A Younger, Blonder, Much Weirder Looking Me

Inspired by The Gallery at Sticky Fingers, which I stumbled upon just recently, is a photo of a younger me.  It appeared on Facebook recently, courtesty of an old friend of mine, and has prompted thoughts of a new haircut as I establish myself firmly in my forties.  Probably not a repeat of this one, though.  And for anyone who doesn't know me, and possibly also for those who do, I'm the one on the left.

Olympic Champions

Yesterday was our day at the Olympics, and the children were the champions.

I had been so excited eighteen months or so ago, when we made our first application for Olympic tickets, only to be disappointed in both the first and second rounds of the ballot.  Having been initially determined to ensure that all three children had experience of London 2012 (trying to buy tickets for Eddie even before he was born), I rather lost interest having been through what seemed to entirely unfair a system.  Anything that there did seem to be tickets left for after that wasn't being offered at the Young Person's price, and the difference between £5, £3 and £1 for Gertie, Gilby and Eddie and the full price for, say, the 69kg weightlifting class, exciting though it undoubtedly was, at £50 a pop simply couldn't be justified.

I'd all but given hope of getting anything, but when tickets went on general sale I managed to secure some seats at Wembley for a Group B football match.

Imagine our...delight...when we discovered some months ago that the Group B match would be Gabon v Korea (whilst Team GB were busy playing in Cardiff).

No matter: an Olympic event it was, and off we went.

Well, Boris and Seb, I have to say that London looked shiny and fantastic, and more than that, it worked.  What I mean is that all public transport ran smoothly, the Olympic decorations and signs everywhere looked great and were highly effective, and all the volunteers we spoke to (and with our three children and a heavily laden buggy trying to negotiate across London we had to speak to quite a few) were engaging, friendly and extremely helpful.

You weren't supposed to bring a bag or a buggy to the football.  Right.  Explain to me how were supposed to negotiate that, exactly.  But in the end it was all fine, and much fun was had by all at the 0-0 game. Gertie particularly enjoyed the frequent Mexican waves. I was totally impressed on my first visit to the new Wembley and my first international football game. Korea qualified from the group and will play Team GB next.

Two things marred our day: The first was how long it took to get out of Wembley and back into London.  (About two hours.  We were at the back of the 77,924 people who had attended the game as we had to go and collect the forbidden buggy from the pram park.)

The second was the fact that our tickets did not get us in or indeed anywhere near Olympic Park itself. What a shame, though we did try.

We fell home, exhausted at about 11.15pm, with two out of three children still going strong.  Only the baby had fallen asleep at about 9pm.  They were all absolutely impeccably behaved, all day long, in spite of much travelling, walking, tube and escalator negotiation.  Gold medals for my little Olympic champions.

Underwater Rescue

Well, our underwater photographs arrived and they really are very good.

All apart from this one.

This is the one where, in order to try to get a shot of the two of them together, I had to let go of Gertie as she held on to Gilby underwater. The one where, by the time we arrived at nursery in the afternoon, and we had praised Gertie for being so good in the water and holding on to her little brother, it had turned into a great tale of how she dramatically 'rescued' him.

Generally, and I am clearly biased, I have very photogenic children. On this occasion, however, it appears not. Rather than a spectacular underwater rescue, it looks more like Gilby is desperately trying to escape the clutches of his big sister before he runs out of air. And she, bless her, is clinging on to him with all her might, just as she promised her mother she would.

The photographer warned me, as he looked though his viewfinder, that this one might have 'comedy value'.

Sunshine on a Perfect Day

Thank you so much to Make do Mum for this Sunshine Award. Exactly what I needed to get the half term week off to a great start.

And it worked.

It's been a lovely day.

We did a quality little underwater photo shoot with both children first thing this morning.

After the first flash at Gilby, seemingly fully recovered after a lingering ear infection, the photographer took a look at the image and said, "Well, that's perfect. You won't get a better one." Job done.

And Gertie strongly objected (a euphemism for 'had a screaming tantrum') the last time I tried to take photos of her underwater, but was seduced today by the props - lots of fairy dresses, wings and magic wands to choose from. So he managed to take a good one of her too.

And the final shot was of Gertie holding her baby brother under water. It is more comic than, er, beautiful, but will be special nevertheless. Big Sis was terribly proud of herself for being entrusted with such an important task and managing to carry it out. In fact, by the time we got to nursery later on, it had turned into, "I rescued my brother under water."

So I got to take both children to nursery afterwards, leaving me with my very first time of no children and no work since Gilby was born. I went to my gym (the one where I pay monthly and never get to use it so when I do go it ends up being the most ridiculously expensive visit; I think today's cost £36...) and then I went and sat in a coffee shop, watched the world go by and worked on some writing. It was amazing.

And now I have to spread the sunshine to some fantastic blogs. Too many to mention, but here are some that have made me smile lately:

Mum's Survival Guide

Where's Your Other Sock Gone?

Hungry But Happy Mummy

No Wine on Wednesdays

The Life of the Twenty Something Mum

Wahm Bam

Withenay Wanders

And to accept the little ray of sunshine you merely need to pass it on to twelve other lovely blogs and let them know. Hooray!

Are You Proud About Me, Mummy?

Here it is: the official portrait of the two things in my life of which I am most proud. This is the one that the godparents and aunts and uncles will get with their Christmas card this year, the one that says, 'look how sweet our family is'.

It's quite amazing that the photographer managed to get them both with their eyes open and focusing roughly in the direction of the camera, though only one is smiling. Gertie looks protective and adoring of her little brother, instead of making a half-hearted attempt to gouge out the eyes of 'Pinchy Boy'.

So this is the image that we will project to the universe. And my proudest moments happen on a daily basis now: Gertie swimming a couple of feet of the pool or struggling over a cramped attempt to write the first letter of her name or getting herself dressed with her tights inside out. She knows how I feel about some of these things and will ask, "Are you proud about me, mummy?" somewhat presumptiously, but with good reason.

And though the photograph above is lovely, I am just as proud of Gertie when she is running round in her pyjamas with her swimming costume over the top and a nappy on her head looking like some sort of deranged toddler superhero....

So am I proud 'about' you? Always, yes.

This is written in response (sort of, breaking the rules slightly, a bit) to prompt #2 from Josie's writing workshop at Sleep is for the Weak this week.