies in it), Gaius is serving me ice cream through the bus window, Zarek is scoping out the new Thomas engine and Quinn is pretending to drive a digger.... when disaster.<br />The Mall fire alarm goes off.<br /><br />For any mother of three or more kids, I'm sure you can understand that this is a living nightmare.<br />I'm quite content to ignore the impending blaze (sure it's a false alarm) rather than attempt to extract four small children off their respective rides - but no, a flood of other shoppers and general shop staff are sweeping towards the exit, and it looks like we have no choice.<br /><br />We are in emergency mode.<br /><br />I call Ayla to tell her to come to where the boys were playing, but she can't hear me over the noise of the fire alarm. <br />I go to her and usher her over to the "bus" where the boys are. Both boys are hiding in the bus, the picture of fright, confused and alarmed by the continuously loud noise.<br />I tell them to stay put while I go to round up Quinn. I grab Quinn from the other side of the rides and shepherd her towards the others, who, as it turns out have ignored my suggestion that they should stay put and are following me across the mall.<br /><br />I realize for a moment, that while I'm sure this is a false alarm, we can use it as a trial (who knows if we will ever be in this situation for real) and they can learn what to do in an emergency. Particularly as we know that children under the age of 4 are more likely to hide from a fire, than try to escape it.<br />I bend down, anxious not to lose my kids in the stream of exiting shoppers and tell them "this is an alarm, it means there is an emergency, you need to hold hands NOW"<br />Quinn is, of course, trying to escape to climb back onto the digger I am dragging Quinn back off the digger.<br />Ayla and Zarek link hands, Quinn is shepherded back to the others and forced to hold Gaius' hand.<br /><br />Happy that I now have a clear vision of my four, I tell them to link hands together (into a line) and walk calmly through the exit (with me following behind).<br />They walked brilliantly, calmly, and holding hands.<br /><br />Outside, far enough away from the building I tell them they can stop now and I sit down on the ground. They are all afraid and bewildered. I explain that the alarm means there is a fire. It might be a little one, or it might be a big one, but that the alarm means we need to get out of the building to somewhere safe. <br />We discuss whether Fireman Sam might arrive, I give them all high-fives for staying calm and doing good listening in a scary situation and answer their general questions and curiosities, they are all quite concerned that daddy is still inside. (he's not, he's in another part of the town centre)<br />Eventually the security guards get the all clear on their walkie-talkies and we can go back inside.<br /><br />I feel awesome for having kept cool under pressure. While the building was hardly burning down around us, it had the potential to be a very stressful situation, with four kids running off in four directions.<br />I consider now whether I looked panicked on the outside, all I could think is dear God, I'm going to lose someone in the rush. But I kept calm, authoritative, and they did a brilliant job listening and following instructions.<br />I'm proud of all five of us.<br /><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shrimp Girl just being awesome</td></tr>
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<br />(What? You haven't heard of <a href="http://thealuminiumfoiledmyplans.blogspot.co.uk/2011/01/shrimp-girl-vs-room.html" target="_blank">Shrimp Girl</a>?!)Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-49932916094878887952016-06-01T15:57:00.002+01:002016-06-01T16:04:33.817+01:00Peanut Butter Jelly BiscuitsThere is nothing better on a wet and windy day, than rustling up hot treats from the kitchen. <br />
One of my favourite recipes for cooking with the kids, are these moreish peanut butter and jelly biscuits (courtesy of <a href="https://cookingonabootstrap.com/" target="_blank">Jack</a>).<br />
The best part of baking when I was a kid, was the weighing and measuring. The quantities for this recipe are mostly measured by counting out spoonfuls into the bowl, which makes it a wonderful toddler-friendly activity.<br />
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<b><u>Ingredients</u></b><br />
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50g butter<br />
Greaseproof paper<br />
2 tblspoon caster sugar<br />
1 egg yolk<br />
1 tablespoon of peanut butter<br />
8 tablespoons of plain flour*<br />
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(*or swap for 8 tablespoons of self raising flour)<br />
4 tablespoons of jam<br />
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Makes approx 10 small cookies - so I tend to double all quantities and make two lots<br />
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Preheat oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4<br />
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Cream the 50g butter and 2 tablespoons of caster sugar together in a mixing bowl with a wooden spoon until soft (or cheat like I do and whisk it).<br />
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Add the egg yolk<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNkqYwVh67MJAa4fpWbK3dPUxS0l331MCZkKYMPUp5V5JV4ybALkxQlUOVQU318Wso2bq2cRsh00nXnni1P6dsAJdUsJBvlKH0YWaIMrkAO6ZVvnoKtKwbNgQppGHL1W4VO0wH_w3bsjp/s1600/13348680_10209976044743812_927557521_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipNkqYwVh67MJAa4fpWbK3dPUxS0l331MCZkKYMPUp5V5JV4ybALkxQlUOVQU318Wso2bq2cRsh00nXnni1P6dsAJdUsJBvlKH0YWaIMrkAO6ZVvnoKtKwbNgQppGHL1W4VO0wH_w3bsjp/s200/13348680_10209976044743812_927557521_n.jpg" width="148" /></a>Add 1 tablespoon of peanut butter.<br />
Mix until the peanut butter is evenly distributed - if you got it out of the fridge giving it a 10 second blast in the microwave helps melt it.<br />
Spoon in the 8 tablespoons of flour and one teaspoon of bicarb* and then stir to make a soft dough.<br />
<br />
With lightly floured hands, break off a walnut sized piece of dough. Place it on the greaseproof paper and flatten slightly with the heel of your hand. Repeat with the rest of the mix. Using your thumb make a deep well in the centre of each flattened ball of dough (they will spread slightly as they cook)<br />
<br />
Melt the jam slightly in the microwave on low for 30 seconds and then spoon a little into the centre of each cookie.<br />
<br />
Bake in the center of the preheated oven for 10-12 minutes, or until golden.<br />
<br />
Expect tears when your toddler realizes they need to be 'patient' while they cook.<br />
<br />
Remove and leave to cool on a wire rack - allow the jam to cool before eating!!!<br />
<br />
I find the best cookies have been the ones I squashed very flat before digging my thumb into them. The thicker stacked kind are nice, if a little crumbly.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-85119681657536776432016-05-31T15:18:00.000+01:002016-05-31T15:38:45.492+01:00Im just being honest<span style="font-family: "calibri" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So
I’ve been feeling quite the terrible mother recently. On the back of sending all
the kids to nursery in a morning and finally having some actual alone time
after four tiring years, I’ve been rediscovering the old “me”. This has come at
quite a price. I’m struggling to balance the old ‘me’ with the ‘mama’ and ‘worker’
I usually am. <br />
On one hand I feel the need to clean, tidy and declutter the house, plan fun
activities with my kids, take them on outings and play with them. On another
hand, I have a massive workload to get through, jobs that won’t get done by
anyone else, paperwork and deadlines to get through and a whole social media
boat to steer. Then on the third hand, I want to swim, run, be romantic, hang
out with my friends, read, watch movies, bake, eat and do all of this in near
to utter silence without a small audience to negotiate round. <br />
Much like when my triplets were small, I’m reminded I don’t have three hands
(as much as I’ve always needed them) and that all this stuff just can’t be
carried with two hands, something has to give. So I’m behaving more like an
unmotivated, selfish, tired, fed up person; than the vibrant energetic, engaged
individual I was hoping to emulate.<br />
I don’t want to give up the old ‘me’ but I also don’t want to sacrifice
relationships, work and my children’s happiness in order to achieve it.<br />
<br />
I have spent so long taking care of everything; feeding, working, clothing,
tidying, carrying and just endlessly grinding through each day that I’m not
entirely sure I’m not actually having some kind of mini breakdown. When faced
with the image of all this work to still be accomplished, I just want to sit
back and say “no” someone else can do everything, I am going to sit here, with
headphones on and read my book. But then inevitably the guilt, the thick hot
roiling mass of it hits me and I get out of bed and start doing all the work
again. <br />
I think I’m tired, but it doesn’t feel okay to be tired, it feels like now they
are at nursery I should be well rested and revived. In reality I think it might
just have suddenly hit me, in that moment when I could finally stop moving for
just one morning, and the whole exhaustion of the past few years piled on top
of me its overwhelming mass colliding with my previous propulsion. And I’m not
sure quite how to move on. <br />
<br />
I’m desperately trying to find the balance between getting all the housework
done, doing a few things a day for myself, going to work, doing my job plus
raising and nurturing my kids. And no
matter how well I think I can schedule it in, there is never enough time to
achieve it all, yet all of it feels so vital. <br />
The times when I can stop to smell the roses, I am racked by guilt that I’m not
doing something more productive (you have seen how much there is to do
right??!) that I can’t enjoy the peace, or the book or the moment. Instead,
much as when I was breastfeeding three babies, is that nagging voice in the
back of my head saying “hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry this up, you’ve still got so
much to do”.<br />I feel as if a third person has turned up into my previously balanced life, and is refusing to go away, despite how busy I am and keeps trying to elbow her way into my life. <br />
<br />
In an evening I’m too tired to do much beyond a quick tidy, bathing (if
unavoidable) and then slumping on the sofa watching tv, reading or doing work
until such times as it’s a decent hour to go to sleep (that means I won’t wake
up at 5am and then feel even more tired tomorrow). In a perfect world I could
fit the “me” stuff in then, but by bedtime, the cup runneth dry.<br />
<br />
I read this back and I realise I am exhausted, I’m not unhappy or disappointed
with my life, but I am so, so very tired. My blood test results continually show
something is wrong there (Vit D and calcium at all-time lows) which is affecting
my energy levels so hopefully once that is fixed I can feel less exhausted and
get some of my usual drive back. While this is a work in progress I am trying
to spend more time doing things solo (aka without kids); swimming, dinner out,
movies to get lost in all to just pick me up a bit and keep me moving forward,
but much like a drug the more I do, the more I feel I need to keep doing in
order to keep me satisfied, and there is not enough time for everything. <br />
<br />
It feels a little like when you have finished a huge project at work and just
need to take a couple of weeks to recuperate from all the late nights, missed
lunches and massive amount of time and effort you have put in, only the job isn’t
over (although the baby years are) and the idea of having a holiday away from
your already very full life is laughable.<br /><br />I supposed it doesn't exactly help, that I'm writing this as I recover from the flu, my head aching, my face full of fluid and feeling like I need to sleep for a week. </span><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 16.8667px;">I know there must be a balance to find, that it might just take time to find it, but at the moment even that thought makes me feel shattered. But everyone has bad days, this one's just kicking my ass.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 16.8667px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 16.8667px;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-47667711091167312192016-05-05T14:20:00.001+01:002016-08-12T11:11:35.276+01:00Turning 30So I'm reaching the end of my 29th year. I have one business, a very busy household and four super kids. Said kids are now ALL at nursery together for 3 glorious hours, four mornings a week and I'm rediscovering the 'me' underneath everything. I've been feeling like I do so very much "adulting" in keeping things functioning, responsible and on track that I have slightly forgotten what the not-mother-not-wife-not-business-person me is like. In between decluttering three years of baby gubbins from the loft, garage and crevices around the house. I'm discovering I feel like the exhasting hardwork side is starting to take over the sit back and enjoy it, fun stuff. To get the "fun" part back on track I figured I can add some excitement by creating 30 things I want to do before the end of my 30th year. This gives me a little over 15 months to enjoy life and have a few rewards for all the heavy duty adulting that needs doing each and every day.<br />
In no particular order;<br />
<ol>
<li>Swim a mile in one session (we've worked this out as 64 lengths)</li>
<li>Hire a Jacuzzi for the weekend and have a night of bubbles under the stars</li>
<li>Go to <a href="http://www.cosmo-restaurants.co.uk/locations/doncaster/" target="_blank">Cosmo</a> for dinner (All you can eat chocolate fountain!)</li>
<li>Graffiti the Viaduct with chalk pens. (It's already covered in graffitti, at least ours will wash off!)</li>
<li>Champagne on the golf course in the middle of the night</li>
<li>Climb a tree (and climb back down without the assistance of the fire department)</li>
<li>Pass my driving test</li>
<li>Go to DISNEYLAND PARIS</li>
<li>Have a Spa day - (gym, swimming, sauna, jaccuzi and lunch)</li>
<li>Have a silly string fight</li>
<li>Go to <a href="http://www.sundownadventureland.co.uk/themepark/" target="_blank">Sundown Adventure Land</a>.</li>
<li>Get a Dog</li>
<li>Kill the Ivy growing on the house - removing it all is impossible (it''s possibly the only thing holding the house up), but cutting the roots so it can no longer grow <i>is</i> possible</li>
<li>Do 4k every single day (I'll accept an average)</li>
<li>Do a new sport/hobby for at least three months.</li>
<li>Bake a sweetie cake</li>
<li>Take all four kids swimming (doesnt need to be all in one day)</li>
<li>Swim in the sea</li>
<li>Ride a horse (it's been 14 years since I last sat in the saddle)</li>
<li>Rockclimb</li>
<li>Go to the 2016 triplet mummy meet-up in Newcastle</li>
</ol>
<div>
I only have a few so far, but it's all things I really, really want to do! I am noticing my list becoming filled with things I dont think I can achieve in one entire year. But it's a start.</div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-78963537871370739112015-09-04T11:43:00.002+01:002015-09-04T11:43:38.964+01:00War and how it (doesn't) affect me.<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
I think it touched a nerve with all of us. My kids are 3...in a different time, a different situation that might have been my little boys.<br />War never changes, but we need to do more to help. I'm not saying swing the doors open and invite everyone in, but if you were fleeing from war with your tiny people scared for your lives, desperate about the future. Would you want the rest of the world to turn it's back on you and say, 'no thanks, you don't deserve our help, we're all full from helping ourselves today so sort it out yourself. It's your fault for being a resident of a country at war, your fault for being born there. Don't come here, go away. Don't let your problems touch me.</div>
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I once played Zlata in a rendition of Zlata's diary. Reading her diary and the things happening in her country and studying the history of it and having to act out her life was jarring, horrible and heartbreaking. It wasn't a story or a make believe. It was her actual LIFE. Much like Anne Frank she didnt write a book to be a good story (which is how it can seem as a child). She wrote it as an account of what she was going through day by day. They were living through war.</div>
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We were at war once, but we've never been invaded. We've never had our homes ransacked, our families murdered, gun shots fired and battles fought in our streets. We lack the true sympathy and understanding of what they are going through. We get bombarded by images on the tv of war and violence and just shrug it off, turn the channel over, that's what its like sometimes, it happens all the time everywhere else, but here. We see it on movies and it's all make believe so sometimes the real world images can pass us by unnoticed. But to actually live that war torn life. I can't empathise, I can't pretend to empathise. Not fully, not truly because I don't understand what it's like, I haven't got the faintest inkling of what it feels like to run for your life and I don't believe you can understand unless you live it. But we are all capable of compassion and the pity seen in that man's face as he carried that tiny toddler boy away from the shore is being shared by many.</div>
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The thing I do understand about it all is that if I was so frightened and desperate to protect my children and take them away from a terrible situation, as any parent in this world would feel. That I would have gotten on that boat, and those could have been my little boys.</div>
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We are judged on how we care for the smallest and weakest members of our society. We can't stop war, but we can change it's outcome and the future of the survivors.</div>
Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-63118560658078900392015-07-18T12:06:00.003+01:002015-07-18T12:06:21.089+01:00Peanut Butter ChroniclesThe other night D and I were talking to Zarek about how he could have half a crumpet with butter on for supper and a custard cream.<br />
<br />
Ayla comes running across the room shouting:<br />
"I want Penis! I want Penis!, I want PENIS Daddy!"<br />
<br />
Dom: Wha...I...uh...wha?<br />
<br />
*we look at each other puzzled*<br />
<br />
Ayla " I WANT PENIS!"<br />
<br />
Me: Ayla.... do you want peanut butter?<br />
<br />
Ayla: Yes, I want Penis butter<br />
<br />
Me: Okay then... *start laughing*<br />
<br />
Dom: We don't have peaNUT butter on crumpets that would be yucky.<br />
<br />
Ayla (many tears and loud shouting about penis')<br />
<br />
Me: We could have peaNUT butter sandwiches tomorrow for dinnertime though?<br />
<br />
Ayla: "yes penis butter sandwich tomorrow later"<br />
<br />
Me: Ayla can you say Pea - NUT<br />
<br />
Ayla: Yes penis...<br />
<br />
Me: No Ayla Pea<br />
<br />
Ayla: Pea<br />
<br />
Me: NUT<br />
<br />
Ayla Nut<br />
<br />
Me: Pea Nut<br />
<br />
Ayla: Peenu<br /><br />
Me: That'll do.<br /><br />A story to horrify her on her 18th birthday<br />
<br />Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-27091382080739158182015-05-16T13:04:00.000+01:002015-05-16T13:04:29.332+01:00Innocence of a Two Year Old<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
At home we have recently started watching 'Sunday Afternoon Movies' with the kids. We were sat watching Lion King for the first time a few weeks ago. Obviously at 2 years old my triplets are too small to grasp the permanence of death.</div>
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During the stampede scene our little girl Ayla got visibly distressed saying over and over in a sadder and sadder voice "baby lion....baby lion!!! ... baby lion?" She rallied when Mufasa appear to save Simba but then when Mufasa fell from the cliff s<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">he got extremely uncomfortable with what was happening and kept asking us for reassurance while looking like she was about to cry. Then when Simba goes up to his dead father she announced "HE'S HIDING, HE'S SLEEPING" with a huge "everything is okay again" smile on her face....we've banned lion king until she's older....and bambi </span></div>
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Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-80318297061006004412015-02-02T14:48:00.000+00:002015-02-02T14:54:01.918+00:00The White StuffRecently it snowed. Not enough to build a snowman, but when it did snow it went all out with thundersnow and covered enough of the world to make it seem magical.<br />
It was the first snow my two year old triplets had ever seen, or at least were old enough to notice,.So when it decided to snow during their naptime and then break out into glorious (deceptive) sunshine I decided it was time to play in our first ever snow.<br />
<br />
I roused the troops from their beds by flinging the curtains back and exclaiming proudly SNOW!<br />
Some vague excitement started to build as they all crowded the windows to see this 'snow' which they told me was white (well done nursery), and they were even more intrigued when I announced we would put coats and shoes on and actually go outside into the snow.<br />
<br />
Ten minutes later all three were finally dressed and ready, I decided not to put a coat on myself so I could gauge when it might be getting too cold for them. I pushed them all out into the garden and popped the 'baby' in the playroom by herself where she could watch from the warm house, (and cry at us as it turns out) through the window.<br />
<br />
Let the fun commence!<br />
<br />
Ayla picked up some snow and stared at me with a horrified, it's cold and wet, look on her face while I pranced around trying to convince them it was fun to be in the snow, showing them how I was leaving footprints and could ball the snow up into piles.<br />
<br />
They were unimpressed.<br />
<br />
Determined to salvage this amazing first snow experience I ran inside and returned with the sledge I 'optimistically' purchased the previous year, certain that it would snow in 2014. It didn't.<br />
<br />
I proceeded to encourage, beg, bribe and then threaten each child into a sleigh ride. Each ride lasted no more than two steps before they wanted to get off, so still clinging to the idea that perhaps they would like the snow if <strike>they</strike> I just tried a bit harder I started placing their teddies on the sleigh and dragged that round the garden while saying;<br />
<br />
"weeee, oh isn't this fun, weeee, woooah"<br />
<br />
When I looked back over at them the 'baby' was leant against the window howling at the fact we were outside and she wasn't, while my triplets, (who hadn't moved since dismounting from the sleigh ride) were all huddled together, shivering.<br />
<br />
Wimps.<br />
<br />
I asked them if we should go back inside (to which the answer was a firm NO through chattering teeth) and then proceeded to bribe them back indoors with the promise of cake.<br />
<br />
So much for our first snow experience, it would appear it's great to watch from inside but not something they want to get actually out in. Maybe next year.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-22660258296507483912015-01-21T15:33:00.002+00:002015-01-21T15:33:55.358+00:00Truths about motherhoodNo two people will ever, nor should ever walk the very same path.<br />
<br />
I felt it was so important once I had my kids to tell people "i don't like newborns, or babies" once I had the pleasure of three living at home with me. This is me, the one who wanted kids FOREVER. I do not like those first few weeks of a newborn, stretched out by prematurity. But once your kid gets more dialled in, starts smiling and being more aware its fantastic. At age 2 my trio are now how i imagined having kids would be, as in I can actually do stuff WITH them and not just FOR them. Sure we had a lot of fun from 4-24 months but they are learning now, like big thirsty sponges eager to soak up any game, idea, book, word or song they can.<br />
<br />
That hit you in the heart love when you meet your kids, never had it, didnt love my trio when I met them. I dutifully cared of them as I was their mother (or so they told me) but thats the end of it. It was different with Quinn, they showed me her the moment she was born and there was this feeling, this strange 'oh, there you are' emotion, this instant recognition - she was mine and I knew it. I never got that with my trio, let's blame it on an upsetting birth and traumatic first few days but some part of me has always felt broken and sad about that fact. Walking into a room not knowing which of the 15 babies were mine, I felt horrible, I felt I should have (but couldn't have) known which children were mine.<br />
<br />
I am happy breastfeeding Quinn but really didnt like it when I was breastfeeding my triplets. It was very important to me they had breast milk but the never ending line of another baby needs feeding by you and you alone now was so very, very hard. After the first fortnight of all three babies home I kept thinking, it's someone else's turn now, I don't want to do this anymore, it's got to be someone elses go now. And then just as quickly, I got over it, had learnt to do it so well (and to take care of them better than anyone else) and realized no one else was going to come and do it for me anyway that I just got on with it and soon I didn't mind doing it anymore.<br />
Feeding Quinn is different, she has at moments brought me to my knees with frustration but at 10 months she is once again (hallelujah) consistently sleeping through the night, on a firm routine and has always remained a compete joy. All those sweets she made me crave have definitely made her into a total sweetie.<br />
<br />
Motherhood is both hard and glorious, and I cannot stand any mumpetition of "well my baby was already walking at 10 months, I see yours is 11 months and can only drool" which seems to be lurking everywhere. Each kid is unique, each milestone just as special for everyone, no matter when they occur, and each journey and life is so very different they deserve more credit than most give them.Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-57124558057208189162014-08-02T20:03:00.001+01:002014-08-02T20:03:03.099+01:00Trio turn two!Here we are on the cusp of infant hood. They don't toddle as much as they run, jump and leap. Language skills and independence grow day by day. <div><br></div><div>I never understand when people say 'it's gone so fast, they grow so quick'.</div><div><br></div><div>I can completely believe it has been two years, I remember some of the good, some of the bad and some of the Inbetweens. I could not remember every second of every day, nor would I want to! But I've lived it and that is wonderful enough. </div><div><br></div><div>What I still can't believe is that I was given the gift of carrying, birthing and raising these three nearly two year olds. It has been an absolute pleasure and privilege to be such a key part of their lives. </div><div><br></div><div>So here we go. Two-dom in t-minus 2 days and counting. Presents are wrapped, cakes are ready to be baked, balloons ready to inflate and the next few days to be anticipated. It's going to be one of those truly wonderful times I'll always remember!</div><div><br></div><div>Little babies born at 29 weeks, you have become beautiful, caring, funny and intelligent children. I loved you before you were born, I love you beyond words now and I can't wait to witness the next steps of your life. You are amazing human beings! </div>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-21097435071204344982014-07-21T14:06:00.003+01:002014-07-21T14:06:33.489+01:00Weaning the Quinnster<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">I can't get over how 'ahead' Quinn is in terms of the trio when it comes to weaning. No wobbly head, no preemie struggle to co-ordinate, no over active gag reflex, no struggle in just holding her own head up. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">In fact she's straight off been trying to feed herself. </span><br style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;">She's either one smart cookie or has figured out I'm busy, and it's either feed yourself or starve.... okay not starve, but be super incredibly patient.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #37404e; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15.359999656677246px;"><br /></span>Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-88327280350868274152014-07-05T12:25:00.004+01:002014-07-05T12:25:51.720+01:00A hilarious story of triplets, provided you're not their parentsSo continuing on from my <a href="http://thealuminiumfoiledmyplans.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/here-poo-there-poo-everywhere-poo-poo.html" target="_blank">here a poo, there a poo, everywhere a poo, poo</a> post comes a delightfully smelly story, which I'm sure is very funny - as long as you are not their parents.<br />
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I'm sat feeding Quinn on the sofa while the hubster is showing me some videos of our trio when they were just starting to roll and crawl on the tv. We are both cooing over how adorable our kids were and how lovely that we still have this to come with Quinn when crying starts from the playroom...<br />
Having finished feeding Quinn, I pop her down to play and walk through to the kitchen to start making dinner and to see what is happening in the playroom.<br />
The ripe stench of poopy hits my nostrils almost immediately and I <strike>scream</strike> call for backup.<br />
We walk into the playroom where Ayla is crying on the floor by the rocking horse, Zarek is stood nappyless, his nappy is empty in front of me and Gaius is playing quietly in a corner.<br />
I look to the left and the whole floor is smeared with poopy, yellow, thick poopy, and at the end of the pile is the rest of the solid poopy it had come from. Undigested sweetcorn is scattered around.<br />
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It quickly becomes apparent that Ayla is crying because she has been eating this sweetcorn....yes EATING IT and she does not care for it's poopy flavour.<br />
I start to wipe Zarek's hands clean just in case, and remove the toy vaccum cleaner from his death grip. He also starts crying, at which point I realise the vaccum cleaner I am holding is completely covered in poopy.<br />
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Perhaps they were trying to clean up the mess with it, but I'm sure they were just delighting in smearing the poopy all around the room. I extract the vaccum cleaner depositing it upstairs in the shower to be cleaned later.<br />
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We clean the kids up, redress them, chastise them. The hubster starts washing the whole floor while I exit the room to avoid getting up close and personal with any more poopy, while surrounded by the sobs of the guilty.<br />
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Disgusting.<br />
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And now I'm supposed to prepare lunch....we were having tuna sweetcorn pasta.....but I think we might now just have toast - YUK!Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1172792524617271332.post-14737403008950152232014-06-13T19:24:00.001+01:002014-06-13T19:44:04.453+01:00Citizen Science!After a group of triplet mums I am friends with, had an on-line session of sharing all our triplet baby bumps and reminiscing about pregnancies and gestation when our children were born, I got very, very interested in whether a mother's age could affect the length of a triplet pregnancy. So with the kind information from a whopping 86 triplet mums, the hubster and I produced these graphs.<br />
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What seems to have been gathered is that, for some unknown reason, you are less likely to have an extremely premature birth if you older. It would be interesting to find out whether this is because a) perhaps the older women have had children previously and therefore their bodies have experience carrying children in the past and can carry children for longer. Or b) younger woman give more nutrients to the children quicker so the children grow bigger and faster and are therefore born earlier. On the assumption that the main reason for triplets not being born at full term is because they grow too big.<br />
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(of course it could just be down to quality of life or other health factors)Hollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01383582053574591384noreply@blogger.com0