To Boost or Not to Boost? - Day Two

Surprisingly enough, after Day Two of my crazy Body Boost shenanigans, I am feeling very full and satisfied. Not too long ago I polished off a plateful of cod, salad and quinoa and I have to say it really hit the mark. That may have something to do with the fact that I was so hungry I could have eaten a scabby horse, but nevertheless, I will go to bed with a happy tummy.

Breakfast: eggs, tomato, cucmber & olives, Lunch: Butternut squash soup & salad,
Dinner: Cod, Quinoa & roasted veg & salad

It's been another busy day of supermum-type activities, the highlight of which may have been a rather terrifying trip to Tesco. Not terrifying in any exciting or dramatic way. Nothing that's going to make any local headlines. But terrifying because of the devastating effect that it had on my bank balance.

"I'm just popping out to get some basics," I hollered to the hubby before rugby tackling Little Tot into the car seat (he is oh-so-good at the archy-back thing). And in my mind I had developed a brief shopping list of basic things I needed if I was going to do this 10-day detox any justice.

I'd already bowed out of the optional list of health supplements which detox guru Helen McCrea had given me. When you're wondering how on earth you're going to pay the gas bill, it's never a good idea to splash out on digestive enzymes.

And because I'm vegetarian and not tempted by the majority of protein options on Helen's 'allowed' list, it was time to stock up on fish and eggs. And a barrel full of leafy greens, of course.

So I swished swiftly past every single Easter egg offer in the entire building (much to Little Tot's dismay) and selected only the healthiest detox-type items which I felt sure Helen would pat me on the back for, had she been tagging along.

Supermarket Sweep

Only two days before Tesco had swiped a load of cash from my bank account after I'd done a mega-family shop. So, I sailed up to the checkout to pay for my haul of body boosting goods, knowing that I only need worry about myself. Just a few quid would see me through the next few days of detoxing.

Just a few quid? After the smiley Tesco lady had hammered my debit card for fifty five pounds, I staggered out to the car park in a state of shock. Fifty five pounds?!

I was just thankful Little Tot can not yet understand such concepts as eating on a budget and would not, therefore, breathe a word to his father on our return. The receipt went quickly into the bin. The food was packed into the fridge in record time and I turned the subject to football as the hubby walked into the kitchen. Works every time.

Never mind. Tomorrow is another day.

Go well,

Abi


Transform the life you share with your tots and visit www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Find out about Helen McCrea's genius fitness and detox programmes at www.femalefitness.co

The Silent Parent

How odd. This is what I thought during the lead up to February's half-term holiday. There was no sense of dread, no sweaty palms, no saving of pennies to spend on absurdly overpriced comics or loud, garish soft play centres. I was actually quite looking forward to it. Big Tot and Little Tot are getting on so well together at the moment and after a mostly lovely Christmas break I thought to myself, I can bloody well do this. And I can enjoy it too.

The hubby was absent and off in the land of work as per usual, so I accepted my lot, closed my eyes, and started my visions of merriment. I envisaged enthusiastic beach exploring. Energetic nature walks. Imaginative storybook sessions. Hilarious games of hide and seek. Nothing could stop us. We were going to have fun, fun, fun.

Surely, this is how it would be?

Or maybe not.

Two days before break-up and the dizzy spells started. One day before break-up and a tickly cough had me demented. The day of break-up and there was a headache, earache, sore limbs and a sadly depleted attitude to the whole idea of any type of school holiday. As Big Tot's teacher handed him over to me at 3.15pm that day there was a look exchanged between us. We knew we were in completely different worlds she and I. She was sauntering off to relaxation, quiet and calm. I was trudging into sickly despair. And my kids were leading the way.

And just when I thought I could add no more symptoms to my list, you'll never guess what happened.

I lost my voice.

This has never happened to me before. I woke up the first day of the holidays and knew something was wrong but it wasn't until Big Tot walked into the bedroom grumpily demanding the iPad that I realised what had happened.

I had a good cough (owch). And a splutter (owch again). And I did my best to arrange my mouth into a shape that would surely make a noise and answer Big Tot with some cunning reason why iPads were not suitable for this time in the morning. It didn't happen. And he took the iPad.

While I was brewing a coffee and Big Tot was catapulting Angry Birds, I imagined what this meant for us. How could we explore on the beach if I couldn't scald Little Tot for eating seaweed? How could we have imaginative storybook sessions which lacked a storyteller? And never mind that, how could we even perform our basic daily tasks with a mother who couldn't use her best bossy voice?

Just then Big Tot realised something was amiss.

"Mummy? Why are you quiet?"

I tried. I did. But my answer was just a croak. So instead I crouched down to look my son in the eyes, gestured at my throat and did a kind of magic vanishing flourish with my hands, hoping he'd tune into me with some kind of awesome mother-son connection.

"Your neck is going to explode? Cool."

Okay then.

An hour later and Big Tot realised no neck-exploding was going to occur. So with some further gestures and my best attempt at a whisper he finally got it. He remembered his teacher losing her voice before Christmas and helpfully informed me that she found it again so I really didn't have to worry.

And that's when I got my mojo (if not my voice or my good health) back. Voice or no voice these holidays were not going away and if Big Tot's teacher could teach a class of thirty children without the power of words then surely I could manage my own children in the same fashion.


Eye contact was the real lesson of the week. Just crouching down, being on their level, and looking at them with whatever emotion I was trying to convey was powerful stuff. I always thought I did that anyway but now I will be very mindful to do it even more.

We did a bit of doodling, Big Tot and I. Mainly when I just couldn't answer his questions with the power of mime and dance. And let's not forget that this boy asks a lot of questions. "Why can't I stand on the dinner table? Where is my Super Mario hat? Why can't I play on the iPad for a thirty-seventh time?"

My genius artwork

And after a while, I realised that this child doesn't always need an answer. I realised that after a while he just forgets what he's asking and swiftly moves on to something else. Suddenly the reason why wood is brown isn't so intriguing. And the crucial need to know whether Batman lets Robin have annual leave is not so paramount. This came as a massive relief to me. Now I am freed from being the all-seeing, the all-knowing. A burden that was, if I'm honest, pretty hard to bear.

Little Tot was pretty considerate in that he didn't really care if I spoke to him or not, as long as I was there to climb all over, be covered in drool, have toys pushed in my face and have unwanted food chucked in my general direction. He got stern looks for the food-chucking but the rest was endurable.

And, at the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I have to say that The Cool Rule Book was a bit of a lifesaver. I could use it to point out when Big Tot was not performing up to his usual standard of teeth-brushing / toy-sharing / dinner-eating and, more importantly, when he did something wonderful, I could point at the reward section at the back, we'd exchange a knowing smile and then trot into his room to stick balls in his happy jar. And not even a word uttered.

Silent rewards

We did end up spending most of the week at home simply because within the confines of our little bungalow I could make the whole silence thing work. As my voice worked back to a whisper, we ventured out to see a few friends, and as the whisper turned into a voice we did, after all, end up in a loud, garish soft play centre. What the hell. It did the the job and, do you know what? the Tots didn't ask me for a thing the whole time they were there.

That's my boys.

Go well,

Abi



To find out more about The Cool Rule Book and all the other fantastic parenting products the Tots have inspired, visit thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is an enormously important element of any parent's working day. The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is a skill, a strategy, a complex set of tactics woven around other equally important obligations. And, as I have discovered over recent years (and you will no-doubt be jubilant to realise) The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning can be learned.

Let's get something clear first of all. I recognise the importance of cleaning. Honest I do. I understand that cleaning one's home rids it of bugs and germs and all things horrid that might inflict bad health on the typical family. And I am happy to clean to this extent. Nobody wants to deal with a puking toddler, especially if you are also partaking in the puking.

But in recent years, as I have morphed from a career-driven, independent party-goer into a family-driven, sleep-deprived party-dodger, my standards in the realms of cleaning have slipped somewhat.

It took a while though. During the golden age of Big Tot's baby months when he couldn't walk, talk or smear evidence of his shenanigans anywhere, I was still fairly happy to roll up my sleeves. Plus, and let's not forget this important fraction of my background, my husband is from a very old fashioned part of Eastern Turkey where women are expected to do EVERYTHING. Clean, cook, scrub, rub, dust, fold, polish, and they will positively spit if you try to do it for them. Hence I have spent a considerable amount of time sitting back and watching my hubby's sisters whirl around like dervishes in a cleaning / tidying/ caring for many, many children type of frenzy. It's no wonder I felt I should occasionally partake in a bit of dusting.

But as I moved away from Turkey and into a more Western lifestyle; and as the golden age of Babydom ended and Toddlerhood hooked in its claws, The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning has emerged as a very helpful strategy to get me through each day. And as I spend a good percentage of my time performing the domestic tasks which I believe to be unavoidable (washing dishes, cooking, washing clothes, ironing, shopping etc), I think I can be forgiven for cleaning only when absolutely necessary.

Here are my hints and tips for the Avoidance of Proper Cleaning:

• TIDY . . . Tidying and cleaning are very different beasts. Tidying is far, far easier than cleaning and will give the spectacular illusion that the house is clean. And it can be done as you go along, so long as you realise it will never, ever end. 

• AIR FRESHENERS . . . A sure-fire way to give the impression that you have just finished an energetic cleaning sesh. Close your eyes and breathe in the pine forest, the cherry blossom, the ocean spray or whatever else takes your fancy (emphasis on the closing of the eyes).

• NET CURTAINS . . . It is a fact that direct sunlight streaming into your home will highlight every last bit of dirt you have failed to remove. If you can't live with net curtains, then just go out and come back home after dark. It's better that way.

• GLITTER . . .  This is easy if you have small children. Sprinkle glitter everywhere and blame it on a crafts session with the kids (everyone knows glitter is notoriously difficult to remove but it will also mask your real dirt in a sparkly mirage).

• BAKE A CAKE . . . This may sound odd but if there is the smell of a freshly baked cake in the air, other senses (such as sight) will be dulled and any amount of dirt can go unnoticed.

• CANDLES . . . Flickering candles give the impression of a nurturing, soft ambience a far cry from an unloved, unclean home. Out of reach of little hands of course.

• START A PROJECT . . . If you have kids then you've got an excuse to start crazy projects which will ultimately defer from cleaning. "I couldn't clean the bath because there's a giant cardboard Spongebob Squarepants in there."

• BABY WIPES . . . There is always a packet within reach in my house. Did you know they clean anything?

• BASKETS . . . If in doubt of where to put something, stick it in a basket. Seriously. Every room should have one.

• CHEAT . . . Spot opportunities for a cheat-clean. Wipe down the tiles during a shower, get the kids to throw soapy water at the car . . . it's not great, I know, but if you want to Avoid Proper Cleaning then you must be committed to cheating once in a while.

• PATIENCE . . . Just remember that one day the kids will be old enough to take over most Proper Cleaning and there is no need for them to know about this list. However, you could print it and keep it in a safe place for them until they have their own children.

• START A BLOG . . . Always, always more important than cleaning.

Adhering to this list gives you lots more time with your children: tickle-time, treasure hunts, superhero role play, block-building, forest walks and the discussing of hot topics such as the Origins of Snot. I know it's important for kids to learn how a household is run, and that they should definitely contribute to it more as they get older. But, right now while my two are mere whippersnappers, I am happy with my slippery standards.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to light a candle.

Go well,
Abi
xxx

P.S. If you want to see how else I spend my time when I'm not cleaning, go to www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk and browse the gorgeous happy living products I've created for toddlers and parents!

In Search of Supernanny

Please forgive me if I need to prop up my aching feet. Or if I need to rapidly replenish my hydration levels. Big Tot might be feeling the strain too because he's been my loyal companion on this epic journey. I didn't realise the two of us we were capable of travelling such a distance or bearing such a heavy load. And the journey, although long and winding and perilous and tough, is not yet finished.

So, just to recap, we started our adventure in the humblest of places, our living room. It was Saturday morning, the only time of the week when Mummy gets the monopoly on the telly. Supernanny was on. My absolute favourite. I'd set up my little arrangement of cushions, a cuppa, the remote and explicitly warned the Tots that Mummy was not to be relied on for anything for the next hour. Ironic that the only time I spend  ignoring my children is when I'm avidly watching a parenting guru, but such is life.

Big Tot and I had spent the first ten minutes having our usual argument about why Pokemon was strangely vacant from this morning's viewing. And I had the subtitles flashing away so I could at least read what was going on even if I couldn't hear it. And that's when inspiration struck me. I needed Supernanny's help.

And not in the way you might imagine. I wasn't yet desperate enough to make the emergency plea for Supernanny's parenting expertise as I could shamelessly swindle that off the telly. I needed her words. Her trusted, expert, dependable words. I needed her to endorse the Cool Rule Book.

Now I know my gorgeous, photo book creation is the answer to every parent's dreams. And the parents who've already bought it know that too. But the people who have not bought it, and have a rather demanding yet very wonderful toddler at home, need to know it too, don't they?

And that's where Supernanny could help. Or Jo Frost as she is more formally known. If only I could send her a copy of the Cool Rule Book, then surely she would be happy to emblazon it with some kind of statement of total admiration. Something along the lines of 'every family needs one'. Not too much to ask, is it?

Anyway, that's how the journey started. I leapt up from my cushioned arrangement, fuelled by my motivation to find Supernanny. Big Tot got carried away with it all ("I'm going to win! I'm going to find Supernanny before you!") and we began travelling the globe via the magic of the internet.

Was she in England doing her extreme parental guidance? No! Was she in Beverly Hills where oddly enough she seems to have an agent? No! Did her Twitter fan page have any idea? No! Did her website give anything away? Of course not! Where the flip was she?

And that's when we stopped for snacks. Refueling was important.

Did her Facebook page even belong to her? It appeared not! Hang on, what was that? That flashy pop-up type thing which Big Tot insisted might be a new season of Angry Birds. That was no angry bird. That was Jo Frost herself insisting that I come along to her brand new show which was - wait for it - live! Oh yes, we wanted to go, we wanted to go. Big Tot was going to take his plastic motorbike and I was going the take the Cool Rule Book and it was going to be a perfect end to a perfect adventure. Where was it?

Oh, er . . . Australia.

And that's when we stopped for more snacks. And more or less put the whole journey on hold.  No point bothering her Down Under now, was there? Surely it could wait until she returned. Now I just have to figure out where, exactly, she will return to.

And can you believe Little Tot missed out on all of this? He'd been on an adventure with far crazier heights and more extreme thrills than we could have imagined. Because scaling furniture is exciting stuff when you're fifteen months old. Maybe next time we'll join him.

But I'm not giving up on Supernanny. Not that easily.

Go well everyone,

Abi


Find out how brilliant The Cool Rule Book is before Supernanny does at www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk and celebrate happy living with your little one today!