We are carnivores!!!!

As we were driving back from the store a few moments ago, Bryttain was in the back singing (not an unusual occurrence). She was singing 'The Farmer in the Dell', at least that was the tune, but she'd made up a couple of verses of her own

The farmer gets a pig
The farmer gets a pig
Hi ho the derry oh
The farmer gets a pig

cute, I thought as she sung that about three times (as she did the rest of her verses), then

The farmer eats the pig!
The farmer eats the pig!
Hi ho the derry oh
The farmer eats the pig!

followed by

The farmer ate the pig!
The farmer ate the pig!
Hi ho the derry oh
The farmer ate the pig!

Glad she's thinking logically....I laughed out loud, I couldn't help myself...sorry Aunt Lesley.

p.s. Did you meet our neighbours??!!!

Band aids are not people!

Well we spent yesterday morning at Kaiser, getting typhoid shots for our long-planned, upon-us-far-too-quickly-now, trip to Thailand. No one of course likes shots, but Arran, at this point, gets himself completely worked up and is out of control, so I had to bring daddy in as reinforcement and support for the whole ordeal.

The plan had been for Arran to go first, to get it over and done with before the girls, but he was screaming and crying and trying to get away and the girls had finished with their shots, without even whimpering and daddy was still trying to deal with Arran. Poor little guy was petrified, bless him. He finally pulled himself together, after having his shot, with the incentive of a reward (Mo from Wall-E) which James had promised him he would get.

That afternoon, both Arran and Bryttain woke up from their naps, crying because of sore legs (and I must admit that I am still very sore today). They needed to have baths before we went to visit the cousins, but Arran was adamant that it would hurt too much and was finally talked into having a shower instead, as maybe that would be a little less painful (?)!

I was OUT OF IT after my shots and James, very graciously, washed all three kids. As I was drying Arran afterwards and checking that it had all gone OK, he told me that he was fine, because daddy had not washed his band aid, because band aids are not people! He was serious too, he wasn't trying to be funny, but it made my day.

Arran James Angus Cannan

My firstborn.

My son.

I remember driving home from the hospital with our darling baby boy, so tiny in his car seat, crying the whole way. I remember gazing at him, amazed, incredulous that this fragile baby was ours. He was reliant on us for everything. He could not speak to us at that point and we were constantly referring to our baby books, for everything, but we had an immediate, unbreakable bond. It was all so new, and scary, and overwhelming, and so wonderful.

He changed my life forever.

I just do not know where the time has gone. He is an amazing little boy, who has blessed my life, who constantly showers us with love and affection. He will countless times in his day, stop whatever he is doing, just look at me and say, so emphatically

"Mommy...I LOVE you!"

He'll flash me a grin, or sometimes run over and fling his arms around my neck and plant a kiss on my cheek, then go back to whatever he was doing before.

He notices the littlest things, like if I change earrings, or shoes. He tells me I'm pretty and thanks me for cooking our meals. He tells me that everyone in the whole world is his friend and he loves them all.

And now he is five!

His birthday was on February 10th and we bought him a telescope. He has developed such a love for learning and it has been so fun to see where his natural interests lie and what he is most curious about. This is not something that he has delved into because of us, space is HIS interest and passion and he already knows way more than I do.

I love his excitement. I love that he enjoys life, but is sensitive to others. I love that he is a little boy, who is coming into his own, who loves to run and play and have fun and who has a crazy imagination.

I love you Arran! I am so glad that you are in my life!

Happy Valentine's Day

I love the idea of doing projects with the kids, but really struggle with my whole perfectionist streak. I have this image in my head (I'm sure fueled by parenting magazines) of everyone smiling and laughing and having fun, in their perfectly tidy, beautiful homes, creating amazing works of art, baked goods, or whatever else the project happens to be.

Well to start with, the only time my house is even somewhat tidy is when I know people are coming over...hello! I have three children and all the stuff that comes with that (not to mention James and all his grownup toys). Just being honest here.

Secondly, as much as I love this house, I have major issues with our kitchen. I mean it is just ridiculous. We have NO usable counter space and I'm not exaggerating even one tiny bit. The only counter we have is right by the sink and is about eight inches wide and has cupboards immediately above, rendering it completely useless, other than for dirty pots and pans (which do indeed reside there far too often, for far too long).

We bought a portable dishwasher when we first moved in here, because there wasn't one and the top of that is the sum of our counter space. So I rolled it into the center of the kitchen, in order for us each to have access and we started!

Arran and Bryttain were excited (I'd had the sense to wait to start this project until Asia was down for her nap). Within five minutes there was flour everywhere. On their clothes, on the floor and a little left on the counter, for rolling the dough. They would push it around, pick it up, pretend it was rain, pretend it was snow as they clapped their little hands and made it fly everywhere. They were having fun, I was trying not to nag and keep calm while explaining to them that I needed the flour on the counter to stop the dough from sticking.

Then we set out to cutting out the cookies, they would smash down the cutters in the middle of the dough, while I repeatedly tried to explain that we needed to keep the shapes close together so that we could get as many cookies as possible between rollings. They didn't mind though, whether I rolled out the dough three times or fifteen times. Oh for life to be that simple again.

The cookies finally made it into the oven, and they were sent to take naps while the cookies cooked and cooled.

After dinner we started the task of icing the cookies. By this time I had to call in reinforcements before I lost my mind. I wanted the kids to enjoy it and I was tired and far too uptight, so in steps daddy - hurray for daddy! He calmly 'helped' them pipe the remaining outlines, while I prepared our red and pink glazes to fill the centers.

Meanwhile...Asia was busy creating her own entertainment with Arran's new Wall-e sunglasses.

They really did so great and I was so proud of their accomplishments. They were both so excited to be able to give these to some of their friends to show their love.



Sprinkles were finally added to the cookies (as well as the table top and all over the floor) to finish the effect. Beautiful!

It was fun and not something I'd done before. When I was growing up in England, Valentines day was, and I assume still is, a romantic holiday, a time to reveal secret love or a crush, confirm ongoing love, or on the other side, to feel, once again (no really I'm not bitter) rejected, alone, or forgotten.

I like this way of doing things much better, it was fun and everyone gets to feel the love. Parents and children, friends, whoever.

Happy Valentines Day!

p.s. Maybe next time I'll remember to put on a nice dress, a full face of make-up, dress the kids in cute GAP clothes and have us all wear matching aprons...that will make things go much smoother, I'm sure! :)

Before and After...

Meet Candy - one of Bryttain's Christmas presents; a very cute interactive doll, who calls her 'Mommy' and asks for her teddy and tells her when she is tired and needs her blankie, or her bottle.

'Mommy' decided that Candy needed a secret haircut.

Here is the result....poor Candy :(

Yeah, so if you ever need a haircut, maybe don't ask Bryttain (unless, of course, you like this look).

It was actually a little hard to know how cross to get with her, as technically it is her baby, and I cut all the kids' hair. So in her mind, she was doing what her own mother does. The issue was more that she has been told to cut ONLY paper and that she is meant to ask first.

Last night we also discovered that she had cut the ankle of a pair of pyjamas and tonight I found the severed foot of a pair of cute stripey tights (sigh).

I am grateful that she did not attempt to cut her brother's hair, or even her own, as we have just recovered from last year's self-lock-chopping attempt.