How We Rocked the Launch of TEND

My babes are my biggest fans, my cheer leading squad, my rock. They are the ones who cheered me on and took an interest in this magazine long before anybody else; they take an interest now and delight every time anyone says anything nice about it. They hope for the best with it, they ask about it, they understand when mama's got to work on it. In fact, they've been absolute rock stars about the whole deal. And in the last few frantic weeks when they've hardly seen me, they've understood and never complained.

So how else to celebrate the launch of the magazine, than by unplugging and getting out of Dodge and giving myself to my children in the very place we love the most - the forest. And that's just what we did.






The car door opened and I didn't really see them for a few hours as they bounced from one corner and hidey hole to the next; old haunts revisited - yes! the bivouac is still standing - let's add a little bit more! New things were found, treasures brought back before bounding off to the horizon again ("this twig would look good in 'Tend', mummy").







It was just what we needed, it was just what we always need and what we look forward to the most - space to roam, fresh air and sunshine, things to investigate and treasures to find. And for me, those trees always manage to weave some magic of their own. The further off track we went, the more content I felt.

We need these spaces and these moments more than anything else. When the human-made noises and worries are left far behind it is then that we find a way back to ourselves, we hear those small, quiet voices often drowned out by worries and demands, we find our centre and manage to anchor ourselves again in a world that pulls us this way and that. It worries me that as we rush headlong into a world ever more virtual and sedentary that those small voices will be lost forever and we will forget what it means to be human at all. I hope, if nothing else, my children will always remember these moments and have the sense to forge similar for themselves when they are older.











And I hope that you too find a place in nature that calls to that quiet within and show your babes how to find it too. I've found nothing else that comes close to replacing it.


{P.S. please do visit Heather today at Beauty That Moves for a chance to win a copy of the magazine!}

Movie Nights!

It seems winter is an ideal time for movie nights, no? No outdoor play with the neighbourhood kids, too cold and gloomy for the garden, the need for blankets and hot cocoa makes it an ideal time to throw a movie into the mix and revel in the nothingness of winter evenings. Or afternoons. Or indeed both given that they both look exactly the same.

And the best part about movie night? Movie snacks. Without doubt.

Any recommendations from your babes to ours?

Drowning in Plastic

I am ready to wave the white flag and up sticks and just move into the Lego factory. It would be easier and more cost-effective all round.

Don't get me wrong; I love the stuff - the ability to induce zen-like calm in my little men is worth untold riches. The fact that they can entertain themselves literally for HOURS with it, well, ditto.

But my floors! People - it's EVERYWHERE! It gets into places even dirt can't reach! I find it everywhere, just EVERYWHERE even in the garden!

Needless to say this Eid they are hoping for even more. And I'm quietly despairing of ever being able to see my carpet again.

Sometimes, They Do This...

I walk in the room, and this is what I see:
Every single blanket is staring at me,
I've got a Midget in the house and he ain't afraid to destroy it, destroy it, destroy it...

We're den-building and I know it...

Playdates

Playdates used to be so different....

When Obsession Strikes

There's no rhyme or reason to where these interests come from. One day they are solidly into Lego, the next Transformers, the next electronic circuit boards, the next watercolours. Last week, for one solid week, it was planets. They got up one day and were into planets *shrugs*.

And without me intervening, or indeed allowed to help, they read, watched, made and talked all things planets. They have their eyes on a paper mache solar system hanging from their ceiling (although not accurate distances, mummy, because otherwise Neptune would have to be in the car park) and my role in all this, as it has always been, is facilitator. I'm the one who ensures the resources, the space, the tweaking of direction, the provider of snacks.

There is a saying that all homeschoolers love to quote which is that "education is not the filling of a bucket, but the lighting of a fire". I admit, some days even filling a bucket is beyond me, and I stand in the middle of chaos wondering if my children will ever be employable. But on others, when things come together just so, it is no more than seeing the blue touch-paper sparked off and sitting back and watching the show. And it is on those days I feel privileged to be allowed to be the one who helps it come together.

I have no idea what their next obsession will be, but I *do* know that I am going to enjoy the show...