More about Piccallili

When I said later, I didn't think I meant this much later! Anyway, the piccallili was made, and it's something of a triumph. In truth, I'd prefer the sauce thicker and the vegetables more crunchy (note to self: trust instincts when cooking. I read the recipe and thought 'a tablespoon of flour won't be enough to thicken that much liquid' and lo, I was right. It wasn't.). The best thing about it is it's My Piccallili, Mr Wisteria likes it very much, and I can now put a lunch on the table that's entirely homemade apart from the cheese (I think that's overdoing it a bit).

Meanwhile, in the Wisteria household, those of you following Whitzend The Blog will have noticed that we've got to the carpet stage. We're SO nearly done, but not quite yet. This afternoon's tasks mean emptying the toy boxes that were filled last week to clear the playroom enough for the carpet to go down. Some of the Will Have To Go, though it cause tears and tantrums. Young Master #1 has lost his first tooth. Young Master #2 asked another corker of a question this morning. As he cycled past me at the playground, he shouted 'Mummy, do spiders poo?'. A reasonable question, and one I can't currently answer. Little Miss appears to be dropping her lunchtime nap, dammit, but we're coping.

Off now to clean the fridge we've sold - don't think the buyer wants the crunchy bits, or the finger marks!

Petticoats and Piccalilli

Well, today I am playing Traditional Housewife with a vengeance. Last night, I finished Little Miss's petticoat - she insists on wearing it as a skirt,, which it's a bit thin for, but it's nice to be appreciated. I'm about to finish the waistband on mine (just a tunnel with a bit of ribbon through it) and then I will be the proud owner of Additional Floofiness under my skirt. I tried it on last night, and it Floofs something lovely. It takes my skirt a good four seconds to catch up with me when I turn around.

Mind you, it's mightily impractical for climbing trees.

More about Piccalilli later, as I MUST finish this waistband before Little Miss wakes up.

Well, I was wrong

As it turns out, yesterday afternoon was much better than expected. While it rained (again) we made peg aeroplanes and little peg people to eat at the playdough tea tables - in fact, we made a peg family like us that I'm thinking of using as on-line images. Then, I walked the children for MILES (well, about a mile anyway) up past my old primary school to the park. An hour at the park, with a cable causeway about the right size for little boys, kept everyone entertained and the walk home again left them all hungry for tea and tired enough to go to bed.

It worked remarkably well! Another walk all the way around the village this morning - past the infant school and nursery, down the Deanway, into the Co-op (ice creams were necessary by this point), a quick go on the swings then over the (dry) river, down past the pub and the church, back up the side of the churchyard and up the steep hill home for lunch. Phew. For the first time this holiday the children came home and flopped while I got the lunch on the table rather than running around causing mayhem. Mind you, I feel like I've run a marathon....

I clearly spoke too soon

Well, this week was going really well. We'd not really done anything of significance, but there hadn't been too much television, or fighting, and we had made some splendid playdough tea tables. We deliberately went 'things to do' shopping and bought pegs for making aeroplanes, a frisbee, some play sand, extra playdough and so on. Yesterday was particularly great, because we made a 'beach' in the garden (alright, a paddling pool and a sandpit, but you get the idea).

This morning it all fell over. It may be because the weather is a little bit cooler today, but despite trip to the garden centre to see the tropical fish, a drink and a biscuit while we were out and a play on the swings before lunch, they're all fighting madly again. I'm be tempted to sit them in front of the TV all afternoon, but I don't think the house would survive.

Hey ho. Let's see what happens.

A parenting epiphany

The last few weeks have been very difficult in parenting terms. Eldest is at the end of Year 1 which, frankly, he has not enjoyed much - the school haven't really known what to do with him and parachuted him into Year 2 for a lot of the year. Middlest is just leaving pre-school to start school in September and is torn between excitement at being at school with his brother and fear at a different set of teachers, rules, uniform and so on. Littlest is going through the Terrible Twos and is demonstrating a truly dreadful temper, a tendency to pinch and scratch when thwarted, and a shriek like a pteradactyl.

All this is, of course, exacerbated by having to be out of the house during the day because of the building work. We are 'camping' with the grandparents during the day, which is causing all sorts of interesting conundra in terms of rules, eating habits, television and so on.

I have discovered during this time that I cannot withdraw my attention from the children for any period. I have given up trying to read / check my email / write a letter during the day at all. While we are so unsettled, they need all my attention during the day, if I'm to have any freedom to cook their tea without someone climbing my leg. But the odd thing is, I'm enjoying it. Ok, so watching Lazy Town isn't as intellectually challenging as trying to digest World News while someone attempts to carve their name into the dining table, but it's less destructive and therefore more rewarding. I find to my disquiet that by the end of the day I don't actually care about the World News and would rather have a bath and read Parson Woodforde, but THAT'S OK TOO. I am playing with my children all the time, and they are benefitting. Today, I played trains with #2 and #3 in the garden for half an hour, including making tunnels out of Ryvita boxes. Then they decided to run in and out of the French doors blowing raspberries (which I declined to join in with, much to next-door's amusement). Then, while #1 and #2 watched the Saturday Film with Daddy, #3 and I did some cooking. This evening, I got to sit with #1 while he did a science experiment and wrote his holiday diary. 10 years ago I'd have considered this a hideous imposition on my time, but I really enjoyed today. I hope we can all relax into the school holidays now and make some really nice memories out of them and this blog.

(Parson Woodforde moment - for dinner this evening, homemade French bread pizza, potato wedges with yoghurt for dipping and Saturday Sundae).

A bit of background

So, I will set the scene for my own sake as much as anyone else's.

I'm in my early thirties, and a stay at home mum to three lovely children, aged just 6, 4 and a third and two and a half. Yes, they are close together. Yes, it was deliberate. Yes, it is hard work. No, I don't regret it in the slightest, ever. I was an accountant before any of them were born and although I work even longer hours now that I did then (which I'd never have believed if you'd told me when I was pregnant with #1), I feel I'm doing something worthwhile now. And no-one ever gave me a bunch of slightly squished dandelions or a homecard card to thank me for doing their tax return.

The housewifely side of things is more difficult to explain. On the one hand, I'm a control freak - oh, I love lists, tables, folders, plans, charts, critical paths; anything that gives the illusion of control. On the other hand, I come from a long line on my mother's side of intelligent but DEEPLY untidy women. The need to hoard has come out strongly in me and it's only recently that I've found the mental strength to throw away silly things like all the concert tickets from the Sixth Form and letters from a former boyfriend I'd much rather forget. Isn't that silly?

But, I do love to take care of my family. We've been having some building work done recently (see my husband's blog at www.whitzend-again.blogspot.com) which has prevented me cooking by the simple expedient of removing the kitchen completely in the first 10 days of the project. It's made me bizarrely anonymous and useless, having to rely on ready meals and not bake, or cook proper meals, or indeed know what's for tea until it's on the table (and I'm still quite frequently wrong even at that point). This was quite a shock for a grammar school girl who was raised to be a Captain of Industry and to Change the World by taking over some Arm of Commerce and leading it to Greater and Better Things. Giving up accountancy for parenthood somehow doesn't cut it - although I notice that the majority of the friends I value have done much the same thing.

Anyway, the point of this post was actually to explain the name of this blog. Wisteria and Lobelia were the names that my family gave my bump when I was expecting my first two babies. Since they both turned out to be boys, then I decided not to risk it with a name for the third bump - who, naturally enough, was a girl. But it does create the image of roses-round-the-door, white-picket-fence, cottage security; and since I am having a range cooker in my new kitchen (truly a think of beauty and I am very excited about it) then it seems appropriate.

Now I have a plan

Right, I've thought about this a bit more now. I've been reading James Woodforde's 'Diary of a Country Parson (1758 - 1802)' recently (admittedly very slowly - that's the penalty of the school holidays). I like that idea that he recorded a great deal not about the 'great events' of the late 18th century, but about the minutiae of his life - what was for dinner, what he paid his blacksmith (and spirits smuggler), who in the local community came to visit or was rude. It's a rather lovely record of what was important in his life over a 45 year period.

I'm not claiming to be making such a record here, but I would like to record what's happening generally in my (our) lives. I always thought I would remember my children's early years in huge detail and glorious technicolour but the truth is that Eldest turned 6 ten days ago and I don't know where that time has gone. Before Middlingest and Youngest get beyond 4 and 2 I'd like to make a record of this time.

I've already started 'memory books' for each of them, just recording little incidents out of their childhoods (like when Eldest slipped on the stairs, then went back to the top and asked for another go!) that I think they will like to hear when they're older. This is much more about recording how I feel about things and how the housewifely stuff is going. I don't believe anyone will read it (I once heard blogs described as 'written by people who erroneously believe anyone cares about their lives') but it's a useful recording method for me, at least until the Internet is superseded by something even more wizzy.

If anyone is reading this, best of luck.

This is the beginning

I've been writing this blog in my head for weeks, if not months, and now I'm finally here I'm not sure what to say.

More tomorrow when it's percolated a bit.