Saturday, 7 July 2012

Baby Ballet

Thursday morning is Baby Ballet. For one hour a week I get to watch my daughter and her classmates twirling and galloping in a froth of pink tulle through the formal oak pannelled room in our Town Hall, more usually used for weddings and ceremonies. Good toes and bad toes. Bend and stretch.

The light was streaming softly through the velvet lined windows. The girls were waiting patiently for their turn to show off their gallops and, for once, my camera was ready at just the right moment.

Baby Ballet; our favourite way to spend a Thursday morning.

Sunday, 1 July 2012

Holidays and Birthdays

June is a busy month.

Having loved our holiday so much last year, we decided to try out a different part of the country Featherdown Farms style. This year it was the area around Cheddar Gorge in Somerset. 

As a true Northerner my childhood holidays mostly revolved around Wales, the Lake District and Scotland, so my experience of holiday spots south of the M6 is very limited. It's my loss and I can't wait to visit more in future years. This year we explored Cheddar (with obligatory trip to Wookey Hole), Wells, Weston-Supermare, Bath and a fair few family friendly pubs. Happy memories.

Happiness is eating straight from a
bowl of melted chocolate.

My son. The chicken whisperer.

Our home for the week. 

View from the tent. Chicken soup for the soul.

I struggle with just two of them.
Imagine if there were this many.....

I'm only playing. Honest.

Sea, sun and sand equals happy children.

My daughter turned three at the end of the month. When given a choice she requested a dancing party so we laid on a disco for 20 in the local scout hut. I seem to have a pathological need to make sure my children have extravagant memories of their birthday parties whilst envying those who put on perfectly lovely traditional tea parties more akin to those of my childhood. Just an example of overcompensating for working mother's guilt I suppose.

As usual the party passed for me in a blur of flapping about with jugs of drink, paper towels and party bags but I did manage to join in with all the other mums, dads and party guests for a rousing 'Hokey Cokey' and 'I Am The Music Man' with the birthday girl which is going to have to count as my annual nod to aerobic activity.

Here's her cake. Made by moi.
*fluffs tail feathers* 

My girl is growing up. I want to hold on tight to every giggle, every cuddle, every moment spent with her. She is so precious. Half of me wants to stand and fight Time itself. It is an intrusive and unwelcome guest. I long to preserve her just as she is today. To claw down that ticking clock and scream "Leave her alone." The other half is simply in awe of the person she is growing into, happy to trot along in her wake. Just a witness to her journey.   

She may read this blog one day, when she is grown. I will have made mistakes. I will have intruded where I am not wanted. I will no doubt be a source of frustration and annoyance, although not too often I hope. My darling girl. Know one thing. I love you and I always will.