Author Archives: Kerry

About Kerry

Coffee drinker, mum to the whirwind, homebody, homeschooler and crafty bugger

May to December 2014

So I’ve been very slack in updating here haven’t I? I’d love to say it won’t happen again but those of you who know me well, will know that it more than likely will.

Here’s my run down of the last few months……

  • I got me some rad dreads. They are still very much babies but loving the journey.
  • We did The National Forest Folk Festival over at Conkers in Ashby, awesome time.
  • We repeated our Natural Mama’s Big Camp adventure, bigger and better!
  • I got a bun in the oven. Yep.
  • Edward got glasses. Finally he can see!
  • We had another Tunisian adventure.
  • Christmas came and went…….along with twenty fourteen

All that matters…

Those three words are evil. A dismissal, that whatever you are going through isn’t important, your feelings are not as meaningful as other issues.
I read this article this morning and it summed up exactly how I felt towards that sentence. It’s about birth, and the dreaded phrase that ”All that matters is a healthy baby” well, no actually that isn’t all that matters.
It is the most important thing yes, but not all that matters. I wanted to share it here, mainly as it can be used in most life situations.
All that matters….is that you weren’t hurt. No. That is the most important thing, but what about the photographs, memories and contact info? What about loosing my Christmas present to some plonker?

All that matters……is that you got on the bus. No, it’s the most important thing but it’s frustrating that you didn’t get a seat, and inconvenient that you had to stand with your nose in someones armpit.

All that matters…….is that you voted. No, it is important that you vote. But seriously, what matters is that you vote for the party you feel will make the best decisions for us as a country, regardless
of which party that is and what they stand for.
I’m being a bit daft with this, but feelings and thoughts matter. Lets stop dismissing those. Lets stop silencing these thoughts.
Feelings matter, experiences matter.

Open letter to the guy who stole my mobile phone

Dear Fuckwit on a bike,
I’d like to thank you for stealing my phone, it’s taught me a very important lesson in safety when I’m walking in broad daylight to collect my 4 year old son from nursery. The same 4 year old son who’s pictures are in the phone’s memory, the same 4 year old who you’ll find singing songs from Frozen in the video memory of the phone, along with the Despicable Me Minion game that he loved playing. Thank you for giving us the screen break we so desperately needed.

What you may have realised by now, is that the phone is useless. I blocked it as soon as I got home, after spending an hour waiting at the nursery for the police, because I called them too. I thought they should know all about what colour t shirt you were wearing, the direction you sped off to and all about the pathetic sunglasses you were wearing in what I can only assume an attempt to hide your face.
I want you to know, I laughed when I thought of you trying to use the defunct phone, I laughed even harder when I thought of you trying to sell it without the stylus that was in my other hand.

I’d like to thank you for opening my eye’s to how kind and caring my son’s nursery are. They are less than a hundred yards away from the scene of your utter disrespect. After shouting at you and bringing out my best swear words, I ran to the nursery. They helped me call the police and got me a cuppa, they even offered me a lift home. They restored my faith in humanity.

I want to thank you for upsetting me so much my other half came home early from work to make sure I was OK. He rarely comes home early, so despite the shitty reason it was a nice treat for him to spend time with our 4 year old before bedtime. That same 4 year old who couldn’t understand why his Mum was so upset yesterday.

So, it’s just a phone. To me it was so much more, it was a photo album, a recording device, a way of keeping in touch with loved ones. The photo’s are likely gone forever, that’s not OK but I get to see my boy every day in the flesh so I’m very lucky.
Had you tried to steal him, we may be having a very different conversation.

I never forget a face, yours has scolded itself onto the inside of my eyelids. I’ll see you again.

 

Yours,

Innocent mobile phone user, Leicester.

Parenting a weird kid

Yesterday I had my eureka moment, a fellow home educating Mama of mine posted this delightful guest blog by Sacha Davis about her weird kid on facebook, which is where I tend to keep up with a lot of my favourite people at the moment.

I read it whilst watching Edward spin on the spot in front of the T.V while I caught up on Eastenders and do you know what happened? I said to myself, in his voice “it’s OK Mum, I’m a weird kid. I’m YOUR weird kid”,

He was right, he is weird. Last week he wouldn’t leave the house without his pirate hat because he was Captain Hook and then he decided Hook wasn’t quite right, handed me his hat and declared he was Peter Pan and he wanted me to help him catch his shadow.
I smile to myself when I hear him sing songs from Frozen, because my internal soundtrack has them on repeat and it’s nice to have someone to sing along with. I laugh when he whispers Bumcrackalacka in my ear, especially because his Dad taught him both a new word and a new way to get Mummy to crease over.
I kind of have a face palm moment when he licks the wall or door, or the side of the counter fridge in the supermarket. I’m a little shamefaced in front of the shop assistant when he looks at her pleased as punch and smiling, proud of his achievement tells her ”I licked it”

I mentally tell her,” it’s OK lady, he’s a weird kid.”

But then I look back and remember. I used to talk to myself, full blown conversations about anything that cropped up. I’d sleep on the top step of the staircase when my Mum and Dad went out, leaving us with a babysitter. I’d swing as high as I could on the swings just so I could stick my tongue out mid swing to catch the air as it went past.

I was a weird kid.

So, Mum’s and Dad’s of the tinterwebs, stand up and be proud of that weird kid. Be proud that you created a unique individual who refuses to conform and will always be a weird kid. Weird kids rock, if you don’t believe me ask Mozart.

 

Spring has sprung.

Finally, spring has arrived! We’ve been out in the garden more and more recently. Bouncing out Edwards energy, finding homes for some tiny frogspawn and chasing butterflies. Now the weather is warmer and the days lighter it gives us more time to have adventures.

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Edward has developed a love for play-dough, squishing it and creating interesting shapes. He really loves a set his Nana has, a band and a stage all ready to be modeled and styled. He’s been exploring her beading supplies too, counting them up, measuring them and separating into different colours and sizes. Popa takes Edward out on a Saturday morning, with his cousins for a good stroll to Braunstone Park, this week the came home with huge walking sticks and promptly took them out into the garden for a longer adventure in the bushes.

 

 

Purple Purl

So Karen at Purple Purl sent me some lovely stitch markers to test for her a couple of weeks ago. Here’s how I got on…..
I’ve been hooking up a Pinwheel cardigan and they’ve come in very handy

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 They are launching this week along with a chance to win a set for yourself over on Facebook. They are lovely little quirky markers, that feel so smooth and easy to use coming in a beautiful array of colours to suit every taste.

Made from Primo, the flexibility they offer is ideal for working with any kind of yarn possible! I love them.