A Reluctant Reader

We really try and encourage reading in our house- we've got shelves heaving with books for all ages and stages, and I've read aloud to the children since they were no age at all. That said, I've usually found that a child usually only chooses  to read after checking first that the iPad, the DS, Minecraft and the TV are all off limits.

Why? Because they're the easier, lazier option, requiring no real effort at all.  I have to confess that they can also be really really useful, and I'm as guilty as anyone in relying on them when it suits me, but deep down I know they're no substitute at all for reading.

As a child, I loved to escape into books (and my Granny's Women's Own magazine) but then again, I didn't have all those other distractions vying for my attention. In recent years, I've read less than I should - less time to sit down is the official reason, but zoning out on the iPad  may be the more truthful one. In regard to the former, I finally discovered audiobooks, so now I download them on my iPhone and it's such a luxury to be read to while walking, cleaning or driving. But is it multitasking at its very best, or the absolute height of laziness? I can't decide.

Of the children, some are naturally drawn to the books on their bookshelves, while others (well, one in particular) would rather do almost anything else -for example, a recent excuse was ' But I can't read now, I have to cut my toenails.' A surprising choice I thought, given his usual complete disregard for personal grooming of any type.
      
Believe me,  finding books that appeal to this particular boy is a real challenge, and then last week while tidying and rejigging the shelves, I came upon an old favourite that had belonged to his older brother. My Dad - an old pro at choosing age appropriate books had bought it for him a few years back and I'd forgotten all about it.



It's called 'The Rover Adventures' by the inimitable Roddy Doyle- this copy has three books in one. Perfect for boys because it focuses a lot on dog poo, it's a whole lot of fun, and for the first time ever, his response when I ask him to read  isn't a deep groan or a 'Nooooooo!', or a 'Can't we do it tomorrow instead?'






















 It's original, funny and clever, the pictures are fabulous and importantly  it has really short chapters - this boy checks the chapter length and initiates negotiations on number of pages he has to read before he even gets started.   Best of all,  when my boy's reading AND smiling, I know I'm on to a winner.

Christmas Craft Much?

I'm gonna come right out and say it-I'm just not into doing arts and crafts with the kids. Does it make me a bad person because I actually wince when I get requests to 'take down the painting box' ? That the thought of making pasta necklaces brings me out in a cold sweat, and I've never made play dough in my life?
And yet, unbelievably, I've still managed to give birth to a child who swooned when he got his own Sellotape dispenser for his birthday, and regards every piece of recycling as an key piece in his latest crafting project.  A frequent exchange between us usually goes something like this....

Rory(in bewilderment  'Mammy how did this beautiful ornament (ketchup bottles and egg boxes taped together) that I made for you, end up in the outside bin?'
Me in 'puzzled dismay' 'Oh no! Surely not? Daddy must have put it in by mistake!' (Yep, I just threw him under the bus-karma's gonna get me) ' Let's put it back up again....for now.'

And no, I'll never forget the time a few years back, when another child, who shall not be named, secretly decided to make a little 'person' out of the rubbish in the upstairs bathroom bin. It was then proudly unveiled during Sunday lunch with the In Laws and on closer inspection included not only a toilet roll holder for the body, and used tissues for hair, but discarded tampon applicators for legs and arms... I'm shuddering even now at the memory.

Anyway, I've  completely digressed because this was supposed to be a post about teachers' Christmas gifts!
So drumroll please...and feast your eyes upon my gorgeous festive jars of gingerbread mix. Yes indeed, behold a real life Christmas miracle because despite my complete lack of flair for all things crafty, I've actually managed to produce a gift I'd like to get myself...which is surely the point after all?
So thankfully, this year there'll be no last minute rushing round M&S for the 'three for two' toiletry offers, because as you can see I'm all over it like a rash.


 I'd love to say that I thought up the whole idea myself but tempting though that is, it would be a downright lie. And anyway, I'd probably be outed by all those swotty crafting blogs, so I'll just come clean and tell you that I got the idea from my blogging mate Sarah's other blog. (She's actually got three...I'd hate her if I didn't love her!)

I bought the jars from Ikea for £1 each (bargain!) and picked up the ribbon and labels and cookie cutters here and there.
So, what’s in the mix?  You will need 375g plain flour, 1 tsp bicarb of soda, 2 tsp ground ginger and 90g light, soft brown sugar.  Just combine until evenly mixed and pop it in the jar! Then on the label I wrote the recipe and instructions.

Ingredients:
1 quantity of gingerbread mix
125g chopped, unsalted butter
230g golden syrup
80g sifted icing sugar

To make:
Preheat oven to 180ºC.
Put gingerbread mix, butter and syrup into a food processor and pulse until it forms a smooth dough.  
Wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for 30 mins. Roll out the dough between two pieces of baking parchment until 0.5cm thick.  Cut into shapes and place on lined baking sheet.
Bake for 8-10 mins until golden.  Allow to cool.
Mix 80g icing sugar with 2tsp hot water and mix until smooth.  Decorate the biscuits as you wish.  Enjoy!

 Tah dah! You're welcome. Just call me Kirstie Allsopp.
 Laters lovelies, Emx 

Run Forrest Run!

So, last night I reached week 8, day 2 of my couch (potato) to 5k program, and ran for 28 minutes without stopping or dying..... How do you like them apples? Yep, the eight week program may well have taken me more than twelve weeks, and I may only just be meeting the definition of running, but for me this is MASSOOF!

You see,  naturally I'm an eater not a runner (sorta like, I'm a lover, not a fighter, only less worthy), and I arrived late to the party when it came to exercise of any kind. The truth is, I was very overweight for a very long time, hugely self conscious and pretty crap at everything in PE really, so I simply avoided it altogether.

I should come clean and tell you that that doesn't run in the family- I'm the eldest of six children and the others are all super fit and super trim-I'm the yin to their yang, if you will.  In fact, I'm the only one who HASN'T run a marathon, and one annoyingly sporty brother has even run 12 of them. (Freakshow). And I'm totally fine with that- NO worries being left out of THAT particular little Venn diagram-thank you very much. Each to his own, and major kudos to anyone who feels the need to run 26.2 miles, but personally my knees and pelvic floors will pass.

So anyway, eight years ago, after decades of avoidance, punctured by pregnancies and short lived bouts of group exercise classes (step aerobics, anyone?),alongside yet another Weight watchers sign up, I got into walking. I mean obvs I'd always walked,  (why did I feel the need to clarify that, why?), but now it became a regular  3 mile gig, 3 or 4 times a week. And this time, instead of giving up like I always had with everything else, I kept going and I loved it- still do actually. It clears my head, calms me down, and helps me think. It also doesn't hurt that I tend to go early in the morning, giving the added bonus of leaving the breakfastandgettingreadyforschool bedlam with Loverboy. Sweet..

Then this summer-I'm not quite sure why- I felt the need to step it up a bit. Maybe I was a bit bored, maybe I was encouraged by several friends who ran a little and seemed to love it, maybe I  wanted to test myself, maybe I'm old enough  to finally not care what I look like, or maybe I realise that no one gives one anyway!

The major issue was that physically and mentally, I'd always just assumed that I couldn't run, and indeed I never actually had. I literally only had to think about running and my breathing was all over the place and the mantra 'YOU can't do this!' was on a constant loop in my head. But I started the Couch (Potato) to 5K anyway- the first time that I ran for 3 minutes without stopping, I thought I was going to expire on the road then and there.
Then my good friend J, also new to the running lark only much less rubbish, advised me to slow the running parts right down-although in truth, any slower and I'd have been walking on the spot. Gradually though, it DID help me get control of my breathing and my shitty mental attitude. There were days that were awful, and weeks I repeated because I couldn't face stepping up to the next level, but little by little I began to improve. And yes, I know its all relative, and for so many it probably seems such a meagre little achievement, but when those downer thoughts flood my mind I try to tell myself  not to compare and despair....and sometimes that works and sometimes it doesn't.

I knew I'd keep at it when last week I invested in a few running essentials- (No, not Tena Lady, SmartArse) but a neon green t shirt and proper leggings. I even bought a pair of running shoes (neon green and pink- matchy matchy) and a black arm holder for my phone. Up to that point, I'd been sporting my old velour track suit bottoms that flapped around my ankles, and had to be constantly hauled up mid run, with grotty old t shirts that belonged to Loverboy. Oh the transformation, and you wouldn't believe the difference the new gear's made too! I'm exactly like a whippet now ....NO not really, but it does LOOK so much better.

Oh and alas no, I haven't lost any weight yet, but I HAVE  been eating and drinking for Ireland all summer long, so I'm not overly surprised. I'm secretly hoping that once the kids go back to school, and I get back on my 5:2, and keep going with my running/plodding I might shift a few pounds. And that would be great, but honestly, even if I don't, that's OK too. Because as long as I'm working at getting the balance right health wise, I'm going to try not to waste any more time beating myself up for being the curvy size 14 that I am right now, and not the slim size 10 I probably  never will be anyway. There's that compare and despair again! Happy weekend sweeties,
Peace Out,
Emx

Stig of the Dump

I may possibly have mentioned to you before about Rory's penchant for recycling, up cycling and reclaiming? His innate ability to see an item's beauty and potential where others see only junk? His love for all things vintage?

 Yes indeed, nobody enjoys a post Mass hunt through the skip in the local graveyard more than Rory, and our resident dumpster diver has unearthed many a precious jewel in the process. That little bunch of silk flowers on the kitchen windowsill?
Where some might consider them garish, or be put off by their morbid back story, he handed them to me proudly, incredulous that anyone could discard such treasures and thrilled that he had been the one to unearth them.And from time to time  (usually as I'm pondering how I might sneak them into the bin, he gazes at them, eyes shining, and says something like, 'And Mummy, the really great thing is that they'll never die!'......Yipee.

Well, At the Caravilla this summer, he discovered a new hunting ground, better than any skip, a place that evolves and renews itself daily, a nirvana with treasures beyond compare just ripe for the picking....where else, only the caravan site's recycling bins? So Rory knuckled down, and graduated with flying colours from being an occasional dumpster diver, to being a fully fledged bin hoker... and as you can imagine, I'm so proud.
I  should have guessed the moment he began eagerly requesting the thrice daily job of emptying the bin under the sink, and then taking ages to return. I should definitely have clocked  him sidling innocently in to stash another 'find' under his bed.A twisted slinkie, a cracked golf club, a bucket with a missing handle, an old tartan dog lead, a scuffed biscuit barrel-these were the result of just one recent day's foraging.

But, the increasing pile of  let'sjustcallit junk, his growing reputation as a bin hoker, not to mention
his grubby little hands, prompted a serious talk about hygiene and germs and more productive ways to spend ones time on holiday....the biscuit barrel stayed though.... it IS vintage Brabantia, and now it's good as new and full of wagon wheels. Go Rory!

Need an LOL?

Loverboy followed me round the kitchen last week with his 'touch pad' (doesnt that just sound rude? Especially when we ALL know its just a wannabe iPad). He kept saying 'You should watch this ! You"ll love it-I know you will!'
 But you know, I was busy -doing homeworks, making dinner, nagging about piano practice- and anyway, just between you and me,  he makes me sit through an awful lot of unfunny crap, so he was kinda top of my 'pay no heed' list at that time.
But when I did watch it later, didn't it turn out he was right! (See- sometimes I DO admit I'm wrong, sweetie!) Because I LOVED it, completely identified, and giggled the whole way through as he just looked on smugly.
So obvs, now I'm sharing the love and the LOLs with you lot - let's face it, we all can do with a laugh to get us through hump-day! Hope you like it! Emx

Let Them Eat Cake!

If there's one food group that I'm VERY partial to, it's cake-that's ALL cakes.....except fruit cake- I can take or leave that. It's funny because biscuits and chocolate can stay in the cupboard for weeks and I can be relatively restrained-the only exception being, as you well know, a good caramel square-but as soon as cake makes an appearance, I'm done for. It calls my name, no one elses, only mine over and over, until every last piece is gone.

 So wisely, because I know this about myself, I very rarely buy or make cakes, and if I do I force feed them IMMEDIATELY to the children, and any visitors or delivery men who happen to call, just so that it won't be crying for Mama come supper time. I'll be honest with you though, birthdays are tough, and we have not one, but two here in January. And really, is there ANYTHING nicer on a cold, wintery night than a bit of Gok, a cup of tea and a wedge of M&S Madeira with balloon icing and jam and cream in the middle? I think not. Except possibly a generous piece of M&S chocolate caterpillar cake, preferably the face part, but at the very least one or two chocolate feet thrown in for good measure? (Yes, I DO favour M&S as it happens- it's THE best-just trust me on this, cos I've tried 'em all!)

An added complication of the January double birthday whammy is, as usually occurs, the boys' actual birthdays fall midweek, while their parties are scheduled for the weekend. You see where I'm going with this? That means not two but FOUR cakes, and I'm feeling quite faint right now just thinking about it. I've tried to think of ways around it- perhaps buying a boring old cherry cake, or a Christmas cake on sale, just to do our 'family' parties, and that way I'm not tempted to have even the smallest piece. But seriously, can you imagine? I'd be run out of the house before I got to the 'For he's a jolly good fellow!' part if I tried to fob them off with that..and rightly so!

What disaster?

Whoops-a-daisy!

This year for Rory's birthday, I decided to make a cake for the family gig and he requested a 'jam' cake, (my old nemesis the Victoria sponge), so I dusted off my Kenwood and got cracking. Actually, I used to do a fair bit of baking, but now I blog instead....and it shows. There was a teensy bit of a hiccup, as you can see, when the whole top of one half refused to come out of the cake tin. (In these circumstances, I automatically blame the Aga, but truthfully, I should have just greased the cake tin properly.)

It's wonderful though, how a buttercream filling, ( NOT margerine-cream), good quality raspberry jam, and a bit of icing sugar over the top, can pull a would be baking disaster back from the brink, and the end result was deemed a resounding success.... and not just by me! So good in fact, that Cormac specifically requested it for HIS family birthday party the following week, which has sadly been and gone, but I've PROMISED to do it this weekend instead. Hmmmmm, and that would be the weekend before Lent begins.....which is surely cake free....so stick the kettle on- I don't mind if I do!