Secret Tools!

Yesterday, my 5yo told me about some new tools his teacher has the given the class.

"They're invisible" he said looking at me with wide eyes. "And..." <dramatic pause> "... they are always in your pocket, so you can pull them out when ever you need them!"

"Ok" I said, then asked curiously "So what are these tools?"

"One is called "stick-ability" and you use that one if you are finding something hard and you just want to give up.You pull it out and stick-ability helps you keep on going"

"That's a good one" I said."What else you got?" Hoping there was an anti-wrinkle cream that actually worked in there

"There's "distraction action" I use this one a lot. If something's distracting me, like a noise or a person, then I pull it out and it helps me ignore them."

"Cool! I need that sometimes" I said thinking about time spent on twitter opposed to time spent writing " Can I borrow it?"

"No!" He replied flatly  "You need to get your own tools. These are mine."

I was tempted to reply... Well buster, I'm one step ahead of you. I've been carrying around my own pack of invisible tools since the day you were born.

But I didn't, instead I decided I would write a blog post about them. Hoping you would appreciate hearing about them...

Some of my invisible tools that get me through the week...

False Smile

Ok. We all have this one. Remember the false laugh we learnt as pre-schoolers to appease adults who don't know how to communicate with children? You don't know what i am talking about? Introduce you child to Uncle Knobhead and see what they do... A false laugh right?

Well, the false smile is how that little, wary false laugh has evolved. And when you become a parent the false smile is perfected. It is used for nearly every other parent (apart from the select few which you LOVE obvs) you see on the school run, in the supermarket and wherever else they may pop up, as they are everywhere right? It is used for every child that isn't your own that talks to you, asks you a questions or requires your attention in some way. It used for everyone over the age of 60 who comments on your child's size, attire or behaviour. And when you are a broken human being, after clawing an ounce of sleep from the depths of desperation, that false smile is was saves you from being arrested for punching a pensioner in the nose!

Tongue clipper

I put this effective little clip on my tongue every time I go to playgroup. It stops me saying stuff like...
"You are full of bullshit"
"Your child's behaviour is horrendous"
"Please don't speak to me like that"
"I really don't give a shit!"
"I know you love your child desperately, but we don't"
"Liar!"
"Does your voice always do that singsong thing or do you save it for when you are talking to me?"

"The Big Hummm"

This is really useful to bring out every time anyone wants to give you some advice. It works with all ages; if they are 70, 7 or 37, it is still very effective. All you have to do is let them speak and listen. Then pause. Now, just when it's quiet, throw a big "hummmmm" into the air, Then pause again. They will think you are considering it deeply, when really you are thinking: "I will never ever do what you just said"

"It's OK (not really) face."

When you say it's Ok, but your face is telling a very different story. Letting someone know, it is OK, but if it EVER happens again it won't be.

Very handy to have with you at all times.

Instances I have found it worthy of being used:

• When you pick your child up from nursery and they have been allowed to glue their hat to their head
• When your child breaks something VERY important, Like your phone, laptop, brother's favourite toy.
• When your child accidentally spills a drink down you
• When your own child  spews up down your back
• When someone mistakes you for being pregnant and you are FUCKING not! Actually, that's never ok.
• When a stranger gets your child's gender wrong.
• When an acquaintance calls your child Johnny. It's Jonty!
• When you arrive to collect your child from somewhere and send out the wrong one!

So Mums, mums to be, Dads and the rest of the human race, share your secrets -what invisible tools do you carry around you?

Skillz; My top 3 falls.

There's few things I can say I am better at that anyone else. Firstly, anything that involves sport or coordination is ruled out with my first breath. Then, anything that involves deadlines or punctuality is obliterated with my second. And if it happens to require any level of tidiness or cleanliness then it's also gone...

But one skill I have acquired over the years is being good at falling.

And do you know what? I'm going to put it out there and say: I'm better than most. To be fair it has taken a lot of inappropriate shoes, some unsavoury amounts of alcohol and a clumsy DNA make up to perfect this art. But that's right Falling is my skill!

Now let's just make it clear here, I wouldn't want you to get the wrong end of the stick. I'm not good at falling in a "Oh she nearly fell  but saved herself kind of way",  oh no, I'm good at falling in a "Ha ha she landed on her face" kind of way.

And by good, I mean I have done it spectacularly, in a variety of places, in front of various people and with a vast amount of humiliation. But what I do well is damage limitation. I have never broken a bone (except the odd toe or a thumb, but no one counts those do they?).

Therefore, with the wintry weather hanging around like a bad smell, and every other day being pot luck between slippy-slidey-catch-you-off-guard-slush and fatal-ice-patches,  I was sure this week's blog would be a cringy snapshot of me landing on my arse, in the snow, in front of all the other mums at the school gate. But, alas, it isn't. I didn't. That post can wait till next year.

But not one to disappoint, I thought I'd relive my 3 most spectacular falls of all time. Just because there's nothing I like more on a Saturday morning that a bit of self-humiliation.

MY TOP 3 FALLS OF ALL TIME!

In no particular order...

1. The starfish

So notoriously Newly Qualified Teacher's get wankered at the end of year do. It's just how it works. They haven't quite grasped "professional drinking" and are still partaking in that no-rules "student drinking", where not being able to talk or walk by 10pm is quite acceptable.

Anyhow, after the official "do", some of us continued unofficially drinking in a night club, which is always a good idea when you will be teaching 30 teenagers the next morning. And whilst on the edge of the dance floor, stood with my new, young and trendy colleagues,one second I was stood up drink in hand, and the next, inexplicably lay on my back in the shape of a star fish. There was no obvious reason for this fall. I wasn't even doing that "dancing in one spot" thing.  If it hadn't been for the bang and the huge bruise on my arse you would have thought I just taken position down there for a rest. But no, it was definitely a fall.

And the following may or may not be true

• There were some of the current 11 pupils in the night club
• I was down there for some time
• I woke up with night club sludge in my hair
• I was still pissed the next day at work

2. The somersault.

In my final year at university, My brother and Sister joined me for New Year Celebrations. This year Newcastle was true to form: loud, drunken and cold (it was snowing in fact). After 3 years in The 'Toon I had joined in the Geordie spirit of freezing to death on a night out. This night's attire included brand new knee high boots and a mini skirt.

We ended the night at a house party. I remember downing something disgusting being passed off as punch in the kitchen, I remember doing a samba style dance to Van Morrison's 'Moondance' in the living room (pretty much entailed my house mate throwing me around the room) and I remember there were many drinking games and I joined in them all! The next thing I remember is talking to my brother at the top of the stairs slurring and spitting "No, it's totally not time to go home" and then I descended the stairs via a somersault (unplanned, obviously). The party guests in the downstairs living room, apparently had the best view as my somersault continued past the entrance and along the hallway!

 The next day I was told the noise as I tumbled deafened the party music, the fall itself was "death-defying" and my emergence, where I stood up holding the heel from my new boot in my hand saying " Yes, you're right it is time to go", would be told at New Year's Parties for years to come!

3. The scissors!

I am notorious for wearing inappropriate shoes. So when I was pregnant with my first child, I was  determined to be extra cautious in the bad weather. I decided to abandon all fashion sense and don a pair of walking boots to make the journey from my car to the school gates safely.

I had managed two days without feeling unsteady on the ice, on the third, I poured myself out of the driver seat, pushed the front seat forward, smiled at my passing colleagues, as I turned and bent over to retrieve my bag from the back seat. Just then my walking boot skidded on some ice, I lost my footing and tumbled head first into the back of my car. My pregnant arse, legs, and walking boots were left sticking out the doorway like a pair of scissors with boxing gloves on the end! I don't think any pupils were there to witness this masterpiece, but I know the male PE department did, as they were the ones who pulled me out!


So I challenge you to give me your worst? Are you better at falling than me? Prove it!

"Captain Barnacles do you read me?"

My eldest son always had a toy he LOVED. Really loved. Toys he took everywhere. Toys he absent-mindedly left everywhere. Toys his parents spent hours retrieving from EVERYWHERE. Everywhere being playgroups, leisure centres, shopping centres, church halls and sandpits. We were forever banging on doors, after hours, asking if there happened to be a plastic Thomas the tank engine left behind. (In later years it was the less recognised and smaller die cast Lightening Mcqueen).

Therefore, we were slightly relieved when our second son, wasn't really that into a particular toy and never really got attached to a fictional character. On the downside buying birthday and Christmas presents for him was a real chore. We would desperately grasp at an idea, knowing full well it wouldn't really be right. If he showed a faint interest in something one week, we would buy all the merchandise for it and by the time his birthday came, you could guarantee he was over it.

However,this year we hit the present jackpot, Just as he started watching  "Octonauts" We ordered him this...

The Octopod!

It was a huge success, beyond our parenting dreams. In fact, aftrer opening it first he refused to open any other Christmas presents. i admit it was a bit uncomfortable to watch the in laws looking wistfully at their discarded, still wrapped presents he had barely glanced at, but still, triumph was ours... We had cracked it. We were present buying geniuses!

He played with it all day.

And when he couldn't play with it (when he was eating Christmas dinner, in the bath and sleeping) he tightly clutched the two little plastic figures, which had come with it, as if he was guarding the secret to eternal happiness.

And that's where they stayed, Captain Barnacles and Kwazii, in his little fists. They went everywhere with him. He LOVED a toy! Well, two. He loved two little toys!

Then the holidays ended and real life began again. It was with a lump of dread I thought about Kwazii and Barnacles coming on the school run with us, it was with sweaty palms I thought of them joining us at playgroup and with a sharp breath I considered whether they would float or sink in the swimming baths.

But fortunately, our middlest son was not quite as absent-minded as his brother. He would safely put them in the buggy when he wanted to slide down the fireman's pole at the park (a two handed job). He would never leave a venue without checking they were on his person. On exited the car he would say "Kwazii? Yes. Captain Barnables? Yes. Let's go"

How refreshing this was. What a clever little poppet.

But then we had a real test: playgroup. When playgroup morning arrived Middlest son bounded into the church hall. Kwazii in one fist, Barnacles in the other and the other children fell silent. He eyed their salivating mouths as they clasped sight of the NEW TOYS. In a flash he had scampered up to me "Mama! In your bag!" he said placing them safely into my hand bag and returning to the pit to fight over a broken train set and a battered pushchair  with his contemporaries.

The rest of the day we were busy. We went food shopping, to the library, nursery and had a play date. It wasn't until he was in the bath he turned to The FH and said "Where's Captain Barnables? Where's Kwazii?"

The FH turned to me, suddenly aware he hadn't seen them in his clenched fists all evening.

"It's OK I've got them" I said smugly tottering down the stairs.

My heart actually stopped when my fumbling hand could only find one plastic figure in my bag. One cat shaped figure.

Barnacles had gone.

Jumped ship.

I'd lost him.

I returned to the bathroom. Handed Middlest Kwazii, avoided eye contact and turned on my heel. "Where's Captain Barnables?" said a little voice behind me. I caught The FH's eyes, searched for some words, failed to find any, and tried not to cry."

The FH stepped in "he's on on a mission."

But try as we might we couldn't palm him off. We could tell him he was hiding, he was on an adventure, he was saving a star fish from a near fatal sea-cliff fall. But Middlest Son only repeated "Where is Captain Barnables?"

It was the last thing he said at night.

And the first thing he said when he woke up.

And every time I looked into his little sad eyes a little piece of me died.

And every time he went looking for him The FH turned to me and shook his head. Because I obviously needed help feeling guilty. I clearly wasn't managing to feel the guilt by myself. I must have looked far too happy.. Even though I was fucking suffocating in the guilt!

So then next morning I logged onto amazon and ordered a replacement. Delivery said "3- 5 days". 3-5 Days! We couldn't continue like this for 5 days. In 5 days this guilt would have eaten away like a ravenous carnivore. In 5 days I would be nothing more than a pile of bones and flesh and guilt slobber! This was clearly the emergency moment when I paid for an express delivery. This warranted the extra cost right? Wrong, At the checkout I discovered the express charge was more than the toy itself. Fuck it... we would wait 5 days.

Two days passed and Middlest Son was a shadow of him former self, clutching desperately to Kwazii, reluctant to let him out of his sight for a second; I, especially, was not allowed to touch him.

We unearthed an old Captain Barnacles that had belonged to his brother. He was wearing a red diving suit, instead of the official blue Octonaut costume and only had one arm, but we thought it would help. It didn't. He threw it away in disgust. And who could blame him? It wasn't Captain Barnables, Barnables wore blue and had two arms. This was an Octonaut impostor!

So he continued  to cling onto Kwazii. I  had to persuade the nursery staff to let him break the unwritten rule of "no toys from home" on the grounds he was being clingy after the holidays. Thank god they agreed. I couldn't tell them there was no way on this earth he was going to hand over that toy over to me, his mother, The Loser of Favourite Toys.

Then finally, one afternoon, when he was at nursery, the postman delivered a brown parcel which was branded with those lovely shiny black letters Amazon. Gushing many thank yous to a bewildered postman was the only way of stopping myself offering to  bear his unborn children as a way of showing my appreciation.

I spent the next hour extracting Captain B from its child proof packaging and then hopped, skipped and smiled my way to the school. I was giddy. This was going to be better than Christmas.

A solemn looking nursery teacher opened the door and my giddy smile slid off my face. This look was usually saved for telling a parent their child was either covered in poo or had had a scrap with another kid and come off worse. Either way I was sure I could cheer him up with Barnacles.

"He's a bit upset..." She began, looking at the floor.

"...We're not sure how..." she continued, taking a deep breath

"...But in the last 10 minutes..." she paused and then blurted out.

"He's lost his little toy Kwazii. And we can't find him anywhere."

Middlest son appeared in the doorway silently sobbing.

"It's OK darling" I said brandishing Captain Barnacles in his face. "Look who Mama found"

He paused took hold of Barnacles, checked he was wearing blue and had two good arms, took a deep breath and said... "But Where's Kwazii?" and burst into tears.

The lost blogs of 2012

Hello!

It's been a while.

I apologise.

All I can say is I've been... er... busy?

Yes. Busy.

Not busy writing THAT book. Or busy drinking posh coffee in fancy coffee shops. Or busy shopping. Or busy catching up with old friends. No, none of that busy. I've been the kind of busy where you can't really think of one thing you've been doing. But I know I have been busy. The bags under my eyes and my worn out soles tell me I have.

But I have thought about you often little blog, and your depleting and neglected followers and I feel I owe you something, some sort of explanation.

So here it is, in a nutshell... The blogs I never got round to writing in 2012  and the reasons why I didn't write them.

January -Life on Mars Twitter

I welcomed the New Year in with a new born baby. I started breast feeding again... and finally "got" Twitter. I had been on Twitter for years, but only by account name. I had never really been on it! You see Twitter, unlike Facebook, requires dedication, intelligence, maturity and a potty mouth. All of which I had time to muster whilst breastfeeding. I landed in a whole new Twitter world and felt very much at home.


February - Adenoids, Tonsils and Tantrums

I made the jump from two children to three quite comfortably as I had given birth to the best behaved* (*sleepiest) new-born known to mankind. His sleepy disposition was indeed vital for our family to survive Middle Son's adenoidectomy and tonsillectomy which took place mid-February. After the op, the ENT paediatrician said we were in for a week of hell. He was wrong. It was worse than hell. And it lasted 2 weeks.



March - From Sunshine to snow. A mother's survival guide

I can't remember March. Must have been busy! Oh I was, we had summer. It lasted 4 days. We were on the beach, we all got sand in our underwear, the baby turned mahogany and by the time I had unearthed last year's buckets and spades it had started to fucking snow!


April - Help! I look old!

I turned 32. I felt old. I looked old. I didn't want to blog.


May -  With Facebook comes great responsibility

In the cruelest way I became aware of how precious life is and how insensitive social networking sites can be. My relationship with facebook was tested to its peak. I was reminded how self-absorbed some Facebook "friends" are, and then remembered why they are not real friends. I cried for a family who had lost. I was very grateful for the health of my own.


June -What happens in the park stays in the park

Most of June was spent recovering from a nasty experience at the park. Whilst some woodcutters, and lots of health and safety folk (including a nurse) stood blocking the main path watching a tree get felled, me and my sister managed to let go of our buggies (with babies aboard) and watch horrified as they went solo down a very steep hill. It was a moment of madness, one we have no answers for and that has scarred us permanently. But fortunately the babies (and buggies) survived without a scratch and the random nurse, who apparently is a necessity at a felling, gave them a once over and confirmed this. Still it was, at the time, too traumatic to blog about.


July -   How to get over Wedding Blues - start planning your own!

July was filled with my brother's wedding - the event of the year! The occasion was utterly gorgeous and wonderfully consuming. From the planning, the excitement, the actual day and the severe case of Wedding Blues that followed. But I wouldn't have spent July any other way.



August -  Getting through customs with 4 Children and 2 Grandparents

I gave myself over to the Olympics and then went on holiday to Cornwall to recover. We all went. All 12 of us! Getting through customs with 4 children, 2 buggies, 2 babies, 2 slings, 2 Grandparents, 1 sleep machine, no concept of travelling light and a big fuck off to the hand luggage liquid allowance... Yeah that was fun.


September - Why sensible people stop at 2.

The baby started speed-crawling. I no longer had ANY free time. Oh I didn't have that any way, but now I had no blog time. No that was definitely gone. This was what having 3 Children was really like: busy!


October - Why are some woman just horrible?

October was spent mainly avoiding women I don't like. I mean I used to do this at work. That was tough. But then I was a teacher, I  was going to have to put up with bitching, whispers, immaturity and name calling. But that's just what staff rooms are  like these days! At least the kids were nice. But I have realised that those damn right nasty women are everywhere: on the school run, at play groups, in an office, standing at a bus top... That whispering, the false smile, the tilted head, the high pitched voice. You know what I mean. I am SO sick of walking into a room of women and facing that pathetic facade as they pretend they haven't been talking about you. Just lay off each other girls! Life can be unpleasant enough.

November Movember.

He grew a tash, raised a couple of hundred quid, looked terrible and didn't get a kiss for a whole month . "Silver linings" he said. But underneath my disgust at his ginger handlebars I was proud of him. He hates facial hair and he did it to help a tutor group in his house who were unmotivated about raising money for charity. So credit where it's due. He gave up the rights to kiss me to help others. That deserves a clap!

Even though their old fashioned moustache's look ridiculous with modern hair cuts, I think Movember is a good thing. I like Men coming together to raise awareness about Men's Health. I like the return of a Moustache, the statement, the solidarity. I just don't like how it feels on my lip. It's like kissing me dad! Ew!

December - Festive frolics no more...I am a Weightwatchers bore!

I joined weightwatchers. When usually I am planning for the indulgence of Christmas I spent December tracking, planning and weighing food. Believe me it's not as fun as I just made it sound. And My God is it all-consuming! Yes, it worked I lost a stone in 5 weeks, but the downside was how boring I became. I did advise people to stop following me on twitter, avoid me in the pub and under no circumstances phone me up, as there was a strong chance I could bore them into oblivion telling them about how many points there is a Jacob's cracker and exactly how I made the lovely zero point roasted vegetables  I ate for tea.

We were all relieved when Christmas arrived.. The baby turned 1 and started walking, We made it through with only mild illnesses (no hospitalisations so we are improving) and generally a good time was had by all! Success...  And yes I looked bloody good in my size 12 TopShop skinny jeans!


So That was that! 2012, the year I barely blogged.

And what are my resolutions for 2013?

1) To blog more
2) To write that book
3) To get married
4) To move into a bigger house

3 and 4 strictly rely on me doing 2 and not 1. So we'll see!

Anyway, thanks for everyone who has started following the blog, continued to pop by and read my musings and especially those who commented ( even the bridezillas - you too!) It's been a good year, but I promise more activity on here next year. At least one thing's for sure. I won't be preggers this year... No we've made sure that's not happening again!

Happy New Year! Bring it in with a bang!

Lists (6) - Halloween

Lists - the spooky edition!

Sorry no pictures of my kids in Halloween costumes here. None on my phone, on my FB page or on twitter. Haven't even got one on instagram! Sorry. You know, because I bet you haven't seen enough pictures have you? I bet your Facebook News Feed is a Halloween drought isn't it?

Ok... I can rustle up one of our pumpkins, just for you, just because I know you are starved of spooky shots...

 

We call them Spooked, Narked and Wasted.

How was that? Better. Ok, let's continue with the post.

Things I love and hate about Halloween...

Love

1)  I just love a theme! I'm all about themes. I just like to know what is heart of something. Just tell me what we're basing it on and I'll go hell for leather with you. So Halloween's a good one then. You've got crafts, baking, parties, fancy dress, discos, all spooky. Easy I can do that. Apart from this year, as an extra child seemed to make it a push too far! But next year I'm going all out I can tell ya - like a bat outta hell.

2) Pumpkin Carving. So we have an annual pumpkin carving competition in our house. Me versus Him! And I love it... because being creative is my thing! The FH gets to beat me at every sport on the planet. I get "Arty Shit" it's how we work. Every year he refuses to admit my pumpkin is better, but it is!

This year the 5 year old joined in too. He designed it and The FH carved it for him (we are not mental, we didn't let him do that bit on his own). And this year I let twitter decide which one was the winner. Guess who they picked? Yeah the kid's. Wankers.

3) Giving. Not Taking! Do you know what my eldest son's favourite bit of Halloween is? Opening the door and giving out sweets. He doesn't even ask to have one himself. He just loves giving them out and saying "Happy Halloween" - how cute is he? Especially dressed up as a bat! He charms the scariest of them all!

Hate

1) Knocking on strangers doors. It's all a bit wrong isn't it. We're not there yet. Thank god. So I haven't had to endure that battle with them. But really knocking on stranger's doors? Do we have to? It just makes me uncomfortable. I don't mind if you want to come and knock on mine. We'll even have a tub of sweets waiting, but ask me to go out in the cold, dark October rain and knock on strangers doors. No I don't like the thought of that.

2) At the stroke of midnight on Halloween, Christmas will begin. For the big guns, the companies, the advertisers, all Halloween has become is a signal for Christmas commercialism to begin. November the 1st - the start of Christmas being rammed down your throat! Soon we'll be telling our kids "You know why you dress up on Halloween don't you? To ward off Christmas? Yes that's right, we do it to tell Christmas to fuck off for another 30 days and come back on December the 1st.

3) Taking, Not Giving. So yesterday we took the eldest and a couple of mates to a Halloween disco. One of the parents kindly gave us a fiver to buy some sweets for them all. We filled one of those pumpkin buckets with sweets from the tuck shop and they came and topped on sugar and ran round a dark hall intermittently. At one point  an acquaintance type parent type sat next to me. When she eyed the sweet tub she said "Have you already been Trick an' Treating?"
"No" I replied "We bought them here". She looked dumbfounded. A few moments later her son  came and asked for some money, she replied "I'm not paying for sweets here, when we can get them for free afterwards"

Lo and behold who should come knocking on my door later... Awkward!

"Next time I have a good idea.."

The conversation started like this…

Me: When we are in Liverpool I want to take J somewhere he’ll really love for his birthday.
Him: Ok, any ideas?
Me: A really good swimming baths, that has a slide and some paddling pool bits. He’d love that.
Him: I know just the place – Rhyl Sun Centre! We used to go there as kids, but I think they have knocked it down and rebuilt it…

Erm, by the way – THEY HAVEN’T!

It still looks exactly like this…


No I tell a lie, the Monorail has gone.

And to quote my darling OH “No, it’s still exactly the same. In fact I did a crap here in 1987 and it’s still in the Lav!”

Let me first start saying if I was under the age of 15 I would have a loved it! For children who don’t care for mouldy tiles, floating plasters and a really disturbing smells it is swimming paradise! Really! The slides, the surf boards, the waves – they are a child’s dream!

Bur for parents, who just want to make it through the holiday without their children catching dysentery then it’s pretty much hell!

Before we arrived I hadn’t paid much attention to the name, but that is actually the theme, crank the heaters up so you feel abroad. The centre recreates “tropical conditions” and there’s holiday style plastic tables and parasols and sun loungers scattered all around. And people, who don’t actually go in the water, just go to sit and read the paper! Really! They are just there for the weather!
And with the heat comes the smell! My word the smell! If I close my eyes and I try really hard. Yes it’s still there. Still very much there. I can’t describe it. It’s something you have to experience, but be warned… Only the brave will survive.

We renamed the paddling pool “Cornplaster Corner”, the wave machine “The Shit Machine” because it increased the smell and the walkway “The Bridge of Doom”. But don’t let us put you off we probably just have high standards of hygiene (we don’t).

What else? I can’t comment on the food, the smell had knocked me sick so I couldn’t eat. But everything was pretty pricy, including entry fee. The changing rooms were ok-ish! Showers worked fine, I think, it all became a bit of a blur at that point and was carrying a 9 month old baby most of the time. And they have a shop too! To buy souvenirs and swimwear and floats and stuff – just like really being abroad!

But the reason we went… for the kids! They loved it. They loved the slides, the wave machine, the burger and chips and the water shoots! The only thing that the little ones didn’t like was when the sprinklers from the ceiling went off – which is understandable as it’s like being in a big shower really and you know what it’s like trying to get little ones to take a shower!

If you are not at all squeamish or have no sense of smell and want to visit the Rhyl Sun Centre you can find more information here http://www.rhylsuncentre.co.uk/. And it’s worth a look just for the youtube video, it really captures the essence of the place!

NB: The photos are borrowed from this website http://rhyl-life.blogspot.co.uk/2009/05/rhyl-sun-centre.html and this one http://www.attractionsnorthwales.co.uk/attractions/rhyl-sun-centre

Judgy McParents... Here you go... Have a field day!

Ok, I'm going to be very honest here. I have a confession. And, you are the first to know...

I. Am. A. Hypocrite.

There. I said it.

What ya gonna do about it?

Let me explain further?

2 years ago, when my eldest was the age my middle child is (3 and 1/4) at exactly this time of year (October) we (me and some other mums) were discussing possible Christmas present ideas for our kids who were all in the same class. I was absolutely horrified to discover a couple of them were buying their children a DS. And my face, bless its cotton socks, does not hide horror well. They justified it to me with "they have older siblings"/ "it's the only thing they want"/"blah blah blah"

I couldn't believe children as young as this were being given such expensive and anti-social items.

But a year later and my eldest had too become a computer fiend: they had access to i pads and i pod touches at school; his grandparents had a touch screen PC which he loved: he mastered the mouse on our laptop; and, begrudgingly, we had relented and downloaded some "educational" apps on our phone. Basically the digital world had crept up on us and now it had his virtual fingers around our necks. So, that Christmas we decided we would get him his own tablet style computer.

But we weren't irresponsible, frivolous parents. We researched this properly. We found the most educational and value-for-money tablet there was and that was the one he got. A Leap pad explorer. And he loved it. He could take pictures (me in the bath) video record (me breast feeding) and access educational math and phonic games as well as e-books.

The downside was that it turned out every app cost at least £7 each and any Disney or mainstream apps were around £20. But we set it up as reward system for doing well at school, so he earned a new app. (I know, evil aren't we?)

A few months later his younger brother threw it on the floor and smashed the screen. Game over. And with Leap Pad being an American company it seemed nowhere in the UK was able to repair it for us. There we go. Money well spent!

So this year all he does want is a new i pad (bless him, he really thinks it was one) and we have been wondering what to do.

We know if we had bought him a i pod touch or a DS last year and the screen had broken we could have got it fixed ANYWHERE. We also know that Android or apple tablets have thousands and thousands of free apps. Some educational too. and out of the ones you have to buy the most expensive is usually around £4. We also know that these hand held devices do last a lot longer in terms of "growing with your child" if they can mange not to break or lose them in that period.

But deciding the 5 year old ( most of his year group is 6) will get some sort of handheld computer device for Christmas was pretty definite.

But what about his 3 year old brother?

The one who is obsessed with anything digital: phones, laptops, ipads and beebies. The one who is throws terrible tantrums when it comes to sharing and taking turns. The one who has every toy suitable for his age group because his older brother already had it. The one who wouldn't want any of his own presents if he sees his brother with THAT. What do we get him?

The equivalent cost in plastic crap that he won't use or bother with past January?

A bike or scooter? Even though our shed is full of barely used ones?

Generally as parents, we are more sensible than most when it comes to Christmas spending. We can't afford to be anything else, we have three kids and one income!

So when I sat with my OH last night discussing digital Christmas presents and said "Do we get Jonty one too?" I then had to scramble around on the floor, pick up those dirty words and eat them! Because yes, I was THAT parent and I AM that parent, I'm a hypocrite.

The truth is I don't want my 3 year old to have an ipod touch, or a DS or similar. And the truth is he probably won't get one. But if he did, it would make my life a lot easier.

Yes, there would be no arguments, no fighting and no tantrums, yes it would keep him quiet whilst I was making dinner, or breastfeeding the baby or you know, blogging. But in reality what is that teaching him?

It's ok you never have to talk to us. You never have to share. Yes, the world does revolve around you.

And in buying him it am I not just giving in to this materialistic world of ours? Just giving in because it's easy. Giving in because I feel guilty about the world being such a shitty place. Do we all fill our homes with expensive crap for them because we are too scared to let them go outside on their own?

Of course, given a choice, I want them to have my childhood. Where a computer was what Dad borrowed from school in the 6 week holidays and was shared between three of us. The games were on 5 inch floppy discs which loaded up to the sound of a tractor revving its engine. On a good day the games loaded up, the rest of the time it just made the noise. I want them to spend the rest of their free time making dens in the woods, skateboarding in alleyways, staying out till they are near dehydrated and only returning to glug a litre of water and grab an apple. I want them to have all that rather than a computer. But sadly, today, the police are still searching for a 5 year old's body, and for now, my children are just too small and too precious to be let loose in that world without me.

Maybe I'll just get him one of these?

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What do think blogging hemisphere? Do we put an age limit on digital gifts? Did you? How old were your kids when they got their first computer-esque gift?

I dunno what the answer is, maybe I'll just right a letter to some bearded bloke with a soft spot for the colour red and see what he thinks!