Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

Button

How the mouse ran up the clock

If the government ever introduces Sats tests for the under-twos - surely only a matter of time - this could be the toy to have at your disposal. Hickory Dickory Clock (sent to us for review by makers Bright Minds, who specialise in toys that are educational and fun) works just like they say in the nursery rhyme. Mice run up and down, powered by infant hands. Youngest daughter Button (15 months) and I have spent hours - yes, literally hours, a tomato sauce even burnt dry one time - sat on the hall floor with this toy. Button enjoys posting the half dozen mice - all different colours - down the chimney. The mice are small, the perfect size for toddlers to grip. Some rattle, other crinkle. Then she opens a door with velcro fastening to retrieve the mice from inside the clock - and stuffs them down the chimney all over again. The transparent clock face means Button can see the mice as they scuttle down. The clock hands move, clicking as they go. So obvious potential there for an older child learning to tell the time. One reason I like this toy is because it should have a longer life span than many I've bought. It comes with a handle, on which there are black and white abacus-style counters that Button examines. On the back is a mirror, now smeary from licking. The nursery rhyme associations give the toy an old-fashioned quality, I sing the verses to Button as we play; it's sturdy and well-made (though in China, like most toys these days). At £29.99, Hickory Dickory Clock is not exactly cheap, but we have already had a lot of pleasure from it and I'm expecting more. Unlike a lot of the stuff littering our flat, (yes, I mean you, Sparkle World Magazine) the toy looks sensible even when not in use. The carriage clock design means it can sit on a table, without looking like something I haven't yet got round to tidying away. If you are looking for a gift for a pre-schooler who's at the loading/unloading stage, this might not be at all a bad idea.

Posted 06 November 2009 13:32 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Button Daughters Fun Mother Play Reviews Toys

Apple a day

JCAYSCTBLCAV3P577CAH0SA2YCAJEPWMRCA3XWXC5CA0MZ23LCAU7X04OCAMLUSSTCA26OADJCAC9CGEACAOCJ4N1CAUNYYJICAOWM68CCACF27KDCAKRK8A2CAO3K2X7CAUARIJICALKG4D4CA3Q807Z_Small.jpg Friday was one of those glorious autumn days when much-discussed hopes of an Indian summer finally materialised, so it seemed only right to indulge in a spot of apple picking in Granny's back garden. After all, the sun was shining and ripe apples were - quite literally - dropping about our feet in what felt like a series of Keatsian moments. It would have been a shame to let all that lovely fruit - and ambience - go to waste.

I began by picking fruit with my hands from the lower branches, being careful, of course, not to get mud on my new sheepskin boots while stretching across flower beds. Then I moved on to a clothes pole, which proved just the thing for knocking fruit down from higher branches. Granny sensibly removed Button to a place of safety as apples tumbled down around us. Not so much clothes pole as mediaeval jousting spear.

In no time at all, we filled up two large plastic bags with the cookers, easy to forget how much bigger they are than eating apples. Granny brought out more bags; we filled those too.

That evening, back home, we feasted on baked apples, stuffed with raisins, honey and cinnamon. Topped off with a tin of custard. I love eating in tune with the seasons, I am the most die-hard townie, but that makes me feel more in harmony with nature.

The next day I gouged, cut, cored, peeled, quartered, sugared and boiled about twenty more apples. Husband Va-vay even made a special trip to the shops to buy more plastic tubs for freezing the apple puree.

Oh, the satisfaction of a job well done. The pleasure of packing away rows of small boxes, each with their freezer-proof label stating date and contents. A proud moment, if I might be allowed to say so.

Granny rang on Sunday evening to enquire about the apples.

"How did you get on?" she asked.

"Pretty well," I said. "I've done a big batch of them."

Then she popped round on Monday morning and looked round the kitchen.

"I thought you said you'd done a big batch of apples," she said.

"I did," I told her, trying not to sound hurt. "I made a tonne of puree and we've been baking them too."

"What are all these, then?" she said, pointing to half a dozen repurposed plant pots, scattered around the kitchen, each one of them packed with apples.

"Those are the rest of them."

"Ah," said Granny. "Don't worry. Plenty of time yet. They used to keep cookers until Christmas."

Posted 19 October 2009 21:47 | Number of comments: 7 | Comments

Button Daughters Edinburgh Food Fun Granny Health Home Out and about

Manna

None of us were expecting to find one of Beanie's snacks growing on the slopes of Ben Lawers. You can miss a lot, not knowing where to look. We discovered that when we spent this weekend in Perthshire, (staying at the wonderful Kiltyrie Farmhouse), and tackled one of Scotland's highest mountains.

Fourteen shimmering miles of loch lay far below us in the valley. The sun had broken through low cloud cover, rain was holding off and we could hear rushing water in the brook that gave Ben Lawers its name; (in Gaelic, Beinn Labhair means Hill of the Loud Stream). We loaded Button (aged one) into a carrier on her father's back, strapped on our walking boots and set off up the path towards the summit of the 1,200-metre massif.

Only a mile into the walk I could feel my pelvis begin to ache. Struggling for breath, I stopped walking, sat down with a thud on the path verge, pulled out my water bottle and began to gulp at it.

"Do you know what these are?" said my husband, pointing to a shrub by the path. The shrub in question had small, boat-shaped leaves, and a speckled look. It was growing so close to the ground, it was almost indistinguishable from the heather, saxifrage, and other plants growing nearby. In many years of hillwalking, I'd never even noticed this plant before. Had we stopped further up the mountain, we would have missed it altogether.

I think I would climb a mountain any day, dodgy pelvis or not, for the pleasure of watching Beanie's joy at picking fruit on a hillside, seeing blueberry juice stain her face purple, knowing she will understand that good things do not always come pre-packaged from supermarkets. Sometimes, in fact, they're right there next to us, waiting for us to notice them, even if we need someone else to point them out.

Posted 16 September 2009 19:46 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Beanie Button Fun Holidays Out and about

Giant step for womankind

Anyone who saw me seven months ago, when pelvic pain in pregnancy made it a struggle to reach the end of the street, might be surprised - and pleased too, I hope - to hear I've signed up for this year's Moon Walk - a fund-raiser for Walk the Walk, a charity which supports women affected by breast cancer and funds research into this dreaded illness. It's amazing the difference a few months and some decent physiotherapy can make. The walk will take me, together with my fellow walker and great friend Vanessa from Fidra Books, much further than the end of the street. Together with around 12,000 other people, we'll be walking 13 miles through the darkened streets of Edinburgh on the night of 20th/21st June. A close friend of mine is fighting breast cancer and my mother has recently lost a friend to it. Nearer the time, I'll be asking you if you can spare a few quid in sponsorship for this fantastic cause.

We have begun our training. But no point in overdoing things. Vanessa, who writes here about her motivation for doing the walk, and I are building up slowly to the full 13 miles. This is humbling. Five years ago, I could walk 20 miles in a day without undue effort. Last week we managed our first two practice walks - of three miles. It was knackering. My legs hurt. My pelvis hurt. Worst of all, my pride hurt. This week, we might - might - tackle four miles.

But what a difference compared to being pregnant with Button. One Saturday in summer last year, ten days overdue, I made it as far as the fabric department of a local store. Quite an achievement in those days. All around us, women were trying out pink feathers, sequins and ribbons, giggling and holding them up to their chests to see what they looked like. "What's going on?" I asked the assistant. "It's the Moon Walk tonight," she explained. "It's to decorate their bras for the Moon Walk. To raise money for breast cancer." That was my introduction to the event. I'm thrilled - and only just a little bit daunted - that this year, all being well, I'll be out walking the walk too.

Coming up soon: reviews of My Bump and Me, by Myleene Klass, and Instructions Not Included; One Mum, Three Boys and a Very Steep Learning Curve, by Charlotte Moerman.

Posted 23 February 2009 12:54 | Number of comments: 5 | Comments

Button Edinburgh Friends Out and about Pelvic girdle pain/SPD

In Praise of.... Baby Yoga

This week, in the first of a series of postings on activities for mums and babies, I'm writing about baby yoga, which I've been discovering with youngest daughter Button, now nearly seven months. I did consider baby yoga with her elder sister Beanie, back when she was tiny, around three years ago. But by the time I got my act together to enrol, Beanie had started crawling. Which - sadly - ruled us both out. What stopped me trying to sign up sooner was that I wasn't sure if the yoga was for me. Or the baby. It all sounded silly, and I feared it would be full of Professional Mummies whose children had names like Tarquin and Arabella, who did everything perfectly. And I couldn't understand how a baby could do yoga. My only excuse for being so dizzy is I was suffering that "alien from another planet" feeling women tend to get after having their first child. It pains me to say so, but I had reached my limit in terms of ability to tackle anything new. And one of my literary heroes takes a dig at baby yoga in his Scotland Street books, which added to my hesitancy and embarrassment.

Now I know more about what's involved, it seems a shame I didn't do yoga with Beanie. Focussed one-to-one time with your baby is enormously enjoyable. It might sound a little sad to say the classes have helped me play better with Button; you tend to think that playing with a baby should be one of those instinctual, intuitive things that mothers (and fathers) just know how to do, but the truth is that many of these skills are learned behaviours. It's been great to learn new rhymes, activities and songs for very young babies, and I'm singing to Button a lot at home. Her face lights up when I burst into song (this being one of the fantastic things about having very young children, they are so uncritical and don't notice a little thing like being out of tune). As a second child, Button doesn't get that much undivided attention, so it's especially good to have some time - just her and me - to do something special.

I'd say that one of the key benefits to baby yoga is that, unlike many of the activities aimed at the under-ones, it's fun for both parent and child. The poses, as you would expect, are much gentler than in mainstream adult yoga. Mothers and babies share a mat together, where the mums do some poses while holding their babies, (and, amusingly enough, simultaneously singing a ditty to the tune of "What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?"). Then the mums do a few more poses on their own, leaning on hands and knees, looking down onto baby underneath on the mat. At the class I attend (I guess the same is true at other classes around the UK) the poses are chosen specifically to help with typical problem areas affecting new parents - such as sore wrists (from lifting), tight neck and shoulders (feeding), stretched tummy muscles, stress and tension (no need to explain those, I'm sure). The teacher encourages us to do arm movements to help prevent blocked ducts or mastitis. No sightings as yet of any dads at the class but I can't see any reason why a father couldn't go along too, (though he'd have to be the type that doesn't embarrass easily).

When it comes to baby's turn, mums move baby's arms and legs gently so baby can do some yoga too, helping baby to bend their knees up to their chests and open their arms out wide, then close them again. Of course, I simplify, but that should give you an idea. I'd never have dared try yoga with Button on my own before this class. In fact it wouldn't even have occurred to me to try, though I've done yoga for many years. But she loved it, giggling and cooing her appreciation at me, and now we do little bits of yoga on her changing mat at home. The other babies seemed to be enjoying themselves too. There's something about the intense focus of being with your baby - no need to worry about housework/cooking/nursery run - that I'm loving. I hesitate to use that expression "quality time" - but the classes do make me feel better about the fact Button, a younger child, will never get as much attention as Beanie did when she first arrived.

Baby yoga has also turned out to be a much more serene experience than you might expect in a roomful of small babies. An incense stick is usually burning and for the last couple of weeks - in Edinburgh's chilly February weather, note - the same butterfly has been flapping at the stained glass windows in the upstairs room of a church where the class takes place. The guided meditation at the end of each session works better some weeks than others, for obvious reasons, but, perhaps surprisingly, I always come away from the class refreshed and energised, even on the weeks when Button finds it harder to settle, which can be stressful.

In terms of cost, if you book a block of four classes, each session works out at £7.50, which I think represents good value. Some of the mums from the class go for lunch after each session so there's the chance to socialise afterwards too. I haven't noticed any competitive mothering at the classes (no mention whatsoever of size of house, husbands' chosen career/golf handicap/motor vehicle) and it feels like a safe, supportive environment.

If I had to think of disadvantages, I'd say the 11am start time can be an issue, as it clashes with Button's nap time - and presumably that of many other babies - so she's often tired in the class. As I mentioned earlier, this class has a built-in expiry date, since it doesn't take babies who have started to crawl. I've managed to forget all the timings for landmarks like crawling, but think it must be about nine months - is that right? So we'll only have two more months of baby yoga, before Button's outgrown it. Something that I view as an advantage - the fact the classes are only for mums and babies - could be a disadvantage, if you have a toddler you want to bring along with you.

For me, overall, though, I'd say baby yoga has been a big success. I'd recommend it with enthusiasm.

Posted 15 February 2009 17:41 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Activities Button Edinburgh Fun