Starting school

Hello, blog fan(s)! It's been a while. Dexter has started school and our lives have been dominated by a new routine: no bad thing as we were all starting to unravel after a lovely but long summer. And so I thought I would take a moment to reflect on this whole new phase in the boy's life - indeed, in family life as a whole.

10th September marked Big D's first day in the world of education. We joined the glut of smiling first-day photos clogging up social media and I took a VERY excited four year old to the place where he will spend much of his young life for the next seven years.

Well, what have I/we learned, almost three weeks in?...

I'm not a complete tin man and I do have a heart. I am a largely unsentimental parent. I'm kind of cool about the fact that children grow up and I tend to embrace - rather than deny - each new stage. I am notorious for not being attached to the material 'stuff' that acts as mementos of the baby years; I regularly try and flog outgrown clothes and toys. In fact, sometimes, I even will the next phase/age to start. However, I didn't realise just how much my heart would hurt seeing my baby in a proper school uniform and looking so tiny in his beautiful big classroom, especially as his small reception class is usually combined with Year 1 and 2 students. Is he really big enough to be going TO SCHOOL?!

My organisational skills have been tested to the max. As a teacher and self-confessed control freak myself, I pride myself in having a sound grip on my professional and personal life. I'm organised; I get stuff done; I write shit down; I don't lose things; I label everything (even my box of labels). Heck, I mark books in alphabetical order. Really. Nothing has prepared me for the whirlwind of admin - mum-min if you please - required in being the parent of a primary school child. Newsletters, homework, cake baking, school fete contributions, birthday parties, trips, PE kit, outdoor learning clobber, school lunch choices and harvest festivals have got me chasing my tail. I need a PA - and a good one at that. Plus, I get more texts from school than my actual friends. I'm not sure how we are going to manage this when I'm back at work doing a job that requires plate-spinning and juggling skills worthy of your finest circus.

The school gates are not the setting for 'Mean Girls 2: the reception years'. I am not shy. I pride myself on having good social skills and emotional intelligence. And with a face for radio, I've always worked that little bit harder at being engaging and hilarious, which I am, obvs. Modesty aside, even I had the mild fear about the potential unfriendliness of the school run mums - and dads. My fears have been proven to be well and truly unfounded. All of the other parents are lovely. It's a tiny village school which prides itself on having a family feel to it and it does. People smile, chat and marvel at the fact that I park a permanently snoozing baby outside the classroom every morning. In the first week or so, a number of parents commented on how their children had already told them a lot about Dexter; he's the 'funny' one apparently. Oh good. That aside, there are definitely a few mums I wouldn't mind having an evening in the pub with and that can only be a good thing.

Speaking of pubs, school night wine o'clock is a no-no. Words I never thought I would write. The hectic-ness of getting three of us fed, dressed and out of the house on time, without forgetting anything (see above) means I live in fear of being slightly foggy/sleeping through the alarm or just feeling any rougher than your average 6am start makes you feel. I am all about the peppermint tea of an evening. Until Friday...

Weekends are precious. For rest, recuperation, family time, extended periods of pyjama wearing and getting on top of that school admin. And wine. Friday really is Fri-yay!

The school day is really short. D's school is a 20 minute drive away: our choice, made for a number of reasons. It's actually very close to the school I work at, so there will be a whole different dynamic when I return to work after maternity leave. By the time I have got home, done some chores and kept Delphi in her feed, play, sleep routine, it's time to go back and collect a usually happy but EXHAUSTED school boy.

School is KNACKERING. 'WE KNOW!' yell a billion teachers. Of course, I already knew that, but I have never seen the boy so strung out with tiredness. We've slipped into a routine of him having a bath when he gets in and getting into pyjamas before 5pm. Bedtime routine starts at 6pm. I think this may be even earlier when the clocks change in a few weeks. He had been holding it together behaviour-wise at home, but note past tense. This weekend, Big D has been all kinds of challenging. I've been blaming the chuffing 'super moon' but I know it's because his eyes itch with tiredness as he gets used to a whole new set of rules and routines. I am already planning on us spending half term in a dressing gown watching 'Thomas the Tank' on repeat.

Despite having several life 'grown-up' boxes ticked, I have never felt my 37 years more since having a child at school. I read this post recently from the lovely Alice, on moments that make you feel like a mother, and nodded in agreement throughout. As most days, I feel like I have accidentally been given two smalls to rear and at some point, someone will pick up on this mistake, I have never felt more of a 'grown-up' than since D started school. Maybe it's the 'mum-min' or the constant pressure to have a set of uniform washed, dried, labelled and ready to wear, or possibly that I have already written my first absence note (pesky stomach bug), but despite 15 years teaching other people's (teenage) children, standing in that playground at pick-up, I feel like an actual adult.

Does any school have adequate parking/enough room for school traffic? In short, I am guessing no. Some afternoons, I leave an hour before for a twenty minute journey, just so I am not stressing about finding a safe place to park. Annoyingly, this eats into the day. On the plus side, I often take my Kindle: the reading time really mounts up and I feel less guilty about forgoing my evening read for a 9.30pm face plant onto the pillow.

Schools are bloody brilliant places. I know, I am biased because I work in one but the British education system is much-maligned, mauled by the press and all too often, simply used as a pawn in a political game. But the people who give their hearts and souls to the education and welfare of our children are absolute heroes. I always keep in my head a line from the deputy head in 'Educating Essex', the first in the 'Educating...' franchise. To paraphrase, he tells a particularly recalcitrant student that never ever in the rest of their life will they be shown the same amount of patience, kindness, support and understanding in the 'real world' as they are at school. Dexter is surrounded by kind, experienced and tolerant adults for the whole of his school day, and if that's our education system that he's just starting out in, then I want in.

Now, roll on half term...

A break from the norm...

A few days ago, I read this amusing article and it really struck a chord with me. I chortled at the (male) writer's admission that after a mere day's experience of his wife's maternity leave, he realised that:  'A week of this and I would be a permanently undressed alcoholic who subsisted on a diet of chips and biscuits, but somehow she’s kept it together for six entire months. It’s amazing.' 

I recognise the dressing gown-clad, wine-guzzling, carb-loading parent (in the first part of the quote) in myself. Some days, I am fuelled entirely by a family pack of Waitrose marshmallows, coffee and wine o'clock. However, I am also the 'keeping it together' type: the endless washing gets done; I'm back on cooking rather than heating our evening meals (thank you, The Pool's fantastic recipe section) and I usually get out and about with the Micro Waynes every day. I nodded in agreement with every word of the sagacious Lauren Laverne's musings on how having kids has made her 'more efficient, ambitious, focused, braver and more determined.' I am keeping it together - and I hope to when I return to work next year. Watch this space...

I am mastering multi-tasking. I am currently blogging at the kitchen table. Delphi is flat-out, post-jabs, in her pram next to me. Dexter has built 'the island of sodding Sodor' around me. There's a wash on the go. The bottles are in the steriliser. I cleaned the downstairs loo before we went out. I've unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher twice already today. This is kind of how we roll whilst I am on maternity leave. 

Given I'm a teacher, I'd be off during August anyway, at home with two children. I like it, I do, but sometimes it can feel like one continuous cycle of domestic drudgery. At the risk of sounding ungrateful - I am not - I have two healthy children and the privilege of time-out to be with them. Sometimes though, life feels like a Scooby-Do type sequence of running past piles of washing, bottle-brushing, vacuuming & supermarket shopping. And repeat. Some days, it feels like my brain is leaking out of my ear onto the kitchen floor: another thing to clear up.

Recently, I was granted a break in the form of a lovely friend's hen do: two nights, six women, one dreamy rented sea-front house. To use the vernacular: WIN! The weather was perfect. The wine/champagne/gin flowed. We did a five mile coastal walk, chilled at a smashing pub with fabulous fish & chips and shandy la-las and discussed the finer details of exactly why Tom Hardy is so darn attractive (jury's still out on that one). We cooked fine Lebanese food and chatted in a way only a bunch of girlfriends can: world put to rights in an hour. There was nothing unsavoury about a bunch of 30-somethings' weekend away: a rather dubious shaped piñata and an 'adult twist' on the classic 'pin the tail on the donkey' party game were as BBC3 'uncovered' programme as it got. 

I returned home on the train - a journey which afforded me the luxury of a whole cup of coffee, reading the entire Sunday paper and a welcome break from the four year old's incessant chatter about the Mallard steam train's land speed record... 

I also returned home with a nourished soul, a full heart and a desperate need to give my nearest and dearest a great big squeeze. I could have wept when Dexter informed me he was 'so pleased' I was home.

The week immediately following my wonderful weekend respite, the four of us headed up to Manchester to my homeland: the mother-ship. Life has been pretty tough for the northern contingent of family and friends recently. Illness, bereavement and other life stresses meant that, unusually, it was with some trepidation that we made our summer trip over the border. Pleasingly, we had a magical time of family fun, day-trips and some much needed time on our own for Mr W and me - thank you resident parental babysitters. I had a break from constant chores and general routine went out of the window.

I like routine and I'm a firm believer in special times being special because they are different from the norm: life simply isn't one big holiday. Dexter starts school in September and I imagine the second half of my maternity leave will take a different shape. I'll still mainly spend significant parts of my days washing, drying, folding and putting away clothes. I will undoubtedly have adopted a different food fad which may or may not involve spending more time in the kitchen. I will definitely still pour a glass of wine every evening at 7 o'clock. And then it will be the countdown to Christmas: another break from the norm and a final hurrah before the end of maternity leave. 

Now where did I leave that giant bag of marshmallows?...

Even 'grown-up' hen parties require the obligatory deely boppers - and lager shandy at 2pm.

The restorative power of sea air...

...and afternoon Prosecco

Worth epic 5 mile coastal walk for the best fish & chips I've ever eaten.

Hen party cruise ship*

*tiny pink boat to take us to the pub

When 30 somethings do a weekend away: evening feast!

In the 'rents' back garden: Dexter's own park.

Day trippers. Surprisingly fun.

Gin worship whilst the smalls were in bed.

Making memories: touching the ACTUAL Mallard!

Casual family afternoon tea.

Oh, just THIS.

#THEEVERYDAYSPRUCE: get set for summer

#TheEverydaySpruce

- a collaborative project by lapinblu & growing spaces

| SIMPLIFY | CLARIFY | BEAUTIFY |

Images from Pinterest

I have long been a fan of aeroplane food: not the actual taste, but the presentation. Tiny sections of a three course meal, presented all at once for you to eat in any order you please. I am also a sucker for some pretty or stylish packaging, regardless of the quality of the food inside - this has led to some costly mistakes in the aisles of Waitrose. 

Anyway, it seems Dexter has inherited my liking for compartmentalised cuisine. I discovered this in his last few weeks of nursery pick-ups when the only way I could get him in the car without a massive tantrum was with the irresistible lure of a 'snacky box'. Said snacky box consists of no more than a lunch box with different sections, filled with a range of (ideally nutritionally balanced) food - a sort of 'baby bento'. I have become a fan of the lovely 'Capture by Lucy' and the Bento Babies section of her blog and have dedicated a Pinterest board to tiny portions of appealingly presented food. However, Dexter isn't actually that bothered about elaborate edible re-enactments of favourite cartoon characters - thankfully. I think he just likes the variety of a range of small portions he can pick at and eat on the move.

And so to the prompt for this post. I have linked up with Heather Young & Sarah-Lou and their #TheEverydaySpruce project - which sort of does what it says on the tin. This month's theme is 'get set for summer'. Now Dexter's nursery has closed FOR EVER and I have two smalls to entertain for six weeks before Big D starts school, I really want to have some fun days out whilst maintaining a sense of routine. Part of any routine involving kids inevitably features food. Last week, during one of the boy's final days at nursery, I decided my 'everyday spruce' mission would focus on always being 'picnic ready'.

I started by clearing out and cleaning the fridge which took ALL MORNING.

Shiny, shiny, clean, clean!

I then tried to organise food within the fridge into plastic storage tubs, chopping in advance where possible, eg. carrots. Then, well, you just put stuff in the lunch box. I am, in effect, writing a whole blog post on packing a lunch box. But the 'snacky box' seems to have a mystical power of its own. You can get a child to eat, or at least try anything - although Dexter won't eat actual sandwiches. They can select their own contents. You can attempt to have some control over the balance of food groups they should be eating in a day. I'm thinking of taking it a step further and writing up a list of choices for the week on the kitchen blackboard as D will have to select his own school meal choices in September.

A couple of weeks ago, Dexter had a lovely time hosting a play date with his big mate, LL. After some sunshiny fun in the sprinkler, the pair of them sat on the patio, chewing the fat over their snacky boxes. It was true social eating and there was barely a scrap of food left between them. LL now has her own box and Dexter and I are looking forward to more shared summery snacks over the next few weeks.

Suggested snacky box contents...

• fruit of any kind - pieces of melon, strawberries & raspberries have proved popular. Beware of choking hazards, particularly if the box is used in the car.
• packets of freeze-dried fruit are handy to have in for when the fresh stuff has run out and you need to do a shop
• popcorn
• pasta
• toasted soldiers
• boiled egg
• 'fruit yo-yos'
• broccoli 'trees' (well stinky in the car)
• sausage rolls
• mini fromage frais - don't forget a small spoon
• crisps
• biscuits
• pizza
• chopped peppers/carrots/cucumber
• marshmallows

WARNING: if consumed 'on-the-go' in the back of a car, your vehicle will be a bio-hazard by the end of the summer/the following day.

Married with children...

I love weddings. I love those of friends and family. I love a soap wedding. Heck, I've even been known to get a bit emotionally involved with a royal wedding. We have never been to a wedding with Dexter, never mind with him and the latest tiny addition to Team Wayne.

Just putting it out there, but I believe weddings are parties for grown-ups. They are a stamina test for the most hardened social animal, without the added pressure of remaining responsible for the minors in your care. Our own wedding, almost six years ago, was a deliberately child-free occasion. Aside from those smalls closely linked to the bridal party and a couple of babies, our invitations explicitly stated that children were not invited. Soz. At the time, it caused some small controversy and upset but on the day, most child-free parents seemed to party the hardest and let their parental hair down the most.

Fast forward a few years and we're of an age at which most of our friends are already wed and/or have populated the world with their offspring. Weddings now seem to be a more infrequent, relaxed and family-friendly affair. And so we found ourselves yesterday, heading to the wedding of some dear friends (themselves parents of two girls) at which children were very much welcome. 

Cue this blog post: my own views and opinions on attending a wedding with a four year old and eight week old in tow...

Do allow yourself at least four hours before your estimated leaving time to get everyone ready. Delphi woke up at 5.45am for her morning feed. I stayed up and we were still running about half an hour behind schedule when we finally left the house. The situation was perhaps not helped by going to bed at midnight the day before after chewing the fat, with a very dear old friend who had come to visit, over a couple of glasses of wine and some pre-emptive Nurofen. Also, I didn't pack anything or get anything ready the evening before and it pays to be organised.

Don't over-pack. I ended up packing two enormous shoppers with pretty much everything but the proverbial kitchen sink. I took FIVE outfits for Delphi STILL ON THE HANGERS. Who even am I? She wore the same outfit she left the house in, all day.

Do make room in afore mentioned bags for snacks and favourite toys.

Don't expect that said snacks and toys will have magical distraction powers indefinitely. Dexter had devoured two 'snacky boxes' by the time we got to the reception venue and his latest train acquisition (a model 'Mallard' - thank you, Laura) wasn't quite enough entertainment for the whole ceremony.

Do be prepared to miss key parts of the day. In our case, Mr W had usher duties during the ceremony. The exchange of vows was precisely the moment that Delphi chose to wake up for her lunch time feed and the moment Dexter finally figured out that we weren't in a cinema, there was no screen and classical music is both 'boring' and 'hurt' his ears. The three of us spent the actual weddingy bit hovering outside the ceremony room while I desperately tried to convince Dexter that the nearby disabled loo did not in fact contain a hated hand dryer. Dexter needed some assistance having a poo during the best man's speech. Sorry, Mike.

Where's the screen, Mummy?

'A BUS, Mummy! A BUS!'

Don't feel defeated if the ceremony appears to be a portent suggesting that smalls will struggle with all aspects of a wedding: Dexter had an absolute whale of a time! The sun shone all day. The venue was largely outdoors and STUNNING. The whole vibe was relaxed but with attention paid to every detail. Dexter found absolute joy in everything from the arrival of the majority of guests on a vintage London bus (excitement levels were quite high for this one) to the easy-listening/jazz session which was our soundtrack to the afternoon.

'I like the band, Daddy. I like jazz.'

Do have something that babies can be comfortably transported around in and can nap in. It was absolutely worth taking Delphi's pram to ensure she was able to sleep and we didn't have to carry her everywhere.

Don't refuse offers of help, especially from those who have chosen to attend the day without their own children. Delphi was cuddled, given a bottle and rocked to sleep by various friends so everyone got to enjoy their food and chat without distractions. 

Do expect that if you dress your young baby in blue, several people will ask how old he is and what his name is.

'Ah, isn't he cute!'

Don't get carried away with the booze. I was driving anyway and Mr W was relatively restrained. I was really conscious that at least one of us needed to keep our wits about us. The stunning venue had a picturesque but potentially worrying lake. I did NOT want to factor 'jumping into water to rescue drowning child' into the day. I'm crap at swimming and I'd eaten enough canapes to sink a battleship.

The well-stocked bar

Do accept that your child is likely to consume all manner of food and drink that would not usually be a part of their everyday diet. Dexter mainly chose to take a slightly 'peasant' approach to the delicious gourmet barbecue tea, only eating bread and potatoes: a wedding is not the time to be worried about your offspring's balanced diet. I deliberately gave him some 'special, brown, fizzy juice' to keep him up beyond his bedtime. Still awaiting that award for parent of the year...

'Mummy, I'm having a naughty drink!'

Don't dress like you would if you were going to an event without children. I wore flat sandals, a long dress that was pretty much a glamorous t-shirt and a cardigan as I'm always cold but knew we'd be outdoors all day. From about 9am that morning, I'd fully intended to apply some lipstick to 'finish' my look; I never got round to it.

Ditch the heels

Do take it all in and soak it all up. The wedding venue was just brilliant. The children played outside all day. 

Picture perfect

Don't forget to ask someone to take a family photo of you and yours in your finest attire. Ideally, don't leave this moment until you're chomping on your pudding, sitting on the floor and generally looking a bit sweaty/clammy/grubby.

Sweaty family portrait

Do embrace the entertainment thoughtfully provided for the junior guests.

Don't be alarmed when all your child really wants to do is leap around on a log, brandishing a stick as a lightsaber/gun/generic weapon: it's all good old-fashioned fun.

Giant Connect 4: stick out of shot.

Do remain calm when the stick/lightsaber 'game' gets out of hand and you're trying to get to the bottom of whether your child's stick has made actual contact with another child or if the other child did indeed fall off a log*

*Poor little dot fell. Dexter emerged blameless. Phew!

Calm blue skies

Don't be afraid to sneak off to the film room set up for the children to have a power nap and an ice cream while the band are taking a break.

Tired snuggles with Mummy

Do take pjs/sleepsuits, dressing gowns and comforters for children. Dexter lasted until 11pm, fell asleep in the car and transitioned to his bed at midnight. He slept until 10am this morning with a sort of four year old's hangover. He's devoured two large bowls of cereal and a roast dinner today.

Making shapes in his pjs

Don't expect to last as long as your pre-children days. I was exhausted by 11pm and have felt broken all day. We did however, have the most magical day and we loved being a part of it! Congratulations and thank you so much to the happy couple.

A day filled with love

I've got three more weddings to attend this year: two evening receptions on my own and a child-free wedding involving two nights away. Lucky us: the best of all worlds!

Coping with two?

I started to draft this post weeks ago on my phone. The pictures above document the first day I 'flew solo' with Dexter and Delphi, when Mr W returned to work: 28th May 2015. Well, we survived. I studied the relevant chapter from 'Coping with Two' the night before and we managed to do a supermarket shop, park visit and walk to the village for ice creams. It feels like a million years ago now. 

Delphi is eight weeks old today. I am due to take her for her immunisations this afternoon; Dexter is at pre-school. I never did get round to sharing surviving the first post-paternity leave day on here. A month and a half on, I'm wondering why I built it up to be such a big deal. Instead, inspired by one of my new favourite blog reads, 'Mother of all Lists' (v.funny), I thought I would list the things I have learnt/realised/discovered/accepted since becoming a mother of two.

Disclaimer: by reading this list, you will learn absolutely nothing about actually coping with two.

1. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Aside from the disruption to sleep, newborns are pretty straightforward. To quote my dear friend, Hannah, whom I met at NCT classes the first time around: 'What were we so SCARED of?!'

2. Some days, simply surviving is both okay and an achievement. To quote another lovely buddy and fellow breeder of two, Stella: 'As long as you are all alive at the end of the day, you've done a good job.' Preach.

3. I've found my own rhythm as a mother and don't feel the need to justify myself. Delphi is bottle-fed out of necessity and personal choice. She has slept in her own cot in her own room from five weeks. Dexter knows the code for my iPad. He often watches it in bed, pre-story, while I sort Delphi out.

4. I am still amazed that nobody has questioned the fact that I seem to be allowed to be in charge of the welfare of two tiny people. Yet.

5. Sibling bonding is not immediate but just heart-melting when it happens. We went from this...

...to this. Dexter asks, 'Can we keep Delphi?' almost every day.

6. Matching pjs are never NOT cute (see above).

7. I am NEVER in control of the washing.

8. My kitchen floor is NEVER clean.

9. I am always hungry.

10. I imbibe sugar, caffeine and wine almost exclusively.

11. I only ever have one glass of wine at wine o'clock, just to take the edge off. The mere thought of an actual hangover fills me with horror.

12. Waitrose is still my happy place.

13. A newborn's car seat weighs more than me - even without a baby in it.

14. Delphi spends most of her life in her car seat. One of my biggest fears is that she will grow up in the shape of an actual car seat.

15. Our pram does not fit in my car.

16. I still put the pram in my car.

17. I can have me and the 'Double Ds' (fabulous friend, Sazzle's term for Dexter & Delphi) dressed and ready to go out in the time it takes for Mr W to have a shower. During this time, I have probably also emptied the dishwasher and loaded the washing machine.

18. Without Mr W, the rubbish would never go out, nothing would be recycled, the garden would not exist and our finances would be in complete chaos. Oh, and Team Wayne would be incomplete!

19. My own finances are in complete chaos.

20. Some days I would gladly be at work.

21. Some days I don't want to leave the house.

22. Sunny days with the two smalls and great friends & family are priceless.

23. I lost the 'baby weight' immediately (sheer luck). People are unable to fathom this.

24. My post-partum hair is horrific. Fortunately, people do not comment on this in the same way as above.

25. I rarely put make-up on any more and I have no 'school-run' uniform': my goal is to not be in pjs/naked. Oh, and to have brushed my teeth. Maybe.

26. People love a baby and like to stop and coo/chat.

27. Most of these people think Delphi is a boy.

28. My brain fell out with my placenta.

29. I fear I may never read an actual book again.

30. I can only cope with following the 'plot' on 'Love Island'.

31. I will probably never send a thank-you card again.

32. The four year gap works for us. I would never have been able to attend all of the transition and settling-in sessions for Dexter's school apart from anything else. Also, he was REALLY hard work as a toddler.

33. Keeping Dexter in pre-school three days a week was a really, really good idea.

34. I have the fear about the summer holidays when Dexter's wonderful nursery closes FOREVER.

35. I can leave the house with little more than a brilliantly handy nappy bag, no bigger than a handbag, made for me by talented seamstress and fellow mother of two, Jo.

36. When your husband goes on a five day stag do to Barcelona, the world doesn't fall apart, largely due to marvellous mates (cheers, Cathy, Stella, Becka & Sara).

37. I'm not sure how I feel about the proposed annual revival of the above.

38. 'Shout' is a far superior stain remover to 'Vanish'. Thanks, Mum.

39. I can only remember everything by writing it on one of those multiple column family calendars that my mum has always used.

40. I am turning into my mum.

41. Beyonce was right: girls run the world. Well, without the putting out rubbish part.

42. I have only opened my 'Your Baby Every Day for a Year' book, twice.

43. I have become obsessed with storing food in plastic tubs in the fridge in a bid to appear organised and to always be 'picnic-ready'. Possibly more of this in a future post...

44. Dexter regularly requests a 'picnic tea' (chopped peppers, fruit and popcorn) eaten in the car (from underneath the pram) on the way home from nursery. I see this as the epitome of multi-tasking and it means I don't have to sweep the kitchen floor AGAIN.

45. Internet shopping is a dangerous thing. PayPal is a complete enabler.

46. Social media is both a massive, heavily filtered lie and a place of huge community spirit, kindness and support.

47. I somehow think it is an acceptable sartorial statement to wear a huge bunch of keys on a lanyard around  my neck in the manner of a PE teacher/caretaker/prison officer.

48. I do a head count every time I get in the car - even if I am travelling alone.

49. There is not a single printed photograph of Delphi/us as a four; there are approximately 8 million digital/Instagram pictures.

50. No matter what, they will always, ALWAYS be my babies.

Garden love

Images courtesy of Pinterest

'Please may we go to the garden centre?'

I never thought I would become a 'garden widow'.

When we bought our house two years ago, the 'compromise' (Phil & Kirstie insist there must always be one in any property buying scenario) was the teeny, tiny garden. Our budget was never going to stretch to a house big enough for three to become four - plus accommodate guests - and a sizeable garden. So the postage stamp lawn was overlooked for those extra bedrooms, a garage and the fact that we are situated opposite a meadow and a park.

However, never underestimate the power of Pinterest for dreaming (me) or simply having vision, a clever overview of small space and a desire to spend quite a lot of time faffing and pottering (Mr W).

When I say our garden is small, I mean tiny. Plus it's split over two levels for reasons unbeknown to me - I'm assuming it's simply how the land the developers built on was already arranged.  But Mr W has worked wonders and we seem to have gained a pretty and functional outdoor space. A 'feature' of our garden is a massive brick wall which keeps it secluded, safe and private but is at risk of looking a bit, well, 'Strangeways'. My over-active and overly optimistic imagination is attempting to model it on the walled gardens at swanky Babington House. More practically, Mr Wayne decided the top level, which was a hastily thrown together strip of lawn and pathway, would work much better as a patio. And so it does.

My parents have been staying for a few days and we have spent a lot of time outside: BBQ, brunch or simply drying the (frankly endless) washing have meant that our tiny outdoor space has really given us that 'extra room' that Phil and Kirstie also bang on about.

And as for my initial comment, I am actually pleased we have a garden that can be measured in metres and not acres. Mr W is always out there. He's developed an evening ritual of donning a gilet and his oldest trainers after work and going out to check/water/merely look at the fruits of his labour. My lovely friend, Hannah, says it's his version of 'mindfulness'. Meanwhile, I've developed a liking for 'Gardeners' World' and Monty Don and while Mr W's outside doing the practical stuff, I continue to dream and fill up my Pinterest boards...