Cornwall Capers

We're just back from braving the best that the British weather had to throw at us for a week in Cornwall. Teetering in high winds in a caravan perched on a cliff overlooking St Ives isn't the thing that springs to mind when one thinks of a UK summer break but beggars can't be choosers and the sun did come out after the storm....

On the beach near Hayle

Well and truly buried...

Tide marks

Dad at the chapel overlooking St Ives

Lizard Point walk

Having fun at Hayle beach

Admiring Minack theatre

View from St Michaels Mount

Best meal of the holiday here... seafood linguine....

The ice-cream van is this way!

Admiring the view at Porthcurno

A blustery beach day

Keeping warm while it's stormy outside

Turkey's not just for Christmas

The Swim Nappy

To take or not to take, that is the question. When taking Grace to swimming lessons of course she wears one, all mother's dread the swimming pool floaty. But sat here on terra firma preparing the list of things we need to take for Grace on holiday I'm really in two minds.

Now don't get me wrong, it's not that I wouldn't be mortified if she pooped in the hotel swimming pool - I would. The vision of the sun bed crew glancing over as people run screaming from the pool. I get it.
I just can't decide how many of the little critters to take, and at around 50p a pop (pardon the pun) I don't want to take a mountain load if only a molehill will do.

Decisions, decisions. You'd think I had better things to think about? (and frankly better things to blog about)...

Tips gratefully received.

The Four S's

Sun, sea, sand and sex. In theory.

Picture this. An idyllic hotel nestled in the pine clad hills running into the Meditteranean Sea. Balmy weather, and a bikini clad self reclining comfortably on a sun lounger (or hammock - not fussy) with cocktails arriving by waiter with a click of ones fingers.

Imagine. Sheer relaxation and s,s,s and s.

Flip to the here and now and the skewed vision vanishes with the sound of a toddler putting my shoes in the washing machine, my purse in the bin and her dinner in the dog. And that's when she's low on sugar.

In actual fact I know what's coming. It will be the first trip abroad where I have not whizzed through a novel a day. The first where the lure of free alcohol on the all-inclusive doesn't have the same woohoo! it once did. And the first where the bed springs get less of a work out than their British counterpart resting smuggly at home in Yorkshire. Yes, there will certainly be none of that going on. Not while we are sharing a room with a toddler.

Instead of all of these old rituals, Matt the Husband and me, we will be taking on new ones.

Like dosing the child with calpol when we board the flight and feeding her jellied sweets or cheerios as we take off to help her ears pop as we climb. Like smiling apologetically as we realise regrettably that we have sent Mr Rabbit into the hold and Grace demonstrates an apocolyptic meltdown for all 322 passengers on board. And like finding the need to pinch a bottle of milk from the restaurant as we retire for the evening so much more satisfying than the bottle of plonk (or two) from years gone by.

Yes, you might say things have changed. The four s's are a thing of the past. Out the window.

I'm not sorry. Grace is a delight, and to be honest with you, she's the perfect cover for the fact my tummy is no longer the washboard it once was. Travelling with a toddler certainly has its up sides. I'll still be getting sun, sea and sand, and hopefully with all the research I've done in what to take to get me through the flight and coach transfer with a toddler, there wont be any stress. Or not much anyway.

As my aged parents quite rightly pointed out - they took me on holiday to Italy at the same age as Grace, by car, without any of the mod cons we'll be packing. Surely if they could endure that with me and still enjoy it, this turn-up-and-travel holiday will be a breeze. Surely?

Simples.

p.s. if I am deluded do please let me know. Or not. I'm quite happy in my ignorance!

It's in the Fine Print

As the much awaited summer holiday looms nearer I thought I'd sit and gloat over the booking confirmation to remind myself how many short weeks there are between now and when I will be forced to shrug off the yeti suit and shoe horn myself into a bikini (or tankini). 8 short weeks, give or take a rich tea biscuit, but what's a biscuit between friends?

I digress.

So I'm checking the booking is all in order and reading between the lines I question the logic of "double bed and space for cot".

No cot?

Hm. I email the holiday company, and they email me back after a few short minutes to reassure me that my booking is A-ok and that Grace will have somewhere to rest her pretty little head.

It reads:  "I can confirm that a cot has been automatically requested for your infant. However, we do advise this cannot be guaranteed. We are confident the hotelier will do their best to accomodate your family's request, however the availability of a cot is dependant on the number of infants travelling at the same time."

That's one big arsed caveat* if ever I saw one.

I'm sat here thinking through my options in case it turns out by chance that every cot available to the hotelier is otherwise engaged on our arrival. It's ok, Grace sleeps in a bed (assuming they have one of those at their disposal and they can squeeze it into the room) and nevertheless I find myself a wee bit miffed that what you book ain't necessarily what you get.

For instance, I buy a pair of running shoes (a bit far fetched, but stick with me) and I KNOW they will have laces in the box when I get home. I order a pizza with stuffed crust and I KNOW the crust will be stuffed - there's no small print that says "we reserve the right not to stuff crusts during peak times". So when I book a holiday for two adults and one infant, I expect there to be some small guarantee that there will be sleeping kit for two adults and one infant. Silly, silly me.

Worry not though. The email encouraged me to contact the resort representative on arrival if there are any problems and they will endeavour to assist. Well that's ok then.

Is it me, or is it crazy to do business like this? Do put me straight if I'm being unreasonable.



*that's caveat, not cravat. That said, I'm going to pack a cravat - super handy strangling aid for the unsuspecting resort representative who tells me there is...no...cot.

RUBBISH. In capitals!

A week off work together as a family. Brilliant autumn sunshine, crisp mornings and claret coloured sunsets set amidst Thetford forest. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?

My back went on Sunday morning, before we even left home. I was carrying Grace on my hip doing jobs in the kitchen, as you do and I could feel my lower back start to give way. Calling Matt the Husband to take Grace from me, he carried on what he was doing, reminding me that one time I carried her 'all the way round the garden centre without any trouble'.

Never mind that was four months ago when Grace the sack of potatoes was many pounds lighter.

A comedy scene, my back gave way almost on cue, I'm on my hands and knees in the kitchen, searing pain. And Grace still clinging to my hip while Matt the Husband retracts his neck and asks what he can do to help.

Fast forward till teatime, we're done in A&E. I'm doped up on Valium to relax the muscle spasm, a handful of painkillers with the promise that the old ruptured ligament injury from 16 years ago when I was but a youthful teen has popped again and I'm in for a rough ride. Joy.

I hobbled to bed that night, bent in half like an old man, unable to stand up straight, and slept like a log. Valium is my new best friend. Monday morning and a four hour car ride to Norfolk and I'm more crooked by the time I get there than Salman Butt the Pakistani cricketer. The rest of the week is much the same, the only difference being I ran out of valium and my sleep is more sporadic. Matt the Husband says he knows 'something' that will help me sleep with a wink and a twinkle in his eye. I tell him shagging Fat Bastard from the Austin Powers movies would be more appealing. You get the gist of our week.

Grace is a sweetheart, walking with one hand for support now and surfing the furniture like a pro. This is easy at my parents pad - they have enough chairs in the sitting room to rival an inner city doctors waiting room.

I'm all out of words for now. I've been sat for too long and I need to stand up and stretch out. I'm walking upright again and it's feeling more comfortable. It's a ligament that connects pelvis to spine that's ropey. Lucky me :0)

As for Matt the Husband, he's been kissing arse all week. He's just told me loves me, handed me a bag of Haribos and a can of pop. He knows the way to a womans heart.

"You're a good Husband", I tell him.

"Thank you", he replies. He's relieved to have been forgiven for his part in this injury that stuffed up our week off.

"You haven't seen this blog I'm writing yet". I tell him.

Hurricane Heddlu!

Hold onto your hats people, Wales is windy! Lucky devil that I am, the first few days of our jolly to the wilds of Snowdonia saw us blown assunder by the tail end of Hurricane Katia as it made its way across the country after wreaking havoc on the American east coast. Thankfully the chipboard chalet was nailed down well. We survived.

More than can be said for my waistline, but that's another story - what's a weeks holiday if you can't enjoy the good stuff? We had a super week, very relaxing, plenty of sleep and many happy memories on Grace's first holiday. Special too because we got the spend a week with my family - parents, siblings and their children and grandchildren, and we even found time to go walking with Grace's godmother and her wild-mushroom-hunting Husband to be, Canoe Matt.

Grace has come on leaps and bounds. The fresh mountain air has put the wind in her sails and during our week away she has nailed crawling, doing a 'high five' (very cute), standing up while balancing her hands on something, and then today pulling herself up to standing too. Cheeky monkey wants to walk everywhere so both me and Matt the Husband are popping NSAIDs like popping candy to alleviate the progressive backache that is bending over to hold the hands of a little 2ft 6in belle. She's so pleased with herself, she is racing around like a pocket rocket and at last we are beginning to have to think about where we leave her... Matt the Husband narrowly averted disaster yesterday as she dove head first off the edge of the bed by hooking his finger under her nappy as her nose plunged worryingly close to the floor. We're learning fast!

We're starting to see new little things she's doing too - the subtle things I so often overlook if I'm not paying attention. Like putting the megablocks back in the basket instead of pulling them out, and trying to put her socks back on instead of pullng them off. It's like the starting gun has sounded and it's GO GO GO. Special times.

Sherpa on wheels

Aside from the kitchen sink, we're going to be travelling light. We have to be - lady Grace is taking so much stuff we're short on space and then to throw a bit of excitement into the mix, my dear old sister has won a wine fridge on eBay and has bent my arm behind my back to pick that up for her on the way to our rendesvous in Wales. I wouldn't mind, but she doesn't drink so no wet thank you for me!

I love Wales - Snowdonia, it's my second home. We go every year and I love the place to bits, rain, cloud and beautiful scenery to reset my inner balance and set me up for the blustery slog that is the run up to Christmas. Sometimes in September, Wales even offers out a sunny day - this picture was from our last visit just before Matt and me became three.

So back to the sherpa thing - I never realised how complicated life would become. For us, we cram a few bits into a rucksack at the last minute and if I need to nip to a corner store for something I've forgotten it's usually no great shakes. We did travel to Norfolk for a holiday once without any underwear (not a fetish I assure you) - and had a great giggle watching Matt the Husband coming back from the late night Tesco with granny pants high enough I could tuck my boobs in. But I can't do that with Grace, for starters knickers like that would probably do better as a sleeping bag liner for someone her size and beyond that, she likes the things she likes. If we forget Mr Rabbit we're all in for a sleepless week.

I started my checklist at the weekend and it's growing by the hour. I need to pack tonight while Matt the Husband is roaming Yorkshire for the wine fridge, leaving me to get the boot of the car packed to precision. He'd only get in the way bless him, and I'm better at getting the best use out of awkward spaces. The buggy takes up a lot of room in the boot (have remembered puncture repair kit!), and we have the Bushbaby carrier for Grace so we can do some off-road walking. I have then had a genius idea to take a mini chest of drawers so I don't need to bother unpacking and then repacking her clothes when we get there - I'm just taking it all. Beyond that, we have stuff for swimming, colouring, building, reading, feeding, drinking, dirtying, cleaning, sleeping (but since the baby monitor went a few days back, no beeping).

If I'm lucky, I can fit myself into drive, a map book so I can find it and a bundle of cash to pay for the weeks fun. It's going to be interesting sleeping in the same room as Grace, we've only done that for a night when we stayed in London the weekend Matt the Husband did the Marathon. We're taking a sheet to cover the travelcot with to block out some light so we can read before bed or catch the bedtime news headlines. It'll be fine, we'll probably get a good rest out of the experience as we'll go off when she does. I'm giddy as a kipper - Can't wait - it's going to be great.

Pancake Day!

Grace has thoroughly enjoyed her first Shrove Tuesday, and it is official that Pancakes with lemon and sugar go hand in hand with baby led weaning. We had visitors for lunch, Christina and Dimitris, and we all tucked in to pancakes with gusto.

Matt the Husband and I are giving up diet coke for lent, so we are having our late binge tonight before going cold turkey for 40 days from Ash Wednesday until Easter. Grace is too young to give up anything for lent though she is rather complacent with her toys so it might be we tuck her favourite rattle into a drawer only to surprise her with it at the end of lent.

My yoga it has to be said, has fallen by the wayside - so much for practicing every day in February!! That was wishful thinking, I can tell you. I think it's more realistic to say I will practice on days I'm not working. Only time will tell.

Anyway, that's all I've got time for today, seeing as I need to drink a gallon of coke before going to bed tonight!!!

Merry Christmas!

I thought I would tell you how Grace's first Christmas played out. We travelled down to my parents on Christmas eve and had a wonderful Christmas Day there together along with my Uncle Frank. On Boxing Day I drove my Mum and Grace to Harlow to spend the day with my sister Bunny and her family. Christmas Day was magical and special, particularly for Matt the Husband and I as parents for the first time. Of course Grace being only four months doesn't give a hoot about Christmas celebrations this year, but we both delighted in enjoying the festivities on her behalf.... the fun isn't just for the children you know! It was rotten luck that my Dad and Matt the Husband were struck down on Boxing Day with the winter gastric bug that is doing the rounds (I'd had it earlier in the week). I'm so grateful their illness didn't affect Christmas Day and thank heavens they were both feeling better again so quickly. Anyway, here's a few pictures of our Happy Holidays....

Very excited opening a present with Daddy.


Christmas morning with Mummy.


Having a look in Santa's stocking with Frank.


Playtime with Grandpa.


Having a snuggle with Bunny.

Halloween Treats

Gracie hoarding the Halloween treats...