Chickens in a box

The Christmas holidays started with a bang, literally, when James decided he couldn't take any more carols and took a nose dive off the back of our pew at St Martins and landed face-first on the concrete floor. Turning puce, he took an enormous breath in - just enough time for me to scrape him off the tiles and sprint for the door before the inevitable howl of pain. Fortunately no harm done other than a serious trout pout for a couple of days (seriously squidgy goodnight kisses). Since then, things haven't improved...Term-time is when I work, play and socialise but the holidays are a different ball game. Having both boys home has been a serious shock to the system, probably because William's started school so in the week the boys don't see each other very much and so now they're suddenly thrown together 24/7. I seem to spend most of the day breaking up constant fights, pulling Will up for being rude, trying to ignore/diffuse James' whinging and preventing e...

Today was a bit like a Christmas marathon. First up the nativity at St Martins, James stayed in a the temporary creche laid on by the school, clutching an apple and my ankle. Finally wrestling my way free, Sonya and I made a break for the stage and were swiftly enveloped in a sea of parents, clutching a plethora of digital recording devices all pointing in different directions. As ever, being at the back, the wrong side of the room and small, I couldn't see William at all. But all of a sudden, the backs parted and through the tiniest chink we caught each other's eye, grinned and waved. Suddenly it was all worthwhile. Onwards and upwards, back to the creche to pick up James (who was sabotaging the school computers) and have a coffee in the hall. Packed with parents and hyper-active children we didn't get very far in the queue and fled to the safety of home and superior coffee provided by Nespresso. Sonya went home, leaving James and I to our own devices; small boy with his l...

Such a beautiful day, so after breakfast we set off to Bedwyn on the train for a long walk to the Crofton Beam Engines along the canal.

The festivities are ramping up now, with Secret Santa at St Martins in the morning where each class was able to buy Mummys, Daddys and younger siblings a present (I dread to think what William has chosen for me, but he's terribly excited about it and keeps having to check on it...). Then over to Little Sunflowers for James' first nativity. Parents shivered and shuffled outside in the playground before being crammed into the tiny hall. Thank heavens I'm small and can fit comfortably into one of the children's chairs. James made a great king, wearing his costume (I never thought they'd even get it on him) and behaving beautifully. Eddie stood at the back taking photos while I craned through the sea of heads to catch a glimpse of the top of my son's head. All too soon it was over, time to down a mulled wine, woof a mince pie and lurch off to the next thing. In James' case, celebratory fish and chips.

Another bout of freezing weather this December, the roads are ice rinks and it even snowed just enough to go sledging in the playing fields. Lovely, and great fun - but with the schools closed and boys at home, it's made getting any work done a challenge!

What a fantastic weekend! A champagne fry-up at Anne and Tim's and then we all clambered aboard our mini-bus for a fantastic day's racing. The boys loved it, and we actually managed to win on a few races so everyone was happy. It was bitterly cold, but moving between paddock, rails and the mulled wine bar kept us warm and James found his niche in life sitting on the bar having his feet massaged by Anne and generally holding court. We came home just in time to put the boys to bed and then round 2. Into our finest glad rags and off to Casino Night at Richard and Sonya's. More champagne, more gambling - the perfect end to a perfect day.

A lovely, crisp Autumn afternoon to be out and about with William and the Cherries.

Or rather, what it doesn't mean to be a Mother, and being unable to control my children effectively in a supermarket is not going to give me sleepless nights. My apparant lack of discipline came up completely out of the blue over the weekend, much to my dismay and after initially feeling absolutely livid, I started to question my parenting ability and felt terrible - there's no escaping the fact that the boys are a nightmare when let loose in shops. Then I started to think about what my role in their lives actually is, and does it really matter? There are no manuals to help you with being a parent and I don't have any one to go to for advice. When they think about me later in life, are they going to care that I made sure they were obedient at all times? Of course not, memories are made of much more than that and so are Mothers. My role (as I see it) is to give them stability, confidence, happiness, security, support, comfort and adventures. The things that Eddie and I will...

A day of incredible ups and miserable downs. Mistake Number 1; Taking James into Newbury - a hideous mistake. He was a nightmare, fiddling with EVERYTHING, until eventually he surpassed himself by squirting almost an entire tube of tinted moisuriser over the Boots counter. After lunch (which James refused to eat unless fed), we walked over to St Martin's to the school service. The rain had been torrential all morning but suddenly it cleared and the afternoon was beautiful - very windy - but beautiful. We set off through the orchard and as we emerged 2 mums en route to the church stopped, appalled, to offer us a lift. It was very kind but actually I was so happy enjoying the wild and windy day with James. The service was lovely, we sat just behind William and had a great view. Will was thrilled to see us and so kept getting told off for turning round! When the service had ended we all went home together for hot Ribena, malt loaf and CBeebies (or in my case, the ironing). Unfortunate...

I call Tuesday my 'Invincible Day' because there's always so much to fit in; lunchbox for James, sandwiches for Eddie, getting both boys to school and pre-school, then across for a polo lesson, home to woof lunch, shower and do some work, then back out to pick the children back up again, tea, bath, story, bed. Most of the time I do get through it unscathed and collapse in disbelief that I've survived, before prising myself off the sofa to make supper. Sadly today was more eventful than most because Sonya had a nasty fall in the polo lesson. I didn't see it happen but by all accounts the horse just went down on its knees and she somersaulted over its head. She's obviously done some serious damage to her shoulder and I'm waiting to hear what the verdict is in terms of the extent of the injury. A frightening experience and it does make you feel very small and very mortal. There you are, hurtling around on these huge animals, arms flailing and who knows what cou...

Much excitement in the run-up to this year's Bonfire Night at school, the boys conveniently forgetting that last year they hid in the kitchen terrified of the bangs.... In a moment of inspiration, this year we went armed with Eddie's shooting ear defenders and, having picked a cracking viewpoint, settled down with hot dogs and beers while William and his friends fenced each other with light sabre-esque glow sticks. Ear defenders in place, William finally enjoyed a firework night, and when Daniel Fernandez (the coolest boy in Cherry class) stood next to him, the defenders were finally removed and the two boys oohed and aahed with the best of us.

I have dim recollections of struggling down the Oxdrove in the pitch black trick or treating; picking off the neighbours we knew (about 2 houses) and Granny and Grandpa. Not the most fun, but we gave it our best shot. So with children of my own I decided this year it was time to unleash Hell on the unsuspecting villagers of East End. This being England it was a (relatively) civilized affair, with the victims warned in advance to give them time to turn the lights off at the appropriate moment and hide behind the sofa. Fortunately our friends got into the spirit of the evening and took the swarm of small and not-so-small children howling on their porches very well. Pumped with E numbers (children) and wine (parents), we returned for 'Casper, the Friendly Ghost' (children) and pumpkin soup with more wine (parents). All together a fabulous evening, finally ending only when I turned off the TV and all the lights, banished the children from the sitting room and requested that they ...

A relaxing day spent with Janie and her two girls - lunch, livestock and Toy Story washed down with alternate cups of tea and coffee. Great to catch up with an old friend and put the world to rights while Izzy and James hung out together and William took charge of baby Charlotte. Friendships change over the years but the way you approach parenting has a big impact on their futures. Very relaxing to be able to chat to someone who has exactly the same approach to life as yourself. And while we were wittering, the children managed to build a den, nick all the chocolate Halloween treats from Janie's handbag and woof (almost) the lot. Angels.

We recently got invited to a party in London, thrilled at the prospect of getting dressed up, seeing good friends and a potential end-of-evening bop I accepted immediately. Excited about the do I started planning the logistics around such a trip and this is where it gets tricky. Firstly (almost) everyone has one or more offspring now, so there are no spare rooms on offer. I looked into the B&B option, which was reasonably priced but miles out of town and with a minimum stay of 3 nights. Then there's the high-end hotel; you're looking at spending between £250 - £400 a night for a double room. Alternatively you could go budget and find a NovaHell or Travelodge but it's still going to be around the £100 mark before you've even parked the car, let alone bought a drink. Next, childcare. You need someone who can stay overnight, do breakfast and keep the children amused until you get back late morning. Clearly the staying-in-town-idea wasn't going to fly. So we...

Sucked into the instant gratification that Facebook brings, it's been ages since I wrote my blog and suddenly I missed it terribly. A lot has happened since last I wrote; James is 3, William is a Cherry, it's half-term and we're all home after 3 days away in Dorset. So. After nearly 5 years of living next door to the school, I have arrived. I am a 'Mum'. And it's a minefield out there - politics, intrigue, factions, cliques - it's all going on and you have to hustle your way through as best you can, dodging the bullets as you go. Trying to keep my trap shut has never been a forte, but if I'm going to survive the next 6 years it's something I need to work on. In the meantime William is in heaven, he loves it and definitely seems to have an aptitude for words and spelling. His strength in maths remains to be seen....we can only hope for the best!

Bath time and the end was in sight, James was whinging because William wanted to get out first so I dried Will quickly and let him go while I fished James out of the water. As it was early the plan was to watch The Night Garden for a bit before bed. With James dried and in his jim jams I called for William but he didn't answer. Shouting a bit louder (and starting to get cross) he still didn't come. So I went downstairs thinking he'd be fiddling with the telly - no one there. Starting to worry and with James trailing after me holding Will's pyjamas I called and called whilst looking in all their favourite hiding places but there was total silence. The front door was locked, but the back door wasn't, and the wind had blown open the door into the garden. By now I was really worried, visions of some nutter coming into the house and grabbing Will ran through my head and I called Eddie in a panic to tell him I couldn't find William anywhere. Screaming round the...

The leaves are beginning to turn and the garden's looking straggly, the blackberry bushes and orchards are beginning to ripen and Eddie has started muttering about his 'Autumn Strategy. This will involve hours of foraging, stewing, measuring, bubbling and bottling, and I'll start to find demi-johns of noxious liquid squatting in the airing cupboard. In the meantime with my dreams of owning a dog (temporarily) on hold , I have turned my attentions to a potentially easier and more productive creature - the chicken. After spending the weekend looking after the school chooks Muffin and Waffle, who rewarded us with two fabulous eggs, chickens are the way forward. I've always wanted some and our garden would be perfect for a couple of little furry bantams to scrat about in. Time to do some research.

It's no wonder I haven't written this for ages, there doesn't seem to be a single spare second these days what with... bluebells to play in; work to be done; crumbs to sweep; champagne to be drunk; hats to try; dresses to buy; friends to laugh with; sunshine to bask in; surf to run through; 10ks to train for; cats to cuddle; beds to make; polo to play; resting to.....well...I can dream can't I?

A rare picture of Yours Truly looking slightly pensive as William aims the camera with unerring accuracy. Life is good. Busy, but good. I am loving the juggling although sometimes it can be very difficult to jump between CBeebies and coffee mornings to the corporate world of internal comms. Eddie and I have come full circle and are back in the same office where we first met nearly 13 years ago. Fortunately for us, it's big enough to be able to avoid each other most of the time (unless I'm feeling especially cruel, in which case I sit opposite him and witter). However despite all this extra work, the washing, ironing, cooking, dusting, lunchboxes, sandwiches, cat, children etc all need dealing with. So work begins when I wake up at 6.15am and finishes when I've made the sandwiches and finished the washing up at around 10.00pm. Most of the time I manage to swallow my panic and feel proud that I'm the Mum That Can Do It All. Exhausted and exhilerated, I think I'...

William to James; "You're a poo." James to William; "I'm not a poo." James to Me; "I'm not a poo, are I Mummy?" Me to James; "No." James to William; "I'm not a poo, William. I'm a boy."

Some simple rules that help me survive: DO 1. An early recce of the tea spread to decide in advance what to go for 2. Avoid the indignity of the tea rush; bide your time and you'll find a decent seat 3. Scan room for angelic-looking children who are likely to beat the crap out of yours 4. Practice your ice queen stare - ideal for use on unsupervised children attempting to bully/punch/push/grab/pinch etc. yours 5. Steer clear of any boxed wine 6. Leave as early as possible DO NOT 1. Accept an invitation to a children's party further than 5 miles from your house 2. Beg/bribe/plead/promise or otherwise coerce your child into joining in anything 3. Make any contact whatsoever with a children's entertainer (if present) 4. Hang over your child while it's eating, offering advice about organic crudites vs Hula Hoops. It is futile 5. Attempt to communicate with other adults. Another futile exercise 6. Volunteer to do anything

Am now a fully-fledged freelance consultant (hence blog-silence for the past month). Working on a PR project and now an internal comms placement until May. Finally all my networking paid off, I held my nerve and now work 2 days a week but in my own time. Thankfully my current client is very kind and understanding about the boys, happy for me to rush off for pre-school pick-ups when I need to. My faith in modern working has been restored! Life is now a precarious balance between working, cooking, housework and 2 boisterous boys. I have never been busier but am thrilled to be using my brain again - and earning money. I have found it very hard not to earn, and now I'm contributing financially again the world feels very different. For starters I can actually buy things without having to feel that I need to justify why each time (as a result I'm now the proud owner of a new Nespresso). I love being a mother but it's important to me that I have an identity in my own right...

This Christmas has been unbelievable. Snow just before Christmas itself quickly thawed into lumps of grey slush and arctic, drizzly rain. Fortunately for us, we escaped off to Tenerife for 10 days to stay with Sue and Jim in their apartment where we enjoyed 24 degree heat and sunshine every day. It's incredible what a difference 4 1/2 hours in a plane can do for the weather, and by the middle of the holiday we'd become totally addicted to Sky News, watching the UK disappear into a snow drift. Fortunately we also found time to lie in the sun by the pool while the boys swam, then back inside for a siesta (and more Sky) before heading out for supper. Not bad going. Coming home was a bit of a shock to the system (understatement); stepping off the plane into a Siberian Gatwick. Since then it's been ski gear every day, fires on, hot chocolate.... Roll on the thaw, we're so over the snow.