Tag Archives: School

Sep 04 2022
Leave a comment
Blog Post

Happy New September

I’ve bought a new diary and planner. Does anyone else start their year in September rather than January?

You’d think after 10 years I’d be much better at this blogging lark, but low and behold! It’s been another 5 months since I last put digital pen to digital paper. It’s been a busy one and yet another emotional rollercoaster. Buckle up, we’re gonna recap!

In March I was due to have a fourth diathermy laser treatment for my HHT. If you’re new to the blog, you can read all about my superhuman ability to bleed from my nose and mouth at any given moment, here.

I had recently had covid, again you can read about that particular shit show here. And despite knowing this and the fact my PCR test showed positive, I was invited onto the theatre ward. I turned up, mentally and physically prepared for another general anesthetic, only to be told it was a non-starter. It’s difficult all this surgery stuff.

I have to make sure I have adequate time off work. I have to make sure the kids are looked after for a couple of days because the operation wipes me out for a good 48 hours. I have to make sure my mental health is ready to deal with the fact this particular surgery holds very little hope of being 100% successful. To have all of that in order and then be held in a corridor like a leper was pretty crap, to say the least.

My mental health bounced. I lost confidence in my work, having to turn my camera off during meetings all the time, and beginning to feel myself pull away from wanting to go out and do stuff that usually makes me happy.

I referred myself to Talk Liverpool and after a 7-week wait, I was able to access a bunch of online modules to help me improve my mental health and wellbeing. I found some of the coping mechanisms relatively helpful but I really needed to talk to someone. Sadly, this didn’t happen, other than one phone call in which I was told I was ‘showing improvement’ and therefore referred back to my GP. I felt a bit bamboozled by it all really and not at all ‘improved’.

In May I buggered off to Portugal for four days R&R. I only had one nosebleed during that time which is hella surprising (aeroplane aircon, humidity, increased alcohol intake etc) and so I looked at villas and realised very quickly that I had no option but to return home. Damn it!

July was a whirlwind. I started a new job, my boy turned 8 and my mum flew us to Spain for a 14-day family endurance test, I mean holiday!

I’ve never been to mainland Spain in August before. This one warrants it’s own blog post. Sit tight for ‘Benidorm Bitches’ in the coming days.

I’ve had the fourth diathermy laser surgery. It didn’t go well. I came around in recovery and suffered 4-days worth of ‘ocular distortion’. Apparently, this occurs when you don’t fully close your eyes during a GA. On top of not being able to see straight, my nose was back to bleeding again as before, just four days post-surgery.

I’m currently awaiting a clinic review appointment and I can’t lie, I feel really down about it all. I’m back to daily journalling and trying to find a little joy in each day to keep my spirits up.

So here I am. My nose is still goosed, my vascular system is constantly trying to make my life more difficult and I SERIOUSLY need to lose some weight.

On the positive side – my bloody brilliant daughter smashed her GCSE’s and has already started her A Level programme. My middle wonder got a full bill of health in her recent HHT clinic, won a local and national art competition, and has become a fantastic little swimmer. What about the boy wonder I hear you cry? Well, he continues to amaze us all. He learned how to play chess in about 8 minutes flat, has learned how to swim (forward roll, backward roll and handstand in the pool) this summer AND he has enjoyed his first visit to Liverpool PRIDE.

This is what keeps you going, isn’t it? The little things. The smiles, and hugs and daft kitchen dances and good news and seeing friends and family and date nights and lovely dinners and hobnobs and coffee in bed on weekend mornings.

September is the start of a new academic year and for me a chance to renew the promises I made to myself in January. If you’ve any advice or great hacks for staying positive, being more disciplined or limiting those crappy times to maybe just an hour, or half a day when it all seems overwhelming, hit me up on the contact page.

Here’s to ‘keeping on’. Happy New Year.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
Aug 30 2021
Leave a comment
Blog Post

5 Things I Hate About School

Getting the kids back to school is a wonderful thing when it comes to routine, food consumption and of course their overall educational advancement. Loads of things about it suck though.

It’s that time again. September is a huge month of change, more so than January for me, as kids of all ages re-emerge from their tech and halcyon days of trampolining/TikTok video making to stick on a tie and go learn something new.

Loads of parents/carers and guardians will already be on countdown to the moment the school gates open, but for me personally, it’s a 50/50 split. Part of me wants to live somewhere remote(ish) and homeschool/travel the world and enrich my kids minds in a totally different way. But then part of me realised how important their friendships are to their overall well-being and man, who wants to spend 24/7 with their mum. That said, if I won the lottery we’d be travelling for a year and they’d bloody well like it!

I loved school as a kid and teen. I cried the day I left senior school. It was the stability I craved as a military kid who moved around. Leaving felt like the safety net had been pulled from underneath me as the enormity of the responsibility I now felt hit home. As an adult, I’m firmly in the camp of ‘oh I’d go back in a heartbeat’ and relive the care free days of English coursework and sunny days spent on the athletics track.

There’s so much more I hate about school as a parent.

1. School Uniform Shopping

The quality of school jumpers and cardigans is shit. The queues (which start at 7am because only two shops in the whole borough stocks your school) are shit. Take a ticket and wait to slowly die on pastel cushion covered benches at Clarks, shit. £50 for a pair of shoes my darling son will have scuffed to death before October half term, also shit. Someone I follow on Twitter piped up the other day calling to ban school logos on jumpers/cardigans. I get it. Supermarket plain block colour jumper/cardigans are great quality and cost a fraction of the cost. Why’s that not a thing?

2. Pointless Paperwork

Our primary school sends home SO much paperwork that is 100% unnecessary when we have a school to parents texting facility which works fine. I mean sheet after sheet of local education authority notices, changes to the start and finish times due to Covid, fundraising, lost property, it never ends and it’s rarely helpful. Stop killing the planet sending out and update on the safari park day out – just text it!

3. Missing My Gang

My three haven’t started back yet and I’m already missing 10pm games of Mario Uno at the kitchen table. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy a G&T and solitude on a Wednesday night when they’re in bed by 8:30pm, but kitchen discos, film nights, late laundry sort outs and marathon Insta reel viewings is just as fun. No really. Boo to education taking them away from pairing socks and running about with undies on their heads, twerking to Mr World Wide!

4. Reading Books

I love to read, as do my kids. We’ve battered all the Chip & Biff, Famous Five, Jacqueline Wilson, Michael Morpurgo, JK Rowling, Julia Donaldson, Charlie & Lola, Elmer, Roald Dahl and Flower Fairies collections time and time again. it’s not a struggle to get them to read. They’re now onto murder mysteries which is awesome because listening to them talk about the plot and characters and who they think ‘summit’ is the best. School reading books are woeful. My ten year old has brought home the same Wonder Woman comic book like three times in one half-term. They’re not varied enough. Not exciting enough, not enticing enough. I’m starting a petition to make Rick Mayal’s live reading of George’s Marvellous Medicine, mandatory for all primary school kids. Where is the drama? The fun? The challenging dialogue?

5. Losing Stuff That Costs Money

Rewinding back to school uniform here. How do kids lose so many items of closing in such a short space of time? A school jumper, with a name printed clearly on the label, that they take off and out on the back of their chair or in their (also clearly labelled) tray until the end of school, can vanish into thin air without anyone having any idea of how it happened or where the jumper has gone. What do you mean you’ve come home without any PE shorts? You were just wearing them? Why is there a detention slip in your bag about a missing tie? How do they do it? This whole situation causes me so much stress, every academic year.

That’s it. I’m not asking too much, am I? Text important stuff, don’t lose stuff, stop making school uniform inexplicably expensive, invest in top tier reading material and maybe give them a few more days off so we can pair socks and twerk to PitBull tracks as a family. Thank you.

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Mar 07 2021
1 Comment
Blog Post

I’m Supposed To Be

I love routine, thrive off it, yet tomorrow’s eagerly anticipated school run has thrown everything off kilter.

I’m supposed to be ironing uniforms right now. I realised on Friday that I hadn’t tried any uniform on the kids and had no idea if it still fit. Luckily their lockdown 3.0 diet of selection boxes, pancakes and pre-Easter, Easter eggs hasn’t had a detrimental effect on their pinafores and school sweaters.

I’m supposed to be sorting out school coats in the wash. My six year old son lost his first tooth last week and with pearly white in hand, proceeded to drool blood all over his coat! Why are boys so messy?! His toothy grin is a welcome distraction from his hastily shawn buzz cut. Bring back the barbers, please!

I’m also supposed to be carrying out an undercover toy clear out while my kids are with their dad. This delicate operation involves lashing Happy Meal toys, old kids comics and magazines, rearranging books and arts and crafts supplies and gathering up the millions of errant Lego bricks which litter every single surface and edge of carpet between their two rooms.

I’m supposed to be reading the Sunday papers cover to cover, like I’ve promised myself for the last three years. The reality is I’ll skim through the Home, Travel and supplements and the rest will line the cats littler tray throughout the week. I’ll maybe have a crack at the Sudoku.

I’m supposed to be prepping packed lunches for the week ahead. Although my month long stay in a Premier Inn with three kids last October, has prepared me well for this one. If you can make a nutritious packed lunch in a Premier Inn room with no fridge or cooking facilities, at 10pm, every week night for four weeks, you’re practically an X Men.

I’m supposed to be enjoying a long soak in the bath having invested in some Pink Himalayan Bath Salts a couple of weeks ago. They’re in danger of forming some kind of stalactite (is it stalactite or stalagmite when they grow upwards?) if I don’t get around to it soon. Mmmm a long relaxing bath, proper Sunday behaviour.

I’m supposed to be prepping a Sunday dinner for when the little ones get home, before the dinner, bath, bed routine resumes and we get to chapter three of the latest Michael Morpurgo kids book. Kaspar Prince of Cats is epic by the way, especially if you can nail the voice of The Countess!

Lastly, I’m supposed to be drafting my latest creative writing piece, which is the most fun brief I’ve received in ages. Naturally, everything else is getting binned off and I’m making this a priority.

The returning school run and related responsibilities has forced me into a teenage like slump where I don’t want to do all the boring stuff. Basically, I’m rebelling. I genuinely do love routine, as a family, we thrive off it. But my last few hours of freedom will be spent typing away, knowing I’ll have to get up at 5am to put coats in the tumble dryer, while stepping over toys I should’ve donated or chucked out, living with the regret of not having read that article or soaked my dry skin in the bath. Still, it feels good to rebel, even just for a little while.

All hail the homeschoolers, the end is near.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Jan 27 2021
Leave a comment
Blog Post

The Backlog

How long is your to do list right now? I can’t see the end of mine.

It’s been a week. I’m fully aware it’s only Wednesday afternoon, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t eyed up the gin already. I’m here for a mini moan, but I also have good news. Stick with me.

My Zoom link failed in my first new cohort class this morning. My iphone has been installing the latest brain washing update for almost 90 mins, my kids homeschooling is running two days behind and I’m locked in an eBay battle for an amazing pair of ceramic hoop earrings. I’ve just been outbid.

On top of the earring drama, I’ve still got to file my tax return, I have 80 pieces of written work to mark and we’re in desperate need of a big shop. Sod it, Koka Noodles for tea it is!

I’m not stressing anymore. It is what it is. There are bigger things at play. This week Boris Johnson made a promise to the public that once we’re through the Covid pandemic, there will be a day of mourning all those lost. What a load of bollocks. Why not just quit throwing money at crack pot ideas (read, giving your mates a load of tax payers money for shit that would never work) and protect the front line staff and those who are vulnerable?

The statement took me back to October. 4am sat on the sofa bleary eyed listening to my mum wail down the phone because my step dad had died suddenly in the night. From covid. Having worked a weekend shift in admin at the local hospital. The same place he was told earlier in the year to stay away from because he was classed as ‘clinically vulnerable’.

I sat there for about an hour. In shock. I went up to bed and told my boyfriend what had happened and cried. Then I got up, took my kids to school and went to work. It’s safe to say I’ve not even begun to deal with the grief, because it doesn’t feel like there is time. There’s homeschooling three kids, three meals plus snacks, my own workload, phone calls to make, my mum to look after, laundry, oh my days the laundry. Where does it all come from? It took me two days to put clean bed linen on my own bed. I have been so tired and lacking in energy. I slept in my kids’ bunkbeds because I just couldn’t be arsed.

Well here’s the good news. I’m writing, a lot. I am leaving my mega stressful job and starting a new role with an organisation I have admired for more than ten years. It is literally a dream job. An organisation which not only understands the demands on working mums, but encourages you to identify how you can get the best out of your working day. There’s far too many things to list, but it’s safe to say I’m mega excited.

Here’s some more good news. My kid aced her spellings this week. My other kid told me she wasn’t coping with her school work and it was making her upset. So we sat down and brainstormed for a bit and I introduced her to time blocking. Two days later, she’s a different kid. My son? He’s just living his best life in his Pokemon pjays. Rocks up, eats the entire contents of the fridge, does a bit of purple mash and then toddles off to play with his Lego, game on the Nintendo Switch or annoy his sisters. Oh, he painted his glow in the dark solar system yesterday, but we’ve lost Venus. Probably in the Dyson already.

We’ve started going for 8pm walks again. We did this in the first lockdown when I was scared of being around people. Now it’s just a great way to switch off from the days activities and get some fresh air before bed. A constitutional if you will.

If you’re anywhere near the end of your to do list, I salute you. If like me, you can’t see the end of your list, I invite you to join in an 8pm walk. Leave the list. Chuck the pen. Just wander. It’ll all still be there tomorrow.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Sep 01 2020
Leave a comment
Blog Post

Back to School

My kids go back to school tomorrow, and this September, I’ll be right behind them, heading for the classroom. I’ve only gone and bagged my dream job!

When I was at school (hundreds of years ago), I wanted to be a teacher. I did my year 10 work experience at my school – I interned for the PE department because it was my favourite subject. I loved the idea of playing a part in students’ development and watching them learn and master new things with your guidance.

Somewhere around age 17, I lost the thirst to learn. I knew university wasn’t for me. I was partway through my A-Levels (PE, English Lit, English Language, Psychology) when an opportunity to go home (Sydney) and work at the Olympic Games 2000 came up, I grabbed it with both hands. Bags packed, I was out of school and all ideas of education and teaching we’re left on the tarmac.

img_1117

20 whole years later, I’ve done it. I’ve finally got myself a teaching job. I’m absolutely delighted to say I’ll be joining the staff at The City of Liverpool College and I will be delivering the NCTJ Journalism Diploma programme. It’s the very course I graduated from back in 2016 and the very course I have championed to anyone interested in a career in journalism.

Since the vacancy came up online, I’ve thought of nothing else than delivering shorthand training and supporting journalism students with opportunities to expand on and polish their portfolio’s, ready for the world of work. I can’t wait to get started.

It’s inevitable that the new job has made me stop and think about my previous career decisions. It’s entirely possible that, had I have knuckled down at 17, gone to uni, got my PGCE, that by now I could be enjoying 15 years worth of educating others. But that’s just the way the cookie crumbles, right?

img_1063-1

So this September, there are four pairs of shiny new shoes (okay, mine are Nike’s) on the stairs, four new water bottles lined up ready for the first school day, and three students rooting for their momma on her first big day.

It’s going to be fairly chaotic for us all going back to an educational setting. Whether it’s the kids, teens, or adults. I hope your youngsters enjoy seeing their friends again, you settle into a routine quickly, and you’re all safe and well.

Happy New School Year!

Miss James

 

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , ,
Jun 09 2020
Leave a comment
Blog Post

In The Fridge

Naomi dropped her backpack in the hall and wandered into the kitchen to see what was in the fridge.

Ben followed close behind, like a lap dog. It was plain to see he was besotted with her. 

“Don’t know why my mum keeps buying these DiaryLea lunchables, but I’ll keep eating them.” she offered Ben a plastic lunch pack with a smile. 

“Haha, probably because you can’t even make a Pot Noodle without burning the kitchen down.” Ben teased. 

“I’m not that bad! She rolled her eyes and sat up on the kitchen worktop to eat. 

“I well and truly messed that up. I’ve definitely failed.” Naomi closed her eyes and sighed. 

“Don’t say that you always think you’ve done worse than you have, you said that in the mocks and you did great.” Ben put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

“Great? I scraped a D, Ben. A D! The only place I’ll be going in September will be the Job Centre, most likely with my mum.” The panic began to rise again. Naomi jumped down and opened a can of Coke as a distraction. 

“Mum’s going to be so disappointed. She wanted me to get into the sixth form and follow Golden Balls to university. I’m going to be stuck stewarding at the game until I’m 65, like Jimmy Mac.” She fought back tears. 

“Hey, hey come on.” Ben put his arms around her shoulders. “Elle, it’s alright to not have it all worked out yet. Just because my predicted grades are good, it doesn’t mean I know which path I’m going to take.

“Just try and chill a bit. You can only do your best.” Ben gave her a winning smile. He was doing everything right. Being a shoulder to cry on, offering good advice, giving her space, not being too pushy. By the end of the term, they’d be an item. He was sure of it. 

“Urgh, anyway, I can’t change it now, can I?” Naomi wiped her eyes and dropped her packet into the kitchen bin. “Come on, kick your arse on MarioKart?”

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,
Jun 06 2020
Leave a comment
Blog Post

The Sound of Silence

The phone alarm signaled the start of the day at 7. Naomi knew she shouldn’t keep her phone charging and stashed under her pillow, but it was never out of reach.

Even through the cracked screen, a 15-minute trawl through Facebook and that fit
footballer’s Instagram story had become a morning ritual. Having the bedroom next to the family bathroom was a curse if you ever fancied a lie in.

The shower ran with a squeak as Naomi’s mum got ready for work. The hairdryer and kitchen radio would soon follow. The bin men were making a racket outside and already Naomi’s phone was beeping with constant messages from the WhatsApp group after last night’s drama. That could wait.

She went through the motions, got dressed, brushed her teeth, appeased her mum by
grabbing a croissant from the kitchen and waved it with a half-arsed shout of goodbye as she shut the front door.

The exams weren’t going well, too little too late. Feeling the panic rise in her throat, she fished out her earpods, hit shuffle, and dumped the croissant in the wheelie bin.
As much as she liked Mrs. Rhodes, the last thing Naomi needed this morning was another
pep talk, the last one hadn’t gotten her through more than half of yesterday’s physics paper with any confidence.

“Morning Nomi, you got this okay, just remember…”

“Yep, I hear you miss.” Naomi took out her ear pods and shrugged her off mid-sentence.

At least arriving early meant she could get into the exam hall before having to deal with Chloe and the barrage of questions about disappearing with Ben last night.

Naomi dropped her bag at the back of the hall and walked down the neat rows of exam desks. Sitting close to the window, she stared out at the passing traffic on the ring road. As the test paper was laid on the desk in front of her, the panic began to set it.

Enveloped by the sound of silence, Naomi breathed deeply and put her head on the desk.

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Mar 16 2020
Leave a comment
Uncategorized

A Whole New World

Today marks the beginning of a new dawn, (ooh sounds a bit Avengers that, doesn’t it?) it’s 08:12 and I’m on the bus to work. The first day of the 9-5 beckons.

It might sound the start of millions of other Monday mornings too, but this one is pretty monumental for me. I haven’t worked a 9-5 job in almost ten years. The freelance life has afforded me the school run, leaving dishes and bed making until mid morning. Leisurely making random lunch combo’s such as Heinz Oxtail soup with a sprinkling of grated cheddar, three snack size sausage rolls and a CapriSun – it’s a winner!

I worked 9:30 -2:30pm most days, then picked up the laptop again from 6ish and worked until I fell asleep in the chair. Usually with Brooklyn Nine Nine on in the background. Then I started picking the laptop up at 4pm, the kids ensconced in front of Cartoon Network. I started forgetting spelling sheets and our regular reading routine abandoned.

I would jump up at 5:45am to put uniforms in the tumble dryer on the day they were needed. I’d begin to order in more during the week, instead of a just a Friday night treat, Pizza Hut was becoming a staple. I was failing my kids.

So something had to change. And it has. I bid farewell to freelance life. Juggling work at all hours of the day and night, trying to make ends meet and feeling like my professional exams were a complete waste of time.

This morning I was up at 6. The sun is shining, which is a great start. Weekend washing done and out on the line. Uniforms ironed, day bags packed, and everyone out the front door to breakfast club by 7:45am.

My little son shine (that’s his nickname) she’s a few nervous years going in to breakfast club with his sister, but I know in a few minutes he’ll be totally fine. In the long run, I will be too. I know that regulating my working hours, income and career expectations will benefit us all. We’ve just got to tough out this first week or so. Corona Virus pending!

By writing this I’ve stopped myself from eating my packed lunch. Although, I fear it may not make it til 12pm! To everyone starting their first day, or planning a fresh start today, best of luck to you!

Tagged , , , , , ,
Apr 25 2019
Leave a comment
Blog Post

Dear Liverpool, I think I love you

It’s been one of those on/off things for 36 years. I think it’s love. 

Adopted as my hometown, I grew up in this spectacular city. I’ve spent the longest time under one roof here (5 years) and moved away only to come running back when the shit hit the fan. I couldn’t be any more of a wool if I tried. Born on the other side of the world, my mums scouse roots pulled her back to Merseyside when I was just 7 weeks old.

Living in the North East for a while as a kid, my favourite memories of coming to Liverpool were going to the markets, bonfire night in Sefton Park and absolutely anything from Steve’s chippy in Aigburth Vale. Not much has changed.

I’d go back to my little market town with all the latest gear. Clothes, trainies, hair accessories. My country-bumpkin friends jealous of my modern threads. I first went to school in L8 at the age of 8 with a Geordie accent. Safe to say I was ripped mercilessly for that and it soon gave way to ‘shiiikkkkennn’.

After a stint in Germany I was back again at the age of 10 to join a rough as shit school in L14. Having the audacity to tower a whole inch over the tallest girl in my class, I got my arse handed to me one day after school and was promptly moved to the upper echelons of……another, much nicer L14 school.

I moved back home to Sydney in 2000 for a short time. After working the Olympics I fucked up massively and needed my family and familiarity. So I came home, properly home. That’s when I knew this thing with me and Liverpool was serious.

I’ve made life-long friends here. I made vows here. Twice. I made some of the most incredible memories within Liverpool’s cityscape that will stay with me until my last breath. I know this city like the back of my hand. Each and every bump. It’s soundtrack, pulse and layout.

Liverpool Women’s hospital is an important place on the map for me. It’s where I changed. I shed my skin and took a new path. I grew up.

All three of my incredible little dudes were born there. Aided by equally incredible, local staff who work around the clock delivering miracles. I left my dignity at the door in exchange for knowing what love really feels like.

I’ve truly lived here. My life has fallen apart here. I’ve grafted, cried, hurt, loved, messed up, laughed til it hurt. Walked home from town in the small hours, watched the sun come and go and stared, open-mouthed as the full moon passed over the illuminated Liver Birds – for real, this actually happened.

I love the people. The polar opposites of the north and south of the city, red and blue. The scouse-ims, the drive and ambition. I adore the ‘don’t give a shit’ and ‘because I said so’ attitude. More than anything I love the solidarity. Scousers care, they love hard. And because of that, so do I.

Say hi! Twitter & Instagram.

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Oct 09 2017
Leave a comment
Blog Post

Cake & Balloons

Ever had one of those nights where you’re so messed up you think your nose has fallen off, you can’t stop hysterically laughing while devouring Cadbury Dairy Milk and watching Waking the Dead because that Trevor Eve is a solid 10 for an older man..?

That’s pretty much exactly what I was doing 12 years ago today, in fact right now, I was telling my anaesthetist, Michael Moneypenny (no word of a lie, that’s his name) to keep it down while he was putting a freakishly large needle into my spine to curb the crippling pain I was experiencing while attempting to give birth to my eldest daughter.

Ellie One

I was 11 days overdue, had been subjected to the most god-awful induction earlier that day and despite 12 hours of labour, the kid just didn’t want to come out. Typical obstetrics of 12 years ago…’Here, lie down flat, get comfy, you’re going to be here for a while’. As opposed to move your wobbly ass, get moving and let gravity/nature bring that little curly haired whopper out.

I was indeed there for a while, a further 12 hours as it goes. From a quiet, darkened room at 06:25……just me, my hubs, my mum and the most knackered looking junior doctor ever, to blazing strip lights, spot lights, may as well been car headlights for all I knew, a registrar, two midwives, a consultant, the blurry-eyed junior doctor, Moneypenny and what dignity I had left and 10 minutes and the clinical version of a Dyson later……Ellie was born.

 

Ellie Three

Picture Credit: Matt Bowen Photography

 

She looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards, which isn’t too far from the truth I suppose. First thing she did was poop in the scales. Never lived that one down since. 8lbs 11oz, with a superman curl on her forehead (she’s still got it too) the kid with the cerulean eyes changed my life forever.

Ellie Five

I’ve barely spent more than a few days away from her since that tumultuous first morning, and she generally still causes a riot wherever she goes. She’s generous and loving, witty and smart mouthed, almost a little too smart at times, I know, chip off the old block. She doesn’t know when to shut up (gets that from her dad) she gives the best hugs, she can twerk like a champ and can speak Japanese with surprisingly fluency (providing its the lyrics to a RWBY song).

She can quote Ghostbusters beginning to end, she adores Bill Murray, she’s a budding artist, song-writer and digital genius. Yet she can’t make toast, boil a kettle or locate the iron. I’ve still some work to do.

Ellie Four

She’s also 6ft 9′ (slight exaggeration), wearing women’s size 8 clothes, the biggest stationery nerd going and has the biggest, curliest mop of hair that even Side Show Bob would be jealous of. Having just started high school, Elle (Smelly Ellie, Elles, Crap Bag, Curly Witch, Elspeth) is working out where she fits in the world all over again, and she’s doing it in her own sweet time.

She’s my greatest achievement and whether she’s still causing a riot or peacefully going about her way, I’m confident that she’s going to change the world.

Happy Birthday Ellie, love Mum x

 

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Mar 01 2016
Leave a comment
Blog Post

6 Months and Counting

I bloody love a countdown, about as much as I love a challenge and 2016 will test me to the absolute limit.

September is a busy month for me with three little dudes starting new schools, seeing friends after the summer break, birthdays and re-settling into nursery routines. So in my infinite wisdom I thought, why not make that entire schedule more pressured by adding a whole new dimension.

September 11th welcomes the Tough Mudder challenge to the north west. A half-marathon distance littered with obstacles to test even the fittest of participants including ice, fire and gulp….electricity…not to mention all the mud.

This morning I have happily paid the grand total of £90 to take part in this frankly terrifying challenge, and that’s exactly what I love about it. Its a challenge, not a race. Its about camaraderie, team work and sheer determination.

It’s also about commitment. I’ve now committed to six months of serious hard graft to build physical and mental strength as I have none, zilch. (I had to mop my kitchen floor yesterday to stop me and the kids eating any more snacks before dinner) see….none!

So that’s me done, signed on the dotted line. I’m feeling positive, apprehensive but positive. I can train, I can conquer my fears and I can do this. There’s only one question left to answer now.

Who’s with me?

For more info and to hold my hand through this terrifying experience, check out Tough Mudder here. …please….anyone!?

 

 

 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
Oct 01 2015
Leave a comment
Uncategorized

#IAMMPCT

I’m still walking around with a big smile on my face and wishing I was 16 again following my visit to the ACC Arena yesterday morning. I may only be an honorary Scouser, but I’ve never been more proud of this city’s youngsters.

The last of the September sun shone brightly over the Albert Dock as training providers, students, parents and press flocked to see what the Motivational Preparation College for Training (MPCT) can offer the young people of Merseyside….and the launch event knocked my socks off!

The MPCT encourages learners to be the best possible version of themselves through education and motivational learning methods. Only, this isn’t your run of the mill sixth-form college. Students take part in daily inspection, drills and adventure training along side classroom based vocational qualifications. The flexible training programmes are aimed at 16-19 year olds and offer support and guidance from enrolment right through to employment, enabling students to make informed choices about their futures.

Yesterday I heard first hand from teenagers who’ve overcome deeply-personal issues with traditional schooling and social problems. They spoke about their experiences with positivity and acceptance, another testament to the emphasis the college puts on building confidence and emotional wellbeing in preparation for the world of work. A number of students took to the stage to speak about their journeys through military preparation training and how it has instilled in them important life skills like taking pride in their appearance, punctuality and maintaining a healthy lifestyle. (Find me a parent who wouldn’t marvel at a teenager taking pride in ironing their own uniform and laying off the pot noodles!) #IAMMPCT

16 year old Nicole made a huge impression on me. Currently the only girl on roll at the newly opened Liverpool branch of MPCT, Nicola said there was no point in starting a two year A level course having gained her GCSE’s this summer, because her heart wasn’t in it. She is focussed on becoming a combat medic and is working hard to ready herself for selection into the British Army next year. I’ve never met a more mature, determined and out-going teenager. She made me want to up my game.

During the launch event the young recruits showed off some dynamic (and very loud) drill displays, complete with bellowing staff sergeant and hyper-active PT…..every one of those kids was in perfect sync (no tik-toking on this parade) smiling and having a blast showing off their new-found skills.

Every student at the launch made a lasting impression, their desire to achieve is infectious. I sat typing up my notes afterwards feeling proud. Liverpool can only benefit from more success stories to inspire the next wave of kids approaching 16 and beyond. And whether its a career in the Armed Forces or on ‘civvy street’ they aspire to, I can only echo Councillor Ian Francis in thanking MPCT for providing this unique training opportunity for Merseyside’s youngsters.

To find out more about The Motivational Preparation College for Training click here. If you’re on Twitter follow @MPCT_HQ and the #IAMMPCT for all the latest news on enrolment and new centre openings.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Sep 20 2015
Leave a comment
Uncategorized

Old Skool

Earlier this week I came face to face with my high school, head of languages teacher as I arrived a few minutes late to a presentation…she didn’t look impressed. I scurried past her and took my place in the auditorium as she addressed the parents of years 5/6 pupils at the Holly Lodge Girls College open evening… as Head Mistress.

The look she gave me instantly transported me back to the corridors of lower school at Broadgreen High School where I’d loiter about waiting for my best friend Leah to finish registration. My own group tutor had a much more lax approach and allowed us to do whatever the hell we wanted providing he’d seen out faces long enough to put a tick in the box next to our names (Ahhh Mr Burgess, what a legend). Mrs Tinsley was strict, yet calm and effortlessly commanded control. Her form group would sit, backs-straight and silent at their desks for the 35 minute period completely focused on whatever school news she had to report each morning while we arsed about at the window pulling faces and doing our best to get our mates into trouble. Eventually Mrs Tinsley would grow bored of our antics (and the lack of authority imposed by our teacher) and rocket out into the corridor to send us all skittering back to our form rooms. I thought she was a bit of a nark and could lighten up a bit…which is ironic as now I respect her authority and I think she’s an excellent head teacher! Oh to be 13 again eh?

Holly Lodge Girls College

My eldest daughter will be off to senior school shortly and our first port of call for admissions was Holly Lodge Girls College (or Holly Splodge as we called it back in 1994). Mrs Tinsley welcomed parents warmly and only after a brief chat later on, realised she had taught both my ex husband and me (about a hundred years ago) at a different school. She went on to address the disappointing Ofsted report which had graded the school down following an outstanding grade just a few years earlier. Mrs Tinsley really felt that result, she explained just how committed her staff are to improving on the already impressive GCSE grades the students are achieving and how proud she is of the girls who helped raise the national average in Maths specifically. Having watched a short video of year 11 opening their exam results and explaining to camera just how they felt about their outstanding grades I couldn’t help but feel like Ofsted had missed the mark a bit.

Around the school there are constant reminders of the positive ethos of the school. Confidence, Determination, Resilience. The girls are encouraged to support one another, and to complete work thoroughly and to the highest possible standard. All great qualities to carry into any work place or further education. I was impressed.

The facilities at Holly Lodge are second to none. Two year 8 girls excitedly showed us around the state of the art recording studio complete with 8-track style software and radio studio. Year 7 girls taught my girl how to conduct an experiment with hydro-chloric acid in the Science labs while I got lost reminiscing about HND Fashion and Textiles with the Arts faculty surrounded by sewing machines and tailors dummies. The English staff spoke at length about the positive changes in reading material within the subject and Ellie talked animatedly about her love of Jacqueline Wilson, Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton. She was ecstatic to learn about theatre trips and joint ventures with the drama department. Along side finger print technology in the canteen and an interactive homework website (for sneaky parents to check up on progress) I’d say Holly Lodge is leading the way in terms of nurturing girls into successful, confident women. Ellie absolutely loved it and despite being the first open evening event we’ve attend, she’d adamant Holly Lodge is right for her.

Note to self, never be late for meetings with the Head Mistress!

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Jun 13 2015
Leave a comment
Uncategorized

Best Foot Forward

Over the last year I have suffered a brutal break up, I’ve kept a dignified silence on my social media accounts and even attempted reconciliation..but here’s the truth…I’ve broken up with shoes. I mean obviously I still wear them. I’m all for starting new trends but going barefoot in a big sprawling city is unlikely to catch on.

In my late teens I was swept off my feet. Finally freed from the school regulation low heel brogues and ballet flats, I fell in love with brands like Dune, Jones The Boot-maker and Ravel. l owned 130 pairs of shoes by my 17th birthday…..a constant source of drama between emerging fashionista and my practical shoe wearing, shift-working mum. Being taller than your average 17-year-old sixth-former (5ft 10′) I instantly loved wearing heels to further enhance my height and my passion for Mary-Jane’s showed no signs of slowing as I transitioned into my twenties and the world of office wear. I’d look down on those wearing kitten heels to work, thinking i was superior for being able to wear heels for the 9-5 day. I felt unstoppable.

The relationship grew intense with purchases of high-end, iconic footwear to mark the biggest events of my twenties. Dolce & Gabbana neon strappy heels, Vivienne Westwood pirate boots and a pair of the most stunning gold Gina courts among a sea of weekly high street purchases from River Island, Topshop and New Look…..I bought a designer pair for each of my children coming into the world (a Hallmark card clearly wouldn’t do)  I routinely take them from their dust covers now and admire them. (The shoes, not my kids)

So what changed, where did it all go wrong? In a nutshell I stopped making an effort for my shoes…and myself. I let myself get out of shape and stopped dressing up as much. I found solace in Nike and Converse, addicted to the comfort and less likely to break an ankle benefits of wearing flat shoes again. I also have a double Phil & Teds buggy to contend with on a daily basis and the 4 mile nursery/school round trip would take me twice as long in a pair of KG platforms. I felt resentful. Heels are a nuisance in my busy world of being a mum and championship multi-tasker. Elated to read about celebs breaking with tradition and rules at Cannes and rocking metallic, jeweled flats on the red carpet, I was convinced that it’s perfectly fine to live in flat shoes…

But oh the glamour of a svelte black platform court with a seductive red sole and those beautifully cursive letter spelling out Christian Louboutin…Carrie Bradshaw’s midnight blue jewel encrusted Manolo’s…..even Cinderella had it nailed back in 1950…… Oh heels I miss you!

Now that I’ve succumbed to practicality I realise just how much joy I gained from wearing impractical shoes. My confidence soared, my legs looked great and I felt young.

I’ve vowed to change, I’m only 32, we can get back to the good old times, I’m sure. By way of counselling I’ve booked myself and my favourite D&G neon’s into The V&A Shoes: Pleasure & Pain exhibition to rediscover my passion……and possibly my youth.

Wish me luck

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,