Birthday Blog Post No. 1

A Word from the Chillipeeps Lady!

Today is the first in our special series of blog posts to help celebrate the first year of The Cool Rule Company. Claire Mitchell from Chillipeeps has been kind enough to take time to write a few words and show you why she has been such an inspiration to me during my first twelve months in business. Enjoy!

Hello, my name is Claire Mitchell and I am the Inventor of the multi-award winning Chillipeeps Teat.

Claire and the genius Chillipeeps teat

The Chillipeeps teat attaches directly to cartons of ready-made formula and Volvic and Evian water bottles. We also have a Sterilised Teat and are about to launch the Chillipeeps Spouts for 6m+.
We now trade globally and have huge plans for the future to create a real difference for our babies.

The teat and the spout in action

It all began with a real ‘Eureka!’ moment when we had just set off late to a family party with our beautiful baby daughter. I knew I had cartons of ready-made formula in the car but I couldn’t remember if I’d picked up the clean sterilised bottle which I’d painstakingly prepared. I asked my husband if he’d picked it up, he hadn't and tried to convince me I definitely would have. So whilst I made him rummage through the baby bag to check, I ranted ‘Why hasn’t anyone invented a teat that can directly attach to the carton?’ It turned out I had picked up the bottle and off we went to the party.

Six hours later when the party was over and we got into the car, I told Rob I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Rob had already forgotten. ‘Why hasn’t anyone invented a teat that attaches directly to the cartons?’ We discussed it all the way home and after a little bit of research online, realised we may have come up with a good idea.

The result of that 'Eureka!' moment

I contacted Peter Jones from Dragons Den that evening and asked him to get in touch. His automated email response gave me the first steps of advice to contact the Patent Office and from there Chillipeeps was born. Genius!

I first met Abi and her funky Cool Rule Company at a local baby and toddler show, where I had gone to give away some Chillipeeps Teats and Abi had a stand. I was immediately drawn to see what she was up to. The branding was so vibrant and intrigued me as to what it was.

The branding that captured Claire's attention

Once Abi showed me the concept of The Cool Rule Book and her reward charts, I loved it. Having a little one myself, I just got it. I quizzed Abi a bit about what her plans were for the future and taking it to a larger audience and offered her my business card. Abi didn’t contact me straight away, which was a good thing as in the meantime I became a Mums Club Top 100 Business woman and within the 100 found a fabulous contact for Abi.

The Cool Rule Book for parents & toddlers

I hoped Abi would make contact one day and I’d have the opportunity to introduce them. Abi did finally get in touch and I gave her the belief and confidence to think big and I introduced her to my special contact, the Dodo Pad founder Rebecca. Fate works in fabulous ways and Rebecca was a perfect contact for Abi, to advise her on moving to a bigger stage.


Thanks so much Claire . . . it's been great to hear from you. And thank you for all your help and support to get The Cool Rule Company where it is today!

The next blog post is from a very talented paper artist, Poppy Lee. Check it out on Monday 8th July!

If you want to follow Claire and her Chillipeeps journey, use these links:

chillipeeps.com
Facebook.com/ChillipeepsTeats
Twitter.com/Chillipeeps

To find out what The Cool Rule Company can do for you and your toddler, visit thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Party On Dad

Why the nation was avidly watching The Voice, Britain's Got Talent or a heady, back-to-back, Sky Plussed version of both last Saturday night I do not understand. For there was a heated finale playing out in my own living room worthy of any slickly choreographed light show or swaying gospel backing choir. The. Final. Logo. Decision.

Yes, I did it. After going through a whole block of Post-Its and bullying anyone within spitting distance to give me an opinion I finally went ahead and formed an opinion of my own. After all, it's me who's got to be happy looking at it several years ahead when my business has dramatically morphed into a multi-million dollar empire. It's me who's got to slap it on everything related to my professional identity. And I am happy with it. I am excited about it. It is the only logo candidate that made me actually feel something. Whether a logo should do that or not is potentially a thesis all in itself but, being a girl who follows her heart, I have done just that.

So now is about the time I should be publishing it to the world, isn't it? And while we're on with it, why not actually tell people what my business is all about? Erm, well, no, actually. And there are two reasons for this:

1.) I am going to apply for a Trademark for my logo so nobody can nick it, meaning publishing it before that point, to all you good people, whilst I trust you all implicitly, would be rather dumb.

and . . .

2.) When I'm ready to go I want to be really ready to go with all whistles and bells and frills and cherries on top and a slickly choreographed light show and a swaying gospel backing choir etc etc. Considering I have yet to print a business card or buy a domain name, all of this may have to wait a few weeks / months.

Oh, and there's a number 3.)

3.) Big Tot and Little Tot don't appear to be going away.

Not that I'd ever, ever want them to, of course. But the fact remains that they are a wonderfully permanent fixture in my life and I must learn to mould my professional life around my domestic pursuits. Mummy first and dynamic entrepreneur second. I am not the first busy, run-ragged, rapdily-ageing parent to do this and I will undoubtedly be the last. And thank goodness because some of the most fantastic business ideas have been born out of the inspirational role of being a ma or a pa.

And whilst we're on the topic I'll raise a glass to my own inspirational pa who passed away last September. What a man. It would have been his birthday today so I'm celebrating with a whisky and diet coke (he was a single malt kind of guy and would not be amused by my cheap, uneducated palette). He was a whizz with graphic design and I could do with some kind of divine communication right now to get a few hints and tips on all my business-related design conundrums. Although I'm sure he's much too busy partying on up there with Steve (Jobs), Jimmy (Stewart), Duke (Ellington) John (Lennon) and Marilyn (Monroe, of course) to engage in any immaculate communication with me. Exactly how it should be.

So I will just be happy that I've inherited his eye for design and carry on as I have been. A whole lot of parenting, a healthy dash of marriage, a drop of business planning and a good slosh of being my Dad's daughter.

Go well,

Abi

Because Life's A Puzzle

The final four logo candidates are going everywhere with me. They are my new best buds. They hang out in the changing bag, all laminated and glossy and quivering with graphic potential. They skip out of the bag on demand and flip themselves into the unsuspecting path of any friend or foe and buzz with a 'Pick Me!' kind of vibe. Their backs are adorned in clusters of multi-coloured Post-Its scrawled with reasons why people like or dislike them. They're taking all the criticism very well. I'm impressed by their commitment to the cause. I just hope the winner can handle the giddy heights of success.

I had let loose the very same candidates only two days ago, across a friend's shiny kitchen table. We stood over them, supping coffee, gazing down, discussing the merits of each one as my nearly four-year-old son (Big Tot) and eleven month old baby (Little Tot) dashed in and out between us and a pile of Transformers on the living room floor.

My friend, otherwise known as Auntie Carol to the Tots, or Babysitting Guardian Angel to me, slapped a Post-It on her favourite and offered me another coffee. I was tempted but knew the dinnertime clock was ticking so told Big Tot he had five more minutes to play with Optimus Prime. Not practising Mindfulness very effectively that day, my mind was racing ahead to the usually clumsy event of preparing dinner in the world's smallest kitchen with Little Tot around. He apparently thinks we are the very same being and we must not, at any cost, be more than an inch apart. Whilst I'm told this is a normal stage in his development, it does not mix particularly well with hot pans and whirring ovens.

Auntie Carol suggested a safety gate at the kitchen door might solve the problem. Blooming genius. Why the flip had I not thought of that before? Living in a bungalow I'd kind of written off the whole safety gate thing and, of course, I have many dead brain cells due to producing babies and I am unable to think up such genius plans for myself. Excellent. The next day I would go out and purchase the finest safety gate imaginable and normal standards of catering would resume in my household.

Or maybe not. That night's offering didn't even make it to the plate as I spent pretty much the rest of my day at the Burns Unit with a very distressed and sore-pawed Tot. The poor thing had seen a chance and taken it. For all of five seconds that I was dumping a washing basket in another room, Little Tot had army-crawled his way over to the closed oven door, pulled himself up on it and pressed his little nose up to the hot, hot glass. I've never heard screaming like it. I felt like my heart was going to combust. Luckily it did not and I found the sense to submerge his hands in cold water whist I worked out something resembling a plan. Car. Drive. Hospital. Now.

I'll spare you the details but there was a babysitting rescue team involving the famous Auntie Carol, long waits to see doctors, blister examining, blister popping, blister cleaning and blister bandaging. There was also a huge blistering of my ego which I'm still tending to. As you can imagine.

So now I know his burns are only superficial. And now I know he's capable of eating a custard cream with only his thumbs. Now I feel a little calmer.

So, naturally, there's also now a safety gate in place. A beacon of safety for the home. A white, slatted, metal metaphor for mindful transition between domestic realms.

And quite clearly an outrageous tripping hazard as demonstrated by yours truly sailing through the space between aforementioned bloody safety gate and kitchen unit and crash landing on my left knee resulting in burning pain and huge, bruised, bumpy swelling. Safe? Gate? Grrrr.

Apart from slapping some high-vis tape onto the hilariously named 'step-over' bar on the bottom of the gate, I don't really know what else to do. Nurse my knee a little? Breathe deep? Slow down? Muse on some beautiful philosophical parenting concept?

And that's when I remembered Auntie Carol's Post-It on her favourite logo candidate. And decided to cut myself some slack.





















Go safe, go well,

Abi