As the spring draws in and the sun teases us with hints of summer, I’ve become more aware than ever of my three year old’s impending fourth birthday and first day at school. Frog’s growing up.

It’s evident in her speech – some of her sayings leave me speechless (“I can’t POSSIBLY do that!” and “It’s too rubbish!”) being my least favourites of the moment. It’s evident in her growing limbs – suddenly she doesn’t fit into her favourite pair of tights or leggings. And it’s evident in the fact she chatters non-stop about when she starts “Primary school like the big boys and girls Mummy”.

In an attempt to grab hold of these last days before school with both hands, we’ve been enjoying more time at home together recently. Rather than rushing about from one place to the other, we’ve had afternoons in front of films or doing colouring at the kitchen table. There have even been a few occasions of baking, despite the panic I feel at letting my child loose with a packet of flour and some eggs.

Last week we took advantage of a break in the spring showers to get outdoors, heading up to the heath at the top of our road. We hadn’t been there before, although we’ve walked past it once and driven past it countless times. I’ve been waiting for the weather to get better, dreading the idea of losing a welly boot in inches of thicky, gloopy mud.

We chatted as we wandered up the road, about the daffodils and which is the best Olly Murs song to dance to (Dear Darlin’, apparently). And when we got there we collected a few leaves to make a picture once we got back home. There was even a tree to climb – which became a ship to sail, a horse to ride and an elephant to explore on.

When an afternoon stretches before me with hours to fill before the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine gets back from work, I try to switch off from my own work deadlines and remember that these days before school are limited. They won’t last forever.

The post Days before school appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

My three year old greeted me with a serious expression as I wandered into the bathroom to brush my teeth yesterday morning. I’d heard her pottering around in her room next door, but she’d been in no rush to come in to us.

“He is better now. He likes it. I made him better. Come and look Mummy!”

She’d obviously been hard at work. And then I saw what had kept her so busy. 

London Fashion Week, eat your heart out.

The post The makeover project appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Rain. It feels like it’s seeping into every pore at the moment. The rain is unforgiving and relentless, varied only in the direction it pelts you in the face. From arrows of ice to a fine misty drizzle that makes your eyes sting, the rain has been our most constant companion this January.

My claims that, “A bit of rain never hurt anyone” have been wearing thin recently. With flooding devastating farmland and ruining homes, the rain has been far from meek. But on Friday afternoon, after a morning indoors, my three year old was chomping at the bit. She could see huge puddles outside our living room window just waiting to be splashed in.

I admit I wasn’t keen. But no matter how many times I tried to persuade Frog that we’d get wet and probably end up cold and miserable, it made no difference. So we suited and booted up – me in my tired old waterproof and leaky wellies, Frog in her brand spanking new wet weather gear courtesy of Kozi Kidz - and ventured outdoors.

The rain was unforgiving. It was a driving rain, coupled with gusty winds that whipped the water up into our faces. The conditions were, arguably, ideal for putting Frog’s new Varberg lined rain trousers and rain jacket through their paces.

About thirty seconds after this last photo was taken, Frog found out what happens when she ignores my warnings not to splash in the very deepest part of the puddle. She got water in her wellies, a soggy foot, and then decided it was time to go home.

Once inside, we discovered the only part of Frog’s body that had got wet were her toes, showing that the Kozi Kidz rain wear really does live up to its name. I, on the other hand, was soaked through.

Do you still get outside when it rains? Is mine the only child to be drawn to the deepest part of the puddle?!

***

Disclosure: We were sent the Kozi Kidz items featured in this post for the purpose of review. All opinions remain my own. 

The post A rainy afternoon appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

We fell through the door and took off our hats and scarves. My three year old requested CBeebies and a cup of warm milk and I duly obliged. Half an hour later, we were still there, snuggled up on the sofa, bathed by the warm glow of Mr Bloom and friends. 

I would have been there an hour and a half later too, if I hadn’t made a promise to myself a couple of weeks ago. Life is a bit stressful at the moment. With Christmas just around the corner we still don’t know where we’re going to be living come December 25th, which is kind of scary, especially when you’re a planner as I am. So I made a pact with myself recently to try and do as much as I can in the afternoons with Frog, to forget the stress. Immersing myself in mum duties seems to be working, so far.

It’s amazing how distracting a three year old can be. Reluctantly turning off the TV and donning wellies, coats, hats and gloves, we went for a wander to the end of our road. I was sure I’d spotted a tiny entrance to a public footpath when I was parking the other day.

Sure enough…

It’s amazing really. We’ve lived here four months and I’d never noticed that path until a few days ago. We followed it for a minute or so.

It led here… Beneath us was the stream we discovered a couple of weeks ago. The path threaded around the side of a steep hillside, with views right across the valley, overlooking the edge of Dartmoor.

This has been just behind our house all this time.

We stopped to sit on a bench and chat about what we could see – amongst the fields there was the place where Frog does swimming lessons, some hamlets tucked just behind town and rather a lot of sheep.

Then we did some hill climbing. Recovering from the terror of seeing my three year old almost hurtle down the sheer face of a very steep Devon hill, I realised I wasn’t feeling stressed any more. And the stinking cold didn’t feel quite so stinking.

I even felt happy enough to indulge my camera-mad child and take a couple of Dartmoor Selfies (that’s totally a thing by the way – Dartmoor enthusiasts will be doing “Dartmoor Selfies” from here on in, guaranteed).

The outdoors wins again. Thank you outdoors.

The post Getting outside and off the sofa (again) appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Do you ever have days where you just can’t wait until bedtime?

I had a week like that recently. As soon as daylight pierced my eyelids it was all I could do not to dive back under the duvet. I was tired, overwhelmed by a few things and a bit stressed. My 3 year old was having tantrums and, well, it was just one of those weeks.

On the Sunday evening I sighed a sigh of resignation as I mentally prepared for the week ahead, expecting more tantrums and exhaustion. Rather than start the week with a feeling of doom, I decided to write a list. I’m good at lists. They help me order my brain and have a calming effect. 

For this list I used felt tips and little pictures. It was titled: THINGS WE WILL DO THIS WEEK.

When Frog woke up the following morning we trundled downstairs (after the usual squeaks of “I don’t want to go to pre-school, I going to watch CBeebies all day!”) and found the list, stuck to the living room door. I told Frog that it had details of things we would do that week. CBeebies was not on the list.

For Thursday, I had ambitiously planned a trip to the park AND a nature trail. My advice to you if you do your own list, by the way, is to aim small. When Thursday rolled around we ditched the park and headed straight home after pre-school. Once there, we collected a bucket and only paused to put on our wellies. We set off in the opposite direction and, what do you know, we found open countryside at the end of the road.

We’ve never had cause to venture to the end of this road before, as town is in the opposite direction. As we walked down the lane and found an old stile leading onto a public footpath I couldn’t help but smile.

This place had been waiting for us all along.

We found a stream and jumped in it. We collected different shaped leaves, acorns and the odd twig, squirrelling it all away in the bucket. We squelched in mud and ran and… there were no tantrums. Not one.

At bedtime that night, Frog turned to me and said, “Can we go back to the big field soon Mummy?”

We’re going back this week.

The post Journeying off the sofa appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

She couldn’t stay moody for long though – not when she spied the most fabulous creation to ever grace our scruffy patch of grass. Behold! The DIY Wigwam of Dreams!

Made from a few sticks of bamboo cane stuck in the ground and tied together at the top with a piece of string, this little beauty also features a quality finish in the form of an old sheet, complete with sliding door (sort of). It boasts the ultimate in luxurious comfort, with the fleece blanket flooring.

Obviously, Frog wanted to move in right away.

She read her books in there for a good half an hour – including the one about the Little Princess and the tent, which inspired the idea for a den in the first place – and asked to eat her tea in there and go to bed in there too (the answer was no).

At nearly three years old, my tot has reached the stage of contagious enthusiasm, welcoming everything with an, “Oh WOW Mummy!” and, “This AMAZING Mummy!”. It’s fair to say she was a fan of the new garden feature, telling me, “Well done Mummy! You a CLEVER girl!”.

Problem is, I think I may have shot myself in the foot with such success straight away. On her way home from nursery today she announced her excitement at the afternoon ahead: “When I wake up I can’t wait to see the princess castle you make today Mummy!”.

Oh dear.

***

I’m linking this post up to Country Kids at Coombe Mill, which is a constant source of inspiration for getting outdoors. Plus, it looks like rather a nice holiday spot too.

The post Winning mum points – making a DIY wigwam appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

At night, I hear her conversing with John Jelly Moo, the other friend I can’t hear. He lives by her side, although sometimes he’s not there. He’s real in her mind. She can see him.

Outside, she talks to the birds. Shouting or laughing, stretching her arms wide as she tries to reach up to the sky. Frustrated, she bends down to the earth, searching for worms she can whisper to. Whispering is her new favourite thing.

When the rain whips at the windows like angry tentacles, she retreats into an indoor world of supermarkets and baking, houses and boats. It’s a world I’m sometimes given restricted access to, but only when she needs a customer to visit the shop.

Our house isn’t a house. It’s a secret cave, flying saucer, rowing boat on a rapid-filled river. It’s a place of adventure and magic, fairies and frogs.

Inside her den she arranges the toys around her, gathering the troops for the next installment of her mission. “Get the playdough,” I hear her whisper. “We need a cushion now,” she commands. No one moves, but she seems happy enough with their efforts. “Good girl” she mutters, before closing the curtain and buttoning herself away.

I’m on the outside, looking in. Entry to this world is strictly VIP only. You are deemed incredibly special if you’re allowed inside.

There is one game I am needed for though. It involves hair and a brush. I’m instructed to sit quietly and wait. “I make you pretty Mummy,” she nods knowingly. I submit to the pulling fingers of a toddler immersed in the new role of hairdresser.

For five minutes, I’m a VIP, on the other side of the curtain. I smile as I take a look around this secret place. And then I raise my head, realising I am alone again.

My toddler has gone to fight crocodiles.

The post The world of a toddler – strictly VIP appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

She proved just how grown-up she’s becoming by insisting on taking her own bag, purse and baby to the shop in her quest for chocolate this afternoon. As well as the pram she pushed all the way there, she had a card to post in the postbox. She took her responsibilities incredibly seriously, even asking me to put her hair into bunches so she could impress any passers-by who might stop to chat.

As she strode on ahead of me, I couldn’t help but smile. My two year old has been an independent soul from the moment she was born, refusing to drink her milk from anywhere other than its source and screaming at the sight of a spoon she couldn’t hold herself.

She’s always wanted to do things her own way and been very clear about what that way is. So you can imagine her satisfaction at pushing her own pram, with her own babies, holding her own bag and her own purse, all the way to the shops.

She was in her element.

As I watched her wonky little feet place firmly on the ground, I could hardly remember this time last year, when she had to walk holding both my hands to keep from falling over.

Sometimes the frustrated independence of a toddler is draining, especially when they realise they can’t do the task they’ve set out to complete. But today it was refreshing. A small trip to the village shop was enough to count as an adventure in my daughter’s eyes, when she realised she’d be allowed to take her pram for the first time ever.

Oh to be two again.

The post A toddler shopping trip appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

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. 

The post Searching for sticks appeared first on Mother's Always Right.

Now, I COULD tell you it was a joyous experience. Mother and child bonding over toilet rolls and brown parcel paper, deep in a shared vision of paint and garden design for the doll’s house.

Except it wasn’t.

If I show you these pictures of intense concentration on the face of my two year old, you may be deceived into thinking crafting is a peaceful activity in our house. You may even be conned into thinking time with paint passes tantrum free.

You see, these pictures are a lie. To show you these without the others would be to mislead you into thinking crafting with a toddler is an EASY experience.

I’m not that type of person though. So, here you go. This is what crafting with a toddler is REALLY like:

It’s half an hour preparing surfaces with plastic tablecloths and measuring paint into little saucers. It’s a further ten minutes persuading the toddler that an apron or bib is a good idea, to protect her freshly washed clothes. It’s turning your head for a moment, only to find the clothes have been stripped off and your child is using her bare legs and feet as a canvas.

It’s wiping sticky, paint-covered fingers before your walls are redecorated with red poster paint. It’s negotiating a tantrum because PVA glue isn’t best licked off a paintbrush or stuffed up a toddler nostril. It’s singing The Wheels On The Bus loudly and out of tune to distract your child from the fact she no longer wants to paint – despite only spending two minutes doing an activity she’s been screaming to do since 6am that morning.

It’s forgetting to wipe the paint from your two year old’s face and then spending the rest of the day explaining to people that the red smears across her cheek aren’t the result of a horrific, bloody accident, but the aftermath of an unsuccessful crafting session.

This is what crafting with a toddler is REALLY like. Isn’t it…..?

The post What crafting with a toddler is REALLY like appeared first on Mother's Always Right.