Spanish Wedding – Medieval style (Architecturally Speaking – not dress up as Buxom Wench speaking)
This weekend I went to a wedding in the lovely, picturesque town of Ayllón en Segovia. It´s only an hour from Madrid and the area is dotted with other, equally delightful little towns (Riaza is worth a stop). We discovered you can still walk into a little tavern in a fortress wall or looking over a medieval plaza as the bullfighting plays on the television (or indeed, if you go at the right time, the town’s bullfighting or running of the bulls festival might actuall be going on live in the plaza) and buy a beer for one euro. And you thought Spain was all beaches and 15 euro cocktails.
The wedding venue, The Cloisters of Ayllón, was breathtaking. These are the kind of ruins you find all over Spain – there are so many medieval castles and ruins people literally don’t know what to do with them. The volume is simply too big for a National Trust type scheme to meet the task of restoring them all. (The government runs Paradors as part of a conservation plan – historical buildings converted in to affordable hotels and you really should stay in at least one if you visit Spain).
Herding cats. Or how to throw a kid’s party – part 2
So – part one was about the basics – planning the party. But every kid knows that planning the party is secondary. The venue can be ace, the games fun, the fire thrower awesome, but if you don’t get the main event right then all else may as well be thrown out with the pass the parcel.
Yes, I am of course referring to The Cake. Big, small, cupcake, multi-layered behemoth, store-bought, ice-cream, homemade – The Cake is the big kahuna of the party day. You have to have one.
If you’re Australian it is likely that you spent some time in your childhood pouring over the Cake Bible – second only to choosing your showbags from the newspaper lift-out (if you’re not from Australia, you just had to be there I’m sorry, but believe me, the day that lift-out came out was the BEST DAY OF THE YEAR) was the choosing of the cake from the Australian Women’s Weekly Kid’s Birthday Cakes Book. And if you don’t believe me, then see someone far more amusing than me…
Anyway – here are other top tips about cake preparation:
Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions #2
I know people were awestruck at the brilliance of last week’s invention, but this week you are TOTALLY going to want to invest in my Genius Child-Rearing Inventions Company. Ltd. So here we go…
DRESSING RACK
Not much like this.
You know when you have a wriggly child? A horrible-painful-won’t-stay-still-for-thirty-seconds small person aged anywhere between 9 months and 4 years? Yes yes, so cute to look at and adorable lisp, but SO annoying to dress. So here is your answer – a wooden rack. Yes, I know what you’re all thinking – child abuse rah rah rah. Two words for you – what. ever. You are going to be SO jealous when you see my little wooden thing where you simply slot the child in the top and they are held immobile with limbs flapping out the sides, ready to slip on shoes, socks, hats and jumpers. For a Genius Inventor I know I am not massively good at explaining how things might work, but if you think about it more like a giant Connect 4 game rather than a torture rack you might get the idea. Except the children won’t have to be flat. Or painted orange and blue. Just normal children, only held in a wooden rack ready to be dressed.
Child Entertainment; the Untapped Job Market
CantaJuego, Spain's answer to The Wiggles
I’m pretty sure that everyone has the same reaction when they watch their child’s favourite children’s singing group performing. It goes along the lines of, “I could do that.”
The Wiggles and Hi-5 earned $45 million and $18 million respectively in 2008, according to BRW.
Earning the same money as rockstars and moviestars by dancing around, making idiotic facial expressions and producing music that appears to require no specific skill set, while not having to cope with the paparazzi selling pictures of you to magazines for feature articles on “Stars without Makeup” or those articles that zoom in on cellulite and then enlarge the offending area and accompany it with large letters saying something like “Urggghhh!” seems, like, well, quite an appealing career choice.
Seriously, while I’ve read that The Wiggles apply principles of children’s education and psychology to maximise their appeal to children and possibly have some song writing talent that’s particularly appealing to the kids, there are an awful lot of child entertainers who seem to be equipped with little more than a passable singing voice, a pair of denim overalls and no shame. Spain’s most popular children’s entertainers are a group called ‘Cantajuegos’.
At what point will people laugh at me in the streets? The wearing of leather trousers.
baaaaaaaaaa
So I had a long post written this evening all about the hell of school holidays. (I may still post it, it’s mildly diverting awesome, so look out for it. Witty and insightful.) Then I was going to write about the political stalemate in Australia. (Not really, although obviously I have been contacted a lot with my political pundit background). But then I decided that I need to be true to myself. What do they always say – write about what you know? So I’m writing about a big issue that has been plaguing me all week. Leather trousers. I know – you thought we were covering the big issues before, what with soccer kisses and Ikea, but we have got even MORE highbrow.
Specifically, can a mother in her mid-30s (at what point do your mid thirties become your late thirties? I think 39 personally) get away with leather trousers? Even more specifically:
- In what area of her life will she be wearing them? Will she ever actually put them on or will they be assigned to what her husband refers to as the ‘aspirational’ section of her wardrobe? Alongside the summer garden party frocks (I live in England), the white trousers (I have children) and the 6 inch velvet heels (although how good would these look with the leather trousers? VERY good, that’s how good.)
Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions #1
I have often been described as a genius. By often, I mean I think I heard a teacher say it once. Possibly she said pest. No, definitely genius. Anyway, I present to you the first in my eagerly anticipated series – Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions. These are things that I have never seen in a shop – possibly as they may cause injury – but DEFINITELY should be in a shop. People would buy these things.
Pop-up remote controlled electric fence.
A little less violent
You know when you’re in a park. Or a coffee shop or a circus. And you have a small child running in the wrong direction. Or crawling away as fast as their little legs can move? And you really want to finish the end of JUST ONE sentence before interrupting your conversation to drag them back to the designated zone? This is where you whip out your remote control, press the buzzer and a child proof forcefield is erected. Nothing too violent – it wouldn’t give them an electric shock (that’s part of my invention #21) – would just keep them in a defined area, unable to disappear behind a faraway hedge, smear ice-cream on any one’s leather sofa or empty salt out of every salt shaker behind the waiter’s station.
Note to child: I am not play equipment
CC photo credit: rosmary
In yet another in my series on summer and my poor adaptation to full-time mothering, I’ve reached a point of putting my foot down on the baby/11kg toddler crawling all over me every minute of the day and demanding to be carried all the time – which, all of sudden, seems to be pretty much all day). I can’t take it anymore.
You see, Monkey, contrary to what you seem to think, my little cherub, I do not exist for the purpose of being crawled and climbed upon. I am in fact, not playground equipment, or, as my South African mother would say, ‘a Jungle Gym’.
While I may call you Monkey, you are in fact not born of the jungle. And so, not only am I not a Jungle Gym, you will find on closer inspection that my hair is not a collection of jungle vines on which to swing, (though I am very flattered that someone perceives my hair to be of greater body than the flimsy fairy floss it more closely represents).
Herding cats. Or how to throw a kid’s party – part 1
Not appropriate for a three year old. And frankly, a little bit disturbing at any age?
I have been planning my son’s 3rd birthday party basically since his 2nd birthday. I know – what a nerd. But that won’t be news to anyone who knows me – I do love a drink good shindig. And as I have the most amazing memories of parties thrown by my mum, I guess I’m just trying to make sure my children have the same sort of memories. Of course, emulating my mother’s parties is a slippery slope. It’s only a hop step and a jump from similar parties to bridge games four times a week and antique shopping. Before we know it I’ll be posting about ten ways to improve your family tree (sorry Mum – I really am dying to see the results of the three thousand years of research you’ve done.)
Where was I? Oh yes – parties. Seriously, how can you not like kid’s parties? The mess, the screams, the tears – there’s something for everyone. Personally, I’m in it for the cake and the champagne. And the fairy bread – which I have discovered today is an Australian thing. Who knew? And if you are unaware of the JOYS of fairy bread – see here. In the meantime, here are my top tips:
The Longest Summer Days
This is not what my summer holidays are like (photo: Supagroova)
When people talked about long summer days, I always had the impression that it was a positive thing. Clearly I wasn’t talking to many parents on the topic. Summer days are not just described as long by parents because the sun is in the sky a lot longer but because you are with your child (or, gold help you, children) AAALLLLLLL day. For a lot of us, that’s a new and surprisingly excruciating experience. No playgroup, no childcare. And then there is all the extra effort of stopping your child breaking everything and discovering a whole new set of dangers in another house. There is no small amount of additional time and energy spent monitoring the movements of a child intent on discovering every corner and no-go zone of the your chosen holiday accommodation. The ornaments, so many sodding ornaments… I’m hoping for a minimalism come-back to sweep the rental properties industry, without the sharp corners.
World’s Worst Mother Award – or how to counter your smugness in a couple of easy steps
So you know when you are feeling really smug about something that things can take a turn for the worse?
This could well be me accepting the award
Like when you move out of your first house in London that you hate into one that you absolutely adore, and then regularly drive down your old street just to lean out the window and say ‘’aaaarrrrgggh, suffer’ to the old house? And then get a call from your landlady at awesome new house saying she wants awesome house back for herself and you have one month to vacate? And you end up living with your parents-in-law?
Or like when you feel really clever about getting up to date with all your personal admin and then realise you have forgotten to renew your visa meaning a last minute dash to Wales on the day it is due to expire, and costing an additional £830 for a priority in-person appointment? And 24 hours before said priority appointment, manage to lose your passport while organising papers for said visa? Meaning an emergency emergency appointment at Australian High Commission to replace said passport, only to discover (day before emergency trip to Wales) that some amazing soul has handed it in at the High Commission but in the process of preparing documents, photos plus emergency drive-as-fast-as-you-can taxi rides, adding another 100 quid to the cost of said visa process?
A Must Read that really is a Must Read
I read, not so long ago, Ben Goldacre’s excellent book, Badscience. It’s the kind of book that makes you want to tell every single person you meet that they MUST read it. You really have to watch yourself and make sure you don’t cross the line from letting people know about something they can’t possibly find uninteresting to talking about it so much people stop inviting you to parties.
Everybody should read this book. When I finished reading it I initially thought about writing a book review post, rather than this post a month later that’s more like a fan letter and a plea for the whole world to read the book rather than a review. At the time I decided against it, figuring that having featured for some time on several best seller lists since its publication a few years ago, there wasn’t really much I was going to be able to add. Besides, there are people that do reviews a lot better than me, here is a fairly thorough one from The Telegraph.
Why I am an awesome parent – my new parenting philosophy
ideal parenting position
A male friend of mine sent a group email with the MOST fabulous article this week about ‘idle parenting’. It sparked much comment and a whole new language. The opening sentence of the article by my new hero Tom Hodgkinson sums up the whole concept:
Cancel all clubs, ditch the after-school activities and leave those kids alone.
In other brilliant highlights, the article includes gems such as:
a lazy parent is a good parent
A lot can be achieved by lying in bed. Simply by doing nothing, you can train children to do useful things.
My kids are happy because we’re happy.” Do not suffer. Enjoy your life.
I had no idea that I was already subscribing to such a widespread and legitimate* child raising methodology. But I am loving it.
Beach Babe
Like the rest of Spain, we’re on holiday at the beach. It’s our first beach holiday with a child. He’s 13 months, still can’t walk, weighs about 11kg and still likes to crawl all over his parents at every opportunity. The beach does not enhance this experience.
Here’s some stuff you might not know if you haven’t tried to go with a baby or small toddler yet.
- Your days of lying back on a sand controlled towel are over (an arsenal of toys will not make any difference). Babies and toddlers will not sit quietly in the shade, on a towel, playing with toys. What they will in fact do is crawl directly off designated sand free zone and bring back a substantial amount of the stuff with them.
- You’re not cool anymore. Face it, there is NO WAY on this earth to go to the beach packed like a camel – carrying change bag, toys, bucket and spade, water, baby food, umbrella, towels, and more (am sure Kate has the definitive spreadsheet somewhere of all the things one should take to the beach) AND carry an 11kg baby all the while walking on hot sand AND look cool. You are the stereotypical parent of every hip single’s nightmare. Don’t attempt to fool anyone. If you’re not loaded up like a cartless gypsy, every other parent will be smugly aware that you are either at the beach for five minutes or about to face down a disaster.
Travelling with kids – part two, into the inferno.
So I think it would be fair to say that we have covered airplane travel relatively comprehensively (if by comprehensive you mean in a kind of crappy yet witty and insightful way here , here and here) but there is always the other bit – when you actually get there. Oh yes, the holiday itself. I’ve just been on one and although I know most things in the world, as I’ve mentioned before, a far cleverer friend than me says that every time you travel you learn a new thing about travelling with your children. I think she might be right. Plus, she’s a lot taller than me, and currently about 11 months pregnant, so I usually agree with most things she says, lest she clout me over the ear. Anyway – some tips….
- Most importantly – do it. Travel. Get out there. Most places can be done with kids. Unless it’s a twenty two star adults only resort. Don’t take kids there – unless you plan to hide them in your room the whole time. But that might be a bit boring. Even if they do like DVDs.
Bugger off kid
Kids getting along swimmingly
Sometimes you really just want to tell a kid to Bugger Off. Unfortunately, while it can be effective in the short term, the short victory normally turns sour. It usually ends with an accusing, pointing, sticky little finger and the words, “Mummy that lady told me to Bugger Off”. Dobber. You can look searchingly behind you as much as you like, a kids extended pointer finger is a frighteningly accurate instrument for identifying the object of their accusations.
What are your alternatives when a kid is behaving like a rat bag and their parents are absent or unwilling to discipline their child? I’ve heard horrific stories of parents witnessing their child being hit or pushed while the well-aware parent of the offender sits idly by, and I am sure there are many outrageous stories with which I hope you’ll regale us in the comments section, but actually we face smaller, less serious incidences all the time that can be pretty frustrating.
The big child raising issues. Or how to annoy your husband in the middle of the night.
Do you worry about your children much? I mean clearly, crossing the road, not jumping into the pool or licking other people’s dogs – the things we all worry about. But I am talking about the really big issues. Those that keep us awake at night.
Sometimes I think I am doing aok – I have a nice little pigeon pair (what on EARTH does that mean by the way? And as an aside, I got a lot of congratulations on the birth of daughter. To which I of course blushed and looked suitably proud and modest. Like I had ANYTHING to do with it. Except of course my secret girl making potion sprinkled liberally on husband while sleeping.) . Anyway, a nice little pair who are occasionally well behaved and haven’t set fire to anything in months.
The Kiss that has Captured a Nation
Spain won a little thing called The Soccer World Cup. You may have heard about it. It’s been all parties, happiness, brotherly love, and a rare feeling of national unity. How much partying? This might give you an idea.
In the midst of all this Sporting revelry came a moment of romance that made every Spaniard gasp and grab their chest in vicarious swooning: the emotional and spontaneous kiss between the Spanish Captain, long time national hero and one of the heroes of the winning game; Iker Casillas, and the woman this year voted as the most beautiful presenter in the world; Sara Carbonero.
Iker is himself quite hot. The kind that faces thousands of screaming school girls wherever he goes – this insurance ad does a very amusing parody of his misfortunes on that front (FYI: ‘Me siento seguro’ means ‘I feel secure’).
And Sara is well, breathtaking.
Professional life has taken on a new complication for these two beautiful people since they started going out only five months ago, just as the build up to the Cup was hitting it’s stride. Since news broke of their relationship, every time Sara interviewed Iker, we watched in awkward fascination as they both maintained stoic professionalism in numerous question and answer sessions.
First world problems
I am sorry to say that I am coming to you live from the outdoor sofa of our villa in Ibiza. A good part of this afternoon was spent lounging on a beach bed ordering white sangria (who knew that such a joyful drink existed?) and dipping in and out of the ocean pretending that my bottom looked EXACTLY like the Brazilian teenager’s on the beach bed in front of me – it doesn’t, which is quite shattering. There have been some other significant downsides to the holiday thus far:
- The supermarket was closed tonight on our way home from the beach. We had to settle for pizzas from the local pizzeria up the road. Which meant no cleaning up which I really enjoy on holiday.
- Son has a puncture in his floatie. Spending a fair bit of time swimming in circles as a result. Doesn’t seem to notice which is a little worrying.
- Due to lack of willingness on my part to spend a lot of time cooking, baby daughter has had same thing to eat for three days in a row and surprisingly still seems unkeen on couscous with steamed broccoli. Fusspot.
Small Children and the World Cup. Not Ideal.
photo credit: twicepixI am not a major Sports fan. It’s mostly just the big stuff that captures my attention, like the World Cup, the world’s largest sporting event. It’s a big deal. In case you hadn’t noticed.
I understand that watching sports has a family feel to it. We’re in summer here so it’s the perfect occasion to have a few people over to watch the game and celebrate or commiserate afterwards with a BBQ and a few beers. It somehow seems appropriate to bring the kids over. They want to be part of the excitement and learn how to scream at referees and become completely blind to any penalties committed by their own team while developing an unprecedented level of skill and expertise at identifying those of the opposing team. It’s a great opportunity to start developing these essential life skills.
There are times however, when children should not be brought along to watch the game. This generally applies when they are too young to either concentrate on the game or entertain themselves quietly. Very quietly.
Here are some things one shouldn’t do during a World Cup final match, just off the top of my head:
The post about what to give when you’re not giving flowers
For the love of god, NO.
There are only so many flowers a person needs. Honestly. And this goes for sick people, as well as new mothers. Firstly, who has fourteen vases in the right shape and colour for fourteen different bunches? Secondly, who has fourteen mantelpieces to put them on? And thirdly, umm, who needs that many flowers? But who has the time to think of clever and thoughtful yet awesome value presents for people these days? What with full on jobs or full on children or full on both, you need some help. And they don’t call me Helpful Harriet for nothing. Actually, no one calls me Helpful Harriet but I am hoping if I use it enough, it will catch on. So here are some suggestions. Some of them might also be useful for someone who is coping with an illness, a bereavement, a break-up or a general rough time. You are welcome.
The gift of time
