My three year old’s bedroom has never had a “theme”. But, as we start to look for somewhere more permanent to live, I’ve become a bit obsessed with planning her new bedroom. And it’s all going to start with this piece of beautiful personalised button art from Ella and Oscar.

Arriving in a lovely plain white chunky frame, the letter “F” is made up of gorgeously bright buttons which look stylish and fun. I love the clean white background against the buttons – and Frog loves that she recognises her favourite letter every day when she wakes up. 

From her baby years right up until this July, Frog’s had the same bedroom in our former rented cottage. We didn’t own the house, so we couldn’t paint the walls or change the carpets. Plus, we didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl, so all the soft furnishings were in neutral colours.

We picked candy-coloured soft stripes from Laura Ashley as curtain fabric, and a fluffy Ikea sheepskin rug along with cushions and an upcycled crib to make the room less bland. The rocking horse was rescued from a local tip by my parents, who lovingly made him like new again.

I think she’s outgrown the soft tones and baby look of the room – plus she desperately needs a new bed very soon. I’m not a fan of cheesy themes or cartoon characters on the walls, but I think this button art adds a sense of bright fun without a hint of the tacky.

I can’t wait to see it in Frog’s brand new room once we move (again) – wherever that may be!

***

The art featured in this post can be bought from Ella and Oscar for £29.99. I was given a sample product for the purpose of this review. 

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Dad, if you’re reading this please look away now.

I mean it.

Your surprise will be ruined if you carry on reading.

Stop! Go and do your crossword or something.

Right, has he gone now?

Then I shall begin. I’ve written about my dad here before, so I won’t tell you about him all over again. Suffice to say my heart has ached for him this month, as he said goodbye to someone he loves, forever. Even though he’s my dad, I’ve wanted to give him a big hug and take away all the crappy feelings of hurt and grief. But, clearly, I can’t do that.

What I can do, though, is make sure he has something to open this Christmas that will make him smile.

This is a photograph taken of Frog in my parents’ Devon garden earlier this year, right after they gave her a present for her second birthday. The beloved tractor…

And this is the beautiful print I’m giving my father for Christmas: This is a Monoprint by the talented Natasha Gomperts. Natasha is an artist specialising in family illustration and portraits. The way she has taken this photograph and turned it into a stunning, fun and completely unique monoprint has left me beaming.

I’d never have considered commissioning a personalised monoprint as a gift before, it’s just not something that would have crossed my mind. I don’t know why, because it’s such a brilliantly personal present, perfect for someone who has pretty much everything they need already. It certainly beats socks or yet another pack of cotton hankies.

Being the brother of an artist and the son of an artist, my dad is no stranger to beautiful creations. But I think he’ll love this quirky print and the way it brings another dimension to the photograph.

I hope it will remind him of a sunny afternoon filled with laughter and bossy shouts from his grandchild as she barked orders at him, telling him where to take her on the tractor.

I hope it makes him smile.

***

You can find out more about Natasha Gomperts work on her website and Facebook page. The print featured in this post was provided for the purpose of this review.

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What’s important….

Funny how that first paragraph was mainly about earning and money and striving for a financial balance. Because, to us, what’s important is NOT money.

The reason I work my backside off is NOT to give my child the latest in designer clothes. It’s NOT because I want a six bedroom house with a huge garden. It’s NOT because I covet a new handbag or shoes (although, if you’re offering, I wouldn’t say no).

I do it so that our future financial stability isn’t entirely resting on my husband’s teacher shoulders. I do it so that one day I can take my foot off the peddle a little and step back.

Step back and continue to show my daughter that the very best things in life aren’t worth thousands of pounds. The very best things are worth working hard for and enjoying. When we finally get that house it won’t be a grand one. It’ll be one that needs some work. It’ll be a hard work house. Borne from hard work. And put together with love.

Just like all the things I treasured in my home as a child, the things I want my daughter to appreciate won’t be the most expensive.

I want her to remember her mother’s Picasso print at the top of the stairs, given as a 21st birthday present before her mum got old.

I want her to remember the freaky painting in the bathroom, that once hung in an art exhibition in the 1960s and was painted by a great grandmother named Suntan who she never met.

I want her to look back at the art on the walls of her home that was created by people related to her. That was created with hard work, creativity and imagination. These are all things worth a million plasma TVs and posh cushions.

And you know what? I think she’s already halfway there to learning this truth.

When she drew her first ever face earlier she whooped with delight. I might have to put it on the wall, next to the other art, just to prove to her how much it means to me. It didn’t cost a thing (apart from the price of the crayon) but that’s not the point.

What do you mean it’s not a face?! It is so.

Creativity, hard work and imagination. Worth more than anything.

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Tantrums on top of tantrums - on top of more tantrums - haven’t mixed well with the sheer exhaustion that comes with being up at 3.45am every day for my new job. By the time tantrum number 3,479 has hit in the afternoon, I’ve regularly melted into a pool of (melodramatic) tears.

But today has been different.

I had nine hours sleep last night for starters. And, as I began the 45 minute commute from work to the childminder’s, I started to form a plan.

“What if I’m cheerful this afternoon?” I thought. “What if I don’t snap ‘NO’ at the slightest hint of cheekiness from my 18 month old?” “What if….” (and this was the big one) “…I attempt some form of messy play?”

So, on the journey home from the childminder’s, I enthusiastically sang along with my child’s CD of nursery rhymes and smiled encouragingly at her in the rear view mirror. I resisted the soft call of CBeebies and the sofa, choosing instead to let my daughter frolic in the garden with her walker. (Note: I say “frolic” in yet another attempt to divert from the fact she still isn’t walking.)

Frog was a bit suspicious at first. This new-found mother was not the same one who said goodnight to her last night. This mother was laughing, like the old one used to. This mother didn’t exasperatedly roll her eyes at the slightest quiver of the bottom lip.

But, as the paints and dried pasta and toilet rolls were brought forth from their dusty corner on the disused “craft shelf”, Frog’s eyes lit up.

Funny how being covered in blue paint can keep even the most persistent tantrums at bay…

[slideshow]

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At nearly 16 months, my daughter has decided she’s not particularly interested in toys any more. She’d rather play with real stuff. It doesn’t really matter what stuff, as long as it’s stuff.

Useful stuff is best; a bowl, a wooden spoon, some pegs. Anything that isn’t a real toy and which I’m likely to need within the next half an hour.

So we decided to make a box of treasure. A box of treasure, filled with real stuff. The benefits to this are threefold:

1) Actually making the treasure box occupied my easily-bored child for a good half an hour.

2) Playing with the stuff in the treasure box provided yet more time when she was occupied.

3) It meant she kept her chubby little hands out of my cupboards for a good, oh, half an hour at least.

Painting the box of treasure

More painting...

Filling the box of treasure

More filling...

Discovering the box of treasure

Playing with the box of treasure

Warning: Only exceedingly rich and talented parents may create such an incredible treasure box, due to the hugely expensive contents and lovingly painted interior. Obviously.

Contents include: A pair of gardening gloves, some conkers, a few shells, a couple of walnuts, some scraps of fabric, a teaspoon, a lemon juicer, a luggage label, two painted toilet rolls.

All very expensive, I’m sure you’ll agree.

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At the time, I didn’t know Frog was a girl. And I didn’t know she’d take on squatter’s rights in my womb, so reluctant was she to enter the world.  So I was still all rose-tinted spectacles about motherhood.

I imagined my year of maternity leave to include countryside walks, painting pictures and playing with play doh. I looked forward to Christmas with glee, under the illusion that I would find lots of time to bake with my baby and make homemade decorations.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Instead, my maternity leave consisted of rushing from baby group to baby group, with very little time at home and much time spent fretting about whether to return to my full-time job or not. When Frog was awake, I knew it was only a matter of time before the crying would start because she wanted to sleep again. No sooner had I trundled out some activity or another, inspired by Baby Sensory or Baby Swimming or Baby Music (or any of the other gazillion clubs we joined), then Frog was sobbing with over-stimulation and begging to go back to bed.

But then she turned one. And I went back to work (sort of).

It seems that both these events caused a big change in Frog. As if by magic she blossomed into a little person, no longer the helpless baby I was accustomed to. Now, at fifteen months she’s interested and lively and exhausting but very, VERY fun.

Suddenly, overnight, she wants to do stuff. Painting, crayoning, sticking. This is the stuff I looked forward to when I was pregnant.

Shame I didn’t realise it would turn my grass blue.

This is my entry for this week’s Gallery. Head over to Sticky Fingers to see the rest.

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Despite my best efforts to learn to knit, sew and make beautifully arty creations out of an old slipper and a rusty nail, I’m constantly indignant at my lack of crafting ability. Yes it’s fair to say, I’m rubbish at making things.

Take this homemade peg bag as proof:

Yes, I did try to “embroider” the word “peg” onto it. And yes, I did give up before I got to the S:

So I’m pleased to see that my fabulously talented (competitive mum, me?) soon-to-be 11 month old daughter hasn’t inherited my total lack of crafty skills. Here is her self portrait, as painted onto a mug:

Clever girl.

But I didn’t just take Frog pottery painting this morning to prove she’s clearly the most talented baby on the planet. There was actually a serious undertone to the whole experience.

You see, there’s this campaign doing the rounds of the blogosphere at the moment. It’s all down to  Save the Children, as they attempt to put pressure on world leaders ahead of the Global Immunisation Summit on 13^th June. The charity wants those attending the summit to increase funding for immunisation. In the words of Save the Children, this is why:

“No child is born to die, but 8 million children under five die every year from illnesses we know how to treat or prevent, such as diarrhoea and pneumonia. In the 21st century, this is utterly wrong.”

It’s no secret that I’ve become a gibbering wreck since having a baby and fall into a sobbing heap at the slightest glimpse of anything sad. But this figure isn’t just sad – it’s devastating. If you want to do something about it,  sign the online petition set up by Save the Children.

Now, to raise awareness of the charity’s plight, some ridiculously crafty blogging types (i.e. Red Ted Art and Sleep is for the Weak) have started a Meme (mum, if you’re reading this, I’ve explained what a “meme” is before, remember?). The idea is to get our children to draw or craft a picture of themselves now or in the future, then share the results on our blog. It gives us the chance to show off our children’s talents and be the boasting mothers that we all secretly are (no? Just me then?), as well as highlighting a campaign that’s really rather important.

I’ve been tagged by Northern Mummy with Southern Children as well as The Real Housewife of Suffolk. Oh, and don’t forget Mother Porridge. God, I’m popular. Either that or they all thought they’d get a good laugh out of Frog’s attempt at a self-portrait. Well, not so fast ladies. In case you missed it just now, here again is my daughter’s incredibly beautiful, inspirational, genius-like creation:

If you think your child can do better (as if) please do join in. For now, I’m tagging:

Making Life More Beautiful

Nimble Fingers Steady Eyebrows

Dorky Mum

Mammy Woo

Dummy Mummy

Mummy Beadzoid

Ghostwriter Mummy

Goodbye Pert Breasts

Here’s what you need to do:

1) Get your child to either draw or craft a self portrait of themselves now or in the future. (don’t worry they don’t have to be as good as mine)
2)Sign the Save the Children petition (here) to support full funding for vaccinations and then pass it onto your friends
3) Write a blog post about it as soon as possible, including info about Save the Children and the petition. We want as many people linked up at Red Ted Art and signed up the petition by Sunday 29th May 2011.
4) Tag 8 fellow blogger friends
5) Link up your posts at Red Ted Art
6) If you have time, visit each other posts and say hello!

Now go forth and #passiton.

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