What kids tell their teachers

Posted on May 19, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

Mummy's wedding by Francesca

My seven year old brought her RE school book home this week- when books are full  they get to keep them. Lovely, I thought as I settled down to have a look through her last two years of work.

I admired her drawings and smiled at some of her thoughts – and spellings:

On feelings: “ I felt sad when my panda was wet, because I like her derty.”

And her version of the Easter story:

“ Jesus told the disciples he was going to d i y.”

Then I got to the section on celebrations – I recognised the photo of her in her Christening robe which the school had photocopied and stuck in. Underneath she had written an explanation

“ I was celebrating my mummy and daddy wedding.”

What’s wrong with that you may ask – lots of children go to their parents’ weddings.  The only objection I have -  is that she didn’t. As I explained to her when I gave her the photo, the celebration  pictured was her Christening – hence the Christening robe – and we have just celebrated 10 years of wedded bliss ( no wonder I feel so tired). Our daughter is seven. Even I can do this Math.

Not content with this fictional account of our history she has added a drawing of our wedding – with a tiny “her” in between us.

She goes to a church school. The teacher has written  “Fantastic!” next to this piece. Is she referring to my daughter’s artistic skills or is she expressing relief that we finally got round to a wedding.

OK, I accept all this would have been a lot more embarrassing a few decades ago – I am simply puzzled about how our little one thought her Christening robe was a bridesmaid’s dress and why she is so confused.

You will be pleased to know I was soon distracted from  trivial thoughts about what the vicar might think by the next page, which was all about sharing.

She has illustrated this with some lovely pictures.

This one was entitled SHARING A BOOK WITH DADDY

It took me, ooh just a few seconds, to notice that they are both absolutely and utterly naked.

All her other drawings about sharing are of people who have clothes on.

I have no idea why she’s drawn this – I can guarantee it’s not accurate – not least because daddy’s never home in time to read a story!

I can’t imagine what the teacher may think – but you will note she has not written “Fantastic!”

Saturday, 8 January 2011 I’m reposting this as it seems to have vanished from my blog.  I first removed my child’s drawing of two naked people – in case Google has blocked it for this reason – Who knows. And have now added it back. Will wait and see if it vanishes again.

 

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Learning to share: advice for the grownups

Posted on May 18, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

Tonight, I made my husband supper. This is such an unusual experience that really this post could stop here and now – right after the first five words: tonight I made my husband supper. But then you wouldn’t know where this generous deed led. To understand my rash decision, you should know that he has worked all weekend and was in the office til 9 tonight. So even though I’m not a great cook, I thought I could manage rice with chorizo and some fried vegetables. Healthy? Not especially. Quick? Yes. Wise, given my propensity to burn rice, if not actually start a small kitchen fire? Well perhaps not. But anyway I did it.

The key turned in the door at 10pm. The water was boiled in the kettle, vegetables and chorizo prepared (oh ok, so it was left over from the kids’ supper and cooked by their amazing Venezuelan babysitter while I was still at work). But brushing that aside, the water was boiled by me and I had planned the meal. After all, Vanessa had served this with patatas; I’d chosen rice.

Anyway, the rice is cooking, I get slightly distracted and before you know it husband has muscled his way into the kitchen and is heating the sausage veg combo in the oven rather than stir frying, but never mind. We’re both starving and he is undeniably the better cook, so I let it pass. And I am soon “momentarily” distracted, again, by the necessity of sorting lego, beads, rubbers and toy money into separate little pots I’ve bought.

Fab supper now appears on the table, as OH appears to have taken over the serving up as well. I decide I should probably leave the toy sorting and join him, as he sits at the table, a glass of red and a huge mound of rice and Spanish vegetables in front of him.

Before I get there, he takes his first mouthful.

“Darling. Where’s mine?” I ask. He is renowned for only pouring himself a drink, but does usually bring both plates in before eating.

He looks up at me – fork in mid air.

“You mean you wanted some?”

I assume he is joking and glance into the kitchen. But actually I can see no second plate and start to feel a little panicky. I look again at the mound of food on his plate and decide that it is, in fact, ALL the food.

“You are unbelievable. You have put all of it on your plate,” I say calmly. (You can believe the calm bit if you want to.)

“I thought you’d eaten. You mean this is meant to be enough for two?”

His plate resembles a loaded platter in an all-you-can-eat-for-a-fiver basement Chinese restaurant. It could not be piled higher. I give him a look and tell him I’m going to blog him. Knowing now that I mean business, he goes and gets a plate and the left-over rice from the pan and scrapes half the Spanish mix off his plate and onto mine.

I can write about it, but I can’t talk about it. It’s too recent, too raw. I’m really still… speechless.

Posted in Laugh out Loud | 6 Comments

May pole dancing at Notting Hill May Fair

Posted on May 12, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

This year’s Notting Hill May Fair is coming up in a couple of weeks  on Saturday 26th between 1pm and 5pm. The fair has been going for more than 20 years and is something I always take the kids along to.  But this year for the first time ever, there will be a May pole and May pole dancing, which we are hoping to join in!

It’s a really good day for the children with  professional face painters; a bouncy castle, coconut shy, beat the goalie and other games. The highlight of the afternoon for the kids is usually the Fancy Dress Competition and parade (at 3.30pm).   The children are judged in two categories, under five and over five . And  this year – again for the first time – the winning girl and boy overall will be crowned May King and May Queen, but there are always consolation prizes for everyone.

The Dog Show is always really fun to watch even if you don’t have a Dog  - that happens at 2.30pm, or you can join in. 

Grown ups can buy vintage jewellery, books,  homemade cakes, and jam. There’s an amazing bric a brac stall that runs the length of the church and a huge plant stall on the church lawn, stocked by an early morning trip to Covent Garden.

There’s also lots of food and drink on offer with a  BBQ, Pimm’s and tea and cake downstairs in the crypt.
There’s a raffle, where you can win including a meal at Kensington Place Restaurant, flowers from Harper and Tom’s, tickets to the Electric cinema, sports bags from Virgin and passes to Bramley’s Big Adventure. Tickets cost £1 and are available from the church office before the event as well as on the day. And for smaller prizes there’s a tombola.

The Fair is held at St John’s Church on Ladbroke Grove – it’s the one on the top of the hill towards Holland Park – the main gate is on Lansdowne Crescent.

If you have unwanted books, beads, or kids toys and clothes you would like to donate you can take them to the Church in the week before but do check in with the office upstairs first so they know what you’ve brought and it doesn’t get lost – otherwise the organisers just ask things are clean and in good condition. Jigsaws with missing pieces don’t sell well I’m told!

Admission costs £1 for adults and children go free. All profits support the work of St. John’s in the community and Christian Aid which gives relief to disaster areas around the world.

 

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Mummy, I don’t like who I am

Posted on May 10, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

Bank Holiday weekend was spent at Grandma’s. Well a day and a night of it was. It’s almost the only chance we get for a lie-in while the kids go and bounce on Grandma’s only slightly arthritic legs at 7.30 in the morning, instead of ours.

It sounds cruel, but years of extreme sleep deprivation mean we would sleep til lunchtime leaving Grandma to hold the fort, were it not for Grandma’s sense of what is right and fair. And, as it is not right or fair that she is left to manage 2 rumbustious children while we “laze around in bed”,   she soon persuades them to come and tell us it is time to get up. Futhermore if we don’t capitulate immediately, she gives them full authorisation to proceed with the assault, trampolining on us while singing and shouting “Morning has Broken” at the tops of their voices ! And we don’t have the benefit of anti inflammatories or HRT to dull the pain or protect us from broken bones.
As you can imagine visiting Grandma’s house has many attractions for the children – and not only getting the chance to jump on sleeping adults twice in one morning.  My  OH however does not see the attractions in quite the same light. He recently described trips to my 80 year old mother’s house  as “my only chance for a holiday” and so sits in her reclining armchair reading her newspaper for as long as he can, while she cooks for the five of us and I look after the kids (only once I’m up admittedly). It does ratchet up the tension.

But as I say,  from the kids point of view, there are many attractions: lots of toys and books and an improbably large garden (from a London perspective) stocked with trees to hide in and behind, seeds to plant or fruit and vegetables to harvest, as well as a swing, slide and sandpit. The play equipment is not quite on a par with their regular haunt Princess Diana’s playground with its full size wooden pirate ship I grant you – but the kids see it as their turf and they love it.

Despite the excellent facilities, Grandma is quite hot on manners both the childrens and  my husband’s and she can be quite strict. They are reminded about shouting, slamming doors, interrupting, shouting and table manners quite a lot. They don’t seem to mind and appear to adore visiting grandma. And I’m sure they love Grandma and  it’s not only because “she has different toys,” as the 5 year old once suggested.

But I do wonder sometimes whether too much criticism about their behaviour damages their self esteem.  Or is it simply setting boundaries ( view of professional nanny) and instilling discipline (view of many generations of military men and my mum)?
This weekend  though, it seemed my fears were about to be proved well-founded. Amelie ran into the kitchen where I was chatting with mum crying.

” I don’t like who I am,” she wailed

Mum to be fair was quick off the mark:
“Well I love you just as you are, ” she said hugging her. “You’re a lovely little girl ”

I on the other hand went into compensatory over-drive:

“What made you say that Amelie? What is if you don’t like about yourself?Has someone said something to you at school? Grandma’s right you’re clever and kind and pretty.  And we all love you very much. Mummy loves you, Daddy loves you, Alex…”

Amelie frowned, stopped crying and looked at me as if I was slightly mad.
“I don’t like how I look on the computer.”
“On the computer?” I repeated – oh my God there were pictures of her on the internet?
“Yes. In the reading game on the computer, the one that is supposed to be me has short hair. And I don’t like it, I want you to change it.”
“You want different hair. On the figure in the computer game,” my overactive brain started to slow as the penny clicked through the cogs.
“Yes,” Amelie repeated,”They’ve made me have short hair, it looks like a boy.”

We walk into the living room.
The cartoon figure apparently claiming to be Amelie is,  in fact,  a boy –  with short hair.

“Hmm,” I ponder my mean sense of humour returning fast, “Would you like me to cut our hair so you look more like the picture.”

She clutches her very long hair wildly, NO!!!

I relent – it’s been a very long 10 minutes.

“It’s not supposed to look like you darling. It’s just a drawing representing any child who’s playing this game and they’ve chosen a boy.”

I always knew there was a reason I didn’t like the kids playing computer games – one that is not just about me being out of the ark and a kill-joy!

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Why we loved “The Lorax”

Posted on May 6, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum


We had a fantastic time at the West End premiere of The Lorax last week.

The film is based on the Dr Seuss story about a world in which everything is manufactured – including all the plants and trees. And even the air.  The original book was published in 1971 and this is a film with a strong message. We destroy our natural world at our peril.

The story starts with 12 year old Ted who is obsessed by a slightly older girl, Audrey, who is in turn obsessed by trees. Audrey wants a real one.

The problem is no-one can even remember seeing a real tree, except for the boy’s grandma who tells him there is only one person who can help him and that is the Once-ler.  But the Once-ler ( played by Ed Helms) lives in self-imposed isolation outside the city, where no one ever ventures. And so begins Ted’s quest.

It is of course a dangerous journey. The evil O ‘Hare ( a former employee of the Once-ler who now runs the city by manufacturing the air they rely on and selling it in plastic bottles) is determined to stop him. Nevertheless, having extraordinary skills on his motorized  bike,  he uses the Cityscape as a kind of half pipe and somersaults his way out of town.

Once he gets out into the “real” world, he finds the house of the Once-ler boarded up and the man himself not keen to talk. Eventually though the Once-ler tells his story and so we see through his eyes how the world looked before all the trees were destroyed leaving a barren wasteland. It turns out the Once-ler – a young man who simply wanted to impress his family by being a success – cut down the forest of Truffula trees to harvest the amazingly soft wool they grew instead of leaves. And it is through the Once-ler that we meet the Lorax .

The Lorax is the guardian of the forest : a strange furry creature, a kind of cross between a monster from Monster Munch and a Womble. He is a comic figure who carries the film’s message. You may be able to buy off the bears and other woodland creatures with bags and bags of marshmallows ( as the Once-ler does)  but you are not only driving them from their natural habitat and destroying their environment – you are also destroying your own.

The animation is beautifully done and the film really charming

We loved the film and there were no incidents at the cinema itself –  the parents were all very well behaved – no fighting in the queue for the face-painting this time round- and none of my four kids got lost in the extremely busy ” before party”   which constitutes a premiere for a kids film ( ie hundreds of kids wanting balloons, face painting, photos with The Lorax and candy floss and being slightly less keen on the lollipops made of melon balls which parents were hoping they might choose over the chocolate muffins!)

I took four children: two five year olds and an eight and nine year old and they all seemed totally captivated by the film. The candy floss and juice before handand the bag of particularly good popcorn obviously helped. But really it was the story and the imagination behind that and the way it was brought to the screen that did it.

Amelie (8) loved the colourful trees and thought the Lorax (Danny de Vito) was hilarious. She gave the film 10 out of 10!!  Alexander (5)  says : “I liked it when the big bear kept on eating marshmallows and when Mr Old Head ( he misheard Mr O Hare but I think it’s a rather good name)  kept singing Let it Die Let it Die” –  as Ted attempts to grow a new tree.  I won’t give away any more of the plot here. Alexander only gives the film 9 out of 10 though – on the grounds it was a bit silly of them to cut all the trees down –  you can’t argue with that can you.

The Lorax is in 3D – subtly done  – and thank goodness the cinema supplied the light-weight, cheap 3D glasses, rather than the battery operated ( better) variety that make the bridge of you nose feel as if it might collapse under the weight.

We were in the front row and had no problems with the 3D it enhanced it at the beginning but I soon forgot about it and was simply drawn into the world – which really is 3D at its best!

 

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No more home haircuts please Mummy

Posted on April 30, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

The boys in our family all like a bit of a laugh – though mainly I find they are funny unintentionally. Arguably the best way. None of that “long pause before the punch line” business. Anyway so today I notice that my son’s hair, when brushed straight down in a fringe as it is supposed to be, actually touches the tip of his nose. Admittedly his nose is very small, but even so this is clearly too long.

The fact that it  has clearly taken me several weeks to notice that he needs a haircut can be excused I think by the fact that as it’s so long he brushes his hair to each side, which gives an unfortunate air of a 1970s crook, while also failing to alert me to the fact he needs a trim.

Today though, as I say, I realise and so I stand him in the bath , brush his hair straight upwards and chop it off (this by the way avoids it looking as if it’s been cut round a pudding bowl, not, I’m sure, that you are reading this for hair-dresssing tips!)

It’s always a bit shocking when you cut a fringe shorter and we both gasped slightly when we looked in the mirror, but then I reasoned (aloud – but who was I trying to convince?) it was not so bad.

“You’ll get used to it,” I reassured him, ” It’s always a shock at first.”

He scowled and then his lower lip started to quiver.

Damnation he was going to cry – it’s a disaster.

“I want to go to the hairdresser next time,” he said.

“Why darling?” I tried for the sympathy vote, opening my eyes extra wide and hoping I  looked as though I might cry too. “Don’t you like the way Mummy cuts your hair?”

“No it’s not that,” he said very seriously, “but they have lollipops at the hairdresser!’

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Notting Hill Gate road closed

Posted on April 29, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

This is the reason – the shop was already being refitted, but the scaffolding couldn’t withstand the stormy weather! The whole of Notting Hill Gate at the junction with Kensington Park Road is closed. Best avoided today. The tubes are still running though.

 

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“It’s so you!” or buying the right present

Posted on April 25, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

I’ve known my husband a long time and over the years have heard myself say, pretty much on an annual basis, “but darling, you’ve known it was my birthday for a whole year – ever since the last one.” It’s not that he forgets the day – just that he can’t quite manage to get me a present or a card- though he’s happy to try to resolve the problem on the day itself .

There have been clothes bought while I waited outside on the pavement, “Surpri – ise!” There was a necklace from a market stall next to our restaurant, which I bought between courses after he passed me some euros from his wallet. And once a book on feminist writing – bought from a railway station he was running through on his way home, that was the night when he eventually arrived two hours late for dinner cos he’d nipped to the pub with his mates.  I know , it was wrong to rip it in half like that and yes it was years ago darling, sorry to mention it again.

It goes without saying that similar patterns can be repeated on Valentine’s Day or our anniversary, or Mother’s Day. And no honey, expecting a four year old and a seven year old to do their own shopping is not realistic and these days almost certainly illegal.

But of course no-one can keep this up on every special occasion and remain married – and so sometimes it follows that my husband will surprise me. And I’m not referring to  the voluminous silk camisole made with Dolly Parton in mind and the “matching” French knickers which would have been tight on a 12 year old. Or the highnecked wool jumper so scratchy it brought me out in a rash, or even the most memorable of Christmas gifts, some plain tea towels chosen, because he just felt we needed some!

Of course mistakes can happen and the piece of jewellery made out of a stone he found on a beach made up for it, it was lovely honestly, and there has have been other thoughtful presents, spaced out evenly over almost two decades. I really am being sincere.

This year his face said it all as he handed me a smart little yellow carrier bag.

And he looked even more pleased when inside I found another bag – from the manufacturer.

Not being much of a designer shopper I failed to recognised the logo even though he appeared to be mouthing it to help me out me , like a compere trying to aide his favourite team member in a pub quiz.

“Something beginning with M?” I ask, as his face contorts with the effort. He scowls as he points out that he can’t tell me as it is a surprise!

So the next wrapping comes off … and inside is another bag.

No hang on, this is THE bag . This is my present.

Oh no! My husband has bought the only woman in West London with no interest in handbags….a handbag.

“It’s an evening bag,” he explains. “You need somewhere to put your keys and phone and credit cards”

What’s wrong with your jacket pocket? I want to ask.

But it least it is smaller than a day bag and so I hope not too expensive.

“It was very expensive,” he says smiling, smugly.

I squint more closely at the logo – Oh God, Mulberry. Not that I’ve ever bought anything there, but I know that they name their bags after fashion icons like Alexa. Again no idea what she does – but I know she’s a fashion icon, I catch up on these things in the hairdresser once a year.  And all of this obviously suggests that my husband is not exaggerating when he says it was very expensive

“It’s lovely darling, thank you” I start,  but I can’t contain myself,  I just can’t. Honestly, I do try.

“It’s just, you know I don’t really like bags,” I blurt out. “Sorry, I mean it’s really lovely. But it’s just not, well it’s not me”

“But darling,” he reassures me, ”it is you, that’s why I chose it.”

“It’s very plain.”

He said that he didn’t mean it like that and you may well think I deserved it anyway for my general ingratitude and you would probably be right.

But the question is what to do now ? Take it back and choose something else, like a mini rucksac with straps so I won’t lose it after a few drinks; keep it wrapped up for my daughter as an extremely pricey in fact “vintage” hand me down or try to find an occasion to use it,  hoping that, as it’s so plain, at least it’s less likely to get nicked.

Posted in Laugh out Loud, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Silent Sunday

Posted on April 22, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

No words. This idea comes from   Mocha Beanie Mummy.

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The ethics of asking for votes and the Brilliance in Blogging Awards

Posted on April 22, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

So someone, several someones apparently, have nominated me for a Britmums Brilliance in Blogging Award. I was really surprised and pleased of course. I’ve been nominated in the laughter category – the idea being I think that sometimes I write things that are mildly amusing, rather than it being about my dress sense. So all good but then I started to think….

As I do the monthly round up of other people’s funny posts, and I am judge and jury as to what is funny out there in the blogging world,  was it that it would have looked odd that I wasn’t included, or was it a sympathy vote, or is this pay back time?

“You think you know what’s funny do you NNHM?” ” You think you are funny?”" Well let’s just see how funny you are.” Could I now be such a Z list celebrity blogger that I might be subjected to being built up and knocked down that thing the British tabloids so love to do, like I’m, I don’t know Geri Halliwell or someone?

Is it too late to say I do actually try to include everyone who wants to be included in my LOL roundup and just cross my fingers and toes that noone who is not even a tiny bit funny puts themselves forward. After all there are lots of other roundups you can get involved in – like the new to blogging round up -which are not so subjective and arguably a safer bet.  Either you have been blogging for less than a year or you have not. What, you’ve been excluded from that one too so far? Well that’s outrageous and you are totally justifed in your anger and sense of injustice. I think Actually Mummy runs that one doesn’t she? Lives in Hertfordshire – better to pop up there and have a word – she’s very understanding , probably invite you in for tea – you don’t want to have to suffer the pollution and congestion here in Notting Hill, just to scare me into submission.

Anyway if I’m wrong and there’s someone out there who actually finds me funny and just nominated me to be nice, then thank you, I do feel very honoured and I hope you will remember to vote for me in this next round which closes on April 30th. And if either of my regular readers are reading this, then could you vote for me too?

My eight year old daughter tells me that asking for votes is illegal – I pointed out that in that case the Prime Minister, the government, the opposition and quite a few other people taking part in talent contests on television would be in prison. ANd that I have been told by the Britmums parole board that we should ask for votes. She thought for a moment and conceded “Well it’s illegal in our school. If you ask for people to vote for you on the school council then you don’t get chosen and the deputy head will disqualify you for a whole year!” We grown ups have it easy!

If you would like to vote for me – or at least for my humour ( I don’t think I’m in line to run the country) then you can click on the lovely pink badge at the top of my blog and it will take you to the right place. Laughter is way down the list – despite the endorphins it produces-  and I’m there at number 16. After wondering if this too might be significant ( well down the list) I did work out the blogs are listed in alphabetical order. What do you mean paranoid!  http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/bibs_shortlist

Either way do please keep your funny posts coming my way.

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Silent Easter Sunday

Posted on April 8, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

No words. This idea comes from   Mocha Beanie Mummy.

Posted in Silent Sunday, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 7 Comments

This Moment

Posted on April 6, 2012 by Not a Notting Hill Mum

A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. It’s an idea I took from SJ Klemis a fellow blogger at samuelmichaels.com , she found it on Life inspired by the Wee Man and it originally came from SouleMama

Posted in This Moment, Uncategorized | 5 Comments