It’s not been like that recently. Feeling less tired and myself again, I’ve enjoyed the time spent with my feisty little girl. She makes me laugh – proper big belly laughs. Today was one such day. And it was mainly because of a nature trail for toddlers. Or, to be exact, my toddler.

Armed with nothing more than a bag, a torch, a list and a crayon, we set off to find some “treasure”. (It should be noted that nature trails are a great way to con gullible toddlers into thinking sticks and leaves etc are actual treasure. There’s only so long they’ll be happy to rummage around for something that’s not an iPad or the latest One Direction album.)

Frog spent ages examining her list of “must-haves”. She discussed each item and talked to me about where we might find them. After five minutes of posing with her bag over her shoulder, we set off.

If you look really carefully in the photograph above, you’ll see there are no pebbles. Not one. Nada. We looked everywhere for a stone or pebble and eventually Frog spotted one, nestled amongst all the other stones and pebbles “bits of ground”. She was ecstatic. It went straight in the bag for treasure.

This is where patience set in and I had to quell my inner In A Rush Mum. We had nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I reminded myself I could simply watch her search the bushes of leaves for that *perfect* leaf. Gradually, I felt myself begin to relax as I succumbed to the peace of a tantrum-free zone.

I even felt a little thrill of excitement as we spotted an empty snail shell by the side of the path. (When you get out as little as I do, it’s the small things, OK?)

Arriving home, we unpacked our bounty. Frog inevitably lost interest and demanded we get out the play-dough, but a hot water bottle and some warm milk on the sofa put that idea out of mind for at least, oh, ten minutes.

I like afternoons now, I think we’ll do this again. Just remind me not to add feathers to the list. That bit of fluff took me AGES to spot.

***

Linking up to The Sunday Showcase at Here Come The Girls and Country Kids at Coombe Mill. 

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This week my formerly scatty husband set up an extra bank account, to keep track of our family spends of all the boring stuff (food, electricity, that kind of thing). He also started ordering all our weekly shop online. For my part, I’ve reduced some of my workload, giving me more time to tackle the monster that is my laundry basket before the weekend and attempt to whizz a hoover around the house.

The plan is to make weekends about spending time together as a family, actually doing things, rather than all being in the house at the same time, trying to get on with our respective “stuff” that needs to be done before the weekend is over. It will mean more time together, giving us more time to do our own thing if we want to, making as more happy and relaxed. Or so the theory goes.

Many a Saturday morning is spent in our house in pyjama’s, attempting to get washing on, make breakfast, clear up toys, write a shopping list and answer emails. It can easily be 1pm before we’ve got ourselves in gear to do anything, by which time our toddler is thoroughly hacked off. And then the tantrums begin. It’s not just us, right?

Yesterday began in pyjamas, but didn’t involve shopping lists or laundry. We had a spot of breakfast before venturing out into the countryside at our back door.

Spot the toddler

Despite the blue sky, the cold weather nipped at our bare fingers and noses, leaving trails of wispy breath in the air when we spoke.

But it was beautiful.

Frog jumped out of her pushchair and tumbled off like a dog on a lead, bowling across the huge expanse of grass, seeking out the muddy bits.

Finding some waterlogged ground next to the lake, we watched as our two and half year old spent at least ten minutes running through it, relishing the sound of the water splashing against her wellies.

This was far more fun than juggling emails with laundry and a grumpy toddler.

The sun glinted off the water, leaving an image of calm, only to be spoilt by a loud “COME ON MUMMY! KEEP UP DADDY!” from my screaming banshee of a child.

Every now and again, Frog would lie on the ground, looking up at the puffs of cloud moving above her, across a brilliantly blue expanse. Her excited arms flapped as she laughed at the freedom of rolling around on the muddy ground, watching the sky. And we laughed too.

Perhaps being organised isn’t such a bad idea after all.

***

Nominations are now open for this year’s MAD Blog Awards. To find out more and to see what categories I’d love to be considered for, please read this post.

The post What happens when we organise our family time appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

I remember the first time we discovered the countryside at the back of our cottage. Having viewed the house in the dark, we fell in love with the beams and the log fire and the exposed brick. We were completely oblivious of what else the place held; the hedgerows, the lovely country pub, the canal and the lakes.

We moved to this cottage from a two bedroom flat in the centre of Reading. I was 3 months pregnant and we were ready to give up the pub / restaurant / club lifestyle and live a simpler one. We wanted stairs and a room where we could eat at the table, rather than on our laps in front of the TV.

We rent our home and it’s served us well. It’s the place I brought my newborn baby home to. It’s the place where I nested like a mad pregnant woman. It’s the place where I spent 18 months working from home and watching my baby turn into a little girl.

It’s not our forever home though. The last year has been a busy one. The 70 hour weeks I’ve pulled since January (with only 2 weeks holiday) have been for a bigger cause. We have a dream of bagging one of those elusive first time buyer mortgages one day, so that we can have more babies and put down proper roots. We imagine rooms painted to our own taste, DIY projects and a sense of security we’ve never had living in a rented home.

That’s our future, hopefully. One day.

But, for now, this place will do. I need to learn to love it again.

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The post Silent Sunday appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

So these moments – snatched with grasping fingers and held close – are ones to treasure forever.

The sense of anticipation on a Friday evening, as a long four day weekend stretches ahead of us. The excitement as we arrive in Devon, on the way to see my parents’ new home, taking in the Jubilee bunting strewn through various villages.

The inevitable tears and glee from an over-excited child, aware that something is different on this night. It is not a usual bedtime.

Waking up to a sunny morning in the Devon countryside, with no sound except the birdsong outside the window.

Eating breakfast in a beautiful kitchen, as sunlight streams through the open doors, taking in the endless possibilities that this day may bring.

Discovering a new birthday present for a child, soon to be two years old. Watching the delight on her face as she “drives” around the spacious garden on her gleaming tractor.

Taking a picnic to the beach, tucking into roast chicken sandwiches and apples, as the waves crash onto the sand. Making castles and burying feet. Witnessing hesitant, toddling, steps towards the water, turning into confident strides and, eventually, a fully fledged run.

Discarded clothes, a nappy, a perfect peachy bottom covered in sand.

A cold glass of Pimms in the garden, as the afternoon turns to evening. Serene in the knowledge tomorrow will be another day packed with moments to pinch between the fingers and stuff into bulging pockets full of memories.

Moments like these make life slow down.

I love them.

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The post Silent Sunday appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

The post Silent Sunday appeared first on Mother's Always Right.