She’s not fussy when it comes to food, but lunchtimes often seem to be a bit of a battle. I think it’s a mixture of tiredness, boredom about what she’s eating and an eagerness to get on and play. But when we have a picnic she’s almost always more interested in what’s on her plate.

When Organix asked if I was interested in taking part in their next #NoJunk Challenge it was a big yes – all I had to do, they said, was go on a picnic. I was keen to prove that picnics can be a great time to introduce kids to new foods, so I said yes. Yesterday, we put that theory to the test.

We’re on holiday in Cornwall at the moment, staying in a beautiful corner of the county called Crantock, just on the edge of Newquay. Crantock Beach is a huge sandy beach, with a lagoon area perfect for little ones to splash about in. It’s also the perfect spot for a picnic.

The Organix picnic challenge was all about going for healthy picnic ingredients. Aside from the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine’s packet of crisps, I think we managed pretty well.

We’re self-catering for the week, so before we left home I picked a load of fresh veggies from the garden. If I’d been at home I’d have made a courgette quiche (we had one the other night – delicious) and taken it cold, but cooking a quiche was not how I wanted to spend my first morning on holiday. So the picnic consisted of sandwiches made with soya, linseed and sunflower seed bread with chicken and homegrown lettuce, nectarines, cherry tomatoes and half a pork pie from a delicatessen (we chose a homemade deli over a pre-packaged supermarket one to make it a tad healthier).

Usually, Frog would pick out the lettuce, lick a cherry tomato and turn her nose up at the nectarine. Today, however, she tucked into the lot with gusto – excited that the lettuce came from our own back garden. It helped that this was our view while we ate:

It also helped that we were all together as a family, chatting and relaxed as we enjoyed the first day of our holiday. We could have bought chips from a shop up the road, or skipped lunch altogether in favour of ice cream. And, I’ll be honest, this may well happen later in the week – we’re on holiday after all. But it was nice to tuck into something healthy in between the inevitable “naughty” holiday treats that will come later. And it was a whole lot cheaper than buying something pre-cooked from a takeaway.

All in all? A success. The theory was proved (in our case anyway) – change the surroundings and food can become much more interesting.

Despite his grumpy face in this picture (“NOT ANOTHER BLOOMING FAMILY SELFIE!!”) even the NLM was happy….

Thanks to Organix for inviting us to take part in the challenge. The campaign is all about cutting the rubbish from our kids’ meals and being more aware about what’s in the food we feed them. Find out more about the No Junk Challenge on the Organix website, including recipe ideas and techniques for getting the kids more involved and interested in what’s on their plate.

Have you got any tried and tested (and easy!) healthy picnic recipes to recommend? We’re planning another picnic later in the week so I’d love to hear your ideas!

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As the flags fluttered in the breeze and the sound of drums carried through the air, I immediately felt at home at The Sunrise Festival.

We’d survived the Battle of the Tent (note to self: read instructions carefully before attempting to put up a borrowed tent). We’d got through a last-minute trip to the supermarket to hastily stock up on supplies. We’d even made the entire journey without an argument.

We had arrived. And my, it felt good.

Walking into The Sunrise Festival is like stepping into another world.

It’s a land where music thumps, fairies dance and elves tell stories.

With a focus on green living and eco choices, the festival serves up the very best in delicious food (we ate like princes – homemade pizza, veggie platters, haloumi and chilli wraps, scented chai, creamy Somerset icecream – the list goes on) and clean vibes.

Despite trekking the entire length and breadth of the arena site, we couldn’t find one piece of stray litter. The rubbish is sorted into big, labelled containers, with every inch of it being recycled.

But the thing I loved the most about The Sunrise Festival? It’s a place of fun. A mixture of young and old, families and singletons, couples and huge gangs of friends all party together and chat – you can hear the laughter before you’ve even stepped onto the site.

Separated into various different “Micronations” the festival serves up an array of live music, workshops, play activities and places to just relax and drink it all in. Unsurprisingly, one of my toddler’s favourite spaces was the one geared towards children.

With a magical story area, complete with suitcases spilling forth colourful fancy dress outfits, set alongside a bright space-hopper arena, circus skills, bouncy castle, endless stream of bubbles, and a soft-play and sand area, my almost-three-year old was in heaven.

As soon as we arrived at the site we made a decision to let the festival dictate the pace. That meant Friday night saw us drinking in the atmosphere (and the delicious organic wine and local cider) until midnight, while our toddler danced and jumped and squealed with delight at watching the sun go down.

It was a festival of firsts: Frog’s first time having her face painted – I’ve never seen her sit so still…

As I sipped on a cold cup of wine, watching my tot party with the best of them, I realised it was also probably the first time I had ever felt that relaxed in a public place with my family, post-9.30pm.

We live in an age where parents can never win. From baby feeding decisions to sleeping choices, discipline and behaviour issues to whether you go to work or stay at home, as parents we’re often put under the microscope. But at The Sunrise Festival all of that rubbish was left at the door.

There were no judgements, no shifty shakes of the head, no hint of inter-family competition. This was a place for happiness, laughter, total relaxation and FUN!

For these reasons, I would thoroughly recommend the festival to families and non-families alike. I’ve never seen such a harmony of different types of people, all equally enjoying themselves. Whether you have babies or toddlers, tweens or teens – or if you just want to escape somewhere with your other half – this is a place to consider.

We were lucky with the weather, as the bright sunshine made spending the weekend outdoors incredibly easy. The mud was manageable and the site well looked after.

My only suggestion for another year would be for organisers to consider creating an opt-in family camping area, slightly away from the 3am revellers. When you’re in a tent, if your neighbours decide to throw a party until dawn, you can hear everything. Luckily the dancing, wine and cider meant we slept through most of it, but I can imagine the noise would have seeped into our dreams had we stayed more than one night.

As with all festivals, the toilets weren’t the prettiest place. Due to the focus on environmentally-friendly options, The Sunrise Festival uses compost toilets. These are totally fine if people use them properly, but an early morning trip to the loos proved that the night isn’t particularly kind to compost toilets.

Those tiny points in mind, I would still give a massive thumbs up to The Sunrise Festival. It was our first family festival experience and definitely won’t be our last. Even if we only do one festival next year – we hope to return to Sunrise again.

***

You can find out more about this festival on The Sunrise Festival website. Adult passes cost £40 each, while family visas cost £220.

(Disclosure: We were provided a family pass for the purpose of this review. All opinions remain my own.)

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I make no secret of the fact I’m a bit of a nerd when it comes to sharks. I love nothing more than a good shark documentary and still have my collection of shark fact books from when I was a kid (don’t judge me). So I jumped at the opportunity to take the rest of the family along for a trip to London Aquarium and see if my toddler shared my interest.

After my two year old got over the HUGE excitement of getting on not one, but three trains, her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she spotted The London Eye next to our destination.

It was a refreshing change to see the sun shining in the sky when we stepped off the train and the excitement of being in the capital was tangible – even in the usually reserved husband.

The London Aquarium is in a lovely location on the South Bank. It’s one of my favourite parts of London, with views of Big Ben, St Paul’s Cathedral and a fun, eclectic atmosphere created by all the art and culture in such a concentrated area.

The aquarium is right next to the London Eye, about two minutes walk from Waterloo Station. I’ve battled the tube lots of times with a buggy and a wilful toddler, but this was the first time we’ve done it all together as a family and the journey to get to Waterlook couldn’t have been easier – just seven stops along the Bakerloo Line from Paddington and we were there.

We timed our arrival for the opening time of 10am and this turned out to be a smart move. Having been told how busy the aquarium gets, we were ready for long queues despite having a priority pass, but we walked straight into the building without waiting at all. If you’re thinking of going, I’d definitely recommend investing in a priority booking pass to cut the queue time and – if you really don’t want to wait at all – get there bang on 10am. By the time we left around two hours later, the queues were 90 minutes long.

Walking into The London Aquarium is like stepping into another world. Soft music plays in dimly lit, winding corridors, with exciting things to look at around each corner. As soon as you walk in, you’re greeted with your first glimpse of the aquarium’s biggest boast: the huge tank full of amazing sharks, stingrays, gazillions of fish and giant turtles. Walking across the top of the tank, you’re literally stepping on the glass above all these incredible creatures. It was lovely see my toddler get down onto her hands and knees and peer down into the depths, coming face to face with an enormous and graceful shark gliding beneath her, about a metre away.

As you follow the route of the aquarium, you’re guided into different worlds, with sea life from all parts of the planet and lots of interactive games and activities. We’ve been to an aquarium as a family before, but this trip proved far more successful, as Frog really spent time looking at all the amazing creatures and asking about them. It’s a very child-friendly place, with wide paths for buggies and lots of little portholes and nooks especially suited to inquisitive small children.

Favourites seemed to be “Jenny” the octopus, the many sharks, a giant turtle and the penguins at the end. We spent two hours with only one hint of a tantrum, when Frog tried to jump into a tank to get to know the stingrays a little better. Her fury was short-lived though, as she was diverted by the promise of another shark just around the corner.

After the visit, we wandered along the South Bank, looking at all the amazing street performers and soaking up the atmosphere.

It’s easy to forget that we’re raising a country bumpkin, despite having two parents who grew up as city dwellers. Frog’s enthusiasm for the crowds was infectious, as she lapped up the excitement of the hustle and bustle.

We had a brilliant lunch at Giraffe, about five minutes along the South Bank from the London Aquarium. We’re big fans of the chain and regularly visit our nearest Giraffe restuarant for a spot of lunch. The child-friendly atmosphere and little touches (a balloon for each child, along with a colouring sheet with crayons) makes it a really easy place to eat with kids – as do the fresh, healthy and incredibly tasty menu options.

I managed to contain my excitement at a celeb spot of Sally from Coronation Street (totally acted cool) and tucked into my Penang Chicken Noodle Salad with gusto.

We ended the day with a walk along to Borough Market, although we didn’t have time to explore my favourite corner of London properly, as we had a train to catch. It was here that we bumped into my aunt and uncle – totally unplanned – and I watched with amusement as my confused toddler thought her grandma had left her grandad and shacked up with a new man (my mum and her sister share the likeness of hair colour and glasses!).

It’s days like these which make memories. We’ll definitely be back.

***

Disclosure: We were given priority passes for The London Aquarium by Superbreak. All opinions remain my own.

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Sometimes you just need a weekend eating too much food, straying no further than 8 miles from home and just, well, being together.

This is how it started, at 7am yesterday morning:

A (fraught) trip to the supermarket followed, to pick up essentials like Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips, Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and fizzy wine for the ideal Saturday night.

An afternoon of napping, reading, catching up on some work and then a trudge through the snow to the village pub. Chips slathered in ketchup, along with a glass of orange juice, a bowl of ice cream and a gin and tonic for Mummy. This is what our Saturday was made of.

The diet starts again tomorrow. Maybe.

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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.

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Three years ago I was just over three months pregnant with our baby, Frog. That year, the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine and I decided to “do Christmas” ourselves. Being the fierce family types that we were, the thought of either of us ditching one of our family’s in favour of the other’s just didn’t feel right. So we made a pact to spend our first Christmas just the two of us, visit our beloved families together afterwards and to spend our time alone creating our own traditions.

Some of these traditions were taken from our own childhoods and some were from things that we both liked to do (mainly eating and drinking related).

The NLM savours fond memories of going out as a family for dinner on Christmas Eve. We haven’t replicated that exactly, but we’ve taken our own twist on it. Today, we celebrated the arrival of the season we both love – a love we appear to have passed to our toddler – by a special lunch at our local pub.

We wrapped up warm and meandered down the canal to sit and stuff our faces. Oh, and wear silly hats.

The food was delicious and the festive mood was well and truly set. After a tough, tough year, this was exactly what we needed: time together just the three of us. Our family.

This marks the beginning of Christmas for us and I think it’ll be something we do every year now. The NLM describes the tingles of excitement he’d feel as a child as he ordered his meal on their special evening out, knowing that soon Father Christmas would be visiting. I like that he remembers it in such detail and I like that he wants to recreate that for Frog.

When we came home we watched a cheesy Christmas film (I forget the name) and slumped on the sofa. My toddler fell fast asleep on me and it was beautiful being able to relax into the cuddles without feeling guilty about looming deadlines and unanswered emails.

The NLM claimed he had Norovirus, an annual bout of hyperchondria that often follows a session of pigging out. Luckily, he slept it off and managed to soldier on for the rest of the day.

Christmas Eve will be drinks and nibbles at a neighbours, followed by the obligatory Father Christmas letter writing and leaving of carrots and mince pies. It’s amazing how becoming a parent can bring back those frissons of excitement about the big day. I feel a tumble of jumps in my tummy whenever I picture my toddler waking on Christmas Day to discover her presents have been delivered.

Tomorrow night’s bedtime will consist of stories including The Night Before Christmas and The Nutcracker – the same copies of the books my own mum read to me on Christmas Eve. Then we’ll wake on Christmas Day to stocking opening in bed with steaming hot mugs of tea, followed by gammon and eggs downstairs and the unveiling of the living room tree presents that Father Christmas has left.

Smoked salmon and cream cheese on blinis, Bucks Fizz, champagne, roast turkey with all the trimmings, Christmas pudding, cheese – lots of it – homemade sausage rolls and pork pie will also make an appearance. Along with lots and lots of chocolate.

And love. So much love and laughter – the odd bout of “Norovirus” – and cuddles.

I love Christmas.

And with that, I bid you all a very merry time. As I have mince pies to make and bubbles to drink.

Have a good one.

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Working the hours that I do means housework doesn’t get a look in Monday to Friday. But the long hours also mean a nice, comfortable, non-student grubby house is even more important to me. When I’m on downtime I want to be able to relax in a clean and cosy space, not one covered in hairy toast crusts, dirty washing and mouldy dust.

As anyone with young kids will tell you, it’s impossible to get stuff done when they’re around. The NLM was intent on trying out a new shopping app and downloading a whole series of new recipes to try (he gets his kicks where he can) so I was left to try and sort ten loads of washing while a grumpy, poorly toddler hung off my leg.

I was Not. Happy.

By 4pm yesterday afternoon I’d managed to clean the bathroom, finish a load of copywriting work, do half the washing, make a mad dash to the shops and go the doctor’s. But I didn’t feel like I’d really got anything done. We were all snappy with one another, Frog was streaming with cold and the house looked no better than when I started my feeble attempts at cleaning.

So I gave up.

I gave up, wrapped Frog into a bundle of warm clothes and went into the garden. After two minutes outside she started coughing again so we took our haul of leaves from the lawn into the kitchen. And we painted. We painted leaves, toes, hands and feet. For the first time all day both Frog and I were happy, the NLM was relaxed because no one was nagging him and I didn’t feel like the world’s worst mother.

After painting the leaves we used them as stamps to make leaf pictures on the paper, before letting the paper dry and making an Autumn card.

I may have a dusty living room, but I have a happy toddler. At least I got something right.

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We had yet to face that dreaded day when we would be hurried from a health visitor to a doctor to a hospital, to be told our bendy, non-walking 20 month old may have something wrong with her hips.

I was concerned, but not overly. Whenever anyone commented on the fact that my baby (who still very much looked like a baby, rather than a toddler) was slow to “get going”, I just shrugged my shoulders and replied that she’d, “do it when she’s ready”.

It would be six months before we’d be told she’d likely need physio throughout her childhood, that her fleet were “very flat”, that it would be a waiting game before we knew if she suffered from full-blown Hypermobility Syndrome, or if she was just a “bit too bendy”. 

Looking back, it was a huge blow to be told my little girl had something “wrong” with her. I’d buried the paranoid first time mum deep down and attempted an Earth Mother approach, only to go off the scale with worry as soon as it was confirmed she faced a few challenges in the walking stakes. Although I was overcome with relief that she wouldn’t need surgery or a cast – and of course I knew things could be SO much worse – there was still a little part of me that felt sad.

I looked at her special hospital issue shoes, saw her struggling to get up and play with her peers, watched as she shrank within herself rapidly losing that sparkle and diva streak I’d come to know and love. And I wondered if that was it. Would my child always be held back by these wonky limbs we’d passed down to her? Would she ever just be, you know, a spirited toddler?

And the answer is, of course, yes.

This weekend I watched as my toddler – now very much toddling – ran through puddles, walked hand-in-hand with her dad, threw pebbles in a lake and jumped to make huge splashes of water drip down into her wellies.

And at bedtime, as I readied her pyjamas to cover her long-limbed, bendy little body, I heard her making whirring, zoomy noises behind me.

“What are you doing poppet?” I asked. “I plane Mummy,” She replied. “I flying”.

I turned to see my formerly non-walking toddler mimicking an aeroplane as she raced around the room.

From crawling to flying. Oh far we’ve come.

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