Day 328 - Dear Tooth Fairy....

Good try, note boy...think he was angling for some special treatment, but the Tooth Fairy isn't so easily swayed...

I did smile though, when I found it lying outside my seven year old's room. Not smiling so much when I had to search for his tooth. Usually it goes in a TF-friendly little box, but this time he'd insisted on putting it under his pillow. Thankfully he didn't stir as I felt around on the sheet.

I found some lego, 2p and an elastic band.

And just as I was starting to get a little desperate, my hand brushed over the small, sharp tooth.

I added it to my growing collection in a dark cupboard corner, and then wrote a teeny tiny card in my best teeny tiny writing, wishing my husband was home, because he has the smallest handwriting known to man.

Always an early start the morning after the Tooth Fairy visits.
He galloped into my room, waving the pound and the card in the air, 'LOOK Mummy, LOOOOK!'

I love that joyful burst of pure excitement when they still believe. And I want to remember this one, because I know my note days are numbered.

Day 318 - Bed Socks and Mouse/Mitts

Bed socks aren't necessarily a sign that you're getting on are they? Just wondering, because I've been given six pairs in a relatively short space of time.  Not that I'm complaining. I don't really have a problem slip-sliding down the slope into comfort. And I do get cold feet.

Among my hoard I'm lucky enough to have a few cashmere pairs. They always start off being my favourites, but maddeningly I seem to go through them in a matter of weeks. Is it just me? I know, as the name suggests they're not a heavy duty sock, but come on! A few weeks of night-time pottering and telly watching?

Anyway I've tried mending the massive heel holes - the thing is I'm not very good at it, and usually end up creating an uncomfortable lump. A darn lump would be about right.

So why am I showing you my tatty old cashmere bed socks? Well, inspired by the very lovely Thrift Bee, who cleverly transformed an old cashmere scarf into a gorgeous, hot water bottle cover, I decided to forget darning, and give the socks a new lease of life as a pair of fingerless gloves.

And it was pretty easy. First I cut off the foot part, just where the heel starts - slipped them on, and marked the place I wanted the thumb hole to be.

Then stitched around the raw edges to stop them unravelling and carefully sewed on some ribbon. A little fiddly, but I found a lovely purple/blue two-tone piece.

And in an attempt to use every possible un-holey bit of the sock, I salvaged enough of a toe section to make this softy.

Do you think there might be a market for cashmere cat toys...?

Linking up with Lakota's Ta-dah! Tuesday

Day 314 - Losing it

I had a mini meltdown yesterday. Nothing to do with the kids. I just happened to glance down at my engagement ring, and there was a dark, empty space where a shiny gem used to be. A shiny diamond gem.

I felt sick. It's my most precious piece of jewellery, chosen by my husband in the days when he could. Freely. Without interference. And he got it spot on.

Now considering I love the ring so much I really should have looked after it a little better, but it just stays on all the time, for everything. Most people do the same, right?
Anyway, no point dwelling on 'if onlys'.

My mind started whirring: when had I last had a proper look at it? What had I been doing that day?
Well of course I'd done everything - cooking, dish washing, laundry, gardening, cleaning, hoovering...

A wave of mounting despair. What were the chances? It could be anywhere. Shiny but tiny. Still I couldn't just give up without trying.

So I emptied the vacuum bag (yuck)
and the bin (double yuck)
I even had a look in the U-bend, under the sink (wet)
No joy.
My heart sank some more.

The kids were sweet. They went and found a torch, because I'd told them the diamond was sparkly and would catch the light. Then they started looking in all the places I NEVER go; like in the bowl of shells in the bathroom, the Wii games drawer, the cupboard where the iron is kept.

Once I'd got them into bed I had a half-hearted look around my room, only to be joined minutes later by three eager little helpers, waving a torch.
I'd foolishly offered a reward.
Just as I was checking the bed while trying to persuade them to hold off the search until the morning, a glittery glint caught my eye in the torch light. Just for a split second.

Could it be? I held my breath and had a look...

and there, lying on my sheet was the tiny, twinkly diamond.

Unbelievable.

I really did properly jump for joy - up and down on my bed, whooping and yelling with delight,
to a chorus of, 'WHAT'S OUR PRIZE MUMMY?'

Silent Sunday - 9/9/12

The Gallery: Back to School!

We're usually running for the bus, but the kids were so keen to go to school on the first day, they were down by the road half an hour early. The youngest has had her uniform lying next to her bed since sunday...

And bar the odd needy moment questioning why they're quite so desperately keen, I couldn't be happier that the kids are itching to get back to school. We've had a lovely summer, but now they need to be surrounded, and I need some space.

It's such a blessing being on the bus route - no school run or school gate for me. The only slight drawback is I'm out of touch with all the goings on. But I can live with that.

I need to make the most of it too, because the eldest leaves in the summer, so this is my last year of school run freedom.

As soon as I opened the bus door the kids were on in a flash; smiling shyly at friends. Quiet for a moment or two. No chatting. Yet. All three looked so smart in their still-shop-creased trousers and perfect new shoes. Beryl the driver laughed saying they wouldn't look like that on the ride home. They never do.

Then the minibus trundled up the lane, and I trundled down it, in my running kit. Because I could.

The Gallery theme this week is Back to School

Day 290 - Dune du Pilat

We've just been on a day trip to the beach not far from Bordeaux: our last outing before heading back home. It was a perfect day - action-packed, sun and fun-filled, with a liberal sprinkling of sand. 

First stop was the Dune du Pilat, which is definitely worth a visit. We went last year - I wasn't blogging then, but enjoyed it so much I wrote this short piece... 

We park under the pine trees, step out into the heat and breathe in that unmistakeable smell of the sea. Everyone's irritable after the slow journey.  It seems the world and his wife had the same idea as us.

Our little family troop joins a growing mass of sightseers winding their way up a tree lined path; picking up speed past the stalls and cafes in the hope of avoiding the all too familiar call for ice cream.  Then the pine trees part and we get our first proper look at this extraordinary, towering mountain of sand, rising up from the forest floor.  The Dune du Pilat, takes me by surprise - it is somehow gloriously unexpected eventhough I've read the guide. I know it's the largest sand dune in Europe. It stops me in my tracks. Just for a moment.

The children start running - the fine, warm sand is like a magnet and soon they're scrabbling up the side.  I take the easier route, joining the slow procession moving up the steps.  It is quite a climb but the steps are wide and the pace is gentle. 

At the top my feet sink in and I wait for the others: they soon arrive, out of breath.  Then another short walk up through the treacley sand to reach the highest point. 

And what a view. Stunning which ever way you look. 

In front, the deep blue of the Atlantic ocean and the Cap Ferret peninsula at the tip of Archachon Bay.  Behind a dense forest of pine trees stretching as far as the eye can see. 

We sit down to take it in.  It's high season and we're surrounded by a constant hum - but it doesn't matter, it is still magical. 

A  trail of people walk on along the top of the dune.  The children aren't so keen to follow after their climb, so we watch a paraglider trying to launch off the sandy slope until the youngest lets us know it's time to go back. 

We race down the side, jumping high into the air.  Ten seconds of pure, exhilerating fun.  The memory of being stuck in hot holiday traffic fading with each thrilling leap.