So unless you live under a rock (or in foreignlands) you’ll be aware that on Saturday, an estimated half a million people took to the streets of London to protest against the cuts enacted by the coalition government. The “We’re all in this together” line doesn’t seem to have worked terribly well. This was my experience.

It’s 1.30am on Saturday morning. I’m not only awake and dressed, I am raring to go. I leave the house, kiss my children goodbye and drive down to Glasgow to meet up with Glasgow women’s drumming band, SheBoom who have very kindly offered me a place on the train. I know only one person who’ll be on this trip, so when I arrive at Central station I’m pretty nervous. Not helped by realising that I’ve left my mobile phone on my bed and have no time to comfortably get home & back.

We board the bus to Edinburgh and then the train from Edinburgh to London. I sit by the window, watching hundreds of people of all ages, genders, race and religion board the train with their placards. I’m surprised by the number of children. Surely they must be exhausted? It’s 4am after all, I’m exhausted. But this march, this demonstration of the will of the people is about more important things than adhering to bedtime. If it had been possible, I would have brought at least one of my children with me. I settle down in my seat, thinking over the issues that are key to me – education, jobs, healthcare – and try and get some sleep listening to music.

6am and I wake up passing Berwick upon Tweed, a place I spent much of my gloriously spent teenage years. A town where 60% of the working population are employed in the service industry, I contemplate the hits they must be taking as a community. Slow growth & high inflation leading to less leisure spending must be hitting the area hard. 25% cut in the winter fuel allowance for elderly people and the closing of the SureStart programme affects both young and old. This song comes on my MP3 player, it seems apt.

Eventually we arrive in London, delayed arrival by around a half hour because there are no platforms available at Kings Cross for us to disembark. This boosts my spirits as I imagine perhaps the early estimates of 100,000 protestors to be somewhat scant. Embankment station is closed and so we travel to Charing Cross and arrive to a street packed with people. It’s an hour and a half before the march is due to leave and London appears to have ground to a halt. Buses are at a standstill, nothing is moving. The band have to get to Embankment station to collect the drums, but every street down to Embankment is blocked by serious-looking policemen with strict instructions. The crowd is so heavy that we end up being separated many times, each grabbing onto the woman in front in a desperate bid to snake through the thousands of good-natured but tightly packed people. I see Glasgow Uni protesters and I’m glad the students are there.

We eventually get to the drums with all members present & correct. Apologies for my terrible photography but here you go.

Due to having to be moved with all the drums, the bottles of water needed to keep the drummers hydrated have been abandoned leaving us with one litre of water to support 25 drummers for at least 3 hours. I am amazed by the power of the noise as SheBoom sets off. To give you a very small idea, this is a (relatively quiet!) video I found on flickr.

For three hours we very slowly marched from Embankment, past the Houses of Parliament along Whitehall towards Trafalgar Square. Every single person I saw was angry – we all were! Hence us being at the march in the first place – but I witnessed no violence, no thuggery, no baiting of the police. From my perspective, it was a completely peaceful protest. At Trafalgar Square, I left the march for a few hours R&R with family and watching the news was my first encounter with the violence.

Let me reiterate here – estimates now say that around a half million marchers were in London on Saturday, which is not kicking the backside off the entire population of Glasgow – news reports were suggesting 75 violent protestors. The Met are confirming 214 arrests in total. That is 0.04% of the entire demonstration. So why isn’t it the march itself, the content and the concerns of the UK population being reported? Why is every single news outlet focusing on the actions of the few?

At 8.30pm I crossed back into London to get the bus home and again, saw absolutely no violence. Actually I saw nothing of merit whatsoever and I’m sure that for a huge proportion of the marchers their experiences will be similar. A fantastically organised march, largely peaceful and with clear motivation.

Which is why reading this story in the Guardian last night made me want to rip people’s heads off. Without leaving any time to give the impression that the protestors concerns were being examined and addressed, Vince Cable announced that the 50% tax rate is being cut.

Yes, we truly are in this together.

I’m utterly unsurprised and yet still devastated by this callously quick response to the constituents of this Government.

Posted under me

They say that every medication has a side-effect, but I don’t think anyone prepares you for mental illness having side-effects too. Ever since I was first diagnosed with depression I’ve second guessed my reactions to everything. If I was particularly upset or angry with Bob; Was I being reasonable? Or was my reaction disproportionate. If I rage about a news issues; Is it serious enough to warrant my anger? Or is it a minor issue in the grand scheme of things?

Yesterday Bob & I woke up from a very disturbed sleep courtesy of Erica who had been ill with a high temperature and what appeared to be a hefty cold. She was so sluggish that we decided to call NHS24 and have her seen by a Doctor, but I had to go to work at the shop where we had a class of 16 people coming in to learn knitting, crochet & sewing. So I left Bob and the kids at his parents while I drove to work with visions of her being diagnosed with meningitis. Over reaction, n’est ce pas?

A few hours later Bob called me and said she’d been diagnosed with tonsillitis. Off he trotted with amoxycillin, calpol and ibuprofen for her. When I got home after work last night she was so hot I could actually see the heat coming off of her body so we got her medicated up, gave her a drink and watched anxiously as she went paler and paler, and started becoming quite jerky. At this point we exchanged a panicked glance and wordlessly, I gathered her in my arms as Bob grabbed the thermometer. 39.4C half an hour after calpol? I called NHS24.

With her history of allergies they took no chances and five minutes later there was an ambulance and rapid-response paramedic at our house. They assessed her here and decided that to hospital we should go as she was quite clearly extremely unwell. The ambulance-ride was fairly uneventful except for Erica choking on her swollen tonsils (and her stern reprimand to me when I said, “Hey! You can tell all your friends you were in a neenaw!” to which she retorted, “ACHALLY Mummy is a AMBLIANCE”) but once in A&E they also struggled to control her temperature. Finally, two hours after we arrived and after a futher double dose of both calpol and ibuprofen her temperature finally started to come down. We were home again before midnight with a very quiet but significantly more energised Erica.

She’s still really sick – and after my own experience of tonsillitis last year I very much understand – but thankfully the fever has broken and it looks like she’s on the road to recovery.

Now that the immediate worry has passed though, I’m finding myself second-guessing my reactions again. I’ve spent all day quizzing Bob on whether we should have called NHS24? Whether he thought I was wrong to update twitter while I was waiting with her? Whether I’m wrong to immediately panic whenever I hear bad news?

Bob has been very reassuring but I suspect that after the run of bad news we’ve had, it’s going to take quite some time before I stop going into ‘fight or flight’ mode with every downturn.

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Posted under me

I was intrigued when I saw CyberMummy – the conference for Mummy Bloggers – becoming a popular topic on twitter and longed to buy a ticket, but whilst we were scrimping and saving to launch our business it felt like a luxury that I simply couldn’t justify. Then I found Powder Room Graffiti – a new Women’s online community that I’ve actually really enjoyed reading – and entered their competition to go to CyberMummy, never thinking that I’d win. But I did! I won! For that, I’ll forever be grateful to Di and the Powder Room Graffiti team because I had such an amazing amazing time.

The conference was on Saturday and my followers on twitter will have seen my updates as I documented the day. I arrived full of trepidation, with real shaky nervousness and a big shiny face (cheers London for the humidity) going on although I needn’t have worried – I walked through the door to be greeted by the beaming grins of two of my favourite people Amy and Kat and THEN I managed to accost the lovely Rachael for a hug in the queue to get my pass. It was already starting off in a promising fashion when I turned around to see my massive naked boob in the gallery on the wall

which pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day!

Between attempting to take photographs, scoring a mountain of free swag, attempting to listen to the speeches,

actively stealing beautiful bonnie babies like this one (the gorgeous SOA, belonging to Jax:

and trying to catch up with bloggy friends I started to feel quite overwhelmed and so I skipped the pre-lunch session in order to eat a little earlier which turned out to be a genius moment. I had been following the CyberMummy hashtag on twitter on my laptop whilst eating when I noticed this tweet from Kodak:

so I got up, pottered over and said to one of the lassies at the stand, “I’ve to say SHARE to you. What’s that all about?” and she replied, “You’ve just won a camera.” I kind of remember everything going a wee bit wild around me, Amanda figuring out what had happened and also saying ‘share’ to win a camera and then us being filmed. Of course, I was so excited and worked up that I forgot what I was supposed to say, swore and KODAK UPLOADED THE VIDEO. I’m sorry for saying the F word in public, Mum.

The afternoon was a thankfully more sedate affair where I attended a session on working with brands – a subject which I will blog about at length later this week – and then the CrowdSourced Keynote. I have to admit that I was feeling quite bitter that the post I’d nominated wasn’t selected but that passed as soon as I listened to the beautiful prose of these superstrong women discussing a range of topics from Sandy’s post about her much-loved Dad which left us all in tears to Kelly’s post about finding herself, Modern Dilemma’s post about her Mum’s horrific experience of losing five babies before giving birth to her to Jen’s horrendous near-death experience and plenty more. I felt transplanted back to 5th year English class where my poor long-suffering teacher would sigh at my alleged promise whilst returning another mediocre essay. I can and must do better, these wonderful women have inspired me.

I left that night with a swag bag so large I nearly toppled over in Clapham (I thoughtfully took an extra Asda bag and an extra conference bag for my pregnant-and-very-poorly sister), with a head full of memories, advice and information and a plethora of new friends. I can’t WAIT for CyberMummy 2011.

Posted under me

I spent yesterday at the CyberMummy conference – an experience I’ll write more about later this week – and as we mostly only “knew” each other online we had little badges to wear around our neck with the title of our blog and our name on. Of course, many of you might not be aware that the title of this blog is “Adventures of a Lady in Training” or what it means to me so after answering that a few times yesterday, I thought I’d share. This is likely to be long, intimately personal and full of emotion. It’s the first time I’ve felt that I have the right to share this element of my life in such a public manner and I hope that I can do it justice without hurting anyone.

I’ve written 700 words of this, deleted it, written 376 words and deleted that. I can’t tell my story because I have an innate fear of hurting other people, even if I’m the one who has been hurt. I had a fairly bogstandard “nobody understands me” kind of teenage experience and left home/was kicked out a month after my 16th birthday – the day after my Higher English exam and the day before my Higher Maths exam. Whether it was the less-than-stellar home life I’d experienced or simply my hormones being crazy insane I had a longing to be a Mum myself. This is something I’ve talked at length about with my friends, I have always – for as long as I can remember – been broody and even now with four children who test my every boundary I don’t feel that longing has been satisfied. As a result, when I met Findlay’s Dad it suddenly became imperative that I had a baby. Looking back we had a seriously dysfunctional relationship – one that took us both a long time to get over – but when you’re 18 you know everything better than everyone else around you, don’t you? I discovered I was pregnant with Findlay and that weekend, discovered that my parents were splitting up because my Mum had been having a relationship with someone else.

I think you can only understand the hurt and pain that comes out of that kind of marriage breakup if you’ve been a part of it. My sisters were only 14 & 13 and my brother Callum was 9 the weekend my Mum left. I’m sitting here with tears streaming down my face as I remember walking into my parents house seconds after the kids had been told what was happening. The ramifications were and have been widespread but as I have joked since it was almost the perfect time to tell our families that I was pregnant because the heat was truly off us. Selfish? Perhaps, but when you’re 18 and think you know everything you don’t quite see it like that.

Findlay was born 3 months after my 19th birthday and right from the off I felt under pressure to be better than any other parent because I was so young. Findlay’s Dad came home from work one day and I suggested that we get married to solidify our family unit and he agreed, so when Findlay was 4 months old we did. And when Findlay was 9 months old – the day before my 20th birthday – he left. We have a very good relationship these days – in fact I’d almost go as far as to say I count him and his lovely partner as friends – but I can’t and won’t ever forgive him for leaving us like that even if I have some empathy for his reasoning. I did not cope with my parents’ separation well and expended a lot of energy being angry at my Mum, supportive of my Dad and just being there for my siblings which was obviously to the detriment of our relationship. For the next three years I was 100% certain we’d reunite, which was a deeply unhealthy mindset to have when you’re getting involved in new relationships. We would fight, threaten one another with legal action and then put on a brave face in front of Findlay because the one thing I was so, so certain of was that I WOULD not and COULD not have Findlay ever feel the way I did when I was growing up. I felt like an oddity, a spare part. Like I didn’t belong – to an extent, I still feel like this – and it’s damaging. I wanted better for my son.

I started keeping a blog at Blurty and then Livejournal not long after Findlay’s Dad and I split up but when I met Bob and realised what a proper healthy partnership should be like, everything changed. Some of you will have done the maths yourself but we delivered Nairn – a pregnancy we both planned and dearly wanted – into our family 13 months after our first kiss. Erica followed 14 months later and I decided that I wanted to catalogue my “training” from being just a silly 18 year old girl who thought she knew it all to a grown up lady who could keep a house and work and parent and sew and bake and do all the things that a perfect lady could do. I wanted to prove to each and every single person who had ever wrote me off as a “daft wee lassie” that in actual fact, I was so much more than that.

Last week I wrote about making a gift for Findlay’s teacher and I also gave her a knitted bookmark like this one. I wrote a card thanking her for her work, added a quote that I liked and sent Findlay into school on the last day – not expecting to receive anything back. But I did.

I cried when I read this. I’m crying again now. I don’t doubt that Findlay’s teacher had a stack of cards to write out that day and that she perhaps didn’t necessarily plan out her thank you, but her words gave me validation and I finally feel that I’m not just a daft wee lassie anymore, I’ve graduated into the class of “doing not too bad actually”. And perhaps it’s time to rename my adventures and take the training wheels off.

Posted under me, parenting

First off = I’m delighted to tell you that Gemma has won the DotComGiftShop giveaway! Thanks ever so much to everyone who entered.

Readers who have been here since before December will possibly already know this but for those of you who are newer to my blog, last year I was absolutely hammered with postnatal depression and then had a hideously unfair situation to deal with at work THEN both Bob & I were made redundant from our jobs and we set up our own business. The events of the last year have brought me new levels of understanding – particularly of the phrase ‘a rollercoaster of emotions’ – as we’ve had the highest of highs combined with the lowest of lows and finally finally I am able to tell you all that things are going our way.

Two weeks ago I stopped taking my antidepressants because the side effects had become worse than the depression had ever been. I panicked, thinking that I was going to plunge into the depths of doom and gloom again but it never came. I have been second-guessing every reaction – Am I reasonable to be annoyed about the kitchen being untidy or am I overreacting because I’m withdrawing? – and I have been extremely self-conscious about speaking. Yesterday I trotted off to my LOVELY Doctor who said that she’s thrilled with my progress, that she thinks I’m through the worst of any withdrawal and that I am clearly in a better mindset than I was in November. That confirmation that there is really sunshine and happiness in my world was just what I needed.

So this week I have found my joie de vivre again. I have squeezed myself into size 14 clothes for the first time since I was pregnant with Nairn! I have been RUNNING (well… attempting to run, I managed half of the first Couch to 5K running plan), I’ve been walking with Penny regularly and I’ve been sewing & baking again. I am appalled to admit that until this week, I haven’t baked anything this year because honestly, I didn’t have the faculties to. Poor Bob has kept the house running, the children cared for and supported me in every way. He is the awesomest of awesome and I am so very grateful to have him. I’m also grateful to have you guys reading and commenting because it’s really meant a lot to me while I’ve been in such a slump. Onwards and upwards!

I kicked off by making and decorating some little cupcakes for the kids to take to nursery. They’re not the best or prettiest cupcakes in the world but I think they were well appreciated by my bambinos. Would you guys like a tutorial on making these?

I’ve ALSO been making bread for us. I really don’t like white bread – it sticks to my teeth and the roof of my mouth and feels like I’m eating wallpaper paste – so I’ve been making some lovely seeded wholegrain bread which even the children have been eating. There’s nothing quite like your kids’ judgement to make you feel like a domestic goddess (or not!)

I know it doesn’t sound like much but baking and exercising are two little things that have proved to me that I am getting better. I won’t pretend it’s not been a hard slog but I’m making positive strides in the right direction. Let’s see where the next six months take us

Posted under baking, me

MAJOR NEWS FOR US! Our webstore at The Life Craft has been launched! Please let me know what you think and what you’d like to see us retailing!

So it would appear that this week is my lucky week. I had entered a competition on the lovely Leigh Shepherd‘s blog to win one of her really stunning upcycled brooches (seriously, check out her work. It’s so pretty!) and as the luck would have it, I was the lucky winner! So this beautifully-wrapped package arrived for me:

and inside was this amazing brooch which is made using a domino! Isn’t that clever?

I’m really chuffed with it particularly since I’ve been making an effort to accessorise better – and with preference to the handmade market – now that I have short hair, and this really is a lovingly-handcrafted piece. So thanks ever so much to Leigh for this.

So that had set my week up to a pretty decent start, when I was told that I’d won Cheryl’s mediband giveaway. I’m not sure if I’ve blogged here about this, but Erica has something called Atopy – basically she has allergic reactions to a lot of things – and I honestly live in panic about what she’s going to react to next. The big one which makes her mouth swell up is raw pineapple and it’s really important that she’s not given it but she’s now getting to the birthday party age. I’m hoping that these medibands will make our panic mode a little less pronounced! I promise I’ll review them once they’re here.

Two giveaways in a week. I was walking on sunshine when I got an email that literally made me drop my laptop. I’d entered a competition on Powder Room Graffiti to win a ticket to the CyberMummy conference not expecting for one second that I’d be selected, and lo and behold…

I’M GOING TO LONDON, BABY! YEAH!

I’m so SO chuffed because although the tickets were very fairly priced I just couldn’t justify it right now while we’re living off our overdraft and credit cards, I’m also being given £150 towards my costs which means I get to have a little fun too! Poor Bob is being landed with the children and business for three days while I swan off all by myself although I’ve been heartily reassured that this means I can’t whinge about him going hillclimbing with his pals over the Summer Hands up if you’re going to CyberMummy!

Posted under me

My Twitter followers will already be aware of this bit of news, but for the rest of you… You might want to grab a cup of tea and a seat before you read on…

On Tuesday – completely on a spur of the moment whim – I cut my 18″ ponytail off and shaved my head with a #10 guard on a pair of clippers. Seriously. From about 3″ longer than this:

to this:

Bit of a change, eh? Truth is that I have been desperate to do something different with my hair for a long time and something snapped on Tuesday. I have ridiculously thick hair and very little free time so taking an hour to dry my hair and 45 minutes to straighten it simply wasn’t an option with four children running around and a business needing lots of attention. Thus, the crop.

Three days on and I haven’t had a twinge of regret yet which makes me think it was definitely the right thing to do. I’m now planning to spend my crafting time making lots of cute hairbands with oversized flowers and suchlike to keep my head warm until my hair grows back!

Posted under me

Findlay has this thing right now which has rubbed off on Nairn – this intense need to know who Bob and I consider our best friends. Of course my standard answer is, “Bob” (or “Daddy” when Nairn asks) and Bob’s is, “Your Mum” which tickles the kids into giggling and pleading with us to, “Tell the truth! Who is really your best friend!”

Truth is that Bob is my best friend in the world, there’s no doubt about that. He’s the person that knows me best, who I can share anything with and who I trust with my whole heart. After him, I am blessed with quite literally a gaggle of at least a dozen people who I can’t put in any particular order because they are all so amazing in entirely different ways. Some are parents, some aren’t. Some are in relationships, some aren’t. Some are straight, some are gay, some are religious and some are the most dyed-in-the-wool athiests you could ever meet. All of them play an important role in my life – even the ones who I see rarely these days as a result of our mutually hectic lives – and I thank God every day for their existence.

Anyway, the reason for this little musing is that I found a friendship bracelet that I must have made about 14 years ago whilst tidying up recently. I’m not sure if I have told you this story but when I was 17 and moving into my own flat for the first time, I packed all of my belongings into my parents’ van the night before I was due to move. I put everything I’ve ever owned into the van except the very clothes I stood in and the van was stolen. This is a real issue for me because now, I have none of my old toys to pass to the kids. None of my books. No photographs that I’d taken myself and my teenage diaries which I wrote earnestly for four years are gone. So to find this friendship band was a really pleasant surprise – I was sure it must have disappeared long ago.

I used to make these all the time and I was taught at boarding school by one of my classmates – once I’d learned, I was off! But do you know to this day, nobody has ever made one for me? I’m trying to bully Bob into learning how to make them and being the best husband in the world he’s promised to give it a go. Isn’t he lovely?

The thick band on the left is my ancient friendship bracelet. The one in the middle was made by me trying to relearn old techniques and the one on the right is the one I gave to my best friend. Tradition has it that once you’ve been given a friendship bracelet you can never take it off – so I hope it’s been made as strongly as I think it has. I’m sure with the amount of love and hope weaved in, it’ll be fine.

Posted under family, me

I just read this article over on BlogHer and it has resonated although for slightly different reasons than the author of that article. You see, my problem isn’t the expectation that I should be building a brand (although if Cadbury want to send me some chocolate then go for it!) but that I never anticipated being a “Mummy blogger”. I don’t feel that I have particularly new or interesting viewpoints on parenting – actually if I’m honest, I still have that flicker of doubt in my own parenting ability and thus I feel that blogging my day-to-day life would be of minimal value to readers – but this blog is stagnating while my crafting and baking is somewhat on hiatus.

It’s not that I don’t want to be creative – Lord knows I do – but I am just so busy right now. I genuinely don’t know how certain other blogging, homeschooling mothers-of-many manage without liberal applications of prozac, coffee and w(h)ine. So I’ve decided that since the important thing is to write, I shall do so even if it isn’t much to do with crafting or parenting. So today’s topic du choix is “Keeping up appearances“.

I found this photo in one of the many flickr groups I’m a member of:

and I was instantly drawn in to the clean, calm and serene aura given off. This is what I aspire to! A bit of nosying around helped me find that the photographer also writes a blog. I think it’s testament to her fabulous eye for photographs and beautiful subject matter that I’ve spent the last hour gazing at this blog despite it being written in Swedish. I could whinge and whine about my lack of photography talent, but I shan’t because if I put the effort in to learn how to use our fancy camera then I’d improve my own pictures greatly. Time, alas, is not my friend. So instead I shall whinge and whine about my messy house.

The reason I even found that photograph is because my bedroom is tidy and I was inspired to go rooting through flickr to look at other people’s home space. The tidy bedroom may not seem like a big deal to you Amanda Soule/Nigella Lawson types with the perfect houses (Manda McGrory I’m looking at you) but we have lived here for 3y8m and my house is the tidiest it has ever been. If I can just get the quail out of my hall and encourage my children to stop drawing on any wall they choose, I might be able to post similar pictures of my beautiful home.
Admission time:
1) It took two days of almost non-stop tidying supplemented with Season 5 of The West Wing, many cups of tea and cake to gain access to my desk.
2) The kids have watched a lot of TV this week.
3) After we kept buying socks because we had no clean pairs, I bullied Bob into sorting out our long-neglected sock mountain. About 80 pairs, we estimate.
4) We finally unpacked some boxes that we had abandoned since we moved here. Oops?
5) I convinced our supermarket delivery driver to leave the crates so that I could unpack them at my leisure. Whether it was sympathy (we had 12 crates of shopping!!) or fear (I think the kids were all naked when he arrived) he acquiesced and honestly these crates are the best storage ever. I have six in my bedroom now neatly organised with my craft supplies.
6) I’m seriously considering making slipcovers for the aforementioned half-inched delivery crates, partly because green doesn’t go with my room and partly because it’ll hide my guilt

I honestly want to know how other parents manage it. I turned my back for two minutes yesterday and Nairn & Erica had the floor covered in bits from their “Decorate your own Easter bonnet” kits including various brightly coloured feathers, sequins and other toddler-oriented craft crap. We were 100% sure we’d hidden all the pens away from Erica only for her to have actually deliberately stashed some and used them to draw on the sofa AGAIN. Should I post a photograph of our reality? I think not, that is how to lose friends methinks. Tell me, friends: How do you do it?!

Please note, due to slow questionnaire returns the Little and Large swap sign-up has been extended and swap partners will be allocated ASAP!

Posted under me, swaps