Breakfast...one honey loop at a time

Having a child with eating problems can be demoralising and miserable. Mealtimes stop being a source of sustenance and start becoming an emotional battleground.

Lori is 5, and she eats very, very slowly, when she eats at all. Today, she didn't get to play with her friends at lunchtime because she spent the whole time eating her packed lunch, which she didn't even finish. This morning, she started breakfast at 07:10, and still wasn't finished by 08:25.

It's not that she doesn't like food, or she's being naughty, and it's therefore hard to either find her food she does like, or discipline her. Basically, the problem has come because, for some reason, she's started to get very worried about having too much food in her mouth. And, if she gets too much food in her mouth, she starts to panic and won't swallow it. Getting angry, or sending her to her room, simply makes her panic more.

It takes a long time to consume a bowl of honey loops when you only eat one at a time. The annoying thing is is that it's completely unpredictable. I only bought the stupid loops because last week she happened to eat a bowl quickly, and I thought I was on to a breakfast winner. I should have stuck with healthy porridge. Lasagne has been a reliable favourite for months, until last Tuesday when she had a minor panic attack eating one. Dairylea cheese triangles are adored, but last night she ran round the living room screaming with her mouth open after something (who knows what) made her feel her mouth was too full...of squishy and completely swallowable cheese. Andrew had to talk her down like he was negotiating with a particularly trigger-happy bank robber.

This has been going on for months, and we started off by being pretty unconcerned, "it'll pass", "it's a phase", "remember when Josie was like this?" but when packed lunch after packed lunch came home from school uneaten or barely touched, or when school dinners were "cleared away before I could eat because I had to go to the toilet" it started to get a bit worrying, especially because she's a skinny little monkey to begin with.

It's hard to know what to do, but I've got some ideas to try out tomorrow:

1. Yoghurt - how hard can it be to take small bites of that?
2. Toast - so if she's not finished by the time we need to leave she can take it along the road with her.
3. Cut the pepper and cucumber into smaller bites in her packed lunch.
4. Make sure she goes to the toilet before the meal to try to reduce the use of toilet trips as a get-out-of-eating card.

Sorry for the serious post! Normal service to resume later, I have archery trips and iPad apps to discuss!

And in first place...Pinus Sylvestris!

In my ongoing quest to do interesting things at the weekend, we took a trip to the Botanic Gardens today.

We collected fallen leaves to take home and identify them, pretended to be explorers traipsing through a wilderness, created a bed for passing fairies, and then Josie and Lori insisted we sat at a table for lunch because it had a plaque on it in memory of someone called Andrew Lindsay (Andrew being their Dad, if you didn't know, and me, Lindsay, being their Mum, obviously). They were both very eager to know what each tree was, but because the Botanic Gardens label their trees only with the Latin names, it's not so easy to work out what they're actually called.

Here's a handy interactive site for identifying UK trees from their leaves.

Because of a recurring theme in my book, I am absolutely obsessed with the Latin names for animals, birds and fish right now. I find them fascinating, and I'm trying to remember as many as possible. Cedrus was pretty easy to remember (cedar of various varieties). Acer also seemed to recur quite a lot. My Higher Latin completely failed me, because all I could think of was the computer brand. Turned out they were varieties of sycamore or maple.

I particularly liked the Latin name for Scots Pine. It's English name, which suggests it's somehow unique to Scotland, is particularly misleading. This its range:

The SNP had slightly larger ambitions for the independent state of Scotland than they admitted to the media.

As you can can see, Scotland probably makes up less than 1% of its range.

So, would they continue this blatant misdirection in the Latin name? If they did, then I would have expected Pinus Caledonius, or Pinus Scotius, or something of that ilk. Apparently they decided to go in the other direction and give it a name that couldn't possibly give you any idea of any of its characteristics. In Latin, a Scots Pine is Pinus Sylvestris, which basically means Pine of the forest or woods. And really, aren't they all?

The Pinus Sylvestris was pleased to provide 1st, 2nd, and 3rd prize in this year's Obvious, But Surprisingly Unhelpful Names Awards.

Anyway, the name sparked a little idea in my head. and I'm very much looking forward to getting back to redrafting, editing, and extending from next Tuesday.

Why Tuesday? Because I go back to Burlesque classes at Dancebase on Tuesday night, which means I'll have three free hours beforehand to scribble, type, and generally do an impression of Jo March in her garret (sans little black hat to wipe ink on) on the second floor of Fettes Row.

Oh, and finally...if you have children who are 8+, and live in the Edinburgh area, then you might want to head down to the Botanics tomorrow for an Olympic/Brave inspired activity: archery!

Three-way Conversations

I've changed the look of the blog, because Blogger kept on putting white fill over everything, and I kept on needing to go into the HTML to fix it. Boring! So, I've changed it so the background is white. Problem solved.

This is just a holding pattern until I can convince Andrew Law to make me a custom image. Hope you like it in the meantime!

I need to start practising my three-way conversations again, because the children are back at school. I'm so please not to have a lonely commute again! Josie had this to say about it this morning:

"We can live anywhere, but not Blandfield"*
"Why?"**
“Because we’d have hardly any time to chat on the way to school. We’d be out of the door, chat chat, across the road, and at school.”

Given that I’d expected a completely different answer about the desirability of the locale; her actual answer touched me rather deeply.

I do enjoy the walk to school with them, but sometimes I feel like I am carrying on two conversations at once, as I “Mmm-hhmm” amd “Really? Wow!” as two people on either side of me whitter on about their various thoughts, feelings and plans. They are very different. I took some mental notes as we walked. Below is the result:

Lori’s Thoughts for Today

I have forgotten all my friends’ names while I have been on holiday, apart from Molly and Sula, Oh, and Jacob***, but he is not my friend; he is a bad boy (by all accounts other than Lori’s, Jacob is actually a lovely little boy. Lori, on the other hand, has told me quite seriously that she thinks Jacob is trying to kill her).

Little Girl**** is actually on Mars today.

When I close my eyes, I see the Weeping Angels from Dr. Who. It is scary.

If I had fallen behind at the traffic lights, like Josie did, you would have had to come back for me because I am too young to cross a road by myself.

Wheeee! I’m running along the wall. No! Don’t hold my hand! I can do it!

Josie’s Thoughts for Today

Have you ever seen a train going by under that bridge? You have? How fast did it go? Was it actually quite slow?

When are the Paralympics starting? Can I come home from school and watch them every day?

Did I miss the bit on the news this morning that they said they were going to show about the far away galaxy? What did it say about it? Can I watch the article on iplayer when I get home?

Can we get the bus, because it’s the second day back at school?

What’s in my packed lunch? Did you give me the Canadian Maple Syrup bar for my snack? What is Canadian Maple Syrup? Oooooh. Sounds tasty.

As you can see, Josie asks a lot of questions, which means poor Lori often feels like she doesn’t get paid attention to, because I have so many questions to answer from the little person package holding my hand on one side, whilst the tinier person package on the other makes comments, not questions, and wonders why she doesn’t get as detailed a response.

I always expected my children to be more similar than they actually are (oh, they look similar, like miniature versions of me, I’m told), but they’re personalities are so very different. I like it, because it’s a constant reminder than they are growing into individuals, who will one day set off in their own little boats of life, each one decorated to their own particular taste, and if you know my children, you’ll know Lori’s will have cats, and Josie’s will have multiple safety precautions.

  

*Blandfield is a housing complex across the road from the school.

**Blandfield is also opposite the waste processing plan for the North of the city. Sometimes it doesn’t smell like a bland field, but more like a stinky field. I was expecting this to feature in the answer.

***Names have been changed to protect the identity of the innocent.

****Lori’s imaginary friend

Could have been worse...

The chilli turned out well, in the end...although the glazed pan has completed screwed the dishwasher.

Much like the pan, I was a bit frazzled this morning, so I took a quick dip into SouleMama’s blog. It’s quite soothing for the soul, appropriately. She and her family live on a smallholding in Maine. Her family’s life is shaped (I was going to say governed, but I don’t think that word is right) by the rhythm of the seasons, by planting and sowing, sheep shearing, egg laying, fence building, and other activities so far from my family life in Edinburgh that reading her blog doesn’t just make it feel like she’s on the other side of the ocean, but on the other side of a century.

Sometimes, I envy them, but then I remember that I’m not built for early mornings, and livestock depending on me for food. I struggle to get two children ready for school, let along her 5. I like the idea of home schooling, but I wouldn’t be so excited by the reality – “what do you mean, I have to teach them maths?!”.

It is therefore with some pride that I report we all made it to school, and work, in good time and good order, despite a day that began something like this:

07:00: My alarm went off. I pressed snooze
07:10: It went off again. I pressed snooze again. Then remembered the New Year's Resolution I foolishly made and actually got up.
07:11: Opened the door to Josie and Lori’s bedroom, and said “Good Morning!”
07:12: Switched on my computer
07:15: Overheard the following conversation ongoing in the bedroom:
Josie: Lori, great news! It’s morning, and we’re going back to school!
Lori: Ummmggh.
Josie: Lori, you need to get up. Rise and shine!
Lori: Urrrrgh.
Josie: Lori, Mummy’s coming in, you’d better get up now!
Lori: Ummmgh.
07:17: Manhandle Lori from the bed.
07:20: Lori crawls through to the living room and deposits herself on sofa. I suppose that’s her equivalent of pressing the snooze button.

No idea who she gets that from...

Summer holidays don't go on for ever....

....which is a shame because I haven't got their gym kit out, or new packed lunch boxes, or checked whether their uniforms fit.

Never mind. I'm sure it'll all come together at 07:00 tomorrow morning, as the magic going back to school fairy works its magic. Maybe.

If tonight is anything to go by it will be a shambles.

My attempt at making dinner was punctuated by reading other people's blogs. Which was a mistake. I got sidetracked by Amanda Palmer, in a blog about a review of her show, which Andrew and I were at on Saturday. That made me a bit angry, so I then had to google the review and leave a comment on it. Unfortunately, during this time I'd left the mince on the hob, and it had gone a bit burny.

No problem!

I sent Andrew out for some Jack Daniels to "deglaze the pan". I always tell people I am deglazing whilst covering up a burnt food mistake. It usually does the trick. It did again today, and I put the mince back on to finish off.

But then I got distracted by this. Lauren has just given up her job (as an accountant) to become a blogger. She is very funny.

Unfortunately, whilst reading her post the pan got glazed again. Irrevocably glazed. Not even amazing deglazing Jack could help me. However, I wasn't going to give up on the chilli I had planned. I decanted it all, minus glazed bits, into a new pan and started again.

And then, I remembered the children were still wet from their bath and it was already 20:15, on a school night.  And there was nothing to go with the chilli.

So, Andrew got sent out again. This time for pitta bread, cheese, and sour cream.

I went through to their room. Lori was wearing a single high-heeled shoe. Josie was wearing three pairs of pants. One of her own, and two of mine, possibly the most inappropriate crotchless burlesque pants a child could ever find. Oh dear.

And I still hadn't looked out their school bags. And I was basically the worst organised working parent ever.

When are the October holidays? Please say it's soon.

A Christmas Birthday

Lori's birthday is on the 27th December, and it sometimes feels like it's hard to make a clear distinction between Christmas presents and her birthday.

We've tried to make it special, with the aid of Grandma Cook, by making a yearly trip to a Christmas show, or pantomime, for a birthday treat. This year it was Beauty and the Beast at the Lyceum in Edinburgh.

The obvious thing to do with the scrapbook was to use the tickets, but the programme was full of line art and rich colours, and the children were eager to use some of the "pretty pictures" in their scrapbooks.

There were some lovely details in the programme. These details can be useful to cut out and use them to frame the pages of the book:

There were concept sketches from the costume designers, so we mixed these up with the photos of the cast in their costume. 

Unlike some of Josie's pages, Lori can't do as much writing (yet). However, she still likes to add occasional details of her own, and I like to encourage her. A scrapbook can be a really good way to encourage a developing reader or writer to develop their skills.

I'm looking forward to seeing what this year's Christmas Birthday Concert Show Pantomime brings!

Here's a full shot of how one of the pages turned out:

Water Babies

We took a trip to the newly refurbished Royal Commonwealth Pool today, or the Commie, as it's affectionately known to the locals. The training pool was just the right depth (0.95m) and temperature to be perfect for both Josie and Lori to catch up on some much-needed swimming time.

For me, it was a little trip down memory lane. The last time I was at the Commie was when I was at university. Before that, it was for the occasional swimming gala. The first time was when we went to the Commonwealth Games in 1986. Mum couldn't get tickets for the actual swimming, so we had to go and see the synchronised swimming instead. It was really hot as a spectator, and I spent most of the time leaning over to see into the judges' boxes. I think they might have had little monitors to watch the swimmers underwater.

The scary thing is that Josie is the same age now as I was then, and I could really swim by then. Enough that I was keen to go and see all the heroes that I idolised, and had to be satisfied with the synchro.

So, it was with some pangs of guilt that I returned home, feeling somewhat remiss in my duty as a parent. Josie and Lori's weeks are filled with French lessons, piano, Brownies, ballet, flamenco, and next term choir, but they have had to make do with the swimming lessons they get at school.

Promise to myself for the next term? Find  regular swimming lessons for both of them, and slather them with emollient before and after the pool to divert the inevitable eczema flare-up that they both get every time they jump in a pool.

Then, perhaps, when the Glasgow Commonwealth Games make their way over to Edinburgh for the aquatics events, Josie and Lori will be as excited as I once was.

York Tales

We're in York just now, and it's my birthday, so my Mum decided to take me shopping for some new work clothes.

Shopping for clothes is usually a bit of a chore. I'm only 5'3'', and my lack of height is very much due to short legs rather than a short body. In addition, my upper body is a slightly different clothes size to my lower body.

It's hard to find clothes that don't need altered. Skirts and trousers are too long. Dresses are too tight at the top, but too loose and long. Years of competitive swimming left me with broad shoulders, so the petite ranges are pretty useless. Yes they're short, but they're also made for people who don't have realistic body shapes (just because you're short doesn't mean you're tiny everywhere!)

Sigh.

So, it was with no great hope that I walked into the York branch of Hobbs, after a fruitless afternoon in the other shops of the city centre.

Offhandedly, I asked the assistant whether they had any shorter styles. Usually, the assistants have no idea about the length of the range in their shop. Then once I try some things on they then try to convince me that the blatantly ill-fitting clothes are perfect (which is what happened in Reiss earlier in the day), or they just ignore me (LK Bennett, that's you).

This time was refreshingly different. She immediately pointed out the range that tended to be shorter, and proceeded to bring me all the clothes that she thought I would like. She got the different sizes when I needed them. She gave me honest appraisals of the clothes. She was awesome (coincidently, her Mum was from Dalkeith). Hobbs wins for petite-friendly fashion.

I will definitely be returning to Hobbs next time I need some new clothes for work.

This is what I bought: