tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87307582907249257332024-03-13T17:26:37.284+01:00the pretty walrusfamily, children, lifestyle, expat, food, travel, reviews, homeUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger391125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-90267834691627919312015-05-20T13:59:00.000+02:002015-05-20T13:59:00.367+02:00Dubai Butterfly GardenThe <a href="http://www.dubaibutterflygarden.com/" target="_blank">Dubai Butterfly Garden</a> opened in March. It was a hugely anticipated event, mostly because it's a great combination of nature and air-conditioning. Last week, the kids and I visited along with some friends. Entrance is 50AED for anyone over 3 years of age (which in my opinion is on the high side for the amount of time you spend inside the garden).<br />
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The main problem, however, was that Adam was terrified of the butterflies. And after initially finding it all very beautiful, a butterfly brushed against Emily's face and scared the hell out of her, so I ended up with two terrified children in a garden full of what are essentially creepy crawlies.<br />
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We weren't in there very long.<br />
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However, it's a beautiful place, and very restful (if you ignore certain crying children). There are so many stunning butterflies in amazing colours. If you love butterflies and don't mind the fact that they are everywhere, and they are pretty huge, it's a good place to visit. There are also enclosed pagodas where you can sit and have butterflies rest on you. Staff is very helpful with this. One friend's daughter loved the butterflies so it was a completely different experience for her.<br />
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There is also a (rather morbid) gallery at the entrance, displaying framed patterns made out of preserved butterflies. The contrast with the live butterflies was somewhat shocking, and I can't say that room was my favourite of the lot.<br />
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A small cafe serves drinks, some snacks, ice cream and cake.<br />
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<i>Get me out of here!</i></div>
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SIGH.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-12234294127176913882015-05-18T11:00:00.000+02:002015-05-18T11:00:03.246+02:00Bubbles... Big Ones!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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David has changed the fun of bubbles forever for our kids.<br />
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At bath time, we sometimes add to the fun by blowing bubbles. David knows how to blow really big bubbles out of regular bubble bottles. Me, not so much.<br />
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So now, when David isn't around, my bubbles aren't quite good enough. I am met with unimpressed faces, and Adam demanding "BIG ones!" while I try to explain that he will need to wait until his Daddy is around for those to happen. In one ear, out the other...<br />
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Now there's a playgroup I've started taking him to. It's brilliant fun and he loves it. We do singing, sensory play, messy play, and story time. And towards the end, the leader brings out her bubble bottle.<br />
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The first time we were there, I could see that Adam wasn't impressed with the regular sized bubbles. The other children were all thrilled to be chasing and popping bubbles, but my son stood back and watched, with a somewhat horrified look on his face.<br />
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Imagine my embarrassment when he then strutted up to leader and shouted "BIG ONES PLEASE!"<br />
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She looked my way with a puzzled look on her face, probably hoping for an explanation of sorts. But it's hard to explain over the music and excited laughter of half a dozen children, so she is unfortunately none the wiser and he asks again every week.<br />
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Sometime I'll send David in to demonstrate...<br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">[<a href="http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/018/f/8/bubble_stock_by_lieveheersbeestje-d4mrnap.jpg" target="_blank">image</a>]</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-45172093116460982592015-05-14T19:13:00.001+02:002015-05-17T18:21:10.797+02:00Dear Adam (As you recover)Dear Adam<br />
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Close to two months have passed since <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2015/05/adams-second-birthday.html" target="_blank">your second birthday</a> and here I am finally writing you this letter. Two months ago, this letter may have sounded different. You were my baby, just turned two, I would have told you how much I love you and how happy you make me and how much you love cars. Now, with everything that's happened since your birthday, I'll be telling you the same things, but with a lump in my throat. The same things, with extra appreciation. The same things, with an extra large topping of "I love you."And yes, of course, you still love cars.<br />
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We've gotten closer, you and me. We spent an intense five days living together, cooped up in a tiny room. I was everything to you, I was your protector from the White Coats. You were my every thought. I watched you sleep for hours. I willed you to get better. I begged God to make me sick instead of you.<br />
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And then you got better and you couldn't go to nursery because we couldn't risk you getting sick until your treatment ended, so we got to spend more time together. And that's when you discovered Mother Goose Club. And you learnt all the nursery rhymes by heart, and you learnt the alphabet and your speech became <i>so </i>much clearer, and you call yourself Superman (which of course, you are) and you walk the way you think Superman should walk. And you got tall. Taller than you already were.<br />
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And you call things "cute" in the sweetest of ways. And you love animals passionately. And your sister too. And yet you fight like cats and dogs. And you climb all over her, and you hit her, not recognizing your own strength. But you are good at apologizing, and you give the best hugs. And the best head ruffles. But only on your own terms.<br />
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You're a cheeky monkey, and you know it. You have a wicked sense of humour and you love making people laugh. You're very much like your uncle in that way. And you're strong willed and hard headed and you can throw a tantrum like no other.<br />
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Right now, you're frustrated, you're even angry sometimes and you say so. We know you need more, you were so ready for nursery, and yet we have had to hold you back. The summer heat is crippling and you only have the house to run around in. I suspect these four walls are closing in on you. It will get better soon, I promise. I'm not sorry - I can't be sorry when the risks feel so high. I'd rather have you frustrated for a few months than risk losing you. You are my cheeky sunshine, I can't imagine life without you.<br />
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So bear with us, please. We love you and we are trying to keep you safe. We are so terrified of ever having to see you (or your sister) go through what you went through again. But we'll come out the other side and one day soon, all this will be a distant memory.<br />
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But for now, hold on to your cars, and your Mother Goose Club, and your Superman act. Keep asking me to chase you around the house. Keep asking me to take you to the pool. Keep twirling your feet the way you did as a little baby. Keep asking me to find your Clothy's "corners." Keep coming to me for snuggles, laying your head on my shoulder, and keep smiling that beautiful, dimpled smile at me.<br />
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I still have a lot of your delicious orange juice to drink.<br />
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Forever,<br />
Your Mummy x<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-60647806655091807572015-04-27T10:30:00.000+02:002015-04-27T10:30:01.881+02:00Easter in Vienna, from Emily's Travel DiaryRemember when <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2015/02/an-introduction-to-cold-at-ski-dubai.html" target="_blank">we tried the kids out in the cold</a>? We did go to Vienna, for five days over the Easter holidays. Here is Emily's report of the trip.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-2486847833670979352015-04-24T14:11:00.003+02:002015-04-24T14:14:59.402+02:00When Adam Had Kawasaki DiseaseHave you heard of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kawasaki_disease" target="_blank">Kawasaki Disease</a>? If you're a Grey's Anatomy fan you may have. There was an episode in Series 9 where Sarah Chalke (Elliot Reid from Scrubs) plays the part of <a href="http://celebritybabies.people.com/2013/03/28/greys-anatomy-sarah-chalke-kawasaki-disease/" target="_blank">a mum who's son is sick with a mystery illness which eventually turns out to be Kawasaki</a>. I had watched the episode, but I don't watch Grey's Anatomy for educational purposes.<br />
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Then a couple of weeks ago, on the plane on our way back from Vienna to be precise, Adam's temperature spiked. He was on fire and very uncomfortable. He had been cranky throughout the entire holiday but we thought it was just down to the cold weather.<br />
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I'm not one to rush my kids to the doctor when they have a fever. It's usually a virus which passes within a couple of days and it's not worth the panic. So I gave him Paracetamol and kept an eye on him. Two days later, fever still high (sometimes as high as 41 degrees) we took him to the pediatrician. She checked the usual suspects... ears, chest, throat were OK. It probably <i>was</i> just a virus.<br />
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So we went home and started alternating Paracetamol and Ibuprofen to try and control the fever. It sometimes worked, but the fever wouldn't go away. Four days later, Adam woke up with red eyes. (Enlarge image to the left to see clearly.) He was in a much better mood so I put it down to him still being tired, still trying to make up for lost sleep from our holiday and the plane rides, and the first few days of him being unwell. (There's always a reason isn't there?)<br />
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His lips were chapped and quite red - but then again, mine were still chapped from the cold weather in Vienna too.<br />
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Then in the afternoon, his fingers and feet turned a dark pink and looked a little bit swollen, as if they were hot. I thought this strange so turned to Dr Google and Kawasaki Disease popped up. When I looked at the pictures, however, it all looked SO much worse than Adam's symptoms, and let's face it - Dr Google is usually the last thing you should trust, so I closed the page and carried on. Hours later, his hands and feet were back to normal and the next day even his eyes weren't as red. Obviously Dr Google was making a big fuss of everything yet again.<br />
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But by the afternoon he was so not himself, the moaning hadn't stopped all day. Nothing interested him, he didn't want to eat or even drink. I was exhausted and in tears and called on a friend for a hug, and she convinced me to take Adam back to the doctor. By that point, I wasn't quite thinking straight. It had been a long week, and everything seemed to be blurring into a big irritable mess.<br />
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The doctor took one look at Adam's eyes and began to check for other Kawasaki symptoms. Having read up on it the day before, I realised what she was looking for. I turned cold. How could I have ignored it?<br />
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Kawasaki needs to be treated within ten days or risk of permanent heart damage increases significantly. We were on day seven. She wrote up a report saying that she suspected it was Kawasaki and sent us off to Latifa Hospital. We possibly owe her Adam's life, and she has been thanked. Repeatedly.<br />
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Long story short, Adam's wasn't a classic case of Kawasaki in that his symptoms didn't scream Kawasaki, but by the time he was admitted to hospital he had also developed a rash. He was treated with one dose of IVIG by day eight and his recovery after that was fast. I knew he was going to be ok when he woke up the next morning and asked for his cars. My boy was back.<br />
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He has had a follow-up ECHO (heart ultrasound) in the meantime which shows that there has been no damage to his heart and his blood results look the way they should for the second week of Kawasaki Disease. He is on a low dose of Aspirin for two months (during which we need to try and keep him as healthy as possible because any virus could cause <a href="http://www.nhs.uk/conditions/reyes-syndrome/Pages/Introduction.aspx" target="_blank">further problems</a>) to avoid an aneurysm, and he will be monitored throughout. But he is very much himself again, my cheeky car-crazed monkey.<br />
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It's been a hard few weeks and I'm not writing this to drag it out any further. I do want to remember the way it unfolded, but I also want to put this story out there for anyone in a similar situation who might one day read it.<br />
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These are the signs of Kawasaki Disease:<br />
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<b><span style="color: red;">HOWEVER.</span></b> Adam's lips looked nothing like that. His lymph nodes were nowhere near that swollen. His hands and feet were nowhere near that red. His eyes were redder, his rash looked like it's pictured above. But symptoms don't always happen at the same time and they are usually gone by day ten.<br />
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So just know that these symptoms showing up within a certain time period may mean danger and <b>ask your doctor</b>. It's rare, but it does happen.<br />
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No one knows how anyone gets KD, it's not contagious and it usually affects children below the age of 5, but there have been exceptions.<br />
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We are fine. We are surrounded by some awesome friends, and I am so grateful to everyone who helped in whatever way they could... be it babysitting Emily, visiting me in hospital with goodies, talking on the phone, hugs, hugs, hugs, and also putting up with the way my brain has become a sieve since this happened. Thank you. Love you all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-63519140001421770242015-03-27T15:38:00.000+01:002015-05-17T18:20:42.134+02:00Adam's Second Birthday<div style="text-align: center;">
It was, needless to say, a very car-heavy party... and he loved it!</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-87866208079546778122015-03-02T09:51:00.000+01:002015-03-02T09:51:00.349+01:00Order in the CarI'm a slight stickler for organisation. (And all who know me will smirk at my use of "slight"). Ok. I'm an organisational nut. Organising is what I do, and what I love to do. No huge surprise that I like order in the car too. This is the way I do it.<br />
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I've introduced a toy box to the car. It sits neatly between the car seats (hasn't yet fallen off either), full of books and little toys and clean drawing equipment. I did this when we started talking about putting a DVD player and screens into the front head rests for the kids to use on long drives. I knew, however, that once we did this, it would never just be for long drives. If the tv was there, they would want it on whether it was a two hour drive or a two minute one.<br />
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I don't mind them watching tv at home, because I can justify it with a good balance of outings and outdoor stimulation, so I really didn't want tv following us out of the house.<br />
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The plan has worked. They're no longer bored in the car, they have long conversations in the back and share toys back and forth. It seems to work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiS01cnVSmbpKMYveBSQFwv1PN4SrexltVXqLAbzsOzbBZ8Hs2hs2G2jf_Vm450OmpjYHbDrEu4_8TlseQskxboVa7anjel9oKR8f7waTbMXlWN_lraZs52tOC8a3IToNXwo4iMpoZsr7/s1600/carorder1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOiS01cnVSmbpKMYveBSQFwv1PN4SrexltVXqLAbzsOzbBZ8Hs2hs2G2jf_Vm450OmpjYHbDrEu4_8TlseQskxboVa7anjel9oKR8f7waTbMXlWN_lraZs52tOC8a3IToNXwo4iMpoZsr7/s1600/carorder1.jpg" /></a></div>
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There are, of course, seat protectors for dusty, sandy feet, and tucked behind them, they each have a blanket in case the AC gets too cold. Emily recently added a pillow for when she wants to nap in her booster seat, although she never uses it and it inevitably ends up on the floor somewhere.<br />
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The <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B005PK1DEM/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B005PK1DEM&linkCode=as2&tag=accidentkle-21&linkId=QVHIUKAKBVWLCBIZ" target="_blank">car bin</a> has been a huge help in keeping the whole place clean. I have a small stash of plastic bags in the middle console as garbage bags so I can empty it easily whenever it gets full.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjwzPjyEmCdUTtk_Lx8MZORt7kIkkbQPZ07ZsFDCNwbA41d7gOYYb6N5e_MEIetRNAwSsnFK-ZKpovUEYUF6V75mdYFvkQRYy-80ouIt2TMM9dAZcY15B-4O7ZrwN6EW9R2rVabYyvmzT/s1600/carorder3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjwzPjyEmCdUTtk_Lx8MZORt7kIkkbQPZ07ZsFDCNwbA41d7gOYYb6N5e_MEIetRNAwSsnFK-ZKpovUEYUF6V75mdYFvkQRYy-80ouIt2TMM9dAZcY15B-4O7ZrwN6EW9R2rVabYyvmzT/s1600/carorder3.jpg" /></a></div>
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Not pictured, but in the back of the car there is a also large plastic box that contains random stuff like <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00125NZSQ/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00125NZSQ&linkCode=as2&tag=accidentkle-21&linkId=EKVSRP5EHOVD3HDT" target="_blank">reflective covers for the car seats</a>, an emergency potty, baby wipes, a towel, bottle of water, spare pair of flip flops for me, a ball, picnic blanket... and bubbles. Priorities.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-25324336579461458982015-02-22T20:39:00.000+01:002015-02-22T20:39:50.536+01:00Big Messy PlaydateBefore the insane <a href="http://snapwidget.com/v/925053638094352372" target="_blank">sandstorm</a> hit over the weekend, it was getting quite hot here in Dubai. Way hotter than February should be - even in this neck of the woods. So we took advantage of it by having a messy playdate in our garden. I turned into a mad <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/theprettywalrus/sensory-play-educational-fun/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> mum for a while and came up with all these ideas for <span style="font-family: inherit;">the playdate (of which I only ended up using a couple). I knew we'd have a range of ages so I wanted everything to be somewhat edible, just in case. </span><br />
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To get things started, I asked the older ones to find the grapes and raisins hidden in the jelly!</div>
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(The white mess on the table is from a can of whipped cream that we sprayed onto</div>
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their hands and told them to go and wash everything with. <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2014/12/foam.html" target="_blank">The edible version of this</a>.)</div>
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Can I eat them? Why yes, you can!</div>
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There was colourful spaghetti (mad <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/theprettywalrus/sensory-play-educational-fun/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> mum actually dyed this herself that morning)</div>
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That was <strike>pure madness</strike> FUN to clear up...</div>
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We had painting: paintbrushes, stamps, fingerpaints</div>
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And we even had <a href="http://www.instructables.com/id/Oobleck/" target="_blank">oobleck</a>, though I don't think my version was very good. They enjoyed it anyway.</div>
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And then they had fun "cleaning" everything up.</div>
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(Which roughly translated into us adults having more to clear up than</div>
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we otherwise would have had the kids not helped)</div>
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We ended it all by having a rain feast (whereby I turn on the water hose and soak everyone), which always goes down well. We are very rain deprived here in Dubai, you see. </div>
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Judging by the feedback that came in after the playdate, the little ones loved it, and some of the kids wanted to move to our house because it's "way more fun there." I know <i><b>I</b></i> had a blast! I guess we'll be doing it all again soon.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is a link that came in very handy when planning this playdate:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.learnplayimagine.com/2013/03/5-messy-sensory-bins-for-babies-and.html" target="_blank">Five Messy Sensory Bins for Babies and Toddlers</a></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-65537119800227459242015-02-09T18:32:00.001+01:002015-02-09T18:32:33.303+01:00The End of the Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04sE2-hdnUrOjznBQ47THpUjZ1On7NFMsiQ1PwzVYUwOpZp1D_Po7EocH8zKyN3XuRAU0gY1B3ZtaOIXukGDeRRa_gOmRDF8dPwinvlID8qqSwvdkA86ieFPiMwtCs4-oJKMo_YMmjaoL/s1600/and+at+the+end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg04sE2-hdnUrOjznBQ47THpUjZ1On7NFMsiQ1PwzVYUwOpZp1D_Po7EocH8zKyN3XuRAU0gY1B3ZtaOIXukGDeRRa_gOmRDF8dPwinvlID8qqSwvdkA86ieFPiMwtCs4-oJKMo_YMmjaoL/s1600/and+at+the+end.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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I hit <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/theprettywalrus/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> tonight for the first time in a long time and came across this quote. It got me thinking about how, despite being the slight cleanliness nut that I often can be, I have learnt to let go. The kids get to make a mess and be dirty, roll in the grass, run down footpaths with no shoes on, explore mud and muck, hell - they even get to play in the sand on a regular basis. And I sit back and calmly watch them <i><b>be</b></i>.<br />
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Some of my fondest childhood memories involve "baking" mud pies and cooking up leaf soups for anyone who would pretend to eat them, and I'm more than happy to be able to do the same for my children. Children <b>should </b>be dirty, messy, and yes, their eyes ablaze from all the adventures they've had, and all the stories they can tell about the amazing things they've done. They <b>should </b>go to bed with huge, tired grins on their faces.<br />
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I'd like to think that is what childhood is all about.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-16559152320856278092015-02-02T19:18:00.000+01:002015-02-02T19:19:46.592+01:00An Introduction to the Cold at Ski DubaiThe only time Adam has actually needed to wear a jacket was for a week in January 2014 when we visited the UK. Other than that, he has mostly been a short sleeves baby (even in Maltese winter, he was in cotton long-sleeved tops and a thick gilet-style jacket). But we are thinking about possibly going on holiday somewhere cold soon and wanted to see how it would go down with him before we booked anything.<br />
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We decided to treat the kids to the <a href="http://www.theplaymania.com/skidubai/ski-dubai-snow-park">Ski Dubai Snowpark</a>. We'd wanted to go for ages anyway, so it was the perfect excuse.<br />
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<a href="https://www.theentertainerme.com/Dubai-N-Emirates/products/print/Entertainer-Dubai-2014">Entertainer voucher</a> in hand, we marched in, and queued up for our snow gear. Then we found a free bench and a locker and sat down for the long process of getting everyone ready.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzr0cGOGaAeqqpGPyXYwK6OfhfPxnK9B0V5x4FNsfXx7usdY9UHN7yXDZX8OoYTC-JMT1B7xXaEF4pnenVxo62XNoiNAzXZikc_iYp-7xXlcWygmJrxLDr76W3ZAkubrNLXsCdk7rTppqR/s1600/ski1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzr0cGOGaAeqqpGPyXYwK6OfhfPxnK9B0V5x4FNsfXx7usdY9UHN7yXDZX8OoYTC-JMT1B7xXaEF4pnenVxo62XNoiNAzXZikc_iYp-7xXlcWygmJrxLDr76W3ZAkubrNLXsCdk7rTppqR/s1600/ski1.jpg" /></a></div>
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They were excited (and Adam quite a bit confused)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjdDqSgadT9hyfsCNaqYfwyANraBeE9u9p200_T81WA44CW-DVvPgcZx4tiB17Ugezh0GiA_P2ENDqSDmmLR1mSILga7HRJW9uNrulKzkozKUNRDYIC7Nab-9K13_qtyGcvs0vFy-NVSy/s1600/ski2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLjdDqSgadT9hyfsCNaqYfwyANraBeE9u9p200_T81WA44CW-DVvPgcZx4tiB17Ugezh0GiA_P2ENDqSDmmLR1mSILga7HRJW9uNrulKzkozKUNRDYIC7Nab-9K13_qtyGcvs0vFy-NVSy/s1600/ski2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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The Frozen theme (<a href="http://www.theplaymania.com/skidubai/frozen-activities">running until the end of February 2015</a>) was an instant hit. There are craft workshops and sing-along sessions you can pay extra to join, but we didn't feel the need for any of that. The scenery alone - and Olaf - was enough to make our two very happy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-nunglrVzweV_OjpqHYOjUMTh5Kt5awXhRy1wblatQ8HeGO_YhqY2u91AM1ia7Mpv50ZUqoVjHAPR5pnjbe7WedI9K_JiaCV4rY1_rpLG4OBUhIUgarF4eKl-SHzWr4svWEd_O_39LAk/s1600/ski3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-nunglrVzweV_OjpqHYOjUMTh5Kt5awXhRy1wblatQ8HeGO_YhqY2u91AM1ia7Mpv50ZUqoVjHAPR5pnjbe7WedI9K_JiaCV4rY1_rpLG4OBUhIUgarF4eKl-SHzWr4svWEd_O_39LAk/s1600/ski3.jpg" /></a></div>
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And once Adam let me convince him to keep his mittens on and got over the shock of having a cold nose ("Nose! Cold!"), he had a blast.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW8lbQHszwLq10wcCQnq_HGiA6695De7TSKvEAWaGWq1wHviI37fUccjYI2PKomNC6sBikFEfLWcFL45-OuA87aNp0hwbB5ELu5Fj5sEjLAPjBRAss5vWNv0lHgtAZ85ngNkDBSyRgAWXh/s1600/ski4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW8lbQHszwLq10wcCQnq_HGiA6695De7TSKvEAWaGWq1wHviI37fUccjYI2PKomNC6sBikFEfLWcFL45-OuA87aNp0hwbB5ELu5Fj5sEjLAPjBRAss5vWNv0lHgtAZ85ngNkDBSyRgAWXh/s1600/ski4.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">They really, really loved it. Even considering the small fortune it cost, and even considering that we actually spent less than two hours in there, it was well worth it. We topped it off with lunch at the Cheesecake Factory in a booth overlooking Ski Dubai which they also loved. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Some tips if you are planning to go...</span></div>
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- Signage says that children need to be over 3 years of age to enter. This appears on some level to be untrue. When we got to Ski Dubai and asked staff about this, they were happy when we said Adam was 2 (okay, so he's 2 months shy of 2, but he's big enough to be 2 and a half, so who's actually counting?), and let him in. So do ask. </div>
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- Take a small across-body bag. The snow suits do have a small zipped pocket on the sleeve for your phone, but they don't all seem to be the same size. David's iphone fit in his pocket, my iphone didn't fit in mine. When I needed both hands, it had to go in my bra (!!) so a small handy bag would've been useful. </div>
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- Set out early. When we left for lunch around 12:30, the queues at the ticket booths were neverending (and getting your snow gear does take time). </div>
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- Gloves are included in the ticket price but they are very basic gloves and I wasn't convinced they'd keep hands dry. Take your own thick gloves if you have them, and a hat for the adults. Children won't need a hat, they'll need a helmet provided by Ski Dubai and if that's loose, pulling their hood up under the helmet works well. </div>
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Have fun!<br />
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This is <b>not </b>a sponsored post. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-58416086219296803822015-01-28T17:21:00.001+01:002015-01-28T18:46:16.448+01:00Interviewing the Birthday Girl (4)<span style="font-family: inherit;">Her party went off without a hitch. Emily loved it (and was more than pleased with <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2015/01/party-planning-for-certain-almost-4.html">the soundtrack</a>), I think it's safe to say we all loved it. The kids had a blast and that makes the adults happy too. The crowd was fun, the weather perfect, the face painter an absolute hit, the colouring area never empty, the trampoline worked overtime and the cake was divine.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W6dx4MuDRSjT8QB8s20I8-oUsjeOVyYROtVNzGJcAW46SBqCbe38WqCAIcNjrvLquIUKASKYLMt67VdNuYFTfwPHonpVOl2mawMMsmNQwLM71Q0KjntJEvk-4vqQur3n-NtYmQpq59pY/s1600/E_4bday3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0W6dx4MuDRSjT8QB8s20I8-oUsjeOVyYROtVNzGJcAW46SBqCbe38WqCAIcNjrvLquIUKASKYLMt67VdNuYFTfwPHonpVOl2mawMMsmNQwLM71Q0KjntJEvk-4vqQur3n-NtYmQpq59pY/s1600/E_4bday3.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And a few days later, she is today officially four - and even understanding the concept of a difference between her party day and her actual birthday (which I had not expected), so we got to "celebrate" all over again today, and she was thrilled all day long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before dinner, I sat her down for her Birthday Interview, which she loved.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here are her answers this year. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is your name?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Emily</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">How old are you?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">FOUR!</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is your favourite thing to do?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Colour and paint</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you want to be when you grow up?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lots of things... a nurse, a doctor, and a mummy</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is your favourite food?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Spaghetti, pizza and twirly pasta</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Who do you like to spend time with?</span></span></span></div>
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Nannus and Nannas, and my aunties and uncles</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you do really well?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was really good at doing my orange dinosaur for the library, so painting.</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What makes you laugh?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Tickling!</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is the best time of the day?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
Singing my bedtime song</div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What are you afraid of?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Dinosaurs and big spiders</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Who is your best friend?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Betsy. And Olivia and Maya.</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you like to do with your family?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stickers and dress up for school</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What do you love to learn about?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hippopotamuses and rhinos</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Where do you like to go?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To school</span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">What is your favourite book?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #772d50; font-family: inherit; text-decoration: none;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Really-Ever-Well-Charlie-Lola/dp/0448445697">Charlie and Lola</a></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">If you had one wish, what would it be?</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #333333; line-height: 20.3839988708496px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">To have Elsa shoes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvakdlpb7PObJYaaBucOe7AzEMDM3Mp0JbUPsz8VppIEeKz6WaLQ6WkQyvCSo4bBOPfp1M6xdgkM4TtJBQfGxqN5svenz8jogpoxHDu26pHIU8FIIKzteJN2fOPy86RqpYrPrF0FozWUtX/s1600/E_4bday1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvakdlpb7PObJYaaBucOe7AzEMDM3Mp0JbUPsz8VppIEeKz6WaLQ6WkQyvCSo4bBOPfp1M6xdgkM4TtJBQfGxqN5svenz8jogpoxHDu26pHIU8FIIKzteJN2fOPy86RqpYrPrF0FozWUtX/s1600/E_4bday1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Do you get that she <b>loves </b>going to school?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But I was especially touched by her mention of Betsy. She hasn't seen or spoken to her since we were in Malta in July of last year, and yet she still considers her to be her best friend. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My little girl is a sweet, kind, loving and considerate little soul, and I'm proud and honoured to be her Mummy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Happy Birthday, little cherub. Here's to many, many more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2014/02/interviewing-birthday-girl.html">Read last year's interview here</a>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://bestactivitiesforkids.com/birthday-interview-free-printable/">Find the printable list of questions here</a>.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-10909811404128767942015-01-08T09:11:00.001+01:002015-01-08T11:50:02.543+01:00Party Planning for a Certain Almost 4-Year-Old!Now that Christmas and festivities are over, my focus shifts onto Emily's birthday. Her party is a few short weeks away and planning is well under way. I am currently working on a playlist. Emily has a few favourite songs (All About That Bass, Bailando, Wait On Me, Fun Fun Fun, and last but <i>far </i>from least, Boom Clap) that went straight onto the list. I then asked for friends' suggestions and the list is now looking great, and what's best - Emily approves of it.<br />
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We've been testing it out in the kitchen.<br />
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Luna didn't join in. She just watched us and thought we were mad, as usual.<br />
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This is what the list currently looks like:<br />
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Oh, yeah!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-39610326790516653912014-12-26T06:27:00.000+01:002014-12-26T06:29:57.564+01:00Too MuchI sit back and watch my kids get spoiled. It's not a good feeling. It's not that feeling of satisfaction knowing that so many people love my children. It's too much. It's gluttony, it's confusion. I seem to spend the year clearing out toys they never use, only to get to Christmas to fill up any space I've finally claimed, and watch them flit from one toy to the next because there's just so much, too much, to allow them to focus on one thing alone for any amount of time.<br />
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And so I find myself making a decision. There will not be a neverending amount of gifts under the tree next year. Family members and friends will only be "permitted" one gift for each child. Santa might be allowed two. (I'll have to think about that.)<br />
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I am of course grateful for gifts. People are kind, and generous. But I'm not being cruel, I believe I'm being kind. I believe my children be better children for it. They may even play more, ask to watch television less, be more focused, appreciate more.<br />
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This was a good Christmas. It was the best Christmas in all the Christmases we've spent away from family. And I believe next Christmas will be even better.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-56041283160438452702014-12-12T15:56:00.000+01:002014-12-12T15:56:00.500+01:00Literary AdventSelfishly, I didn't want the children having a daily chocolate throughout Advent. There's enough excitement bubbling over from seeing the tree and decorations every morning, I didn't want to add caffeine to it.<br />
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So I bought and wrapped up a whole bunch of Christmas and Winter-related books for them. Threw in a couple of Christmas DVDs too to keep it different. They open one a day and get that book read to them at bedtime - or whenever else they feel like it.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
A few of the titles:</div>
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<b>Russell's Christmas Magic</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>How Many Sleeps till Christmas?</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Christmas Show</b></div>
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<b>Father Christmas Needs to Wee</b></div>
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<b>Peppa's Christmas Wish</b></div>
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<b>Jesus' Christmas Party</b></div>
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<b>The Smelly Sprout</b></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/registry/wishlist/1GWN0PMMX86P2/ref=cm_wl_rlist_go_o?" target="_blank">Full list of suggested titles here</a>.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-33138560011675457882014-12-11T06:35:00.000+01:002014-12-11T06:35:00.135+01:00Dear Santa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Santa has taken note!</div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-69304065382036864462014-12-09T18:33:00.000+01:002014-12-09T18:33:00.830+01:00FoamWe had some fun with shaving foam the other day. Adam wasn't too sure at first (he's going through that "can't have messy hands" phase) but Emily loved it, she spent an hour "washing" everything in the garden with the foam - including herself.<br />
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I love that the weather is now finally cool enough to enjoy the outdoors. The garden is seeing plenty of action, as are the parks and sandpits (and yes, I still hate sand). Ironically, now that the weather is probably perfect for swimming, we haven't been to the pool in weeks. I guess I'm in Wannabe Winter mode, even if it is really equivalent to a British Heatwave.<br />
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Watching Emily and Adam play together has become fantastic. Now that he's talking so much, I guess she feels that she can now communicate with him better, he's reached a new level and they do play together so well. There's also a lot of affection between them, they often sit on the sofa watching <b>Frozen </b>together (they both love it), arms around each other, snuggled up.<br />
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A few short months ago I remember wondering whether having two children really would get any easier. And then it did.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-10359958255445113962014-11-04T07:31:00.000+01:002014-11-04T07:31:00.291+01:00Trick or Treat!It was our first "proper" Halloween this year. We have of course dressed up before [<a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2011/11/one-little-strawberry.html">2011</a>, <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2012/10/of-very-scary-witches.html">2012</a>, <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2013/10/our-early-halloween.html">2013</a>], and we usually throw a party, but we have never had the opportunity to go out trick or treating. This year, knowing Dubai is quite big on Halloween, we got together with some neighbourhood friends and joined the other children on the streets.<br />
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We were out for close to two hours and had an absolute blast. By the end of it, both kids were begging to go home - they'd walked so far and their bags were heavy and they wanted to sleep. Ha. Win!<br />
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Sadly, we didn't end up organising a party but we are already talking about next Halloween, and there will be a party and definitely more trick or treating!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-44814399538703633482014-10-06T09:27:00.000+02:002014-10-06T09:27:00.630+02:00"Just a Second"<span style="font-family: inherit;">I sometimes feel like the most repeated phrase in our house is "just a second", closely followed by "just a minute". (I'm not really helping my children's warped concept of time, admittedly)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">The kids always want my attention. A cup of milk, a snack, a book read to them, "look at my dance/my picture/me."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">It's simple. I can't always stop what I'm doing. And these kids seem to know exactly when the most inconvenient moment to demand my attention is.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">We are surrounded nowadays, I feel, by people and advice telling us to stop and give children time. They won't be young forever. They won't ask for us to look at their pretty pictures forever.</span><br />
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<i><span style="color: #666666;">The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #666666;">But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #666666;">So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #666666;">I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know this and I dread the day the demands for attention will stop. On those rare occasions when Adam falls asleep on me, I will stop and take it in for as long as possible. When Emily needs an extra long cuddle after school, she will eagerly get it,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">BUT.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">I also don't want my kids to grow up (in a world that has no time for them) thinking that anyone will stop and give them a minute whenever they demand it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">I don't want my kids to think they are the centre of anyone's world. It's not always all about them, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They need to learn to wait; learn patience.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">They won't be kids forever, no. But if I make my bladder wait any longer, it may very well explode. If the pasta </span>doesn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> get drained <i>right now</i>, dinner will be mush. If I </span>don't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> keep my eyes on the road, we won't make it there alive. And bloody hell, if I </span>don't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> sometimes zone out and check my phone for what may well be a mind-numbing </span>Facebook<span style="font-family: inherit;"> update, I might just lose my mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">They do of course get my attention - a lot of </span>the<span style="font-family: inherit;"> time. Just not every second of every day</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">. They can learn to wait. They can learn that </span>they're<span style="font-family: inherit;"> not the only ones who need me. They are two siblings who need to share me, their father also sometimes needs me, <i>I sometimes need me</i>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">So enough feeling guilty for not spending every moment of my day giving them my undivided attention. Out with the guilt when I hear Emily tell Adam to "wait a second" before she goes over to help him. (LOL!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">So be it. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">They are loved. Deeply and desperately. I would do </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">anything </i><span style="font-family: inherit;">for them. It just doesn't always have to be </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">right now</b><span style="font-family: inherit;">. </span><br />
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</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-64733389875136420352014-10-05T20:48:00.000+02:002014-10-05T20:48:45.583+02:00Eid MubarakWe have spent the long weekend celebrating sixth wedding anniversaries with steak dinners on <a href="http://www.jwmarriottmarquisdubailife.com/whereeastmeetswest/dining/prime-68/">68th floors</a>, and enjoying friends visiting from a place <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2013/01/a-walk-about-town.html">we once called home</a>, watching the children get reacquainted while us adults sat back with a cool glass of white wine in 35 degree heat, and caught up.<br />
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My next project is finding the perfect pet cat to complete our family! Watch this space...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-23167306843044685872014-10-01T07:04:00.000+02:002014-10-01T07:04:03.010+02:00Breaking the Silence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The last couple of years have been hard. 2013 reeked of failure and disappointment. And although 2014 and Dubai have been good for us, adjusting to yet another new place is never easy, especially when there is already baggage. </div>
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I wrote the post below in June but didn't have the courage to post it then. </div>
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I feel now that I can. Because I've sought help and I've come far. I read through the following post with sadness, but also with pride and satisfaction - because I no longer feel like the person who wrote it. </div>
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And that's a good, good thing. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI47nfBgVbTMbntAVr2dT304yKcXxIrTWyLsIbo4W102zWYRgDPpSeqM9FGom4Ul_LD7mOLMTQw3nAdTEnEc-hKlFEgjZ4iZpDFk-x1IwsvmZ3ZloAkib8xU1_HOjR4xwq-g3J2fH4ix-m/s1600/Alone_Teddy_by_hombre_cz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI47nfBgVbTMbntAVr2dT304yKcXxIrTWyLsIbo4W102zWYRgDPpSeqM9FGom4Ul_LD7mOLMTQw3nAdTEnEc-hKlFEgjZ4iZpDFk-x1IwsvmZ3ZloAkib8xU1_HOjR4xwq-g3J2fH4ix-m/s1600/Alone_Teddy_by_hombre_cz.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size: xx-small;">[<a href="http://hombre-cz.deviantart.com/art/Alone-Teddy-133337056">image</a>]</span></div>
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16th June 2014<br />
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This silence is loud. It is made up of judgement, paranoia, and self-loathing. I'd done well. But it's back, and I'm tired of the fight. I'm tired of keeping up appearances. I'm exhausted and I just want it to end.<br />
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This is no suicide note. This is me taking hold of things, my life. Me saying I'm not doing this any longer. It's been ten long years, on, off, on, off, struggling, barely coping, knowing there's a problem, trying to figure it out, hardly recognizing myself. Maybe there isn't a cause. Maybe chemistry was always going to get me to this point, where my daughter is so used to seeing me cry, she no longer bats an eyelid when I do.<br />
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I know there's a problem. That's half the battle fought, or so I'm told. It doesn't feel like it. It only feels like my battle is more constant because I am so aware of it. Day in, day out. Some days, I start the day with no energy to string a full sentence together, nevermind face a three-year-old's neverending stream of questions, or make a new friend.<br />
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And two pure and innocent children relying on me to entertain them, to keep them happy. They are the only reason I've held it together this long. Staying on track long enough to get through the day. Day by day. Some days, needing to stop and remind myself it's okay to stay home and do a whole lot of Not Much. It's okay to have a mediocre day. It's okay to enjoy the simple joys in life, rolling around on the carpet tickling each other. Dancing in our underwear. It's okay to just be.<br />
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But the emptiness is huge. The void is thick. There is no such thing as "just being" when some of the hardest things you do every day are breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, looking into someone else's eyes.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-67637279026077980382014-09-28T18:31:00.000+02:002014-10-05T20:11:38.161+02:00Starting Again<span style="font-family: inherit;">My big little girl started school, <a href="http://www.theprettywalrus.com/2013/10/off-to-school.html">again</a>. This time here in Dubai. She'd been counting the days from weeks before. She was so eager to meet her new friends and her teachers and start having fun. She was bored. There's only so much I could do to entertain two kids in a new country when it's too hot to do anything outdoors (and then Ramadan began and I completely gave up).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There were no tears. We knew there wouldn't be. She barely said goodbye at her classroom door, too thrilled to discover what adventures awaited her within.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was worried that the long day would be too much for her. Longer than she's ever been away from me. She wasn't phased. She loves having lunch with her friends and her table manners have been praised (proud mummy), and she gets a three course meal every day. The child eats better than I do.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntTls551eb-zggnosg-RANklWLKj1075anFtcDHEZwUlR2hb3DHO2-hx2rTqC0iRWH36n4o5gUJHhPevZPnAWll2RCxGkK64gVeijNPJxhXzD4991uAzQNvx5MutnadYCIDePpJXus5cm/s1600/balletfeet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntTls551eb-zggnosg-RANklWLKj1075anFtcDHEZwUlR2hb3DHO2-hx2rTqC0iRWH36n4o5gUJHhPevZPnAWll2RCxGkK64gVeijNPJxhXzD4991uAzQNvx5MutnadYCIDePpJXus5cm/s1600/balletfeet.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She started ballet classes last week. Seeing her in her tiny, sparkly tutu, those small ballet slippers, and a face full of excitement made my heart melt. She's so big, and yet she's so small.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Some afternoons, she gets home exhausted. There's been too much fun, too much learning, too much happening. The water system in the classroom's backyard gets mentioned a lot. She likes playing there, and the sandpit too. She talks about her friends and the things they've been up to. Olivia, Maya, Alice, Dauren, Matteo (her boyfriend, apparently), Mohammed, Oscar, Inez, Emmeline, Lexi and more.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Sometimes I look at her and she suddenly seems so different. Maybe somewhere in my mind I still think she's the little one year old I walked up and down Rochester High Street with, visiting the library, cafes, fish pond, so many times a week. Then I see her as she really is, almost four, and it takes me by surprise. Shock, almost.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I try to hug her for as long as I can - many times it's me drawing bedtime out - and when I'm lucky I get a tight hug back, and one of her trademark never-ending smooches on my cheek.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"How did you get so big?"</i> I ask her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"I grow every day and every night!"</i></span><br />
<i><br /></i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Yes she does. She most certainly does.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZSCMJH-CIyIZm9RNHFwpwnCnBPNmFpKX5Tw2adQo3sVSAOFZJE5bpgRIUqEhrf2RdddKukK-Gx8ajhopcZGtKpk2M3xwT4hECSCHWycKWm97SUoo0AcgYZaFtKpih_Z8EGV7YvwTugf4/s1600/growing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZSCMJH-CIyIZm9RNHFwpwnCnBPNmFpKX5Tw2adQo3sVSAOFZJE5bpgRIUqEhrf2RdddKukK-Gx8ajhopcZGtKpk2M3xwT4hECSCHWycKWm97SUoo0AcgYZaFtKpih_Z8EGV7YvwTugf4/s1600/growing.jpg" /></a></span>
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Recently, things have changed. Adam is now the age Emily was when we decided to try for another baby (and instantly became pregnant). Nine months from now, Adam will be the same age Emily was when he was born. I'm not quite sure how we got here so fast.<br />
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There won't be another pregnancy. At least not as long as I can help it. But just as things were "easy" enough when Emily was this age for us to consider shattering any calm and predictability that had finally settled in our lives by adding a new baby to the mix, Adam is now at a similar stage.<br />
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But this time, I get to ride out the calm. I get to do some things for me. As much as I hate to acknowledge that my babies are growing up, I finally get to relax - properly - for the first time in almost four years. I don't quite know how to do it any longer; that word - "relax" - hasn't quite been part of my vocabulary for some time now. But I'm learning.<br />
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I've started going to the pool, after hours. Once the children are in bed, I wave goodbye to David and head to the community pool. There's something insanely serene about swimming in an outdoor pool after dark. I swim some lengths, badly, but I don't care. There's no one I know around, I'm there for me. I'm there to do some exercise, I'm there to relax, to swim at my own pace, to breathe in the night air and not need to hurry home, knowing the children are sleeping and safe with their father.<br />
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For the first time in years, I get to do something for me. And it's a set up that works, so I hope it will last.<br />
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And I find myself wondering, again, why I haven't written here in so long. And I have started to think that maybe it's because a chapter in my life is ending, and a new one beginning. I no longer have any babies. I have a child and a toddler. I am at a point where I am starting to remember that I have an identity, and it's not just limited to being a mother. The era of a smidgen of freedom has arrived.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-64962938118698844552014-06-25T06:13:00.000+02:002014-06-25T06:13:00.261+02:00Wordless Wednesday: Tea Party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-40429710641810741752014-06-17T20:48:00.000+02:002014-06-17T20:50:01.510+02:00White HousesI grew up in a pretty noisy household. Five kids will do that. But there was also always music. If the radio wasn't on, it would be my mother singing (and often, us groaning), or my dad playing guitar. We each had a stereo in our rooms. We did drama, music, dance, singing classes and we all have some level of performing arts experience. Music was just an assumed part of the environment. We never stopped to think about it. It just was.<br />
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When I moved out of home at age 23, the silence was... an experience. I shared a small flat with David and, for whatever reason - probably lack of space - we had no stereo. David is a TV person, so we'd usually have that on in the background. And when that's the case, there's no space for music.<br />
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Not that I realised it. I put the silence down to not having my noisy siblings around me. It was about four years and three house moves before we bought a stereo, and even then with that TV on most of the time, there was little use for it. I listened to music on my ipod on the train on my way to and from work.<br />
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In Malta the situation was pretty much the same, not helped by the fact that our UK-bought radios didn't work in Malta (technology too old apparently). So then we listened to music in the car. But I'd been on and on about wanting to buy an iphone dock. The only thing that held me back was price. I didn't want to spend a ridiculous amount on something that would once again be drowned out by the TV.<br />
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Then one random day a few weeks ago, we bought one. It wasn't cheap, but it's been worth it. I'm not sure what's different, or what's changed (the TV is still on most of the time when David is home!) but during the day, the kids and I often have dance parties. Emily asks me for Lady Gaga specifically (slight obsession ongoing), and The Dancing (also known as the Bride and Prejudice OST which I had almost no choice but to download because of Her Royal Highness), and sometimes, when I have a say about what we listen to - often over dinner - I put on some of my favourites.<br />
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Vanessa Carlton's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM3fEJyPrrg&feature=kp">White Houses</a> inevitably plays at some point or other. And it takes me back, to Summer of 2004, driving from San Gwann to Ghajn Tuffieha, windows down, music barely audible on my portable speakers (I couldn't afford a car stereo), singing along at the top of my head. It wasn't a great summer, but that's not what I remember. The music brings with it a sense of freedom and youth, and makes me want to close my eyes and sing along at the top of my voice.<br />
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And sometimes I do. And I'll open my eyes expecting looks of horror, but Emily and Adam will look at me in awe, like they've seen something new, a part of me they've never seen before. And I feel somewhat rejuvenated, and grateful for the music, and for the environment I'm creating for them. Hopefully a lively, musical household they can smile back on for years to come.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/SM3fEJyPrrg" width="640"></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8730758290724925733.post-75873145858240324802014-06-15T18:59:00.002+02:002014-06-15T19:01:48.031+02:00Pass<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Three long months of not being able to drive. Three months of needing to plan my entire day in advance to be able to let a driver know what I have planned and when I need to be where. <i>Impossible with two young kids</i>. "How posh," you might think. Well, I'd happily have swapped having a driver for being able to drive myself and the kids around anytime.</div>
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Two months of driving lessons. (Maltese licenses are not yet eligible to be exchanged for UAE ones, so we need to go through theory and practical lessons, as well as testing of course, from scratch.) Two months of trying to fit in an hour of lessons around the children's meal and nap times, as well as around David's schedule - he would be the one looking after them while I was in lessons. And ladies are not able to have lessons after 17:30... don't get me started on that one!<br />
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One month of eyeing up my brand new car and not being able to drive her. One month of David telling me what a beautiful drive she is, and well done on my choice of car. One month of wondering: will I ever drive her and be able to still smell that perfectly new smell?</div>
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Today was D-Day. After a series of botched bookings by the driving centre (I believe I've walked in to <b>one </b>driving lesson that wasn't met with the likes of "Your lesson is tomorrow." "Er, no it's not." "Oh oops we've made a mistake." They even managed to book my final test for the wrong day and time...), I had my final hour of lessons this morning with a fantastic Pakistani gentleman who did an excellent job of killing off any nervousness I may have been feeling. "You'll pass first time," he told me. I hoped so. </div>
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An hour and a half later, some nerves had built up again, I was in the car with another lady who completely messed up her parking test (poor woman), I then got behind the wheel and despite not having an entirely eventless test myself, my examiner seemed willing to give me the benefit of the doubt: "You've passed, my dear."</div>
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I still can't drive, of course. It will be a couple more days before I have a physical license, and then comes the fun of training my (very, very shocking) sense of direction on Dubai roads. It's going to be interesting. But I can't wait. </div>
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This bird is finally about to be set free. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1