Rosie Scribble

The curse of Google Reader

Recently while IJ spent the night with her grandparents, after a flurry of blog-reading, I almost managed to clear my Google Reader. This was a rare feat and something which I have been attempting to do for some time. It felt good.

But then the number of unread posts started to creep up and up and once again I was starting to play catch-up. Defeat seemed imminent, but I battled on determined to keep up-to-date and not let the numbers swamp me once again.

Then IJ went off to Twycross Zoo for the day while I worked at home, and I allowed myself a few short breaks to look at my Google Reader. Then I wandered onto Twitter and spent a little too long there too. Then IJ came home and seeing me with one eye on the screen announced that she would rather play with Granny.

So my Google Reader will be left unchecked for a while. Apart from some essential reading this week, it seems sensible to enjoy the last few of the summer holidays without one eye on the computer screen and another on my slightly annoyed seven-year-old child.

When I emerge from my cloud of slightly suffocating mother guilt, I'll let you know how we got on!

Photo credit: svilen011

The Gallery: One day in August

This week's Gallery theme is: One day in August.

The idea is that we all take a photo on 29th August to mark one amazing day in the British Mummy Bloggers calender. The day three bloggers - Josie, Sian and Eva  - all fly off to Bangladesh for a week to help raise awareness of the work of Save the Children.

So to mark the occasion, we decided to send them a message:

 

Now, it may look like I have spent a Sunday afternoon busily cutting out pieces of card, sticking them on to pieces of paper, rubbing out the pencils marks and applying glitter.

I am able to say hand-on-heart, with two fingers crossed behind my back, this is all the work of a seven-year-old child.

Grannies are great

Possibly noticing my general grumpiness at the end of the summer holidays, or my slight stress that I have a huge amount to get done, or the slightly unkempt look of our house, or possibly just by pure coincidence, Granny has decided that IJ can have a sleepover at theirs tonight.

And I am incredibly grateful.

So my slight annoyance at her constant requests for me to wear a thermal vest, her insistence that we write thank you cards to people we have never met, that the children prepare Christmas lists three months in advance, that we remember our manners at all times, that we take the entire contents of our house on holiday just in case ...

Even my attempts to sell her on ebay.

Even the fact that she still tries to help me cross the road.

I take it all back.

Photo credit

This post is completely made-up

Sometimes parenting can be hard. Very hard. So hard in fact that even the most calm, patient person can be driven to the point of I-am-about-to-go-completely-mad or I-am-going-to-emigrate-to-a-far-away-country-on-my-own.

Thankfully today the usual stress of trying to work from home during the summer holidays, with no sunshine, was avoided when we received a surprise invitation from wealthy friends in nearby Newstead to join them on their luxury yacht for a quick sail.

It didn't matter that we live in the heart of England, miles away from the nearest coastline or stretch of water, because they have a helicopter and that too can be scheduled at very short notice. The rain made no difference to our day either because their larger-than-half-a-football-field yacht has, rather conveniently, an indoor heated swimming pool and an extra large jacuzzi.

We were able to relax and play while their personal chef prepared a meal fit for kings, and the children played happily together. Not once did a cross word pass their lips.

It is lucky I can tell you all this. Our adventures at sea today mean that I don't need to mention that the two of us are not speaking, that IJ went to the fair and threw a mini-tantrum when it was time to leave, or that the words I'm Bored have been uttered so many times that I have threatened to throw the televsion out of the window and the DVD player with it.

We have had a lovely, calm, relaxing day and right now, even though I don't know IJ's new teacher in September, I absolutely adore her already.

When you were young

Crunchie Mummy has asked me what I wanted to be when I was young.

When I was young I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to spend my days researching the children's literary market and crafting my bestseller. I wanted people to read my work, I wanted to see my name in print. I wanted to do something I loved doing. I could imagine nothing else, even on holiday in St Jean de Monts, aged 15:

Then anorexia struck, catching me off guard and throwing my life off track. Long periods were literally wasted in hospital, yet still I carried on writing, book after book, and all targeted at the children's fiction market.

They say write about what you know. So I did. Instead of writing for whichever children's publisher made me the best offer (in my dreams), I ended up writing about mental health for Mind, the Eating Disorders Association, and the Royal College of Psychiatrists, amongst others.

So I carried on writing, I just travelled down an unexpected route. Life is like that sometimes. Then I started blogging and writing about parenting, and editing medical documents and writing documents for psychiatrists. I was writing about what I knew.

And here I am, still writing although not quite the sort of things I would have imagined, because I hadn't expected to get ill and I hadn't expected to become a parent.

And as for the children's novels?

There's plenty of time yet.

What did you want to be when you were young? Grab a badge, have a go!