I always felt that I had something to prove as a pregnant 18 year old and subsequent mother at 19. I was never quite sure if it was because of my age or because I felt that my own parenting was sub-par, every decision I made had to be perfect. I was one of those parents. You know exactly what I mean.

I remember falling out with my sister for MONTHS when she took Findlay to McDonalds. He was probably around two years old? I went absolutely ballistic. How could she taint my baby’s gut with that processed crap! My beautiful baby ate only homecooked meals. No sweets, ever. I think he had cake for the first time on his first birthday, but he always had lots of fruit. Apricots were a particular favourite as I recall. I carried him in a sling although it was a very basic Tomy one rather than the fabulous Moby wraps that I used with the later babies. I breastfed exclusively until solids and we did look at cloth nappies although when I had Findlay in 2001 the internet was still a bit of a novelty and getting information wasn’t particularly easy. I didn’t (and even now, rarely) smack, I preferred to use reasoning than yelling. Best of all? I judged everyone who did not parent as I did which when you think about it is HILARIOUS given that I chose all of these methods so that I could be judged as better than the average.

So what about now? Well I’ve relaxed hugely on pretty much all of it – especially the judgementalism part! I think having Nairn and Erica as such challenging babies woke me up to the fact that I was exceptionally lucky with Findlay. Nairn had such bad reflux that if I moved him or picked him up within an hour of being fed, he would vomit his entire feed all over me. I managed 14 weeks of exhausting non-stop breastfeeding before I switched him onto bottles so that his feed could be medicated. We moved straight onto chunks of food bypassing puree altogether, not because we were pioneering the baby-led weaning method but because to be honest, he was a grubber and was already trying to swipe whatever Findlay was eating. Did this mean that he occasionally ate junk food – shock horror, yes! Is he forever damaged by the occasional fish finger? I highly doubt it.

It’s only now as my lovely friends are having babies and I find myself in the position that I HATED in others when I was a new Mum – I am BRIMMING with advice. Pain relief in labour? Gas & air amazing but trippy, Diamorphine bad, epidural wonderful at the time but did you know you’ll need a catheter? Windy baby? Cycle the legs, it’ll help them fart. Exhausted Mum? Don’t get up to feed the baby, bring them into bed and practice breastfeeding lying down so you can go back to sleep. Ask me about cloth nappies or slings or attachment parenting or labour and I will BORE YOU TO DEATH with it. Lord, save us from ourselves.

Although, I think I’ve earned the right

I like to think I’m a far more laid back parent these days. I am still morally opposed to smacking – I just don’t think it’s ever right for an adult to inflict their world view on a child by using violence – however I have found myself offering that as a threat. I am a big shouter though, I’m not sure how I couldn’t be with four extremely loud children. With one fussy eater who doesn’t like bread or pasta, I’m FINE if they want to eat just a plate of cheese with ham slices for dinner because I know they’ll eat fruit/vegetables later.

We talk. About absolutely everything, at any point in time and I’m really glad that we can. Don’t get me wrong there have been some toe-curlingly excrutiating conversations like when the nursery told Erica she had to stop using the word “vagina” (I still don’t know what she was saying, I suspect she was telling her compatriots how babies are born), or explaining how two men have sex but I will do anything to avoid the situation I found myself in age 9, when my best friend Suzanne told me that when girls turn 13 they start bleeding from between the legs and it doesn’t stop until you die.

Have I made parenting mistakes? Of course! We all have, haven’t we? Massive clangers at times. What gives me comfort is that my children are all growing, they’re all healthy, they’re all super intelligent and even when they are driving me bananas I know that they are very much loved.

Given that – as a Mum, what is the best advice I can give to a new parent? It’s this. From this moment on, a huge chunk of your heart will be out living in the world outside where bad things happen and people aren’t always nice. Be the best protector of your heart by remembering all the things you hated as a kid and making sure they don’t happen.

Also? Don’t ever take advice from other parents.

(Christmas Eve, scattering reindeer food. Findlay was at his Dad’s.)

Luckily, the folks at Garden Games were happy with an indoor review. Phew!

I must admit that when the bag arrived I had a, “Is that it?!” moment as the bag looked significantly smaller than it appeared in the product listing

Caution: Objects on the internet may appear larger than in real life.

but once unpacked, it was clear that this would be a sufficient amount of solid wooden weapons at a perfect size for my little savages to clutch in a single fist.

We tried – repeatedly – to get the kids to settle nicely and play a FUN FAMILY GAME together without the TV or laptop on. They quickly realised that the fun was to make the pieces collapse as quickly as possible for maximum carnage and injury to siblings/parents/pets and so made a point of pulling out pieces from three or four rows from the bottom. The first time they did this I thought someone had driven a truck through my living room wall, the noise of the wooden blocks hitting my hardwood floor made me soil myself. Two black eyes, a possibly broken nose and an entire family relationship severed later we decided that perhaps this might be better as an adult game. Of course, having the giant pieces of wood lying attractively in a bag within reach of the kids meant that a variable slew of imaginative games was created utilising the blocks as props. My personal favourite was ‘Cowboys and Indians’ where #2 son (as the Indian) threw a succession of blocks at #1 daughter (as the Cowboy) in lieu of axes. Luckily we think it was only concussion, at least the dent in her head seems to be filling back out and she was only unconscious for about 15 minutes.

After removing the bag to somewhere far from the reach of little thugs, we decided that perhaps we should indulge in a game of strip jenga. Removing one item of clothing every time you made the tower collapsed was indeed a time-consuming method of titillation and by the time I was down to my bra, I just wanted to go to sleep. Also, my neighbours complained about us stripping in the garden too so all-round bad times on that front. We settled for naked twister instead which was a far more fun event for all the family. (Note: Not ALL the family. Just Bob & I.)

At £50 for the ‘Mega hi-tower in a bag’ it’s a pricey bit of kit and I think if your children were the Waltons or the Von Trapps, if you frequently have BBQs with friends – or God forbid, neighbours – where everyone wears checked shirts and sandy-coloured slacks with creases down the front then this is absolutely the game for you.

If – like me – your children are wild, your climate is wet, your floors are not carpeted and £50 is a bit of a stretch then I’d steer clear.

I was not paid for this review. Garden Games provided a free-of-charge Mega Hi-Tower in its bag in exchange for a review and a link to the product page.

It’s the lack of eggs that give it away. The leaves turning my garden orange, yellow and brown. Being unable to do the school run without a coat. How on earth is it almost October already? My children are all windswept hair and ruddy cheeks, bottomless pits. Little fridges. I barely have time to unpack the food shopping before they’ve consumed it like little bacteria.

So, what’s new with me? The Life Craft is on hiatus for now and I have enjoyed over a month away from work. A much needed break, I’m still finding myself so bone-crushingly exhausted that I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. The new incarnation will help with this. Shorter hours, less pressure. That kind of thing. I’ve been trying to fill my life with colour and cheer instead of my usual brown and black, hoping that the colour will increase my joy.

I’ve become a Blipper. Yes, me! I know my photography leaves a lot to be desired but I’m reliably assured that the best way to get better at something is to keep doing it. I’ve been doing some voluntary art workshops with the kids’ new school, I’m hoping it’ll help me make new friends in the community I’ve dropped into. How sad am I?

I’ve made new connections with family I didn’t know I had, ditched some toxic friend & family relationships which were causing me pain, celebrated my gorgeous and funny children and thanked God every day for blessing me with Bob. Many people say to me, “I don’t know how he puts up with you” and genuinely, I don’t either. I must have hidden talents or something.

Anyway. Speaking of colour and things that bring me joy, I was emailed recently by the DotComGiftShop and asked if I’d review a lunchbox on my blog. A lunchbox?! I mean, how do you review a lunchbox? “Yes, this magnificent specimen of plasticity is unique amongst sandwich carriers” – not really likely to capture the imagination now, is it. But I had a little look at the range and actually, the design really tickled me (One, Two, Three, Four). I picked number one:-

It’s really brightening my day! With four children all at school & nursery, a significant portion of my day is spent lovingly creating scrumptious and healthy boxes of nutrition for my little darlings. I try not to give them sandwiches every day, and I’ve discovered that this box is the perfect size for two wraps, an apple, a banana, a bag of cheese cubes and a frube. It’s not a standard huge lunchbox that holds the entirety of your larder but for primary school kids it’s perfect. And for big kids like me, it holds enough pasta salad to share at the park with the one you’re blessed with. Ask me how I know

Anyway, as usual I have a lunchbox to give away for one of you lucky lot. To enter, simply leave a comment with your favourite Autumn activity. Make sure you have an email address for me to contact – I’ll close this on the 29th September at 12noon.

I was not paid for this entry, but I was provided with a lunchbox to review and keep.

Before

Starting off

My loyal support

The final stretch

Me, having noticed my friends & family at the finish line

Nairn and Erica found the magic chimney which makes clouds

Bonus: I got interviewed for STV news as I came through the finish line, ended up sobbing. Video here (I’m the one in the yellow CF trust tshirt)

If anyone would like to sponsor me – or indeed, to know why I was running – my VirginGiving page is here.

Big changes are happening, have been happening with us.

I want to write about it but I find myself struggling to form more than basic sentences. And even if I did write, would anyone read or comment?

Nod if you can hear me.

In the meantime, I have been laughing LIKE A DRAIN at this for a significant amount of time today. Check it!

Anyway, the lovely Vintage Violet has recently taken over the Crafteroo forum and is desperate to reinvigorate the place with new faces – and old! – so when I heard that Kitty Ballistic was organising a button swap over on Crafteroo, I signed up straight away. Now – I’m encouraging you to do the same. It’s a fun, funky and cheap swap which gives you the chance to meet some lovely new folk.

Come and join us!

First off, a bit of back story. You lot will probably already know (or have worked out) that I was super young when I had Findlay. I was 18 when I fell pregnant with him and 19 when he was born. I’d lived independantly from my parents for three years by that point. On the day that I moved into my first flat on my own, the van with EVERYTHING I HAVE EVER OWNED IN MY LIFE was stolen so I literally had the clothes on my back. Hopefully this will give you a bit of an idea as to how sparse my flat was pre-babies.

Then I fell pregnant. I was one of those stupid new Mums to be who got sucked into buying baby-sized furniture. I spent an embarrassing sum of money on a baby sized wardrobe (which was barely used), a baby sized chest of drawers which was EXORBITANTLY priced because it was for a baby and various other bits of nonsense. Most of which was never used of course. I like to think that I’ve wised up a little since then and certainly with none of my brood really at the baby stage anymore I’m managing to clear out the worst offenders (like the microwave steriliser which has to be the singularly most irritating item in my house).

But – and there’s always a but, isn’t there? – I have four kids. FOUR. I also have a severely dyslexic husband who by nature is extremely untidy. I myself am a renowned hoarder (until very recently I had every single card given to Findlay since the day he was born. I showed him, he laughed at me, we recycled the lot). The single biggest problem facing my dream clutter-free home?

The Grandparents.

Again I’m sure I’ve touched on this before but my kids have a ridiculous number of grandparents – even allowing for the two they lost in December/January. They have Gran & Grampa Davie (my Mum & StepDad), Papa & Nana Lesley (my Dad & StepMum), Gran & Grampa (Bob’s parents), Gran & Grampa v2 (Bob’s paternal Grandparents) and Granny & Grampa (Findlay’s Dad’s parents, who act as grandparents to all four). Each of these sets of Grandparents are doting, loving, indulgent grandparents who just LOVE to buy noisy plastic crap for my kids. Therein lies the rub.

I love that my kids have such a huge family because it’s a real asset to their development, you know the whole “it takes a village to raise a child” thing. They definitely have that village, and that village could pretty much open it’s very own Toys R Us-sized retail operation. Before Christmas, Bob & I swapped bedrooms with the girls and gave them our absolutely massive loft conversion bedroom because their room was becoming a health and safety hazard with toys, books and clothes strewn from one end of the room to the other. In hindsight it may have made more sense to swap with the boys who currently have floor-to-ceiling stacked toyboxes lining an entire wall of their room. Toyboxes that they simply can’t access because there is too much to choose from and to me, that is a huge waste.

My mindset here probably doesn’t help either. Bob & I are pretty Skint Eastwood right now because it’s still the first year for the business and every time I think about getting rid of some of the excess I start totting up in my head how much has been spent on the kids. Every birthday, each child gets a small present from each of the grandparents who don’t want them to feel left out. A lovely gesture, sure! But Jesus Christ it’s more clutter.

The problem here for me is twofold. Firstly, I can never buy the kids something ultra special because they have absolutely everything a child could want. I HATE this. I was brought up in a fairly comfortable manner, there was nothing that we wanted for as children but I still did my paper round and had a Saturday job so that I could save up for a nice stereo. Findlay – at not even 10 years old – owns more tech than I do, none of which has been purchased by us. It’s so difficult to teach a child the value of money when there is nothing at all they want for. I think it does a child good to know that sometimes they have to wait for something they want. Am I wrong?

The second problem is the pressing issue though. Boxes of children’s clothes & toys have overspilled into our bedroom, the living room and the box room that serves as a landing to the girls bedroom. The box room is actually floor to ceiling. I am SO FED UP with all this stuff and feel completely powerless to do anything about it. I’m mortified in case a visitor unexpectedly turns up at my front door. I hide! In two weeks, Erica celebrates her 4th birthday. Two weeks after that, Greer celebrates her 2nd birthday and three weeks after that, Findlay turns 10. Six weeks, three birthdays, mountains of tat.

What am I going to do with it all?!

It’s 1.30am on Saturday morning. I’m not only awake and dressed, I am raring to go. I leave the house, kiss my children goodbye and drive down to Glasgow to meet up with Glasgow women’s drumming band, SheBoom who have very kindly offered me a place on the train. I know only one person who’ll be on this trip, so when I arrive at Central station I’m pretty nervous. Not helped by realising that I’ve left my mobile phone on my bed and have no time to comfortably get home & back.

We board the bus to Edinburgh and then the train from Edinburgh to London. I sit by the window, watching hundreds of people of all ages, genders, race and religion board the train with their placards. I’m surprised by the number of children. Surely they must be exhausted? It’s 4am after all, I’m exhausted. But this march, this demonstration of the will of the people is about more important things than adhering to bedtime. If it had been possible, I would have brought at least one of my children with me. I settle down in my seat, thinking over the issues that are key to me – education, jobs, healthcare – and try and get some sleep listening to music.

6am and I wake up passing Berwick upon Tweed, a place I spent much of my gloriously spent teenage years. A town where 60% of the working population are employed in the service industry, I contemplate the hits they must be taking as a community. Slow growth & high inflation leading to less leisure spending must be hitting the area hard. 25% cut in the winter fuel allowance for elderly people and the closing of the SureStart programme affects both young and old. This song comes on my MP3 player, it seems apt.

Eventually we arrive in London, delayed arrival by around a half hour because there are no platforms available at Kings Cross for us to disembark. This boosts my spirits as I imagine perhaps the early estimates of 100,000 protestors to be somewhat scant. Embankment station is closed and so we travel to Charing Cross and arrive to a street packed with people. It’s an hour and a half before the march is due to leave and London appears to have ground to a halt. Buses are at a standstill, nothing is moving. The band have to get to Embankment station to collect the drums, but every street down to Embankment is blocked by serious-looking policemen with strict instructions. The crowd is so heavy that we end up being separated many times, each grabbing onto the woman in front in a desperate bid to snake through the thousands of good-natured but tightly packed people. I see Glasgow Uni protesters and I’m glad the students are there.

We eventually get to the drums with all members present & correct. Apologies for my terrible photography but here you go.

Due to having to be moved with all the drums, the bottles of water needed to keep the drummers hydrated have been abandoned leaving us with one litre of water to support 25 drummers for at least 3 hours. I am amazed by the power of the noise as SheBoom sets off. To give you a very small idea, this is a (relatively quiet!) video I found on flickr.

For three hours we very slowly marched from Embankment, past the Houses of Parliament along Whitehall towards Trafalgar Square. Every single person I saw was angry – we all were! Hence us being at the march in the first place – but I witnessed no violence, no thuggery, no baiting of the police. From my perspective, it was a completely peaceful protest. At Trafalgar Square, I left the march for a few hours R&R with family and watching the news was my first encounter with the violence.

Let me reiterate here – estimates now say that around a half million marchers were in London on Saturday, which is not kicking the backside off the entire population of Glasgow – news reports were suggesting 75 violent protestors. The Met are confirming 214 arrests in total. That is 0.04% of the entire demonstration. So why isn’t it the march itself, the content and the concerns of the UK population being reported? Why is every single news outlet focusing on the actions of the few?

At 8.30pm I crossed back into London to get the bus home and again, saw absolutely no violence. Actually I saw nothing of merit whatsoever and I’m sure that for a huge proportion of the marchers their experiences will be similar. A fantastically organised march, largely peaceful and with clear motivation.

Which is why reading this story in the Guardian last night made me want to rip people’s heads off. Without leaving any time to give the impression that the protestors concerns were being examined and addressed, Vince Cable announced that the 50% tax rate is being cut.

Yes, we truly are in this together.

I’m utterly unsurprised and yet still devastated by this callously quick response to the constituents of this Government.

I think that’s one major plus point with having the shop too – I have so much opportunity to observe and subsequently learn from knitters who are far more skilled than I am. Every Monday we have a social knitting meetup at the shop and it’s great to watch what other people are creating. My friend Jenny R has got me “picking” rather than “throwing” and has corrected my inside out circular knitting. My friend Purple Jen has got me casting on using the continental longtail method (which you can learn here) which has meant that instead of taking a half hour to cast on 60 stitches it takes me two seconds and has become the cast on that I teach, too.

I’ve always been quite comfortable with new techniques in knitting, mostly because the patterns I use are pleasingly explanative so when I decided to make the short row sideways hat (about halfway down the page) I thought I’d jazz it up a little by using a provisional cast on and then grafting the cast on and cast off edges together. I’m pleased to say that it’s the best grafting I’ve ever done despite it being my first attempt grafting garter stitch! Topped with a pompon the size of a cricket ball, Erica has absolutely fallen in love with it and I think it suits her crazy personality perfectly!

Ravelry project page: here
Yarn: Colinette Skye in colourway ‘Jamboree’
Needles: Brittany Birch 5mm