Come on folks, get with it...

I try not to rant about other parents, knowing that we are all a bit shit at times, but it does amaze me when people take their kids to a big old outdoors park - obviously with ideas of fun and enjoyment like we used to have as kids, running around kicking leaves and chatting, hand in hand, about nature and tree-related things - and then moan when they head straight for the mud.
Today we went to Westonburt Arboretum and alongside the thousands of people that were standing around looking at trees, the area was filled with the sound of "Joshua, get out of the mud - you'll have to drive home in your pants", "Lola, get out of the puddle, you'll get your wellingtons and your waterproof trousers muddy".

I of course have the moral highground, as my kids were covered in mud and filth before they even got there...

Doing Logs

Having a fire is great and playing with logs is great - but only on a crisp Sunday afternoon. I am usually fine with barrowing a few loads around from the barn to the porch where we stack them nicely for use during the week, and occasionally I love splitting them - smacking at them with a blunt axe and wondering where it went when one half of the log pings off across the garden.

But last weekend I forgot and the porch is now empty, and it was getting cold and dark and the barn was slowly filling up with mice, spiders and the occasional monster. Then I have to procrastinate and fart about as the fire slowly turns to embers and the house gets colder as the bloody kids have left the doors open and I KNOW that no-one else is ever going to fetch them.

So finally, out I go in my skirt and wellies, stepping on toy trucks, tripping over skipping ropes and cursing that I still haven't put a bulb in that damned outside light. The barn is, of course, full of mice that have come in for the winter and I sing loudly before i get there to give them a fighting chance to just hide so that they don't have to dart out and make me squeal and run on the spot.

But now it is done - the fire is being resurected and I am nice and smug that it wasn't that bad after all... So, no need now to barrow logs around at the weekend when it's light, no need to bother with sorting the outside light and no need to phone a hypnotherepist to sort out my slight mouse issues - until tomorrow of course...

Ah, and at last more... The Foundation Phase

Hello - back again with fresh wind in my sails and a spare five minutes per evening and to save me getting up to date on the ironing, I thought I'd try another blog...

Our children's school is finally embracing the legislation on teaching practise that other schools have been doing for years, and to get us parents to understand it, we were offered to come along and watch a lesson and then have an explanation.
We all trudged in trying not to look uncomfortable and sat our fat arses on the tiny chairs and watched as the children did random things in their learning pods. There were lots of whispered comments (I started with, "ooh, it's a bit cold isn't it?") mainly comparing the happy children interacting with each other, various forms of media and their teachers with the miserable sods that we used to be, ducking blackboard rubbers and setting fire to the back of our teachers' jackets... Teaching really isn't what it used to be.