Foodie Mummy

Travelling with children: a review.

2011-12-01T11:53:00.000Z

One of my many daily ~~struggles~~ challenges is the school run. My car broke down about a year ago and we have never bothered to fix it. We live a half a mile away from the school and I feel bad driving for such a small distance anyway. Also it would take almost as much time to put all the children in the car than it would to walk at least half of the way down. So we walk.

When Elliott was only a few weeks old, I used to put him in the sling that my mum bought us, which was great as it meant that I could hold Noelie's hand while walking along the narrow, potholed country lane. As the weather grew colder, I put Elliott in the pushchair. That's when the whole thing became awkward. Have you ever tried steering a pushchair with one hand and holding a toddler by the hand all the while trying to avoid the pot-holes / muck / puddles / cow dung / water filled ditches on either side? It's not easy, let me tell you. Noelie, unlike many toddlers her age, insists on holding your hand when walking anywhere and will not move if you don't, not that I am complaining that I don't have a little runaway on my hands.

The whole experience of walking up and down to school twice a day was fast becoming a rather unpleasant. And then, Travelling with Children contacted us and asked us if we would like to review the Toddler Mini Back Pack and Reins. I decided to give it a try on the day we received it and have used it every day since. It has completely changed the school walk, for the better. The small back pack has given Noelie the confidence to walk without holding my hand, leaving me with both hands free to push Elliott's pushchair.

The back pack is small and is designed to be used by children age 6 months to 4 years old. The straps are in fact a 3 way harness and are very easily adjusted. It is big enough for Noelie to put in a snack and a drink, as well as her teddy and her soother. She feels all grown up with her own 'schoolbag' as she calls it. She loves the animal embroidery on the front of the backpack and I love the fact that there is a safety reflector there too. I have peace of mind knowing that she can't wriggle out of it as well as the fact that she can't stray too far away from me (and that I don't have to fish her out of the water filled ditches). It also has an emergency handle that comes in useful when Noelie trips over her own feet (which happens at least once a day). The rein is easily removable and clips back on in no time at all, allowing the child to have a bit of freedom but also allowing the parent to regain control fast, should the need arise. No wonder it won the Mother and Baby Gold Award for BEST SAFETY PRODUCT 2010/11! And it comes in 4 different colours too.

So whether you're travelling home this Christmas or just finding the school run a bit of a challenge, hop over to the Travelling with Children website and see what products they have on offer. They are also offering a 15% discount if you buy any Lodger product (check out these hats or this fleece wrapper. Don't they look cosy?). You can also find Travelling with Children on Twitter and Facebook too.

Breastfeeding? Not for me, thanks.

2011-10-06T14:08:00.000+01:00

That's what I thought. Breastfeeding, not for me thank you.

When I had Marie, I was a young 24 year old woman. The thought of breastfeeding hadn't even entered my mind. I don't even think that it was presented as an option in the hospital. I wasn't really aware of it. For me, a baby was fed with a bottle, end of.

By the time I had Noelie, breastfeeding revival was well on its way. A bit too much if you ask me. I felt like breastfeeding was pushed down my throat. It felt as if every midwife, nurse and doctor I met wanted me to breastfeed. Unfortunately, I'm the kind of person who will do exactly the opposite of what people try to get me to do if they push too hard. Telling me that I must read such a book, will only result in creating a very strong aversion of said book in me and ensure that I will never, I repeat never, pick up that book, ever. Same goes for breastfeeding, talk to me too much about it, try and push me too much in that direction and I will not even consider it.

I think that I saw breastfeeding as a bit of a hippy, new age thing to do and something that didn't really fit in with my corporate, busy working mother image. The whole feeding on demand thing didn't seem to make for a great routine that fit in with the lifestyle I had at the time (poor excuse I know since being on maternity leave the whole corporate, working mum image didn't exist anymore).

This time around, when I was asked during my first visit in hospital if I intended to breastfeed and I answered no, nothing else was said about it. No disapproving look, no lecture, nothing. I didn't think anymore about it until during the last couple of months of my pregnancy. My breasts started leaking, quite profusely at night and I joked with Mr Foodie on a few occasions that maybe I could breastfeed this baby. It was never really serious and I never read up on it or anything (apart from what I read in the blogosphere). We bought our bottles etc (we still had the steriliser from Noelie) and were all set for another round of bottle feeding.

Until after the birth that is. When the nurse came around, a few hours after the birth and said it was time to feed this little man, she asked me how I wanted to feed him. Automatically, I answered bottle. Mr Foodie looked at me and mentioned the fact that I'd said I might give breastfeeding a try. I looked at him and at the nurse and said OK, I'm going to try it. Mr Foodie and I had never really discussed it, well, not very seriously anyway so I have to admit that I was a bit surprised. The nurse helped Little Man to latch on and off we were on our breastfeeding journey. I had no idea what to expect having never really given it serious thought and never researched it. It just felt like the natural thing to do at the time.

It surprised everybody around us, I think. Having bottle-fed Noelie, people expected us to do the same with Little Man. We don't come from backgrounds where breastfeeding is common and we had never mentioned it before. My only experience with breastfeeding was that of my aunt who was advised by her pediatrician to switch to bottle feeding as she managed to overfeed her baby while breastfeeding. That being said, she also managed to over feed him on the bottle and the poor child was wearing 2 year old clothes at the age of 8 months. Despite being surprised, nobody had anything negative to say about it. I know that some of them felt rather uncomfortable at the idea of me taking my boobs out to feed Little Man. I think others felt a tad disappointed too (and still are) at the exclusivity of the whole breastfeeding experience as they wouldn't get to feed Little Man for a little while. But if they do think anything negative about it, they certainly never mentioned it to me or to Mr Foodie. The nurse later said to us that she had never met a couple that made the decision between breast or bottle in such a natural, easy going, spur of the moment kind of way.

Maybe it is because we made a natural decision, with no expectations or pressure (self inflicted or otherwise) that breastfeeding has worked out so well for us. Maybe it was because I knew I could give up whenever I wanted if it didn't feel right, or if it wasn't working out without feeling guilty but rather proud that I gave it a go. Maybe it is because we did approach the whole thing with no knowledge whatsoever. We have since spent hours reading up on it but I think that if I had read about it too much beforehand, I probably would never have given it a go. If I had been told of cracked and sore nipples, of toe curling pain (and, yes, you literally do curl your toes), of no feeding schedule as such, of times of cluster feeds, I wouldn't have given it a go. And I am so glad that I never did read about all that, because, despite the hard times and the pain, despite the tiredness, breastfeeding is one of the most beautiful things I have experienced with a baby. It is not easy and there were times where I was close to tears with the pain and the tiredness. Little Man didn't latch on properly until a couple of weeks ago and I had terribly cracked nipples (it looked like a quarter of my nipple had been peeled off at some stage) and the pain was near unbearable for a few seconds but once it stopped, it was fine.

Mr Foodie has been extremely supportive through the whole thing and has become very knowledgeable on the subject. I know he is proud of me for giving it a go and for sticking to it. And I am very grateful that he has been so supportive. He will tell anybody who will listen (people like the other blokes at work) how great breastfeeding is. He, too, is a convert. We love the fact that there are no bottles to wash and sterilise, that there is no paraphernalia to carry around when out and about. You don't need to worry about heating up bottles or having enough formula. You don't need to remember to buy it in the supermarket. It is there, at the right temperature, in the right amount and free.

I can understand why some people do not want to try, or are not interested. I was one of them once. Some of the literature you can read feels a bit like german propaganda in the 1940s. Some people are way to pushy or judgemental if you say that you have no interest in breastfeeding. I think it takes a certain maturity and a certain confidence to attempt breastfeeding. It is demanding from a physical and mental point of view but it is also strangely extremely rewarding. I had never thought I would be a convert to breastfeeding but I am. I won't be joining the so-called breastapo soon as I believe that everybody is free to choose which way to feed their baby (and some people sadly have no choice in the matter). I didn't join any breastfeeding groups etc and I will not be criticizing or judge anybody who decides to bottle feed their baby. I bottle fed my 2 girls and don't regret doing it. It was what was right for me at the time. And at the end of the day, it's all about what's right for you and your baby at the time.

The wedding part 1

2011-10-04T11:08:00.001+01:00

A little over a week after giving birth to Little Man, Mr Foodie and I got married. Before I tell you all about my wedding day (I'm sure you are all dying to know about it!), I feel like I have to give a little background information as to why we did things the way we did.

We got engaged on my 30th birthday, a couple of years ago and had been talking about getting married ever since. However, our circumstances were such that we never really got around to doing it or even planning it in any serious way.

However, the impending arrival of baby number 3 and the fact that by getting married we would get an extra 300 euros a month in our wallet (don't ask, it's just the way the stupid system works here in Ireland!) tipped us over the edge and we started thinking about it more seriously. One small problem though. We couldn't agree on how to do it.

Before any of you start thinking 'Here comes the bridezilla.', let me be clear: I am not the type of girl who has been dreaming about her wedding day since the tender age of 3. I have never dreamt of white horse drawn carriages or pink meringue wedding dresses. I couldn't tell the difference between satin and silk, have never thought of table centerpieces or grooms men outfits (I do quite like kilts though) and certainly never given any thought to what flavour I would like my wedding cake to be (that would have to be chocolate though). I have never bought a wedding magazine and do not intend to either. So don't start blaming me before I even start!

There were 2 obvious options: getting married in Ireland or getting married in France.

Unfortunately, getting married in France was not an option. Indeed, Mr Foodie's mum will never get on a plane and has recently decided that she wouldn't like to get on a boat either. There is also the small matter of food, that the Irish side wouldn't eat. And all the going back and forth that would be needed to organize everything incurring more cost.

The second option would be to get married in Ireland. It would definitely be easier to organize. However, it would mean that my family would have to travel and bearing in mind that wages are much lower in France than they are in Ireland it would mean quite a big expense. Also I would be rather embarassed to serve the kind of food that is served at weddings here to my French guests as for them it would amount to a normal, dare I say, everyday dinner and not a celebratory one. Finding the food served at French weddings here is near impossible, or at some ridiculous cost. There is also the small problem of having to invite half the neighbours off the road as well as the uncle that you haven't seen since you were 4 and the cousin that you hate, as seems to be tradition in Ireland. And that is without considering the cost of a wedding here (we know off people that have taken out loans to pay for their wedding!). So, Ireland was also struck out.

The easiest solution was to get married abroad. It would solve the problem of who has to travel as everybody would have to. It also solves the problem of who gets invited, what food to eat etc... It didn't solve the problem of Mr Foodie's mum not willing to get on a boat or a plane. I offered the solution of getting married by ourselves, just Mr Foodie, the kids and myself.

We spoke about our dilemna with friends who advised us to do what was best for us (not so helpful advice). Eventually, we spoke to my parents about it as well as Mr Foodie's parents. My parents have always said that they wouldn't travel for a wedding only (even if it was mine) and that at the end of the day, it is an affair between 2 people and that you don't need the world and its mother there with you. Mr Foodie's parents weren't as open minded. They were fine with a small wedding involving parents and brothers (as we have no sisters), they also said that they were ok with us getting married by ourselves although they would rather be present. We went around in circles over the next couple of months as Mr Foodie wanted his family there on the day and I didn't want to have his family and not mine there. There was also the problem of the 3 months notice you need to give to the registrar as well as the fee.

After looking into various options, we finally set a date that would solve the problem of my parents not willing to travel only for a wedding as they would be over on holidays. We also decided to get married ''abroad' although it didn't involve Mr Foodie's mum to get on either boat or plane since we were going to get married in Northern Ireland (cheaper fee and shorter notice period). We also decided that we wanted only our kids and parents present on the day. That decision proved to be the most controversial one...

Baby Elliott AKA Little Man

2011-09-27T14:16:00.001+01:00

On Wednesday 10th of August, at 1.40 pm, Elliott also referred to as Little Man was born.

I had been going a bit crazy, slowly but surely, waiting on his arrival. I had been told (and was more than happy to think) that Little Man would come a bit early, like both his sisters. Since the beginning of July, every twinge, every pain, every unusual feeling prompted the question: Is this it? Do we need to go? Marie wasn't there to keep me company, she was way too busy having a great time in France and Noelie was spending some time in her grandparents' on and off during the holidays so I was on my own a good bit of the time. I had plenty of time to rest, and plenty of time to slowly go mental. Towards the end of my pregnancy, Mr Foodie's brother didn't help the situation by asking 3 or 4 times a day where his nephew was. Bear in mind, he is closer to 40 years old than he is to 4 (had he been 4 I could have handled it, but the fact that he is a grown adult and that he kept doing it despite being asked to stop, made it even worse. In actual fact, I broke down crying about it, blame the hormones). I was sick and tired of waiting for the arrival and tried every single old wife tale out there. Nothing worked. Also I was getting quite irritated by friends and family's kind words. Why is it that people think that your due date is some kind of limit. Most babies aren't born on their due dates so why do people send you texts wishing you 'good luck today'? If there was ever a day I knew this baby was not going to come, it was his due date!

2 days past the elusive due date, we went back to the hospital for a check up. Every week, we had met the same couple there and we'd laughed that we were still there. She was 11 days overdue at this stage. I was silently panicking as the wedding was getting ever so close and this baby was still not born. We were told that they usually wait until you are 12 days past your due date to induce you. 12 days past my due date was 2 days before our wedding which meant that I would never be out in time to get married. Mr Foodie spoke to the consultant and explained our dilemna. The consultant did an ultrasound and an internal exam and found that the level of fluid around the baby was a bit low. He told us that there was a good chance that I would go into labour on my own that same evening as he could feel the baby's head and my cervix was nearly fully effaced but if not, to come back the next day to get induced.

After coming out of the hospital, we walked and walked and walked for miles, trying to get labour started. Suffice to say, it did not work. I had no idea how this whole thing was going to work, we had been so caught off guard by the whole induction possibility that we never got a chance to ask many questions. We did stop by the admissions office to try and see if there was a time we had to be in for. It turns out we could pretty much come in at any time. So the next day, we trotted off to hospital, not knowing what to expect. We went to the admissions, signed a few papers, got admitted and walked to the labour ward. I had never been to the labour ward before despite giving birth to 2 girls. For Marie, I was taken straight into the delivery room, and for Noelie I was taken straight into theatre. The midwives were lovely and helped me get settled in. I was put on a monitor for a while and then was seen by a consultant who decided now was the time to induce me. Because of my previous c-section, I was induced in a quite 'natural' way. No drips or drugs for me. All she did was break my waters. It was 11h55.

Mr Foodie was there with me, a bit nervous and not knowing what to expect. Listening to the the screams and moans of some of the other women in the ward mustn't have helped. After being monitored for a bit again, I was allowed to walk around. I was to report to the midwife whenever I started feeling pains. They started about 30 minutes after my waters broke. The pains were quite mild at first but were increasing in strength and duration. Mr Foodie tried to crack a couple of jokes during some of the contractions but I think that my reaction showed him it was better not to. We walked around for a bit. The contractions were coming closer and stronger. At some stage I told Mr Foodie that I wanted to go back to the bed in the ward as the most comfortable position for me was crouching and I didn't feel comfortable crouching in the middle of the corridor! I asked Mr Foodie to time the contractions as they were getting quite strong and close. I soon realized that he had no idea what he was suppose to time. He started noting only the time the contractions started at! So, between two contractions, I explained to him that he had to time the length as well as how far apart they were. It turns out that they were lasting about a minute and were 2 minutes apart. As each contraction was happening, they were increasing by about 10 seconds and the interval between them was also decreasing by 10 seconds. By the time, they were lasting about 1 minute 30, I went to see the midwife. She told me to lie on the bed to measure and see if it was time for me to go into a delivery room. As soon as she started the exam, I felt the urge to push. She told me to stop pushing, that the baby couldn't come out in the labour ward, that they had no equipment etc, pretty much any argument she could give me to try and stop me pushing. All the while, she was screaming at one of her colleagues to get her a wheelchair quickly. Mr Foodie was standing by, a bit lost, at a loss as to what to do.

Another contraction came and the urge to push came again. The poor midwife was now giving out to me, not shouting, but in a very stern tone was telling me to stop pushing. I felt like I was a child again being told off by a teacher. Between two contractions, I managed to get onto the wheelchair and was rushed into the delivery suite. Before another contraction came, I climbed onto the bed. The midwife barely had time to write my name on the papers. She was telling me to wait until she at least got her gloves on before pushing again. There was nothing I could do, I had to push. Less than 1h45 since my waters had been broken, and within 1 minute and a half of being admitted into the delivery suite, baby Elliott, AKA Little Man, was born. A healthy 7lbs4 (3.290 kgs), 50 cms tall with the most teeny tiny face I had ever seen. I wouldn't say it was a pain free delivery as there is no such thing, but it was certainly a fast and drug free one with only a minor tear that only required 2 stitches.

We stayed in the hospital for 2 nights (although one of the nurses wanted to send me home the next day). Visits were restricted to grand parents and siblings only and Noelie came to visit her new little brother. She brought some cards and a couple of presents for the baby. She had everybody in stitches as she started singing happy birthday to me when I was opening the cards and presents. She also fell in love with one of the nurses, Emma who was the nicest nurse on the ward and gave her a box of chocolates. She wasn't phased at all by the fact that I was in hospital and that there was a new baby there too. We went home on the Friday and started settling in as much as we could with our wedding looming 10 days later.

A third baby, a third birth experience, completely unique and different from the other two. I went from a completely natural, drug free, premature delivery with Marie to an emergency c-section with Noelie, back to a natural, drug free yet induced delivery for Elliott. He is 7 weeks soon and I couldn't imagine life without him now. Despite all the backaches, kidney infections and rib punching he gave me during pregnancy, I fell in love with my Little Man the moment I saw him.

4 - 3 - 2 - 1

2011-09-06T12:25:00.000+01:00

I have been pretty absent from this blog the past month but with good reason. 4 reasons really.

4: weeks ago, baby Elliott was born. After nearly going crazy and overdue by a few days (when I thought I'd be going early because both girls were), I was eventually induced on the 10th of August at 11.55 am. A healthy baby boy was born at 1.40 pm. He weighed 7lbs4 (another thing doctors got wrong, the day before I was told he was about 6lbs!). A very positive birth experience (if you ignore the fact that I left it too late to tell the midwife and nearly had him on a wheelchair) that I will write about soon.

3: weeks ago, Mr Foodie and myself were trying to get used to life with a newborn again and to breastfeeding. We were also very busy organizing the event that took place.......

2: weeks ago when Mr Foodie and I got married. We managed to organize our wedding between the time we got out of the hospital and the time Elliott was 12 days old! Granted, it was a very small wedding but it was still a wedding.

1: week ago, Marie went back to school after being away for 6 weeks. She came back fluent in French and a few inches taller than she was before she left, hence why all the 'going back to school' shopping was left to the last minute.

I hope you'll forgive my absence, but as you can see it has been a very very busy summer. I promise I'll give you more details soon.

Mrs Foodie Mummy ;-)

'Documentaries on 4 sponsored by Honda'

2011-07-20T17:42:00.001+01:00

While I am waiting for this baby to make its appearance, I have to admit that I am clocking in quite a few hours of rest. Rest for me can be anything from sleeping (something I can't seem to manage to do much at night but doesn't bother me that much during the day), to watching a lot of TV while lying on the sofa (it is after all much more comfortable than sitting down!).
Of course, I love all things cooking and will watch quite a lot of that, but I also like watching documentaries. And Channel 4 now has a new series of documentaries on. Last year, the documentaries were sponsored by Honda, and the catch phrase: 'Documentaries on 4 sponsored by Honda' has become very familiar. Mr Foodie is the type of person that will get hooked on a catchphrase from an ad, or sponsor and we will hear it 10 to 15 times a day, until another one takes its place. Don't ask me if it drives me mad, it does....

http://hub.honda.co.uk/?s3campaign=Cars_Channel4Outreach&s3advertiser=eBuzzing&s3banner=Alpaca
This new round of Channel 4 documentaries is no different, it is sponsored again this year by Honda. The programs are being introduced by little Honda films, created by Wieden and Kennedy (W+K) London, all of which star a real life Honda user, but one that uses it in unusual or quirky ways. The first one of 4, currently on, has really caught my eye. It stars Philippa, who uses her Honda on her Alpaca farm in Oxfordshire (who knew you could breed Alpacas in the UK?). I can't wait to find out what the other 3 Honda users do with theirs!

Throughout the year, Honda will be releasing a series of mini documentaries featuring some of their real life users, an online hub as well as the little spots used to introduced the Channel 4 documentaries. Each little spot contains a unique URL that gives you access to extra content online on the Honda hub website. You can also find a 'Take Part' section on the website, where you can leave your own story on how you use your Honda product in an unusual way. Wieden & Kennedy will chose their favourite and turn it into a final little mini documentary and ident that will be used on TV. So why don't you follow the links? Have a look at the documentaries, see how people use their Honda products. Could you use them that way? If so, why don't you take part and see if you can appear in your own little mini documentary and ident?

http://<center><div class="ebuzzing_box"><script type="text/javascript" src="http://ebuzzing.co.uk/player_blog/player.php?parametre=410311"></script><a href="http://ebuzzing.co.uk" class="wikio-widget-ebmini" >Viral video by ebuzzing</a><script type="text/javascript" src="http://ebuzzing.co.uk/player_blog/js/mini_share.php" charset="utf-8"></script></div></center>

Sponsored Post

The name game.

2011-07-07T11:40:00.001+01:00

With a little under 5 weeks to go now, you would expect us to know what we are going to name the little monkey that keeps me awake at night. At this stage of pregnancy, most people have the name picked out whether or not they know if it is going to be a girl or a boy.

I have written already about the added difficulty for us to find a name. We need to find a name that works in French and in English. Too Irish a spelling and you've got the French side of the family unable to read it (or even pronounce it, I still can't pronounce Oisin properly, no matter how many times I hear it), too French a pronunciation and it's being continuously ~~butchered~~ mispronounced by the Irish side. Marie's name was picked out even before she was conceived and is pronounced in a similar way in both languages, Noelie's name we found by chance on a Christmas card while shopping (she was born at the end of May, so plenty of time in advance!).

This time around, we know we are having a boy. A few months ago, Mr Foodie asked if he could chose the name. I personally don't have a problem with that as long as I like it too. There is no way that I would let him pick a name that I don't like. However, we seem to be having a problem. We can't seem to find a name that we both like, or that works well within our unusual constraints. And I'm getting antsy now. What if this baby comes and we still don't have a name? My family keep asking if we have found a name yet and we haven't.

A good few weeks were spent on various X-Men and superheroes' names, another few were spent on the most popular chinese and japanese names, a lot of precious time was wasted on names that don't even deserve a mention. And in the meantime, we still haven't got a name for Peanut. I am getting a bit anxious now as the birth is getting closer and we can't seem to find the right name for us.

Now we are not completely at a loss. We have found a few names that we like but we have thrown so many names at each other that we keep forgetting which ones we liked. I know, it would be very easy to write them down but we keep forgetting to do it to. A friend of ours has even compiled a list with a name for every single letter of the alphabet. Mr Foodie has asked all of his Facebook friends for ideas. We even went through the French calendar where a name is displayed daily to try and find one.

We have managed a shortlist of about 5 or 6, but it feels like people are taking pot shots at those daily. No later than this morning another one had to be struck off the list because one of Mr Foodie's coworkers' wife gave birth last night and picked the name already. Arghhhhh.

Hopefully, we will be able to settle on a name soon and all will be well by the time the baby is born. In the meantime, if you have any ideas, please don't hesitate to leave any suggestion in the comments.

Food Friday: Choux

2011-06-24T13:00:00.075+01:00

For Father's Day, I asked Mr Foodie what type of treat he would like me to bake. Ever so helpful, Mr Foodie couldn't make up his mind, only guideline: not chocolate again. So I decided to try my hand at something new. And I decided to try and make some choux.

Choux are one of those pastries that look really impressive and that people think they can't make. It has to be complicated, right? I mean, look at them, they're puffy and sweet and golden. It has to involve some kind of trick of the trade, some kind of big secret. Well, let me tell you something. It's really not that complicated. I was one of those people thinking: I can never make that. But I tried and it worked..

Now, because I didn't know how they would turn up, I didn't take pictures at every step of the way, I have to say I should have because the result was quite something (if I may say so myself). The only thing I would warn people about is this: If you don't have one of those fancy free standing food mixers thingies, you have to use a wooden spoon which is not really a problem in itself unless you are like me and your hands are quite delicate and you then end up with a blister from the quite heavy stirring you need to do.

So here is what you need to make some lovely, puffy, golden choux:

Ingredients:

- 250 ml of water.
- 100 grs of butter.
- 125 grs of flour.
- 4 eggs.
- 1 pinch of salt.

How to:

- Preheat the oven at 180 C.
- In a pot, bring the water, butter and salt to the boil.
- As soon as it starts boiling, take off the heat and add all the flour in one go.
- Stir fast and furiously with a wooden spoon.
- Return to a medium heat and continue stirring with the wooden spoon until the mix dries up and comes off the sides and bottom of the pot easily (making a ball).
- Take off the heat again.
- Once cooled down, add the first egg.
- Stir until fully incorporated (it looks like it will never happen but then all of the sudden it incorporates!)
- Repeat one egg at a time.
- Once your pastry is ready, put little blobs of pastry onto a baking sheet and bake for approximately 20 minutes.
- Bake for a further 5 minutes with the oven door open (it will help the steam escape and ensure that your choux don't go all floppy when you take them out).

This should be the result you get:

It is then up to you to chose what you want to fill them with. We had a few sneaky ones in the afternoon, filled with squirty cream.

The girls and myself had some more then for dessert, filled with vanilla ice cream, and covered in melted dark chocolate and grilled almonds. Yes, my favourite dessert: Profiterolles au chocolat. Yummy.

Mr Foodie not being a lover of chocolate, went for a creme patissiere filling which looked like this.

The filling has to be done at the last minute, because otherwise your choux will start soaking up the moisture from the filling and go slightly soggy.

What about you? Which filling would you go for?

Food Friday: Chocolate cake.

2011-06-17T11:00:00.000+01:00

I love chocolate, good old dark, slightly bitter chocolate, none of that fancy milk stuff. And of course, I love a good chocolate cake.

For years, I have baked the same chocolate cake. I found the recipe in a book I bought when I was a child. It is a Disney recipe book. I remember spending afternoons reading the recipes and bugging my mum to bake a cake with me. I also remember one afternoon when my mum and dad were busy doing something else, taking it upon myself to bake. I believe the result was practically inedible (it was some kind of custardy thing) and the kitchen was an absolute disgrace by the time I was finished. My brother claims it is his chocolate cake recipe (although clearly the book is mine, so it is my recipe) and it is the only cake he will bake (or eat for that matter). When he was smaller, he wanted to become a pastry chef / footballer. But he would only bake that specific chocolate cake and nothing else (he was only young if that's any excuse, and he has become neither a pastry chef, nor a footballer).

However, that one recipe has stood the test of time. I baked it for Marie's birthday party and Noelie's too this year and I barely had a chance to take a bite. I also baked it for an engagement party we attended not long ago. It is very simple and not fancy at all, but it has to be said it hits the chocolate spot anytime. It also doesn't take long at all and can be decorated any way you want it (Chocolate ganache and mini smarties looked good!), or just a dusting of icing sugar.

Noelie's birthday cake.

So here is my favourite good old chocolate cake recipe:

Ingredients:

- 125 grs of dark cooking chocolate.
- 100 grs of butter.
- 4 eggs.
- 70 grs of flour.
- 125 grs of sugar.

How to:

Preheat your oven at 180 C.
Melt the chocolate and butter.
Mix the eggs, flour and sugar.
Add the melted chocolate & butter to the batter.
Pour into the cake tin.
Bake for 30 min.

For a lovely twist, you can add a small cup of expresso coffee to the melted chocolate. You won't taste the coffee but it will enhance the flavour of the chocolate.

For a really decadent treat, serve warm with custard, or vanilla ice-cream or whipped cream!

Bon appétit!

Maman, what's that pretty flag for?

2011-06-16T09:00:00.001+01:00

That was the question Marie asked when we were driving through town the other day, on our way back from collecting her much awaited passport. The flag in question was this one:

The Dublin Gay Pride is about to take place and the quays are lined with flags and it brings a nice touch of colour to the grey skies and a great sense of fun. So I explained to her what it was about. Marie knows that sometimes men love men and women love women and that's it's natural and normal and not a big deal. She has met some gay friends of ours and she absolutely adores one particular couple.

So, what could have been an awkward moment for some people was just a normal conversation between me and my 8 year old daughter.

And I felt a great sense of pride. I was proud of us and the fact that we are bringing her up to be accepting of others, regardless of any differences. And I was proud of her because she is showing signs of compassion and acceptance for other people.

Because, at the end of the day, we are all different, and we should all be proud of who we are.

A little corner of France in Ireland!

2011-06-15T13:00:00.001+01:00

As I have mentioned in the last post, the past couple of weeks have been quite busy and slightly stressful. Since we can't go on holidays to visit my parents this year (thanks Peanut!), they have kindly offered to take Marie so that she wouldn't miss out on the fun, sun and swimming pool. I had assumed that they wanted to take her for a couple of weeks but since my dad is now retired, they decided to take her from mid July until the end of August.

I was a bit wary of letting her go for that long (selfishly I have to admit) and I also felt a bit bad that she would miss her little brother's arrival. But after talking to her and explaining to her that she wouldn't see her little brother until a while after he was born and asking her what she wanted to do, it took her the whole lot of 2 seconds to decide that she wanted to go on holidays. Newborns, as she remembers from her little sister, are 'boring' as they only 'sleep, eat, poo and cry' (her words not mine). So it was agreed that my dad would come and pick her up mid July and fly back with her. And then my mum & dad would bring her back when my mum took her holidays at the end of August.

There was only one slight problem though, her Irish passport is about to expire. In itself, it might not sound like a big problem. I mean all you need to do is fill in the form, get it signed at the garda station and send it off. Unlike last year, there are no strikes in the passport office, so you can get it back within 10 working days. Unfortunately, it's not that easy for us. Some of you know that Mr Foodie is not Marie's biological father, although he is for all intents and purposes her dad. She calls him Daddy and loves him as such. Anyway, to cut a long story short, we haven't heard from her biological father since last summer. We don't know where he is and the last known number we have is the one of his ex-girlfriend. Since we don't know where to find him, he can't sign the passport form and since he is considered as her guardian, both signatures have to be on it. I discussed it with a garda friend who explained to me that unfortunately, the only way to go was through the courts. I have had my fill of them, I have been in and out of court over Marie and I've had enough to last me a lifetime. So I'd rather stay away from them. That and the fact that by the time we realized that her passport would be out of date for the summer, the case would probably not have been heard until they come back from their summer holidays, in September. So too late for her to go.

So I looked into getting her a French passport. She is after all a French citizen hence entitled to a French passport. And it turns out that in France, only one parent's signature is required to get a passport or an ID card, no questions asked. I have to say that finding this bit of information out made me jump for joy.

Then started the process of gathering the documents needed to request it. We had to order her french birth cert twice but eventually, we got both copies within a day of each other. Then came the fact that she had to come with me. The French Embassy operates on a very French schedule. It is only open to French citizens from 9.30am to 12 pm, the afternoon being dedicated to visa requests. You can only call them between the hours of 2pm and 3pm unless you have a real emergency. And if you manage to get a hold of somebody on the phone before 2pm, they ask you to call back within the dedicated hours. So I decided to keep Marie out of school for a day, so we could both go and get the passport.

My car has refused to start since the snow last year, and I have since let the insurance policy lapse, not renewed the car tax (since it's off the road) and not bothered with getting it NCTed (that would be the equivalent of an MOT in the UK I think). On a daily basis, it's not a problem. We walk to school (10 minutes up and 10 minutes down) unless it's raining heavily when the neighbour (who also drops her son to school) gives Marie a lift. Mr Foodie is usually home by 4pm so any shopping, etc can be done after he gets home. We have been using only the one car for the past few months and it has worked for us. But on the occasions that I need to go somewhere during the day, it does take a bit of organising. So we arranged for the girls to stay over at Mr Foodie's mum & dad's so that I could drop him off at work (leaving the house before 6am) and then went on to collect Marie and drive to the embassy. I think I went there 8 times in 13 years (4 times to vote, twice for my own passport, and twice to make the girls fully fledged French citizens) and certainly had never gone there from where we live now. So the GPS went on and we made our way. Marie was slightly nervous and so was I. What if they started asking questions about her father, what would we do if they refused to issue her passport, how devastated would she be that she couldn't go on holidays etc... I had explained to her that we had to go and get her passport and that without it, she wouldn't be able to go on holidays, so she was aware of how important this was.

We got there without getting lost (which with my sense of directions is quite an achievement). And after queueing up for a bit, we got seen to. I decided to also get her an ID card. You see, an ID card is valid for 10 years and allows you to travel within the EU and it's free too. Which means that the ID card would expire after her 18th birthday, by which time, she will not be considered a minor anymore (hence sorting my visiting Papi & Mamie for holidays / passport requests problems for the next 10 years). She got fingerprinted, measured, her eye colour was noted, her picture was taken and the ID card and passport requests were sent. The girl behind the counter did ask if I had a letter or a copy of her father's ID but I quickly explained the problem and she said that it wasn't compulsory anyway. So, after we came out, we both sighed a big sigh of relief. Half of the problem was solved. All we had to do now was wait for the embassy to send me a text to let me know that the passport was ready to be collected. The girl said that if I didn't hear from them by the end of the week it meant that there were no problems with the request. I immediately called Mr Foodie to let him know how we got on, as well as my mum and dad who didn't waste any time booking the flights that very same afternoon.

A week to the day later, I received the text. Her passport had been issued, and was ready to be collected. I was extremely impressed at the speed the request had been processed, especially when you know that the passport gets printed out in France. It left Dublin on the Tuesday, the following Thursday was a bank holiday in France (and most companies would also be closed on the Friday) and the following Monday was a bank holiday in Ireland. So it really took less than 3 working days for the passport to get printed and flown back here. A weight was instantly lifted off my shoulders. All the stress and worry of the past few weeks wondering would she be able to go or not, would I need to go back to court etc just dissolved. It took a little more organising so that we could go back and collect it. Marie had to come with me, as she needed to get fingerprinted again to ensure she was really the passport holder. We went to collect it last Friday and you could see the delight on her face when we stepped out of the embassy. She too was extremely relieved and even let out a small squeal when we closed the door of the consulate. She turned around, beaming and announced proudly: 'It's official. I can go on holidays!'

It feels strange to me to see her name and picture and written below the words nationality: French. I don't know why but I have always considered her to be more Irish than French. Probably some kind of unconscious reaction to the fact that her biological father didn't want me to speak French to her. I subconsciously suppressed her Frenchness. But, in the past year (since her father vanished really), her French has come on so much that she is able to hold a conversion on the phone to my mum and dad, she speaks mainly French to her little sister and she wants to learn more. And she will. What better way to do so than go away for a few weeks and be completely immersed in the language, and the culture! So roll on the holidays! I just wish she would stop asking me everyday how many days are left until she goes...

8 weeks to go.

2011-06-14T14:31:00.000+01:00

Yes, 8 weeks to go. That's all that's left now until this baby comes into the world. I am secretly hoping that he will be like his sisters and make a somewhat early arrival. Marie was 5 weeks early and Noelie was 2 weeks early. So 3 weeks early sounds good enough to me.

I am very glad to say that my sciatica has eased a lot. Yes, the place looks like a bombsite most of the time because I don't bend down to pick up stuff as much as I used to. I don't hoover or wash the floors anymore either as it seemed to be triggering the sciatica (good excuse isn't it!). I have to say that Mr Foodie has more than stepped up to the mark on the whole housecleaning side of things. He is now in charge of a lot of the household chores and I have to admit that he is doing quite a good job at it too. I know I tend to be a bit demanding on the hoovering and cleanliness side of things but he does it really well (well, nearly as good as I would ;-P). Things have improved so well on the sciatica front that the physio said that she wouldn't give me another appointment, but to call if things deteriorated. The exercises she has given me have helped and I think that the fact that Peanut has moved up a bit and isn't lying on my back anymore probably has helped too.

I still feel like a whale at times. I was weighed in the hospital last week and was quite happy to discover that I was under the 63 kgs mark which I find quite reasonable and puts my weight gain at around 8 kgs so far. I know there is more weight to put on especially now that we are nearing the end. I am and never have been obsessed with my weight. I believe that you can eat anything you want as long as you eat the bad stuff in moderation. I am particularly paying attention at the amount of calcium I eat at the moment. I have had a couple of toothaches lately and I know it's from Peanut sucking the calcium out of my bones and teeth (he has to find it somewhere, doesn't he!). There is even a French saying that says 'Un enfant, une dent' (a child, a tooth).

I have been a bit tired lately, but I'm not sure if it is pregnancy related or just the running around I have done in the past weeks that has me like that. We have had a few busy and somewhat stressful weeks and I am sure that hasn't helped.

We are slowly getting ready for the arrival of baby and I am already thinking ahead about packing the hospital bag. I know it's early but apart from vests and pjs for Peanut, we have pretty much got everything we need in. The only reason we haven't got vests and PJs is because we are quite picky and we want wraparound vests that we can find in France and not here. And although PJs are widely available here too, I think the French ones are cuter. So we are going to order some soon.

Last week, I went for a checkup as I mentioned and I was also delighted to find out that this time around I haven't had as many kidney infections as I did on Noelie. It was unfortunately the bane of Noelie's pregnancy (that and the fact that she was breached, of course) and I was on antibiotics for a week after any check up. This time around I had one and I didn't need antibiotics for it so I am very pleased with that. The doctor in the hospital also gave us another scan which we really weren't expecting and it looks like Peanut is already head down, which would explain some of the weird kicks I have been receiving. I am getting kicked in the ribs and punched in the hips quite a lot and he is very, very active. Sometimes my whole belly seems to move to one side. The rib kicking is quite uncomfortable and seems to happen more in the evening, when I am sitting down. The consultant also confirmed that it was still a boy.

Marie is getting really excited and is a great help around the house. She tries to send me off for naps when she gets in from school (I wonder is she doing it for my own good or is she trying to get up to something when I'm not looking). She plays with her sister as much as she can so that Noelie is not constantly looking for my attention.

Noelie seems to understand that there is a baby in my belly and if you ask her to give her baby brother a kiss, she will come over, lift up my top and give my belly a kiss. Or blow a raspberry on it... Or slap it depending on her mood. She has also taken to try and give the baby her soother. She tries and stick in through my belly button which is quite funny. Sometimes if you ask her where the baby is, she lifts up her own top and points to it laughing. She is quite a character. And I am not too worried about how she will react to a new baby in the house. I am pretty sure that she will be ok, as she is fascinated by her big sister and tries to do the same things as her. Fingers crossed!

We don't have much running around to do in the next couple of weeks so I am hoping to recharge my batteries during this time. And I know that after that things will go really fast. Marie finishes school in a couple of weeks. We are going to see the Script in concert in 3 weeks time (I didn't know I was pregnant when I booked the tickets and I am not giving them up. That's if Mr Foodie will take me because technically these are his tickets.). We have another hospital appointment in about 3 weeks too. Then my dad is coming over to pick up Marie and whisk her away to France until the end of August. She will not be here when her little brother is born but she is old enough and she is the one who made the choice. I mean if you had to chose between 5 weeks of sunshine, swimming pools, bike rides and fun with Papi & Mamie or stay at home with a newborn that does nothing but eat, sleep, poo and cry which would you chose? Yep. We would all chose the fun option.

I have decided not to go to antenatal classes this time around. It is after all my third pregnancy and I believe I have been from one extreme to the other when it comes to giving birth. I had a completely natural birth on Marie and she was a premie and I had a c-section on Noelie since she was breached (although I did go into labour spontaneously). I am not too stressed about the birth (yet) and as they say que sera, sera. Unlike in the UK, there are no talks of birth plans here. No talks of music playing, no talks of birth pools or anything like that. Check ups etc feel more like a factory than a personalized experience. You don't get to meet the same midwife during your pregnancy, and you pretty much get whoever is there on the day. When you go in a for a check up, you hand in your chart, you hand in your little container of pee and you wait to be called out to one of the 4 or 5 consulting rooms. There you meet a consultant (never the same one) who checks your blood pressure, prods your belly and if you're lucky (like I was the last time) gives you a quick scan. If you don't have any questions, you are then sent on your merry way home until next time.

The only thing I am getting worried about is making it to the hospital on time.Marie's labour was only 5 and a bit hours. On Noelie, my waters broke (I was already in the hospital getting checked out because I felt that there was something wrong and I didn't know what it was) and I was wheeled into the operating theater very quickly after that. Apparently I was having contractions but apart from a rather uncomfortable tightening of my belly, I wasn't in pain (and that was before being given any kind of anaesthetics). So I am hoping against hope that this time, I will recognize the contractions for what they are, and that this baby will hold on long enough for us to make it into the hospital! I have already warned my neighbour that I will be calling upon her as soon as I feel something especially if Mr Foodie is in work. Let's wait and see!

Food Friday: Peanut Butter and Chocolate Chips Cookies

2011-06-10T13:00:00.001+01:00

I don't have any strange food cravings since I got pregnant. I have heard of women getting strange cravings like soil, coal and other rather unedible things. I remember when I was pregnant on Noelie having a sudden craving for French Onion Soup and sending Mr Foodie out on a wild goose chase on a Saturday evening past 9pm. He never found French onion soup, despite enlisting half the staff of a couple of supermarkets to look for it. By the time, he'd gotten home, the craving had passed anyway and I settled for a ham and cheese toastie.

On Marie, I used to get cravings for peanut M&Ms and my drawer in work used to be full of packets of peanut M&Ms that colleagues used to pick up anytime they went to the shop. This time again, I have developed quite a taste for anything with peanuts and chocolate (although I wouldn't really describe it as a craving as such if that makes any sense). But if I am in a shop, and pass by something peanutey and chocolatey, well I can't resist. I believe that cravings are just signs from your body telling you that you need something. I mean chocolate is good for you (in moderation of course) and so are peanuts (they are full of whatever it is). So I just give in to my ''craving'' a couple of times a week for Snickers and M&Ms. Even in what I call my 'non pregnant' state, I believe that no food should be banned (unless you're allergic, or morally opposed to something). There is no bad food for you, it just all depends on the amount and frequency you eat it. Anyway, I digress.

So, after having a bit of a general bad mood, bit of a cow episode yesterday (I blame it on the pregnancy hormones). I decided that I needed to make amends (and give in to my craving at the same time which might just lift me up a bit too). So I made Peanut Butter & Chocolate Chips Cookies for Mr Foodie.

Here is the recipe:

Ingredients:

- 70 grs of softened butter.
- 60 grs of caster sugar.
- 60 grs of dark brown sugar.
- 1 egg.
- 125 grs of smooth peanut butter.
- 125 grs of flour.
- 1/2 tsp of baking powder.
- 100 grs of chocolate chips.

How to:

- Preheat your oven at 160 C (fan assisted) or 180C.
- Cream together the softened butter and both sugars until the mix is light and fluffy.
- Add the egg and beat well.
- Once the egg has been added, add the peanut butter and mix thoroughly.
- Add the sifted flour and baking powder and mix well.
- Add the chocolate chips.
- There is no need to refrigerate the dough it can be used straight away.
- Just take as little or as much as you want (depending on how big you like your cookies)
- Shape into a ball between your hands and flatten slightly.
- Place on a baking tray lined with baking paper.
- Bake for 10 to 12 minutes.
- Leave to cool on a rack and enjoy!

Bon appétit!

A big bed for a big girl!

2011-06-02T18:00:00.000+01:00

Noelie turned 2 last week and received a great and practical present from my mum and dad: her first big girl bed. To be truthful, they got it when they came over at the beginning of April and it has just sat in the spare bedroom since then. There were some practical issues that needed to be sorted before we could allow Noelie to have the freedom to get up out of bed by herself!
First, we needed to get safety gates. Although she is well able to go up the stairs by herself, she doesn't really attempt to do it without somebody following her. Well she tried a couple of times but quickly realized that Maman and Daddy weren't too keen on the idea. So we wanted to get safety gates for the upstairs landing, to prevent her from attempting to go down the stairs should she manage to get up out of bed and open the bedroom door without anybody noticing. As much as she has mastered the art of going up, she is far from having mastered the going down part. She tries to copy everybody else and walk down, which considering her size and the length of her legs means that she would tumble down at the first step.
Anybody would think that getting safety gates is a common enough thing to do and as such, an easy one. Not in our experience! Firstly, our landing is wide. We could find safety gates that fit but at what we considered to be too high a price (I know, safety has no price, but seriously would you pay 150 euros + for safety gates?). So we looked into the extensions on a normal safety gate option which seemed like a good idea. After visiting a couple of Mothercare shops, we discovered that we could find the safety gate we wanted, but it seemed that none of them had the extensions in stock. Eventually, we found one shop that did have them in stock. Very happy, we purchased our safety gate and the extension, and other bits and pieces we needed and made our way home. Simple, hey! Well, no. It turns out that we were given the wrong extension, it wasn't even the same brand as the gates and wouldn't fit onto them. And on top of that, had we been able to fit the extension on, we were missing quite a few inches in length. So, we went hunting for the right extension and the right length. We went to another Mothercare shop, where they had no extensions but took back the wrong one and gave us a refund. They also said that they could order them in and we could collect them but had no idea how long the process would take. We then decided to order them ourselves on the website as it really made more sense. Simples again.

Well, guess what? Not so simples. We looked on the website and for a start, although they sell white safety gates, they only sell silver and black extensions. We went for the silver ones, that were in stock and expected the delivery within 10 working days. Everything was fine, or so we thought. A week or so later, I received a phone call informing me that the 14 cm extension wasn't in stock so they'd give us a refund and we could order it again when they were back in stock (all research and checking would have to be done by ourselves, of course). Wonderful customer service, isn't it?

A couple of days later, the delivery came with one of the extensions we'd ordered but we were still a few inches short. So the safety gate was just sitting there, under the stairs, with its too short of an extension, in other words, absolutely useless.

Eventually, we decided to put the safety gate up at the bedroom door and forget about extensions and the likes. So on Saturday, Mr Foodie plucked up the courage to put the bed together (why is it that men as much as they love putting things together, don't like reading the instructions on how to do it?) and the cot went out of the room.

This didn't seem to phase her at all. As soon as the bed was up, she wanted to go for a 'dodo' (sleep). Noelie is at a stage where she loves doing the same things as her big sister and, for the past couple of weeks, insisted on getting into her sister's bed in the morning with a book and the bedside lamp on, just like her big sister.

At bedtime, she rushed up the stairs really excited about sleeping in her big girl's bed. I know that sometimes the transition from cot to bed is not necessarily and easy one, but I have to admit that we were more nervous than she was. All through the evening, we kept listening out for a thump, indicating that she'd fallen out of bed, despite the barrier. We went up a few times too, to make sure that she was OK (something that we haven't had to do in ages!). But the night went without a hitch or thump. My main worry wasn't really nighttime, it was more nap time. What if she didn't want to sleep and kept getting out of bed? But that too went without a hitch.

The second night took a little more work. We had put Noelie to bed slightly later than usual, and Marie followed closely. After a few minutes, Marie shouted from the landing that Noelie kept getting out of bed and coming into her bed, and that she'd like to sleep now please so could somebody come up and put her in her own bed and make sure that she stayed there. So I went up and settled both girls back into their respective beds. I calmly told Noelie that it was time to go asleep in her own big girl bed and so she did. And so far, there has been no nap time or bedtime escapes.

The cot is now on the landing, ready to be put into our room for the arrival of Peanut in 9 (or less) weeks time. And she hasn't as much as taken a look at it on her way to her big girl's bed. We are very lucky that she has taken to it like a duck to water and that she was ready for it. It is quite an emotional thing for parents, seeing their baby make the transition from cot to bed. She looks so small in such a big thing. But I can't help but wonder, are we, parents, making more of a big deal about it than it really is for our children?

What do you think? How was the transition from cot to bed for you?

Angelina Ballerina Pop Star Girls review

2011-06-02T09:57:00.000+01:00

A while ago, HIT entertainment, the company behind such famous names as Barney, Bob the Builder and Thomas and Friends just to name a few, sent me the new Angelina Ballerina Pop Star Girls to review.

Noelie was in the midst of a terrible Cbeebies obsession and trying to get her to watch anything that wasn't Cbeebies related was a nightmare. Marie, being 8, thought that the DVD was for babies as she is more into the likes of Disney Channel right now. But eventually, I won the battle and managed to get them to sit down long enough to watch the 5 episodes. And something miraculous happened, they both really loved it.

For those of you who are not familiar with Angelina (or those just vaguely familiar with her, like I was), she is a little mouse whose goal in life is to become a prima ballerina. She works hard at it and, even though, sometimes, things don't go according to plan, she always learns from her mistakes. The cartoon is based on the very popular books written by Katherine Holabird and illustrated by Helen Craig and the little mouse was given an excellent CGI treatment for this exclusive 5 episodes DVD.

In this DVD, Angelina finds out that there is more than just classical music and ballet. She discovers hip hop, folk, rock and rediscovers the pleasure of lullabies.

I have to say that since discovering Angelina Ballerina, it has become a daily request from Noelie who loves dancing and singing to it. Marie has also taken to it (I think she identifies with Angelina as she loves to dance and she is also a big sister, just like the little mouse!).

Angelina Ballerina Pop Star Girls DVD is available from all major retailers and from www.hitstoreuk.com at a cost of £12.99 and runs for 60 minutes.

Food Friday: No bake Lemon and Orange Cheesecake.

2011-05-27T13:00:00.001+01:00

This week is Noelie's 2nd birthday. Time just flew in and I can remember very clearly what I baked for her birthday last year. We decided to celebrate her birthday early with family and friends. Mr Foodie and I started baking on Friday, to save rushing on Saturday. We had decided to bake a chocolate cake, a quiche, cookies (3 different types) and make a lemon and orange cheesecake (I say make because it's a no bake cheesecake).

So Friday I got cracking with the cookie dough that can be refrigerated and kept overnight, the quiche and the cheesecake. I made it all from scratch. I left the baking of the cookies and the chocolate cake for the Saturday morning.

I love the cheesecake recipe as it is one of the easiest and tastiest recipe I have ever come across. Other people seem to agree with me as I was asked to wrap up the last two slices so that they could be taken home.

So I decided to share the recipe with you. Try it out and let me know what you think!

Ingredients:

- 200 grs Digestive biscuits.
- 100 grs of butter.
- 1 can of condensed milk.
- 1 tub of Philadelphia (300 grs).
- 2 or 3 Lemons and Oranges.

How to?

- Melt the butter.
- Bash the biscuits.
- Mix the melted butter and the biscuit crumbs.
- Put the mix in the base and refrigerate while you do the next steps.
- Mix together the condensed milk, the cream cheese and the juices of the oranges and lemons.
- Beat up until it thickens a bit.
- Pour over the base.
- Decorate with either biscuit crumbs or lemon and orange zest.
- Refrigerate for as little as a couple of hours, as long as 24 hours.
- Cut up and enjoy!

WAHM: Don't know how to get started!

2011-05-26T14:41:00.000+01:00

I've been on both sides of the fence. I have been a working mum and I have been a stay at home mum. Both have advantages and both have disadvantages.

I have experienced the guilt of leaving your child for so many hours a day to go and work and bring money in. I have experienced the exhaustion of rushing constantly from home to creche to work to creche to home, the exhaustion of having to do everything to a strict schedule and only putting your feet up late at night, thinking now I can relax and falling asleep on the sofa 10 minutes later. I have experienced the corporate world and climbed up the ladder only to be made redundant after 10 years of loyal services. My dedication and loyalty to the company meant nothing to them. At first, I was glad not to have to return to work, not to fall back into that trap of running around like a headless chicken. Feeling like I was being cut in half, feeling like I couldn't give as much as somebody who didn't have children, because I had to leave on time to pick Marie up, because there was always the possibility of THE phone call, that something happened and that I would have to leave work and feel like I was letting other people down. Feeling like I wasn't flexible enough for the company. Although nothing was ever said to that effect, it was always there at the back of my mind.
And then there is the other side of it, feeling guilty that I couldn't see Marie's first steps, first words, delegating so many of the decisions to the creche. They made the transition to solids, not me, they potty trained her, not me, they looked after and cared for her, not me. So many not mes. Feeling guilty about it all, because in the back of my mind, it should have been me. She was my child, my responsibility, mine to bring up, I should have been there to make those decisions, witness those firsts. I was torn like most of working mums are.

Then after being made redundant, I jumped the fence and stayed at home. It was and still is a wonderful experience. I am there for those firsts for Noelie, I am there for Marie to help with her homework, to get her to school and pick her up, I look after the house, I look after Mr Foodie and I am enjoying it immensely. I don't need to rush from here to there, like I used to. I feel more complete and I feel like I belong. But there is a downside to it too. Unfortunately, it's quite a damn big one. Financially, things are harder, as you would expect them to be. I feel guilty about the fact that I don't bring in an income and that we have to be more careful with our money. I feel guilty that Mr Foodie works his arse off and I don't share the financial burden. He works hard and should be able to enjoy the rewards of his hard work instead of being faced with the worry of what had come out, what needs to come out and how much is there left, of how can we save more. I am very grateful to him for not complaining about and getting on with things. But yet, once again, I am not 100% happy with the balance. Before it was too much work, not enough time for the children and enough money and now, it's enough time with the children, and not enough money. Does a mother's guilt ever go away? It feels like you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't.

There has to be a happy medium or is it just an illusion? And then I look at my lovely neighbour. She is a work at home mum. She has two successful business that she runs from home, that bring in an income. She is a personal trainer and she is also a hairdresser. And I envy her. It feels like she has found that balance I am currently looking for. This is what I would like to do. I would love to be a work at home mum. Unfortunately, I don't have any of her hands on skills, I can't cut hair, I can't train people, I can't do much with my hands other than cook and bake. I have other skills, of course. I have made a list of them. I am fluent in French and English. I can teach people. I can make mean PowerPoint presentations. I'm sure I have skills there that would allow me to make a living from home. I'm far from stupid, I learn fast. I just need to be able to take my skills out of the corporate environment and apply them differently. I can see that this is what I need to do. I just don't know where to start, what to do and how to go about it. Self doubt is clouding my judgement. I just need to think outside the box for long enough to be able to formulate a viable idea (not easy with baby brain!). All I need is a bit of direction and support. Does anybody have any spare supply of it?

Pampers factory: a trip to remember

2011-05-23T15:07:00.002+01:00

Last week, I had the pleasure of being invited to visit the Pampers factory in Manchester and meet the experts from the Pampers Parenting panel.

It was a very busy day that started very, very early (4.30 am anyone?). Mr Foodie had been very kind and taken the day off to look after the girls and he even got up to make me a fresh pot of coffee! At the airport, I met Sandra from mummypages.ie and Chris, the lovely PR from Fleishman Hillard.

Due to a misplaced boarding pass, Chris and I took a mad dash through Terminal 2 to make it onto the plane on time. If you saw a pregnant woman running through the terminal with her belt in her hand and her trousers falling off closely followed by another lady running in her socks carrying her shoes, well, that was us! The exercise certainly woke me up at that early hour and really is not that different from running after a toddler who doesn't want to put her shoes and coat on!

We arrived in Manchester and had breakfast while we waited for Barbara from parenthood.ie who was arriving on a later flight. As we were early and the event wasn't due to start for another couple of hours, we went to the Trafford Centre for a spot of shopping (or window licking as we call it in french!).

We finally arrived at the Pampers factory for the event. There I had the pleasure of meeting fellow mummy bloggers SimplyHayley, Mummysbusyworld, Simone and Wendy. We all gathered in the conference room for an informal meet and greet along with the Experts from the Pampers Village Parenting Panel, and representatives from Pampers. The experts were very interested in the mummy bloggers, on how and why we blog, where we get our inspiration from, how we started etc.

The Plant Manager then gave us a presentation on the brand and the plant which celebrated its 75th birthday a couple of years ago. We then received a presentation on what goes into a nappy and how it works to keep your baby dry for up to 12 hours! We had great fun ripping nappies apart to see the various layers of material they are made of (which, despite having nappies at hand everyday for the past 2 years, funnily never really occurred to me before!). Did you know that the absorbent gel thingy (I believe it's called polymer) is the same thing that goes into sanitary towels as well as the bottom of prepackaged meat? Well, I didn't, but it does make sense when you think about it. Another interesting thing is that all Pampers nappies across the world are designed and manufactured the same way and that a pack of size 5 Pampers in Ireland is the exact same product as a size 5 in Japan or the US. The only thing is that some sizes wouldn't exist in some countries (Pampers size 7 or 8 are available in North America!).

Everybody listening to the presentation.

Over lunch, we had the chance to mingle and talk to the experts. I had a great chat with Mary Steen-Greaves, the expert midwife on the Parenting Panel. We talked about the differences in prenatal care in the UK and Ireland (which are a world apart), premature birth, breech babies, c-sections and breastfeeding vs bottle feeding. She was the most approachable midwife I ever spoke too and I very much liked her philosophy that 'a happy mummy is a happy baby' and 'you have to do what works for you'. I also talked to Dr Maggie Redshaw, the development expert, about bilingualism. Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time to talk to the other experts:
- Dr Gillian Lockwood, the fertility expert.
- Laura Williams, the fitness and nutrition expert
- Dr David Atherton, the skin expert.
- Denise Knowles, the relationship expert
- Nicola Cairncross, the money expert and Wendy Dean, the sleep expert.

We were then given highly fashionable (not) safety shoes and hi-vis vests and went on a tour of the plant and witnessed how the production works, from raw material to finished product. Most of it is handled by very fast and very impressive machines, and quality checks are performed at every single stage of the production. Unfortunately, us Irish bloggers had to leave before the end of the tour because we had a plane to catch and didn't get to see the warehouse and shipping part of the process.

During the tour.

I got home about 6pm that same evening and I have to say the house was still standing, the girls were in one piece, and dinner was on its way too (not that I ever doubted it would be otherwise)! I had such a wonderful time that Mr Foodie could hardly put in a word edge ways as I was telling him all about the day. So thank you P&G, Pampers, Fleishman Hillard and everybody else that made the day so memorable!

Bumps and brains...

2011-05-18T14:44:00.001+01:00

I am now 28 weeks pregnant and I feel like a whale. There I've said it. My head says that really I am not that big. If I look purely at numbers, I 'only' put on 3 kgs in 3 months (well, the last time I was weighed), which really is not that much. But I'm quite petite and this bump is without a doubt the biggest bump I have ever had. And I have had 2 before! Even at the end of both my previous pregnancies I don't think I had such a big bump. Going to the hospital for check ups puts things in perspective though and makes me feel quite good, because when I look at all the other bumps waiting for their check ups, I realise that really my bump is not that big. That and the fact that I haven't yet developed any stretchmarks! Don't ask me for a miracle cure, I haven't got one. And if anything I am definitely not as rigorous when it comes to applying cream to my bump as I was with the 2 others. This one is quite a mystery really as my skin has always been very dry and far from being stretchy! I am definitely carrying this bump differently than the girls. While, with the girls I had a bump that was mainly towards the front, this one seems to be more across. But all this doesn't make it any lighter and bending forward has become something close to mission impossible. Putting my shoes on is becoming difficult as I have to consider both the bump and my back which still acts up some days more than others.

I have gone for some physio appointments which have helped and have been cause for great laughs. I came back from the first one with one of those tubey things that help you support your bump although stepping into it now is becoming more and more difficult! And I came back from the second one with a triangle of elastoplast on my bum! I felt a bit like a broken down truck at the side of the motorway! I have had to take it off though because it was starting to peel off and was getting caught in my clothes and pulling the skin of my arse literally!

This bump is also the most active bump I have ever had. I don't know what this baby is doing in there but he must be having great fun! Jumping up and down and side to side and back to front. Every bone and organ in the vicinity is being kicked and pushed and prodded. He is a very very active baby and quite a jittery one too and would sometimes take 'fits' of movement that are quite incredible to feel and even more impressive to look at. We are pretty sure we saw an arm (or leg) rolling across my belly the other night!

Baby brain has also set in and I'm forever forgetting things. I would walk into the kitchen and by the time I get there not remember what I went in for. I think that this baby has also stolen my writing mojo. I have had great ideas for posts and then either forgot them, or sat down to write and haven't been able to string 2 words together that make sense. We have had a very busy week with Marie's communion and a day trip to Manchester to visit the Pampers factory (more about that soon!) and I find it quite hard to get over the tiredness this week which doesn't help either but I am trying to apply the old philosophy of the more you write, the more you'll want to write. Hope it's going to work!

So please bear with me while this little baby is sucking all my brains and energy (and kicking the netbook that is resting on my bump!), I promise you that I will make sense soon (hopefully).

Review : Little Dish

2011-05-11T11:24:00.000+01:00

I usually cook food from scratch. I like the sense of achievement and to see the look on people's faces whenever they taste my food. Noelie eats the same food we do. And you better put the plate in front of her before you cut anything otherwise she thinks that she is not eating the same thing and would rather eat what's on your plate than what's on hers.

I have never seen a baby love vegetables and fruit so much. Actually, I have never seen a toddler (because she's hardly a baby now that she turns 2 at the end of the month) eat like that. A sure way to know if she is not well is to look at her plate. If she refuses to eat, then there is something wrong. Anytime we cook, she wants to sit on the counter and look at what we are doing. And if we taste anything, she wants to taste it too. She loves looking at whatever is in the oven and just generally loves food. She is not a fussy eater.

I am not going to lie, there are days when I or Mr Foodie are not in the mood for cooking and we usually resort to ready made lasagna (there's a dish I have never managed to get right) and salad. I sometimes give Noelie baby food at lunchtime, especially if there are no leftovers from dinner the day before. And we do have a few stored in the cupboard just in case. However, I am not a big fan of them as they all look the same, orange gloop with bits.

Then Little Dish got in contact with me (a while ago, sorry!) to try their ready made fresh dinners, I was immediately won over by their philosophy: making fresh, healthy food using only 100% natural ingredients without adding salt or sugar. Just like I would cook at home myself. So off we went in search of their products. We selected 3 of their wide range: the Mild Chicken Korma, the Salmon and Broccoli pasta bake and the Cottage Pie.

The first thing that struck me was that you can actually recognize what's in the dish, unlike so many baby foods around, rice looks like rice, salmon looks like salmon. It looks and smells like you've made it yourself. Noelie wasn't too keen on the chicken Korma but she wasn't feeling great that day and I am pretty sure that this is what it came down too. I have to admit that I finished her plate and it was really tasty, not too strong, not too bland. The Cottage Pie and Salmon and Broccoli Pasta Bake went down a treat and there was next to nothing left for me to taste (you are supposed to taste yourself too, aren't you?).

I was really glad to find out that these Little Dishes can be frozen too. As I don't rely much on ready made food for Noelie, they could have sat in the fridge for a quite a while and they could have gone off without me noticing. But the fact that they can be frozen means that I didn't have to worry about it. I just popped them in the freezer and took them out whenever I needed them. It was also great knowing that there were no nasty preservatives or other unknown ingredients in them, that there was no added sugar or salt, just like I would cook myself! And that they definitely passed the Noelie taste test!

If your children are past the toddler stage, Little Dish also has a beautifully illustrated cookbook out entitled 'Little Dish Favourites Cookbook', full of more than 60 favourite recipes for the whole family, from Macaroni and Cheese to Chili and Rice Bake to Pink Ice Cream, all tried and tasted by children and adults alike, and with no added salt. The recipes are divided in various sections: First tastes for that all important weaning period, Family Dishes (itself divided into sections such as poultry, vegetarian, meat and fish) and finally the Treats and Puddings. Each section has its own introduction with tips and guidelines from when to start weaning to dealing with fussy eaters to choosing the right treats. The degree of complexity of each recipe is clearly indicated along with the prep time and the cooking time which makes it easy for busy parents to identify and select the recipe that will suit their needs. They don't require an infinite list of ingredients and all of them are readily available. I particularly liked the fact that all the weights were both in grs and oz since I don't do imperial (sorry I'm from the continent, give me grs and kgs anyday!) The recipe planner at the end of the book lists all the recipes by degree of complexity but also points out the ones that can be made ahead, freeze well and the ones in which children can easily get involved. It also matches various recipes together to provide meal ideas. We decided to try out the Meat Loaf recipe as I had never cooked one before. The result was very tasty despite its appearance (but that definitely would be my fault and not the books!!).

I would definitely recommend the fresh dinners to any parent who wants to give their children nutritious food even if they might not have the time to make it all from scratch themselves.The Little Dish range of fresh dinners is available in the UK from the following retailers: Tesco, Waitrose, Sainsbury's, Boots and on Ocado.com and can be found in the Republic of Ireland in Tesco and Superquinn stores.

And I would also recommend the cookbook for those who are past the toddler stage and are looking for easy and tasty recipes that the whole family will like. It is available from WH Smith, Waterstones, Tesco, Ocado, and Sainsbury’s, or online at Amazon.co.uk.

Go on, give it a try!

In order to review, we received coupons and a free cookbook.

A different Easter: Tradition, food and craft.

2011-04-22T14:09:00.000+01:00

Easter is upon us once again and I have been reading a few blogs relating to Easter celebrations and traditions in other countries. That got me thinking about the differences between Easter here and back home in France.

First of all, we do not have the Easter bunny. Instead, we have bells. Yes, I know, it sounds strange but it's not really, once you know the story behind it. From Good Friday until Easter Monday, church bells do not chime in France, in mourning for the passing of Jesus. The story told to children is that the bells have gone on a pilgrimage to Rome and, on their way back from Rome, they are celebrating the resurection by dropping treats for children to find.

Some traditional friture.

I am deliberately saying treats because, although we do get chocolate eggs (Kinder chocolate eggs were my favourite when I was a child), we get all sorts of different chocolates. As a matter of fact, apart from the Kinder eggs, I don't recall getting many eggs as such. I got chocolate hens, chocolate bunnies and something else we call 'friture'. A real 'friture' would be small fish the length of your little finger, deep fried and eaten whole but for Easter, we get chocolate friture. These are small chocolates shaped like fish. My mum and dad brought Easter chocolates over for the girls. They get their chocolates from one of the best chocolatiers in France and they are scrumptious. I have kept them hidden in a cupboard for the past few weeks and today I couldn't help but have a peek and there is a small bag of friture in there. Not sure the Easter bunny is going to leave that out for the girls to find on Sunday! I'm pretty sure the 2 chocolate hens (and other eggs and bunnies) will be enough to keep the girls happy.

Two little chocolate hens for the girls.

We also celebrate Easter with eggs. One of the traditions in my region is to make an Easter omelette. But it's not your usual omelette. It is a sweet omelette. Every year, on Easter Monday, a small village beside mine makes one of the biggest omelette in the world. It is made with 15 000 eggs and cooked in a 400kgs, 4m wide pan before being shared (for free) amongst the villagers and tourists that have come to see this tradition that started in 1973.

French Sweet Easter Omelette:

Ingredients for 4 persons:

- 8 eggs

- 50 grs of caster sugar

- 10 grs of vanilla sugar

- 40 grs of butter

- a pinch of salt

- 7 cl of rhum (optional)

- In a bowl, break 5 of the eggs.

- Separate the yolks and whites of the last 3 remaining eggs.

- Add the yolks to the bowl, the pinch of salt and beat.

- In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites with 10 grs of sugar until soft peaks appear.

- Fold the whites in with the other eggs.

- In a pan, melt the butter.

- Once melted, pour the mixture in.

- Once cooked, sprinkle with the remaining sugar.

- Flambé with the rhum (basically pour the rhum over and set alight. Be careful not to burn yourself! Also, it is safe to give to children as the alcohol gets burnt off in the process).

- Enjoy hot or cold!

Now that's one big pan!

So this week, we started our Easter celebrations in the Foodie household. Marie and myself decorated a few eggs. Some people boil the eggs but I decided to empty them and make an omelette with them instead (I am not a big fan of hard boiled eggs). So we proceeded to make small(ish) holes at the top and bottom of the egg shells with needles. And then the hard work of blowing the egg out began. You have to make sure that the holes are big enough to get the egg out. I find that shaking the egg for a little while before blowing makes it easier. We then washed the eggs before dipping them in food colouring. The longer you leave it in, the deeper the colour. If you want designs on the eggs, you can draw on them with crayons (that way the die doesn't take under the crayon). You can leave the crayon on, or using an eraser, take it off. If you have some glitter glue, you can use that to decorate your eggs. The options are endless, you can glue paper on, put little gems on, whatever you have at hand can be used. So here are the results of our morning of Easter egg decorating.

Why don't you give it a go (either the omelette or the decorating!) and let me know how you got on? In any case, have a wonderful Easter!

There's a new club I'd like you to join,

2011-04-15T14:17:00.000+01:00

I'm officially on autopilot except that it looks more like the blow up doll on 'Airplane!' than a real autopilot. I don't even know how I can manage to string two words together together (see!). We are exhausted. I know I keep banging on about it but we are really not used to broken nights anymore. And it's been a week now.
We have had broken nights because of fever and 3am Nurofen calls. We have had difficult bedtimes because of over tiredness. Noelie had been crying for nearly 4 hours solid, full on cries, snots, tears and souvenirs and eventually around 10 pm, she just lied down and within half a second, she was snoring loudly which led Mr Foodie and I to laugh hysterically after the tension of dealing with her. One minute, she was a screaming, wriggling, crying, refusing to do anything toddler, the next, she was sound asleep on the bed, snoring away as if nothing had happened. The only problem was that she was lying sideways on OUR bed which meant that neither of us could really lie down properly to go asleep.

Yesterday, things were getting back to normal(ish). We had gone for our walks and Noelie had gone from a 15 minutes nap on Tuesday to 45 minutes on Wednesday to just over an hour yesterday. The only thing was that she had quite bad nappies all throughout the day. Every dirty nappy was cause for a lot of distress, tugging at the nappy, even tears and eventually panic before every poo. We know that this was brought on by the antibiotics she takes to treat her UTI. They are playing havoc with her digestive system. Towards the end of the day, we were lulled into a false sense of security that things were really getting back to normal. Her appetite had returned and she was happily eating grapes and spaghetti puttanesca (made all from scratch, where I got the will and energy from I will never know!) and asking for yoghurt for dessert. Once she finished her dinner, she asked to go to bed and made a beeline for her cot, a scene that we hadn't witnessed for nearly a week now. So there she was nicely tucked up in bed, Mr Foodie and Marie were clearing the table and I was giving my daily update to my mum when she started screaming. Real screams of distress and discomfort. I thought that it was just another poo so we took her down to change her. Indeed, it was a dirty nappy, she was a little red down there but not as bad as some of the rashes she had gotten from previous antibiotics. And then it started. She started screaming and crying in discomfort, calling me, telling me she had a 'caca' (poo in french) when she clearly had done nothing. And tugging at her nappy,wriggling around while she was sitting down, trying obviously to relieve a terribly annoying itch. It then dawned on me. We (when I say we, I mean women) all know what it is. I don't know one woman who hasn't had it. That terrible urge to scratch, the irritating itch in that particular area, the discomfort: thrush. The antibiotics had brought on a bad case of thrush. She was quite distraught, trying to scratch herself and I had nothing in the house I could put on to relieve the itch. We have never really had to use barrier creams with her and I can't remember the last time we did. I sent a text to my neighbour to see if she had anything. She came around with Sudocrem and, upon seeing Noelie's behaviour confirmed what I thought, thrush. Itching that drives you up the walls. Mr Foodie decided to go to the pharmacy to see if they could give us anything for her and the neighbour went back to her house to get me some probiotics she uses for her son who has to use antibiotics regularly.

In the meantime, Mr Foodie found an open pharmacy (not an easy thing to do at 8.00pm in rural Ireland) and was explaining the problem to the chemist. To say that he is not a prude would be the understatement of the century (if not the millennium). He can discuss anything using any words to describe any body part you can think off (and he has greatly enhanced my English vocabulary in that way!). We all know most men are not quite comfortable when it comes to buying sanitary towels and tampons and things like that, but he couldn't care less (thank goodness for that, otherwise I would still be waiting for those maternity towels I sent him around for when I was in hospital after giving birth to Noelie!). But discussing thrush on a toddler with a female chemist is bringing it to another level and for the first time in probably forever, he found himself lost for words to describe the problem. Luckily, the chemist was 'really nice' and gave him some Canesten cream, a powder and even some probiotics. He came home quite proud of himself having been able to discuss female ailments with an unknown female chemist.

In the meantime, the neighbour was happily entertaining Noelie dancing with her in the middle of our sitting room to In the Night Garden. As soon as Mr Foodie came home, on went the cream and the powder and Noelie seemed to be instantly relieved and happily went back to bed. It was only 9pm by that time and both Mr Foodie and myself were fit for bed already. We struggled on for another hour before giving in and going to bed.

And then, around 12am, cries, winges, screams woke me up. It was not to be a good night again. Noelie was again itching like mad. So badly that it woke her up. So I went in to get her, triggering a bit of sciatica so bad that I couldn't put her down on my own bed, I could hardly walk, let alone get back into bed. We took her in, on went more cream and powder. But this time, there seemed to be no way of relieving her. She kept on wriggling, trying to scratch, wingeing, crying my name. And there was nothing I could do, just try and calm her down with words and cuddles. She was exhausted too and wanted to fall asleep but the itching was so uncomfortable for her that she just couldn't. Mr Foodie, being a man who never had the pleasure of knowning what thrush feels like, was struggling to understand why she couldn't just go back asleep and why I wasn't doing much to help her. So I found myself explaining what thrush was like at 1.30am to a sleep deprived Mr Foodie while trying to distract an itchy toddler by putting on a play with Iggle Piggle and Upsy Daisy and putting In the Night Garden on the DVD player in the bedroom.. Eventually she settled... Around 3.30 am... Mr Foodie's alarm going off at 5.30 am was not a welcome sound by any of us, least of all Mr Foodie who knew he had to get up.

This morning, she seems to be a bit better. We walked to school. She has complained a little bit but not half as much as yesterday. She is not as red as she was either. She took her probiotics and had breakfast. She was so tired that she fell asleep in my arms at 10.30. Now, that hasn't happened since she was a baby! We walked back to school to collect Noelie who is now on her Easter holidays and spent a bit of time in the garden. Hopefully, she will be able to catch another nap and I'll be able to go asleep a bit too. Because I am on autopilot and it doesn't feel nice. People in work commented on Mr Foodie's looks today, asking if he'd been drinking all night. I am sure he'd rather have been drinking all night than having to deal with an itching mad toddler. Mr Foodie has been talking about it with female colleagues (told you he wasn't a prude) and all of them have nodded in compassion and offered advice. They have decided to create the 'Itchy Fanny' club (their title not mine!). Care to join?

Sleep: a faraway memory!

2011-04-14T13:25:00.000+01:00

Has anybody seen the film 'The Exorcism of Emily Rose'? Quite scary wasn't it? I forget some of the details now because it's been a long time now since we watched it. One thing I remember is that it established 3am as the demonic hour. The characters wake up at 3am all the time and experience strange things. It seems that we are having a remake of it here in the Foodie Household. Except that we know the name of the demon: Noelie.

She has been waking up every night around 3 am since last Saturday and has been quite a little demon for the past few days. She has been quite unwell because of her kidney infection and , as we do when she is not well, we took her into our bed. So, on top of my own kidney infection that has brought with it indescribable back pain, my ever growing bump and intermitent sciatica and Mr Foodie's snoring (I know, dear, there is nothing you can do about it), I have had to put up with a wriggling, unwell, and recently snoring toddler too. Try sleeping with a foot stuck near your head, or worse a bum lifted up in the air (how she can sleep in that position is beyond me)! We have been very lucky so far and she has always loved sleeping in her cot and slept well through the night so we shouldn't complain that, from time to time, she gives us a little challenge to deal with. And I suppose we better get used to interrupted sleep with the new baby coming soon. The only comforting thing is that I we are not alone in this (hopefully temporary) situation as Pampers let me know a while ago by sending me this press release.

Research Shows 94% of Irish parents walk up to 2 miles per day to get their baby to sleep while 90% of mums are doing the night shift

RESEARCH RESULTS

94.7% of parents walk between 0.5 and 2 miles with their baby to help them sleep
64% of parents think that getting baby to sleep is one of the most stressful things about becoming a parent
32.2% of babies wake once each night and 24% of babies wake twice each night
58.1% of parents spend up to 15 minutes soothing baby back to sleep
90.9% of respondents feel that mothers attend to babies more in the night
33.3% of parents feel that they averaged 6 hours of sleep per night in the first 0-36 months of their babies life

As any new parent can confirm, a night of interrupted sleep can be the norm for a newborn baby and his parents. New research by Pampers has found that some Irish parents can walk up to 2 miles/3.2 kilometres per day in an effort to lull their baby back to sleep, clocking up over 60 miles/ 96 kilometres miles a month – a distance equivalent of Dublin to Holyhead.

Pampers® understands that a good night’s sleep for baby is top of any parent’s wish list. This is what Pampers calls golden sleep. To find out more Pampers spoke to almost 500 parents from throughout the country to learn about their baby’s sleep patterns with some of the findings proving very interesting.

64% of Irish parents have cited the lack of sleep as the most stressful part of becoming a new parent with over 70% stating their baby wakes between one and three times each night. Naps can also prove difficult with 42% of parents bringing their baby out in a buggy to get them to sleep, and 94% of these parents walking up to 2 miles per day to get their baby to sleep.

There are enough reasons why your baby can wake up during the night and so Pampers understands that parents certainly don’t want their baby’s wet nappy to be one of them! For Pampers, the land of golden sleep is a place where babies sleep soundly and can stay comfortable for up to 12 hours.

While your baby sleeps they can wee up to 12 times a night. Until now the link between weeing and baby’s sleep has not been fully understood. However, the results of new research*, pioneered by Pampers, offers interesting findings.

The study has discovered that the actual motion of having a wee can potentially wake your baby up (what Pampers calls the pesky Invisible Alarm Clock in the land of golden sleep). Then as your little one wees more and more throughout the night the wetness can build and may disturb his sleep.

That’s why the new Pampers Baby-Dry nappy now features Extra Absorbent Zones. Specially created to provide faster absorption, the Extra Absorbent Zones are 14% wider than on previous Pampers Baby-Dry nappies, so this super absorbent nappy speeds wetness away faster, helping keep your baby dry and comfortable for up to 12 hours.

To help parents get their baby to drift off into the land of golden sleep, Pampers has created four new age-related bedtime routines, called the Pampers Soothology™ routines with its sleep expert Wendy Dean. The routines aim to help ease families through their baby’s ever changing night time needs: from 0-3 months; 4-6 months; 7-12 months; and 12+ months.

Pampers sleep expert Wendy Dean says: “Sleep is important for your baby to process all that they have learnt during the day. Following a sleep routine, such as the Soothology routines will help your baby to get into a regular pattern of sleeping through the night, something all parents want for their babies.”

Thanks to Pampers Baby-Dry you can help ensure that your baby’s much-needed sleep will not be disturbed because of a wet and bulky nappy. Following a night of golden sleep your baby will wake refreshed so you can enjoy brighter mornings together – ready to embrace the day ahead.

To visit the Pampers land of golden sleep, go to the Pampers Village website www.pampers.ie. The land of golden sleep contains the four Soothology™ routines, plus lots of other useful items and tips to help your baby sleep through the night, including a sleep diary, lullabies, bedtime stories and a Frequently Asked Questions factsheet.

So I think I'll pop over and check it out, they might have a miracle cure for a toddler that was sleeping well and now isn't. After I get a nap that is.

Time flies (whether you're having fun or not)

2011-04-13T13:29:00.000+01:00

It's been 2 weeks since I last posted. Where has the time gone? Despite the glorious sunshine, it hasn't all disappeared in the garden where we did spend a lot of time. It has gone on various things, some nice, some not so nice. So let me give you an idea of what happened during those past 2 weeks:

- My jobseekers benefit ran out. I knew that would happen soon, I just didn't know when. I was never notified of the date. All I received was a long form back at the end of January, that I dully filled in and returned. But no letter advising me that my benefit would run out on such a date. So imagine my surprise when I went to collect my weekly pittance and discovered that it was not there. After a few phone calls, I discovered that they could not process my application as a form that establishes my 'habitual residence' wasn't accompanying the form. And how am I supposed to fill that in if there is no mention of it anywhere and it's not sent to me? Another sign of how efficiently the department of Social Protection is being run and how there is absolutely no consideration for the people behind the numbers. Anyway, the situation has now been sorted and the means test has been done, resulting in the loss of quite a few euros a week. I just find it quite ironic that on the same week I have to fill in that 'habitual residence' form, I also get the other form, you know, the one I get only because I'm not Irish and that has to do with Child benefit.

- On a nicer note, my mum and dad came to visit. My mum stayed for a few days while my dad stayed for the whole week (the joys of retirement!). The girls were really happy to see them, particularly Marie who had no idea that they were coming despite a few slip ups on our part. She thought I'd gone to the hospital for a check up when I was really gone to the airport. The look on her face was priceless!

- We finally got her communion dress and shoes in. After a bit of indecision on her part, she has finally made up her mind that she wanted to make her communion. So my mum and dad kindly went shopping with us and we found a lovely, simple and elegant communion dress, paired with lovely, simple and elegant shoes. I think you have all understood that we are going for simple and elegant as opposed to looks like this.

- We also had our first (and probably only) scan. And we can now confirm that the due date is the 7th of August (give or take a few days). We have also found out that we are expecting a little boy! That should round off the family very nicely. I'll just have to learn how to change nappies for boys and how to avoid nappy changing unexpected showers of pee.

- Noelie and myself developed quite bad kidney infections. Mine saw me take to my bed at 11.30 am on Saturday morning and not really get up until Sunday. The back pain was unbearable and made me walk like a 90 year old woman. We went to the doctor's on Monday and Noelie has now to complete a course of antibiotics for the next week. She has also turned to cranckometer to the highest setting, resulting in a fully blown tantrum lasting 3 hours last night as she was over tired and refused to go to bed (something we are definitely not used to!). And then, suddenly, she just lied on her back and fell asleep.

- We have spent a lot of time outside, gardening, taking walks to see the cows down the lane and enjoying the sunshine.

So, in a nutshell, these were the highs and lows of the past couple of weeks!

Quelle dinde! (What a turkey!)

2011-03-30T13:19:00.000+01:00

Let's play a game of word association. If I say turkey, what do you think off? You're probably thinking of 3 things right now. The country, Christmas dinner with the big huge bird that takes hours to cook and needs a not of basting, or, if you live in Ireland, you might also think of the famous puppet /TV presenter / 2008 Eurovision entry / presidential candidate / 'Go on ya good thing' Dustin the Turkey. If you're me, you probably also think of your Mother in Law, who is delighted when Turkey and Ham starts appearing on the menus at the beginning of December and will eat it at least 3 times a week throughout said month of December.

I have noticed a funny thing though. Say it to me in French ('dinde') and, instead of thinking exclusively of Christmas dinner (or my Mother in Law for that matter), I think of the deliciously tasty turkey dishes my mum cooks. You see, in France, turkey is not confined to Christmas time. It is an everyday type of meat in its own right. You can't beat a 'rôti de dinde' (roast breast of turkey rolled upon itself) on a Sunday or some 'escalopes de dinde à la crème' (turkey breast with a cream sauce), a typical french bistro dish.

So, I was delighted to hear that Bernard Matthews Farms & Marco Pierre White (the world renowned chef who sometimes appears on tv with a big, extremely sharp looking and rather menacing knife) had decided to unite forces in order to promote turkey as a healthy, cheap, everyday alternative to beef or chicken. Turkey breast meat is low in saturated fat, high in protein and a great source of essential vitamins and minerals. As part of their 'Change your meat not your menu' campaign, they highlighted the fact that, in 8 out of the 10 top dishes mums cook, it is possible (and tasty, not to mention healthier) to swap the meat for turkey. I am sure you have all seen the ad with Martin Kemp and Marco Pierre on TV. The interesting thing about this ad is that it was totally unscripted and really reflects Marco Pierre's passion for this too often overlooked meat.)

So here is one of my favourite recipes using turkey: 'Escalopes de dinde à la crème'. I am pretty sure that Marco Pierre would do a much better job at it than I do, but hey, I am not a professional chef, just a mum:

Ingredients (serves 4):

- 1 turkey breast per person (you can use diced turkey breast if you wish, or strips of turkey)

- 1 pot of creme fraiche (liquid or not, full fat, 0% fat, whatever you want to use)

- 1 teaspoon of mustard (preferably Dijon mustard)

- 1 can of sliced mushrooms

- Salt & pepper.

How to:

- In a pan, gently fry the turkey in a little oil.

- Once cooked (slightly golden on the outside), add the fresh cream and the mustard.

- Drain the mushrooms and add them to the pan.

- Season to taste.

- Cook until the cream has thickened a bit and you're ready to serve with some fragrant basmati rice or some fresh pasta and green beans. Delicious!

It makes me hungry just to look at it! So, next time you plan your meals, see if you can use turkey instead!

Bon appétit!

Sponsored Post

Raid your fridge for your beauty regime.

2011-03-29T14:47:00.000+01:00

I love looking after my skin. I have been plagued with very dry skin from a young age and have always had to have quite a strict beauty regime. Even as a school girl, I had to use cleanser, toner and moisturiser, sometimes even prescribed by a dermatologist. My skin hates soap. I makes me feel like I have had a face lift gone wrong. My lips are constantly chapped and my house is dotted with lip balms. I have lip balm in every jacket I wear, every bag I use and in every room.

As a result I have always been interested in skincare products. I have spent hours browsing aisles and hundreds of euros on buying products. Some have worked, some haven't, some my skin could take, others make me break out in rashes and blotches. My skin is so unpredictable that even some pharmacy bought, hypoallergenic, gentle as water products are not compatible with me.

I have also always believed that you don't have to spend thousands on your beauty regime and,to this day, I hate spending too much on it. I had 2 facials in a beauty salon in my lifetime and as much as I found them great and relaxing and enjoyed being pampered, they were a gift and I wouldn't pay for them myself. Same goes for waxing etc. However, society dictates that we should all have nice, spot free, hair free, clear, radiant and plump skin. So, how can I achieve that without spending an insane amount of money.

Easy! I turn to the tried and tested methods of the ancients. Now, before you take me for some kind of lunatic who bathes in donkey's milk like Cleopatra or uses camel urine to make my hair shine, please be assured I am not (where the hell would I find a camel in Ireland anyway? It was proven on the Apprentice last year, you simply can't find one). But there are ingredients that we can all use (unless you're already allergic to them of course!).

Since I have become pregnant, my skin has been playing up big time. I have broken out in spots and rashes, it has been drier than usual and I have been far from glowing for the past couple of weeks. So I decided to take advantage of a few Noelie free days (yippie! although I did miss her) to put a stop to it. So on went the homemade face masks.

One of my favourites is the egg white face mask. All you need to do is mix one egg white and a couple of spoonfuls of yoghurt (or fresh cream) and apply to your (clean) face. Leave for about 15 minutes and then rinse off. I know it doesn't sound as glamorous as getting a facial in a salon, but seriously, it works. My skin was much brighter, felt much more comfortable and looked tighter and younger. You can also add a few drops of essential oils if you know your way around them, but this time around, I chose not too as some of them are not recommended when you are pregnant.

Another one of the homemade face masks I love is a yoghurt (or fresh cream) and honey one. A similar recipe to the one above, just mix a couple of spoonfuls of honey with a couple of spoonfuls of yoghurt and apply to your (clean) face and leave on for about 15 minutes. Wash off with lukewarm water. Once again, it made my skin look a lot brighter, smooth and glowing. (or you can also try half a banana or half an avocado & a few spoonfuls of yoghurt). And while you relax with your face mask on, you can even eat the other half!

To get rid of those old skin cells, I use either sugar or salt mixed with olive oil and create my own body scrub (you can even add essential oils, a drop of food colouring, put it in a lovely glass jar, add a pretty ribbon and homemade label and, hey, presto, you have a lovely homemade Mother's day present!). The skin on my face doesn't like being scrubbed with this though as it is a bit harsh. However, it does love porridge oats mixed with a bit of yoghurt for a lovely gentle face scrub.

And when I feel ready for a bit of decadence in the bath, I put some porridge oats and couple of spoons of dried milk and some dried lavender flowers in a muslin cloth. Close tightly and drop it in next time you run a bath. You can use the muslin to scrub off those dead skin cells. The milk will also make your skin all smooth.

Who said you have to pay over the odds for your beauty regime! All you need to do is raid your fridge, spend a couple of minutes mixing and off you go to relax. Have you ever tried any 'natural' beauty treatments?

Children of the revolution.

2011-03-29T10:00:00.000+01:00

Soaring unemployment, businesses, big and small, struggling to stay open, people struggling to afford things, poverty creeping up. Does that sound familiar? I'm sure it does. History has a funny way of repeating itself. In 1844, the Industrial Revolution had such effects on the economy. In Rochdale, England, a group of 28 local small business owners came up with an innovative idea: pool resources and set up their own shop, in an effort to sell items they would not otherwise be able to afford. These people founded the Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers, the first co-operative to pay dividends to their members. Their co-operation centred around a set of basic principles: voluntary and open membership, democratic control, member's economic participation, autonomy and independence, education and training, co-operation between co-operatives and concern for their communities. These are now known as the 'Rochdale Principles' and, to this day, still form the ethical basis of co-operatives around the world. A revolutionary idea at the time, but one that withstood the test of time and is still going strong, both at home and abroad. Today, The Co-operativeGroup has more than 6 million members (to put things in perspective, this is more than the current population of the Republic of Ireland) and 5000 outlets in the UK alone, doing business in areas spanning from food (of course) to funeral services! If you live in the UK, you probably have seen the new media campaign remembering the 'Rochdale Pioneers' and their beautiful ethical credentials.
We are reminded daily of the effects of the recession we are going through, and how difficult it is now for businesses, especially small ones. We are encouraged to support our local businesses by buying local produce from local producers as much as we can. When it comes to produce that cannot be sourced locally, such as tea and coffee, we are encouraged to buy ethically sourced produce, generally stamped as fair trade. Your local Co-Operative does not only support local businesses but also strives to provide ethically sourced produce and extends its reach for beyond your local area. The following is one of those Modern Co-Operative success stories.

Through its Enterprise Hub, The Co-operative promotes the principle of co-operation between co-operatives as well as their principle of development, training and education. They invest £7 millions a year in some of the world's poorest countries to support initiatives that benefit local co-operatives, their members, their families and their communities. The Co-operative College and The Co-operative Food have worked helping more than 10,000 small Kenyan tea farmers organise into co-operatives. This has increased their negotiating power and provided access to markets previously closed to them. It has also helped them to achieve Fairtrade certification, so they can supply tea for The Co-operative 's '‘99’ Fairtrade tea blend. All of which means they will now get a fair return for their crop, giving them the opportunity to improve their families lives and their community.

Although I am sure that there are such ventures here in Ireland, they are not as widely publicised and talked about, as The Co-operative, which really is a shame as people are willing to support local businesses, and buy local produce but unfortunately, some of them (like me) do not necessarily know where to go to do so. So, go on, Join the revolution! Support your local Co-Operative, their ethics and your local businesses, like their Facebook page. In other words, Get involved!

Sponsored Post

If only I had a Filofax!

2011-03-24T12:25:00.000Z

As most of you now know, I am pregnant. Somewhere between 19 and 21 weeks. I feel a bit silly not having a proper due date. Actually, I feel very, very silly. It makes me sound quite irresponsible really. So let me explain to you how I got there (well, not how I got pregnant, I think we all know how that works!) and the lessons I have learned from it.

You see, being the great technology whizz that I am, I thought it a great idea to keep my dates on my phone. I mean what better way to do it. If you're anything like me, you always have your phone at hand (unless, of course, it's buried under the pile of dirty tissues, nappies, wipes, empty raisin packets and other items we all carry in our handbags, or inadvertently been thrown under any random piece of furniture by a very active toddler while on silent). Way back when I was working, I used to have a lovely Filofax type agenda and would keep a record there. But since I became a Stay at Home mum, I resorted to keeping those important dates on my phone. It is after all way lighter than a big agenda diary thing (and there was not enough room in my bag for a phone and a Filofax). And of course, the stupid thing crashed and any data on it became irretrievable. In itself, not really a big problem (although annoying as hell) until your little friends come around again next month and you can start keeping record again (although by then, you have learned a lesson and keep record somewhere else too, like your laptop or something).

Lesson 1: Don't rely on technology.
Lesson 2: I need a Filofax (any lovely Filofax people feel like making a pregnant lady happy?)

So here I am, patiently waiting for my friends to come around and play. But then, it starts snowing. A lot. And a day feels like a week, a week feels like a month and the whole month the snow was around made me completely lose track of time. You see had it not been snowing, I would have been doing normal things like shopping etc and I would have remembered things, my weeks would have had some kind of structure. But instead I was stuck indoors, school was closed and who can remember what day that upteenth rerun of 'Come dine with me' was on? Or what day we watched that very interesting episode of 'Waybuloo'? (Wait, aren't all episodes of Waybuloo the same?) Well, not me. At the beginning of December, I did ask Mr Foodie when was the last time my friends had been around. You'd think a man would remember that, you know with being deprived of you know what for about a week. Not Mr Foodie, who assured me that it wasn't that long ago (emm, taking advantage of the situation, maybe?). I wasn't feeling any different. I have never suffered from morning sickness with either of the girls, and in typical fashion, didn't have any this time either (don't all hate me, please). The only thing was a very uncomfortable day with terrible stomach cramps that saw me stay in bed all day in the middle of December. Oh and sciatica, worse than I ever had before. I just thought it was to do with the sofa being so uncomfortable, so we went off to Ikea to buy me a lovely new chair to sit on and the problem seemed to decrease. So December came and went, we went off to celebrate Christmas in France (just about, because, you know, of all the snow).

Lesson 3: Don't rely on men to remember the date of your last period.

By the time we came back, we were almost sure that yes, you know, there was a little peanut in my belly. But then, the heating wasn't working and the snow had melted so life took over. Eventually, we bought a couple of pregnancy tests. Being as late as it was (and how fancy we are), we went for the super mega 'tells you how long you're gone' digital one, a double pack, just to be sure. So off I went to pee on the wonderfully magical wand that was going to tell me how pregnant I was. After I managed to sit on the toilet (don't laugh, it's not easy with sciatica!) and pee on the bloody thing, the result came back: 'Faulty'. Great! Apparently I either peed on the thing too much or I didn't put it down properly afterwards. A few glasses of water later, I repeated the operation (which included more cringeing from the pain of sitting down) and, result, it worked! It told me I was 3 weeks + pregnant. Emm, great but I knew that already!

Lesson 4: refer to lesson 1.

So, off we went to the doctor's. Of course, she asked me when my last period was. Cue, embarassed laugh. I don't know. So we settled for November 8th (yeah, I know quite far, isn't it?). We listened to the heartbeat and all. Everything went well. She told me to book my first hospital apointment in the next couple of weeks. Which we did, of course. I am technologically challenged, but not completely irresponsible. The nice lady who booked me in nearly choked on her coffee (or lunch) at the other end of the phone when I told her I wanted to book my first appointment at 16 weeks. The problem was that they were booked out until the end of April but she found me a cancellation that very same week.

Going into the hospital felt strange, like it wasn't that long ago that I was in there (wait, it wasn't really that long ago!). The midwife poked and proded my belly and declared that I was more than likely 18 weeks and not 16. So that was another 2 weeks shaved off in an instant which would bring my due date forward to the end of July. And my last period back to sometime around Hallowe'en (oooops). She also referred me to the Physio clinic for my sciatica and urged me to book the earliest scan I could so that we could date me more accurately.

So the scan is booked for April 6th. Hopefully, I will have a better idea then. All I know now is that my belly is getting bigger and I do look just about pregnant now (I am quite petite to start with). My neighbour joked that I just looked a bit fat around the middle and that some of her clients (she's a personal trainer) had bigger bellies than I did. And they're not even pregnant! I have been feeling kicks for the past 4 or 5 weeks now although they are yet to be felt from the outside.

So now, let me formally introduce you to Peanut in my Belly or Foodie Baby number 3 (or 4, Mr Foodie sometimes counts as a child, a big one, but still a child), due date: end of July, beginning of August.

Dear So and So...

2011-03-22T15:10:00.000Z

Dear Eircom,

When we got the phone line and broadband in with you, we thought you would provide us with acceptable service. You know Next Generation, national provider etc. Well, I am quite unhappy to say that we have felt terribly let down by you. Firstly, there is no such thing as Next Generation, never congested broadband if you live in the middle of the sticks. The only thing you can get is a measly 1GB broadband. But hey, considering you're the only one that can provide us with Internet access here, we went along with it. What we didn't expect was a broadband that is so temperamental that it drops 5 to 6 times a day for anything up to 5 hours at a time and only seems to be working in the middle of the night. I know us parents tend to be sleep deprived and be up in the middle of the night etc. But seriously, I don't want to have to set my alarm clock to 2 am to be able to use my computer and write a blog post without you dropping for god knows how long. So when your engineer came out back in October and fixed the problem, we thought that would be it. Cue buzzer sound. Wrong answer! A couple of months ago, the problem started again and had worsened causing SuperFoodie to done his supercape and fight with you. You sent somebody out to the house, who couldn't figure out what was wrong so you declared the problem fixed. It wasn't. So SuperFoodie had to come out of his slumber again to make you understand that it wasn't fixed. Eventually, you sent the same engineer back up. Maybe this time he did his job, maybe he just got lucky but anyway, the broadband has not dropped since yesterday, so maybe the problem is fixed. In the meantime, be warned SuperFoodie wants his money back.
A suffering from Internet withdrawal Foodie Mummy.

Dear mobile phone,
I have always looked after you. I fed you phone numbers and music and pictures and other things. So when you decided to crash on me back in November, I wasn't happy. I was even less happy when I realized that I couldn't retrieve any of those things especially my dates from your little chip. You have now been replaced by a lovely Smartphone and I don't miss you.
A struggling to use the touch screen thing Foodie Mummy.

Dear pregnancy test that tells you how long you're gone.

You obviously only work for the people who are eager to know as early as possible. I spent quite some money on you only to discover that you could only tell me that I was 3 weeks +. Thank you for nothing, I knew that already! I was hoping for a more accurate assessment.

Dear snow,
Why did you have to make time stand still for more than a month! If you hadn't come, maybe I would have remembered that my last period was that long ago, instead, I looked like an idiot when I went to the doctor's in February saying I thought I was pregnant but that I couldn't remember the date of my last period because of a crashed phone and you. I also looked like an idiot when I went to the hospital for the first time and the midwife thought I was 18 weeks gone instead of the 16 weeks we had settled for. I still do look like an idiot, when I tell people that I am between 19 and 21 weeks pregnant or that the baby is due sometimes between July and August. Hopefully, the upcoming scan will be able to help us narrow it down.
A halfway through pregnancy Foodie Mummy.

Dear peanut in my belly.
Sorry for not acknowledging your existence any earlier, but can you please stop making me pay for it now and lay off my sciatic nerve and bladder? Not being able to get up to go to the loo because I can't move my legs or even just sit on the toilet without feeling sharp pains is not Mummy's idea of fun, especially in the middle of the night. I promise that we will have lots of fun when you come out but in the meantime, please shift positions.
A struggling to move Foodie Mummy.

How much is too much?

2011-02-10T14:28:00.000Z

Disclaimer: please note that this post is in no way, shape or form intended to be a criticism of working parents or an attack on them.

We were looking forward to the week end. Mr Foodie's mum and dad were to take the girls overnight on Saturday and we had made plans to meet up with friends for dinner and generally just take it easy. We don't do it often, once a month at the most. We enjoy having a bit of time away from the girls and we are lucky that Mr Foodie's mum and dad enjoy taking them for the weekend once in a while too.

Up until Noelie was nearly one, I didn't (and couldn't bear the thought) of leaving her overnight anywhere. I even wrote a post about it there. It's not that I don't trust other people to look after my children (well, maybe a bit) or that I don't enjoy the odd night out or anything. I firmly believe that my children are my responsibility and I don't rely on anybody to look after them but me and Mr Foodie. I don't like leaving a small baby with somebody else and subjecting them to a broken night sleep, or having them dealing with night feeds. I don't like asking other people for help in looking after my children. I would only ask after I had twisted and turned every other possibility in my head and came to the conclusion that there is no other option but to ask. Now that she is a bit older and that she can't express herself in many other ways other than crying I am a bit more comfortable with it. Marie, being 7, enjoys going off for the weekend and I am not worried about her at all. She can say when and where she hurts if she does, she can ask for food and is a responsible, polite child (if I go by what people are saying).

Now, you probably have noticed that that first paragraph is written in the past tense. That's because that was the plan up until this afternoon. It's not anymore and I am a bit pissed off about it. I don't mean to sound bitchy but I know that, unfortunately, it is the way I am going to come across but hey, it's my blog and it's a subject that Mr Foodie and I have been talking about for a good while, and we keep going around in circles. He agrees with me (to a point) and is getting sometimes a bit frustrated about it too although he sees it from a different angle than I am.

I can accept the fact that things don't sometimes go to plan, I can accept the fact that sometimes things happen and plans have to change. I can accept illness, forgotten previous engagements. I can accept things out of everybody's control such as broken heating, water leaks, snow, broken cars and the likes. But there are things I find hard to accept.

Mr Foodie's mum and dad look after the new baby (well she is not so new anymore since she is nearly 10 months old). When I say they look after her, I mean, that they take care of her for anything from 2 to 4 days at a time, while her mom works and rests (she works shifts). She recently started working again after her maternity leave and , as far as we know, this is a temporary arrangement, only for few months, until she is back on maternity leave for baby number 2. Now, as much as I was overprotective of Noelie, they are the complete opposite. They left the baby overnight with Mr Foodie's parents when she was a couple of weeks old. And have done so every week or so since ( her reason being that she was tired and needed a break). But now that she is back at work, it is more and more, for longer and longer periods whether she is in work or not. Most weeks, they will mind the baby for 2 or 3 nights in a row. I do understand that she works shifts and is pregnant and has hospital appointments and that she gets tired etc. He works too. But working for himself, he only does the hours he wants and he decides to work at night when he could as easily work during the day. He has that flexibility that a lot of us don't or didn't have when working. He goes to college once a week too, in the evenings but is finished by 10pm. So why leave your baby with somebody else if you can mind her when your other half is at work (whether it's him or her)? Why not just ask that they come and babysit in your house while you're out so that you get up with her in the morning and spend time with her? Each to their own of course, but I know that I felt terribly guilty when I was working over not being able to spend more time with Marie and that was without leaving her overnight!

Now, don't you all start thinking I am jealous of how much they take the other baby or anything like that. It's not at all the way I feel. As much as I think it's not fair for other people to get up for night feeds or getting their sleep interrupted looking after your baby, it is their own decision and their own arrangements. Both parties are doing it willingly. My point is that Mr Foodie's parents are in their 60s, they are not as young as they'd like to think. And a 10 month old baby is hard work, especially one that won't sleep without being held and who doesn't take her own bottles. It is difficult for any parent, but I'd say it's even harder for older people and I'm pretty sure most of you would agree, no matter what your feelings on the subject are.

So what's her problem, I hear you ask. Well, my problem is that their arrangement is starting to have an impact on us. The mom only found out yesterday (ahem) that she would be working late on Saturday and Sunday and has let Mr Foodie's parents know so that they could mind the baby. And despite our previous arrangement, they felt that they could not say no and agreed. They told us that they would take the 3 girls overnight but not to let the other mum know that our girls would be there too.The only thing (and you could say it's our fault) is that we won't allow them to take both our girls and the baby overnight at the same time (that and the fact that they only have one travel cot too). We feel that it is too much for them. Noelie has me exhausted most of the time, Marie is fine as she is much older, but add to the mix a rather demanding 10 month old baby and you more than likely end the day on your knees and that's at my age (no I will not tell you! OK, early 30s). So imagine what it must feel like in your 60s? We can see how tired looking they are when they pop down for a cup of tea to see the girls and they have the baby. We can see how even more tired they look when they leave because the 3 girls were there and the 2 babies were constantly looking for attention from them both. So we politely refused the offer and we told them why (again as it is not the first time we tell them.)

So instead, well, we changed our plans, assuring them that it was OK. We postponed the dinner to 'some other time' and we will have the girls at the week end (not that I mind ). What I mind, is that once again, we are the ones changing our plans. I don't see the other parents changing their plans once in a while. I know this was only to give us a break and so that we could relax for a couple of days and that her going to work is more important. But what about him? Could he not change his plans for once and look after the baby? And let us enjoy one of our rare nights out? And what about the other times when she is not in work and leaves her overnight just so that she can have a break. We all need a break from time to time. We only ask for a break every 4 or 5 weeks (sometimes longer) and we try to work it around the times when they don't have the baby (which is quite tricky considering how much they have her), or any other plans they have made (they have their own lives too!). But now, even when we have plans made that have been carefully worked around all that, it seems that it is not sufficient enough. And it annoys me that we are the ones backing down. I know we are doing it for the right reasons, out of consideration for Mr Foodie's parents who also need a break, because we don't want to cause a fuss. I know that Mr Foodie's parents hate to let us down like that too. Maybe it's our fault for not leaving our girls overnight more often, or for not wanting to be difficult, or even for not being selfish enough. I'm sure the other parents don't even realize that the amount of time their daughter spends with her grand parents has an impact on our girls spending time with them too, or that we make our plans based on them and their schedule. It is a difficult subject to talk to them about as we don't want to come across as criticizing how they decide to live their life. So now, we will go back to the drawing board and try and figure out when we can reschedule our dinner and when the girls can go and stay overnight. So far, it's not going to happen for at least another 3 weeks. Ah well, it will be a well deserved break by then.

We just hope that the situation doesn't get worse when baby number 2 comes along in a few months. We were even joking (OK somewhat sarcastically) that maybe they would devise a schedule so that they only have one baby in the house at a time while the other one is in Mr Foodie's parents'. But then again they would also find it tiring since at the moment, they only have that one part time since they leave her there even when they are not in work.

Have you ever been in a similar situation? How did you deal with it? Please leave your comments.

Yes, we can (well not really but we'll pretend).

2011-02-08T21:05:00.000Z

For all those who don't know, Ireland is in shite. Yes, we are. We owe billions out to the IMF and the EU (thank you by the way!). Up to 1000 people are going to be emigrating every week for the next few years, unemployment is around the 14% mark and those who are still employed have been hit by tax hikes on an incredible scale (I know and have heard of people that have been hit with 400 euros + in tax in January). The minimum wage has been reduced by 1 euro. Child benefit has been reduced by 10 euros a month (unless you have 3 children, your 3rd child for no explainable reason but being born 3rd, has taken a 20 euro hit!). People in receipt of benefits or allowances such as carers, blind people, and the unemployed have seen their payments reduced by 8 euros a week.Now, you might be wondering why I am painting such a poor picture of this country. The reason is because that's the truth. That's the way this country is.

Last Tuesday, after much debate and nonsense, Brian Cowen (Prime Minister and former Minister for Finance in the ''boom'' years) decided to dissolve the Dail (or Parliament). That came after some 6 ministers walked out on him, his ''partners'' in government, the Greens, didn't allow him to name replacements for the ministers that walked out, and we ended up with a government of 8 senior ministers heading ministries such as the Justice and Agriculture (am I the only one with pictures of prisoners frolicking in the middle of a field tending to cows?), or better Department of Health & Education (put the sick and the young in the same bag why don't you?). Eventually his party turned on him and the first minister to walk out on the current government was named Leader of the Party. So we had a Prime Minister, that not even his own party people trusted to lead them, leading the country with 8 senior ministers. Great! (feel the irony). Oh and, in his spare time, when he is not too busy fattening his pension, he likes to play a round of golf and have dinner with one of the biggest ~~crooks~~ bankers that sunk this country and subsequently ''moved'' to the US.

Anyway, with this rant you might ask. Because you see, now that he finally let go after weeks of hanging on to power by his fingernails and anything else he could hang on with, we are going to have an general election. On the 25th of February, the people are going to go to the polls and vote for a new government. So the posters are up, the debates are everywhere, debates about important things and debates about debates (with or without Enda Kenny, with or without Vincent Browne, on RTE or maybe TV3). I had hoped, probably naively, that there would be a wind of hope that things could change, a la Obama. You know, yes we can. Sadly, it's far from that. For a start, none of them are half as good looking as Mr President of the US (yes, I admit it, I find him quite attractive). As my dad said, if any of your politicians try and have kids, they have to be killed at birth. It's a joke, people! All, he is trying to say is that they are as ugly as ugly can be and their offspring wouldn't have a wonderful start in life. That's all. Ok, it is a bit superficial, judging people by their looks. If at least, they were efficient or inspiring. But no, they're not. I used to work doing presentations, I'm sure I could give those guys a bit of training in that field. How can they believe that they are going to engage people, and inspire them when they speak in the most monotonous voices? Good orators, they are not. It's all finger pointing and aggressivity, and some kind of contest to see who can say the most words without taking a breath. Oh and a perfect display of how manners do not matter, since they just keep interrupting each other!

All you see now in the news, is hand shaking, puppy holding, baby petting (or should that be the other way around?). The world has stopped spinning since the campaign began. Reports of people being chased by election posters literally (well it was very windy), of a chicken walking into some party headquarters (or was that some kind of metaphor for the fact that the leader refused to take part in a televised debate?). The most interesting bit is how much they are being shouted at and how surprised they look that people don't like or trust them and shout at them.

I am glad I live in the country as they don't really come knocking on your door. But, you know what? I would welcome them and listen to them (as opposed to Mr Foodie who would tell them to fuck off and threaten to unleash the dogs at them. We don't have a dog but he is quite sure that Noelie can do as good a job as a Rottweiler, judging by the bite mark on his finger.). I might even ask them a few questions. And then, I would politely turn around and inform them that they have just wasted their time, just as they have wasted this country, because you know what? I'm not allowed to vote here. (By the way, if anybody can explain to me why British citizens have the same rights as an Irish citizens when it comes to voting and other Europeans don't, please feel free to let me know!)

Anyway, rant over.

Operation Potty training.

2011-02-07T13:54:00.000Z

Yes, we have started the massive Operation that is potty training. Armed with the essential items that are potty and pants, we started on Saturday. And so far, it's been more of a disaster than anything else.

Here is a small idea of what I'm talking about:

- Saturday: pants on for 10 minutes, I'm sitting on the floor beside Noelie, watching her like a hawk, trying to read her body language. Is she about to go? Yes, no? Several attempts to sit her on the potty have been met with screams of 'no, no, no' and trying to get up. Suddenly, dribbles, quick, sit on the potty, no time to take the pants off. Accident number 1. She is quite happy with herself as we cheer and clap. Not sure she understood why we were clapping and cheering but she dutifully comes with me to empty the contents of the potty into the toilet and wave it goodbye. Time for a pants change. Mr Foodie decides to throw me a clean pair of pants. Unfortunately, these bounce off Noelie and land, I'll let you guess. Yes, in the full potty. Does that count as accident number 2 for Noelie, or accident number 1 for Mr Foodie? 2 pairs of pants wet in a matter of minutes. Good thing I bought a 10 pack!Thinking she won't go again for a while, I relax a little and decide to give her a bit of space. Wrong! 5 minutes later, puddle on the carpet. Oops, she says. She doesn't seem very pleased with herself or comfortable. Time for another change. We are now less than 30 minutes into potty training and I already have 3 pairs of pants to wash. Despite efforts to try and get her to sit on the potty (even for just a few seconds), she is defiant, she will not sit on the bloody thing for more than 5 seconds at a time, screaming no and panicking. We all take turns sitting on the potty (fully clothed, of course) trying to show her it's ok to sit there. In the process, Mr Foodie nearly does his back in. It is a long way down to sit on the thing and joints you wouldn't even know existed cracked and protested at being maltreated in such a way. Another 2 accidents in another 30 minutes and we resign ourselves. Let's forget about it for today and start afresh tomorrow. And who knew a toddler could pee so many times in so little time? At least, we know that she won't be suffering from another UTI in the coming days!

Sunday: operations resume in the morning. After breakfast, we put a pair of pants on. We also bought some hideous tracksuit bottoms for her, things she can have as many accidents in as she wants. 1 hour in: still no accidents. Good. She won't sit on the potty without having a hissy fit though. She goes off and starts playing with her sister. Less than 2 minutes later, she comes back in. Did she have an accident? I check. Not sure. Feels dry enough. Time for lunch. I grow suspicious 2 hours without an accident. That's not possible not after yesterday when she proved that she could pee 5 times in less than an hour. After lunch, I check. There we are. There was an accident. Bloody stupid tracksuit bottoms are so thick that they just absorb everything. Time for a nap anyway so nappy on. A lot of questions go through my head. Is she ready? Is she not too young? After all, she just turned 20 months. Why does she not want to sit on the bloody thing? She plays with it and puts her dolls on it. Surely she knows what it's for. Is it not comfortable? How come she peed 5 times in less than an hour yesterday? We only put the pants on her yesterday, no tracksuits. Could she have been cold and it made her pee more than usual? I just don't know. Maybe she is not ready to try for more than a few hours at a time. How long do I need to keep following her and watching her like a hawk for? What about things I have to do? Surely, I can't just keep following her like that. What if she wants to sit on my lap, and she's wearing pants? I am not putting her on my lap, just in case! She gets up from her nap and we put another nappy on. Enough for today. I have things to do.

Monday: What do I do? I have so many things to do this morning. Can I run the risk of putting pants on her again? OK, we'll give it a shot. We can't just give up like that. So on go the pants. She is playing around and is ok for a bit. I try to get her to sit on the potty. She manages to sit on it fully clothed for a few minutes as long as I am sitting behind her. I try and get her to sit on it, not fully clothed and the screaming starts again. I wonder maybe I need to research this a bit further before we start properly. Time for lunch in a few minutes anyway so I put a nappy on because then it will be nap time. She has worn pants for about an hour without an accident. So not all that bad really. While I get lunch ready, Noelie strolls into the kitchen with none other than.... a pair of pants on her head. Oh boy, this is not gonna work, is it?

Any tips or ideas on how we could kick start this thing?

Silent Sunday: Haunting

2011-01-30T11:57:00.000Z

via theatlantic.tumblr.com

Stop looking at your belly button!

2011-01-29T13:53:00.000Z

I read a wonderful post today. One that brought tears to my eyes. It wasn't meant to make people cry, I don't think, but to get them to react and I hope it served its purpose. The post was written by the wonderful Heather at Note from Lapland and it relates to the revolution taking place in Egypt and how a lot of people are just not talking about it. I started writing a comment but it started going on and on and I realized that I probably should write my own post.

It started with Tunisia. They call it the Jasmin Revolution, but the media here are calling it 'civil unrest'. First off, please, people from the media, call it what it is. It's a revolution. It started mid December and got stronger and stronger through January. When thousands and thousands of people from all walks of life unite and take to the streets to get rid of a corrupt and dictatorial government, it is a Revolution not just civil unrest. The official number of people that gave their lives in the name of what you call 'civil unrest' is 78, although the UN estimates it at more than 100. Most of them were killed by the bullets of the guns fired by the police. They have succeeded in getting rid of their corrupt president Ben Ali, who had been in power for 23 years. This particular revolution was not covered half as much in English speaking countries as it was in France. There are a lot of people of Tunisian descent in France, including a few of my friends. Tunisia was a French colony and France still has a lot of links with Tunisia hence the enhanced coverage. I have seen friends updates on Facebook, cheering on their 'brothers and sisters' over there. A lot of them have family there and a lot of them visit them on a regular basis. As a sign of solidarity, a lot of people have added a ribbon on their Facebook pictures, the Tunisian flag. Social media sites like Facebook and|Twitter have somewhat helped in organizing that revolution. Their fight still goes on...

It has now moved onto Yemen, Libya and Egypt. 74 people have died yesterday alone in the name of Freedom in Egypt. Once again, people from all walks of life, Christians and Muslims have united to try and defeat a corrupt government and get rid of a dictator. This too is a revolution, not just civil unrest. The army is starting to join in with the protesters, just like it did in Tunisia. I don't claim to know much on this, I am no expert on the Middle East and I wasn't watching it as much as Heather was but there is one thing I know. Shutting down the Internet, mobile networks and landlines, creating a virtual communications black out on a so-called democratic country is not acceptable. It is against the most fundamental right of the people of any country, most of all a democratic one, the right to Freedom of Speech. The right without which we, in the blogging community, wouldn't know each other, the right we are using on a daily basis talking about this and that, ranting about this and that. In one of those countries, a post like this or this could have landed me in prison. Take a look at your own posts, which one would have landed you in prison or even worse, dead? In Tunisia, at least 6 bloggers (as per Reporters without borders, a French NGO advocating freedom of the press in the world) have either been arrested or disappeared (some have been subsequently been released). Bloggers like you and me, people just expressing their views, like you and me. There isn't much we can do from here, I can hear some of you say. There is. What we can do is keep talking about it, stop taking it for granted and if we can support organizations like Reporters without borders by donating some money, then do it. There are 112 netizens, as they call them, imprisoned around the world, bloggers like you and me.

Something else I'd like to see, is for the Irish media to stop looking at their own belly buttons as we say in France. In proper English, it would probably be to start looking further than their own noses. Stop putting events like this at the back end of the news as if it was some kind of 'fait divers' or A.O.B. It is not. There are more important things happening in the world than the circus that is Irish Politics, or some murder trial going on here. Yes, there is an election looming, yes, Irish politics have been a massive circus, worthy of any storyline in any soap you can watch. But the Irish media has barely talked about the Tunisian revolution, very little was said in yesterday's news about Egypt. On one particular channel, this was even reported a while after they showed a piece on how the cost of dying in Ireland was going up. This revolution is certainly more important than the cost of a f*****g burial plot in Ireland! Who wants to know that it will cost you more to be buried by the sea than it will cost you inland? Or how many TV cameras from other countries have shown up in front of the Dail today. Or how Bertie Ahern's (the previous Prime Minister that got us in the mess we are now) only regret is not having built a national stadium.

I have often joked with Mr Foodie and other Irish people on how the Irish media are short of announcing the death of a dog that got run over by a car in co. Cork when more important things are going on in the world. I rely completely on the French or UK media to know what is happening in the world, not the Irish one. Because the Irish media is just turned inwards. I know we live on an island and things happening somewhere else might seem far and unimportant, but they are not. This very insular approach to the news is frustrating, and for me, coming from France, when important things are top of the news no matter where they happen, quite infuriating. Maybe it's a lack of resources, maybe it's a lack of interest on the part of the Irish public, I don't know. The Irish media doesn't seem to have any foreign correspondent (apart from the guy that stands in front of the European Parliament and reports on the EU/IMF deal, or the guy they have in Washington that has to resort in making entertainment programs, probably to justify why he is there on a permanent basis). They very rarely use anybody from the outside even to report on events happening around the world. And if you listen to the Irish Media, well, there isn't really much happening in the world worth talking about for more than 5 minutes. Just a revolution or too, and a blatant attempt on the thing they hold so precious, the very cornerstone of their job, Freedom of Speech.

Silent Sunday.

2011-01-23T13:11:00.000Z

It's meant to be a silent sunday but I never told you that I did get my wonderful new camera for Christmas. So I'm getting to grips with it. Here are a few pictures I took this week.

A lonely hare in the field on a frosty morning.

Even the spiderwebs were frosty!

Hurricane Noelie.

2011-01-19T13:24:00.000Z

Life with a 20 months old is quite something, as most of you know or remember. Noelie will be 20 months old in 10 days and, believe it or not, she is quite a handful.

First of all, she won't shut up! Marie is quiet, she is very independent and most of the time, as people say, you wouldn't even know she's there. She is there but, more than likely, she is sitting somewhere in a corner reading Harry Potter for the umpteenth time. Although she is not quite 8 yet, her reading maturity is the same as a 10 and 1/2 years old child (not according to me but according to the test her teacher got her to take) and she is quite the bookworm. The only problem for us is to find books that are appropriate for her age but do challenge her in the reading department (any ideas, anybody?). But Noelie, well, she is far from quiet. She starts talking the minute she gets up and won't stop until she goes to bed. I have lost count of how many words she has mastered and in which language but she is now able to express herself fairly well. Everybody is 'gone in car' if they are not within sight but she'll happily switch 'gone in car' to 'parti' if she is talking to me. She can imitate a few animals and if asked (either in French or English) which noise does a cow, dog, cat or other makes, she will happily oblige you. She can ask for biscuits, apple or banana or simply 'mange' (eat) and for her 'dink'. She says 'pease' and 'merci' as well as 'hello' and 'bonjour' and 'bye' or 'au revoir'.

She is shoe and hat mad. Her 'chaussons' (slippers) are her most prized possession. They have to be on at all times, even going to bed. And her 'bapos' (which are meant to be chapeau or hats) provide her with hours of fun putting them on and taking them off again. She loves her dolls and will wheel them around the house in their buggies. She also loves pretending to eat (foodie mummies do make foodie babies!). She will order to you to 'sit there' and 'mange' (eat) and pass any plate, spoon, cup, pot to you and will also tell you 'I can cook' (thanks Cbeebies!) and ask you if 'c'est bon?' ('is it nice?). She understands requests in both French and English and will comply with said requests most of the time (unless it requires her to step away from the press she is currently emptying). She loves music and singing and dancing around and reading books and colouring (the wall seems to be a great canvass!).

My baking press is one of her favourites to empty (it must be all the nice colours and funny noises cake decorations make). And the breakfast / biscuit press is her most favourite destination in the kitchen. So, after all the hard work we put in in the past few weeks, tidying and cleaning and rearranging everything, I am very keen to keep everything 'right'. But she doesn't seem to understand my need to keep stuff off the floor and in the presses. So this morning, I took a preemptive action and childproofed the kitchen. There is only one press she can open and that's the breakfast/ biscuit press but at least my baking supplies are now safe, not to mention all the cutlery and medicines / cleaning products that we store under the sink.

Childproofing the Foodie way!

Might not look like much but quite effective.

She hates her nose being stuffy and will blow her nose, or wipe it with a tissue. She loves eating and sleeping and we are really lucky that she goes down for her nap for at least 2 to 3 hours without a fight. She also loves going to bed at night and will sleep for a good 12 hours straight (she only wakes up if she has a cough and will refuse to sleep if she feels unwell, which doesn't happen too often thankfully). She has 12 teeth and another 3 that just cut through the gums this week. She also feeds herself although she still needs help with putting things on her fork.

And lastly, if you want to make her happy, just put on 'Oui-Oui' (that's Noddy in French) or even better 'Becca Boo' which is the way she calls In The Night Garden.

However, if you make her cross, she will let you know and shout a loud 'No!' and will give out to you. She might even try to bite you if you invade her private space too much or maybe pinch you.

So what's next? Well, potty training is on the horizon. She warns you before she goes for a 'caca' or if she does a 'pipi'. She is fascinated by the toilet and you literally cannot go to the toilet without her following you in and trying to look down to see what you're doing, all the while trying to pull her trousers down. So what do you think? Do you think she's ready? Or is 20 months too young still for her to get the whole concept? When did you start potty training your children?

The wind of change.

2011-01-18T18:52:00.000Z

When we moved to the countryside over 6 months ago, we put boxes and furniture where we thought they should go. Gradually, we realized that the way things were didn't really work for us. The house didn't feel homely and cosy. It was pretty much unchanged from when we moved in. There were no personal touches, clutter was accumulating and it didn't really feel like we had made it our own yet.

So since we came home from France, we have been rearranging room after room in the house. That involved a lot of furniture being moved from one room to the other, a lot of furniture being moved from one side of the room to the other. Little pieces of furniture, and big pieces of furniture. And of course of lot of cleaning, and a lot of rubbish being thrown out. Magazines from 2007 still lying around (some even older than that). What for? Why do we keep all this stuff. On the off chance that one day, we'll read them again? But to be honest when do we ever read a magazine again? I kept all my cooking magazines, but for all the other types of magazines, I just kept the recipe pages and threw out the rest. Sometimes, you just need to be a bit ruthless. Forget about being sentimental. Stuff just accumulates and you end up buried under clutter everywhere. That candle that has been gathering dust on the mantle piece that you can't light anymore. Chuck it out. Broken toys, pieces of plastic crap that you pick up with children's magazines or in the odd Happy Meal. Worthless junk. Just throw it out.

That's what the past couple of weeks have been dedicated to. Throwing out rubbish, being ruthless and unsentimental, cleaning top to bottom and finally making the house our own. A couple of trips to Ikea (I couldn't reorganize the house without taking one or 2 trips to Ikea!), a small chest of drawers, a new chair for the sitting room and a few cheap paper lamp shades later and finally, the house starts to feel homely, cosy and more importantly ours.

And the most amazing thing is that you don't need to spend a fortune to bring a bit of change to your house. Just look around and reuse what you already have. That lamp that was gathering dust on the playroom table used to light up that plant that kept being knocked over in the hall actually looks great in the corner of the sitting room and you won't have to spend 10 minutes everyday picking up the soil from the hall floor. (Ok, I'll cut the crap. It doesn't look all that great because the plant is actually on its death bed from being knocked down way too many times and not being watered enough. But it would look great with a normal and healthy looking plant). Those chairs that were just taking space in the kitchen and where junk was piling up have now found a new purpose and a new lease of life in the master bedroom. That coffee table that looked a bit shabby doesn't look that bad now, in the corner of the sitting room, half hidden by the sofa that was in the playroom. Just look at what you have and think outside the box, who said that kitchen chairs can't go in a bedroom or that the picture that was hanging in the toilets wouldn't look good on the kitchen wall, that throw that you used on the sofa could look good on your bed. So go on take a good look around and make your living space work for you! It can make a whole lot of a difference!

The girls love their new tidy playroom and their definitely bigger bedroom. I love my new chair (it wasn't an aesthetic decision, I desperately needed a chair I could sit in. Anytime I sat on the sofa for more than 5 minutes, my back would get stuck and I wasn't able to walk properly) and I actually enjoy keeping the house clean because there is less clutter around. So despite not taking any New Year resolutions (I don't believe in them), we have actually managed to make our life a little bit better to start off the new year. What about you? Have you changed anything for the new year?

Cold creatures.

2011-01-07T15:52:00.000Z

It all started the week before Christmas. Slowly but surely, the house started feeling colder and colder. With overnight temperatures falling close to -20, I thought it was normal to feel the cold. Noelie wasn't too impressed though, neither was Marie but with a few extra layers, it wasn't something that was too much of a problem. I come from a hot (ish) climate but I'm also used to cold winters but this was nothing I had ever experienced. Some of the rooms in the house were like walk-in freezers, the playroom's entrance had been condemned. I put it down to the size of the house and the number of big windows, thinking that the cold was getting in that way. The tips of our noses were frozen, our hands were red with the cold and not to mention my feet, who despite being in 2 pairs of socks (one of which a pair of ski socks) and a pair of Fuggs refused to warm up. I noticed that some of the rads were not working well and tried to come up with various explanations. The obvious one was that we probably ran out of oil. I tried ordering some more but the earliest they could deliver was well after Christmas day, and if things went according to plan, we wouldn't be in Ireland then.

The day we left for France, I gave the girls a bath and resorted to get both of them dressed in the warmest room of the house, the hot press. Thankfully, our hot press is more of a walk-in wardrobe than your traditional hot press so getting dressed in there was easy enough.

Then we left for our 2 weeks holiday. I had made sure that the heating was left on for a couple of hours a day, to ensure that the pipes would not freeze, I didn't go as far as leaving the taps running though. When we came back a couple of days ago, knowing that the house wouldn't be very warm, we had arranged for the girls to stay at Mr Foodie's mum and dad's for a bit, hence giving me time to get everything unpacked and the house cleaned and warmed up.

This was not to happen. The day we got back, the house was so cold that I kept my big heavy ski jacket on until I eventually gave up piling up the blankets on my legs on the sofa and went to bed fully clothed. Mr Foodie was very grateful for the pair of skiing thermal long johns he had bought in France. He has now earned the nickname of Robin Hood, Men in Tights after parading around my parent's house in them, demonstrating his fashion - showmanship (is that even a word?) for all to admire.

The day after we got back I ordered oil which was to be delivered yesterday. In the meantime, Mr Foodie and myself piled on the thermal ski clothes we had the great mind of buying in France. We went to bed around 7pm for a couple of nights and started watching the first season of 24 on DVD from the box set Mr Foodie received at Christmas. Getting up in the morning was a nightmare, there is nothing worse on a good day than leaving a nice warm bed knowing it's cold outside, multiply that feeling by at least a million and you might have an idea of what it's like to get up in a cold, freezing house. At some stage, I actually thought it was warmer outside than it was inside!

The oil came yesterday and, to my surprise, there was still some left in the tank, indicating that the problem was not it (doh!). We truly had a problem with our heating system. We called our landlord who showed up within the next 30 minutes, tool box in hand. In the meantime, Mr Foodie's mum and dad had arrived with the girls and our 8 month old niece. The house was so cold that Marie kept her jacket on, only to take it off in favour of her house coat and a pair of gloves and snuggled under her duvet (at 4.30 pm). Our landlord tried to fix the problem but, since he is not a plumber, couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. He got in contact with a plumber he knows, who promised to come out to the house first thing in the morning. The girls went back to Mr Foodie's mum and dad's for the night as there was no way they could stay in the freezer that our house had become.

True to his word, the plumber was at the door at 9h15 this morning. After a good look around, he identified that the problem came from the pump. Some valve on it wasn't tightening properly and needed changing. He went off to get a new valve and came back with it. He took the whole thing apart and put it back together with the new valve. The only thing was that he left the back door open all the time. The malfunctioning valve was causing the pressure to fall, meaning that the hot water wasn't being pushed through the rads and the rads weren't heating up. Once he had fixed the pump, he put the heating back on and carefully made sure that every single rad in the house was working. At that stage, I was shivering with cold and my knees were refusing to stop shaking. Our landlord supervised the whole operation which took more than 2 hours. So now, the house is warming up slowly but surely, I am glued to one of the rads and will probably need to be peeled off it in a bit. How did people do it before? Before central heating, before thermal underwear and fleeces? I truly don't know and really admire them. I'm not a cold creature, neither are my girls. Warmth is what we need and thank goodness, warmth is what we will now get! Now, I'm off to put my bikini on!

P.S: Happy new year everybody (I'm not a big Christmas and New Year greetings fan, so please don't hold it against me!)

Blessed.

2010-12-24T08:46:00.000Z

After a few days of uncertainty, we have made it home in time for Christmas. We were set to fly out on the 22nd at 5.30 pm to arrive home at 10.30 pm. With all the disruptions at the airports both in France and in Ireland, the picture looked ever so bleak. I couldn't find the courage to pack, almost certain that we wouldn't be travelling. I was stuck to the Internet and the news, feeling disheartened anytime the snow started falling again, anytime the airport had to be closed again. As long as we got into France, anywhere, we would make it home even if we had to drive hom for more than 7hrs, I didn't care. But getting to France seemed like the hardest part to achieve. The airport was closed on the 21st in the afternoon, flights were cancelled. I packed but my heart wasn't in it. I had to pack carefully, making sure I had some warm clothes on hand for the girls, enough nappies and snacks for Noelie should we get stranded anywhere and have to sleep on an airport floor.

On the 22nd, at around 12 noon, we set off for the airport. Mr Foodie's brother kindly picked us up from home. The roads in the area, being secondary roads that have never been grited or salted since the snow came, and where, in parts some of the first snow (the one from Novemeber) was still lingering, were treacherous. We took our time and made it to Mr Foodie's parents house in not too bad a time. Mr Foodie was set to finish work around 3pm and we were to set off for the airpot straight away, our flight supposedly taking off at 5.30pm. Thankfully, his boss let him go a bit early and we arrived at the airport around 3.15pm. The scenes in the arrivals hall were nothing like what I had seen on tv the previous days. The massive queues were not there. Some people were queueing for the desks but the queues for check ins were relatively normal. No desperate scenes of utter chaos, all seemed fairly normal. We checked in and made our way through security. We had decided not to take the buggy with us and Noelie was walking along and being very good. Marie knew that there was a chance we might not make it but was also extremely good. We went to our departure gate and then it all started. Our flight planned initially for 5.30pm was delayed until 7.20 pm. Not a big delay but enough for us to know that we wouldn't make our connection. I kept saying to myself that once we are in France, it doesn't matter we would make it down South somehow. Our phones kept ringing, people were asking us what was happening, we kept telling them that so far so good, delayed but still flying. Then, the flight was further delayed until 22h30. A long way away, as long as the snow kept its distance, we were going to make it to France. Then it was put forward to 20h40. My dad, ever the joker, asked me if it was today or tomorrow. Not so funny, but hey, at least it's not cancelled. The flight planned to depart after us took off, we were still waiting. There seemed to be a lot of children on our flight, all trying to go home to their families for Christmas. We had no public announcement, no vouchers for food or drink and the coffee shops in the airport were starting to run out of food. They replenished their stocks but nothing but chicken stuffing sandwiches could be found.

Eventually, a plane arrived and was disembarked and deiced and we made it on board. It was past 11pm. We were going to make it to Paris around 2 am (French time). Marie and Noelie were being very good still although none of them had slept more than 20 minutes. Marie found a little friend and was playing with her while we were waiting. We were desperately trying to keep Noelie entertained. We took off and made it to Paris landing at 2.30 am. Noelie had not slept yet, neither had Marie. The stress of the day and the adrenaline still pumping meant that they couldn't sleep. When we arrived, we went to the transfer desk. The girl there got us to skip the queue because of the children, not a passenger made a comment, there was about 20 off us having missed a connection, some of them to far away places like the US or even Honk Kong. There was no quibble, no shouting, not an ounce of frustration amongst them. The girl at the desk gave us a voucher for a hotel and promptly renooked us on the first outgoing flight to Toulouse at 7.15 am the very same day which meant a very very short night for us. The girl ecplained that she had gotten a special authorization to put us on that flight since we had small children and they had released seats for us on the plane and shuffled some passengers around so that we could seat together. One of her colleagues drove a group of us to the hotel. A 4 star one with as big a bed as I had ever seen. The 4 of us would easily fit in it so we didn't bother using the other room they had booked for us.

I had never seen Noelie so happy to see a bed in her life. She was hugging it and kissing it, shouting 'dodo, dodo' (sleep in french). So we put the girls to bed, I climbed in beside but I couldn't sleep knowing that we had to be up an hour and a half later to catch our second plane. As soon as their heads hit the big fluffy pillows, the girls were gone. Mr Foodie had decided not to sleep at all, and went down to use the Wi fi in the hotel. At 5 am, we got up and took a shower. We put on our previous days clothes, still feeling dirty and smelly from the day before. We got the girls up (not without a fight though) and went down for breakfast. We made our way to the airport, got pas security and onto our flight. It was delayed by an hour as we had to deice but we made it home around 10.30 am yesterday with very little sleep.

It took us 22hrs to get home, with an 18 month old baby in tow and no buggy, and a 7 year old on less than 2 hours sleep. But we made it. As we got home, we checked the Irish news, only to find out that the airport was closed again and thousands of people were being stranded, again. And all I can say, is we were trully blessed. We made it, not that easily but we did. And the girls were amazingly good, not once did Marie complain that we were being delayed or that she was tired and had to walk, not once did Noelie cry because she too was going on less than 3 hours sleep, taking cat naps here and there. I was probably the worse of them all, being snappy and quite unpleasant to Mr Foodie although none of it was his fault. So Mr Foodie, I apologize for my very not nice behaviour. Today I will spare more than a thought for those of you who had to cancel plans, or are stranded somewhere, and those of you who were as lucky as we were and made it. It's been a tough journey. Wherever you are though, I wish you all a Merry Christmas.

I should have kept my mouht shut

2010-12-07T12:28:00.000Z

I knew it! I should have kept my big mouth shut! If I hadn't posted yesterday about how all that snow is starting to really annoy me now, it wouldn't have snowed again. I'm sure of it.

But, no. I had to go and open my mouth and say that I was kind of getting sick of it. And what happens? Well another good 5 to 10 cm fell overnight. Seriously, it is starting to get boring now! And I can't even do my grocery shopping online as the next delivery slot available is for Friday! Friday, we have time to die of starvation by then (although we won't because the freezer is well stocked) but I'm starting to run out of fresh stuff.

It took Mr Foodie 20 minutes to get out of the garden this morning to go to work. His tracks from yesterday afternoon had all disappeared. The snow is half way up the wheels of my own useless, dead car.

But what I find amazing is the fact that we keep being told that the worse is over, no more snow. Temperatures will go up by the week end and it will all start thawing. Yeah, right! I think the weather people are at this stage as believable as that stupid government. And what about after the week end, they don't seem to be as confident about what's going to happen then. More snow, colder temperatures? Or just a big thaw that will bring on some floods? Nobody knows.

I keep thinking about people in Nordic countries (Hi Heather!), they are well used to plummetting temperatures and snow and ice. So why can't we just get used to it? Why can't we just even be prepared for it? You know, snow chains and snow tyres? Life doesn't stop in those countries, schools don't have heating problems, or burst pipes. Life goes on. Even in the South of France, we are used to snow and ice and cold weather, they do sell snow chains and winter tyres. The year my brother was born (yes, Mr Foodie, the great cold of 84), temperatures in the South of France plumetted to -20. School was open, people went to work, roads were adequately treated. Shops sell snowsuits for as little as 20 euros. So why, can't we deal with it the same way here? Why can't we look at nordic countries, or Canada and take advice from them. See how they do things and learn from it? But no, we let it bring the country to a standstill and we keep using old methods such as salt and sand on the roads. By the way, did you know that salt is useless if temperatures fall beneath -8?

Argh, it's just so frustrating. One thing I know though, is that I will be hitting the French sales in January and I will be getting proper snowsuits and snowboots for the girls. Because I'm sure that this is not the end of it, I'm sure that before the end of this winter, we will have more snow and more ice. And we will be in the same predicament we are in at the moment. The difference is: I will be prepared.

Snow and Ice and all the things nice.

2010-12-06T13:12:00.000Z

I thought I would ride out the whole Big Freeze thing but it looks inevitable now. I have to write about it because there is nothing else to talk about it seems (well at least until tomorrow, when the harshest budget of the history of the Republic of Ireland will knock us all out).

I have been stuck in since last Monday. I ordered my shopping online for the first time ever and it was delivered on Tuesday, thankfully since a good 10 inches of snow fell on Tuesday evening, making the roads barely passable from Wednesday on. Still on Wednesday, Mr Foodie managed to go to work, just about, but he abdicated on Thursday and Friday and stayed home. School closed on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.

We had a great snowball fight on Tuesday evening with the neighbours. Wednesday, Marie went sleighing with the neighbours and some of their friends, in the field next to us. And Thursday, Mr Foodie and Marie went out to try and build a snowman. They just about made the body before giving up, it was too cold. The fire has been blazing everyday from early in the morning, the heating has been on a good while and I lived in fear that we would run out of oil as the weathermen and women announced temperatures of -13.

Our neighbour drove me to the Post Office in the landlord's agricultural Jeep so that I could collect my pittance since nothing had yet been put in place to accommodate people who were snowed in. We stayed in all week end, Mr Foodie only venturing out to get bread and milk. Cabin fever set in on Friday and I escaped for an hour or so to deliver some cinnamon rolls to the neighbour and get out a bit, albeit not far at all.

This morning, things were more or less back to normal, we still have about 10 to 15 cm of snow out, the roads are extremely icy, but Mr Foodie went to work, and Marie's school reopened. So we muffled up and walked down to school, since my car has refused to start since Thursday. I looked like I was doing some kind of cross country skiing rather than walking and people who had the courage to take the car were laughing at me, but it was a lot better than Tuesday when Noelie and myself nearly ended up in the ditch along the road a fair few times. I'll take ice over fresh snow any day now, when it comes to pushing the buggy. I didn't plan on repeating the experience until later on this afternoon but we received a text asking us to collect our children immediately as the heating was not working in the school. So much for being back to normality! And school will be closed again tomorrow although this was planned since September.

Noelie has been fascinated at the snow, spending hours on end looking outside when it was falling. We took her out walking in it and she thought it was great fun, although a bit cold for her liking. We have been baking, cooking, reading, watching TV, knitting everyday. The days have felt extremely long and we found ourselves in bed by 10h30 most nights. And it has been boring, I have to admit.

The snow doesn't seem to want to go anywhere and we now wake up to lovely frosty mornings. So much so that this morning I had to take out my ridiculously ridiculous camera (bring on Christmas so I can get my proper one!) and I had to take pictures. Hope you like them! I am now seriously running out of ideas on how to entertain the girls, there is only so much starring out the window we can do! If you have any ideas, please feel free to let me know!

PS: Sorry if this post seems a bit like random thoughts. It is exactly what it is. I have Noelie stuck to my leg looking for biscuits and Marie hovering about telling me that she's bored. Help!!!!

Desktops have a future!

2010-12-01T09:24:00.000Z

Here in the Foodie household, we are a bit computer mad. When you live in the middle of nowhere, there are times when your computer and your phone are the only contacts you have with the world at large. There is the blogging, of course, Facebook and Twitter (although I must admit I haven't got into Twitter that much), uploading pictures, keeping in contact with my family in France, catching up with favourite programs, getting assignments ready for my course and uploading the assignments. Mr Foodie is a huge Facebook fan and loves to play games on his computer too. Marie loves to draw on the computer or type up stories and Noelie loves to watch In the Night Garden on YouTube.

So what we're looking for in a computer might seem like a lot. A good HD screen and a good webcam to keep in touch with my mum and dad and allow them to see and talk to the girls. It has to be sturdy (to resist the attacks from a very excited 18 months old), and it has to be compact so that it can be put in a corner somewhere (it does happen sometimes!). Wi-fi is a must as the modem is in the playroom and we more than often use the computer in the kitchen or the sitting room. Oh and we need fast and easy access to our favourite applications (so that I can access my blog quickly!).

So I was really amazed when I stumbled across the Inspiron One desktops from Dell. I thought desktops were a thing of the past, that the only way forward was laptops. How wrong was I! The Inspiron One Desktop has made me rethink the future of desktops. It has a HD touch screen that makes drawing and uploading pictures or other onto Facebook and other websites really easy. Its design is really streamlined and it would fit practically anywhere. And it can be connected to nearly everything such as games consoles, TV tuners, cable and satellite boxes too (but not your brain yet although I'm sure that will come soon enough!.) A real home entertainment centre and what more at a really reasonable price. Further information can be found here . It really has it all in one!

And if you think that a desktop can't do all that, then check out the youtube Video. It's incredible what desktops can do nowadays!

Sponsored Post

The season for giving.

2010-11-30T13:42:00.000Z

Are you involved in a local community project, club or charity? Have you been affected by cuts recently? Are you looking for extra funds? If so, The Cooperative Membership Fund would like to help YOU! Thousands of communities have already benefited from the fund so why not yours?

The Cooperative Membership Fund is a grant scheme that helps local community projects, groups, clubs and charities in the UK. The grant scheme is funded by members of the Co-operative who kindly donate some of their share profits and these are then redistributed locally (the criteria is the postal code) to community projects, groups etc. This year, so far, they have donated £1.2 million! The amounts for the grants go from £100 to £2000 and are awarded to projects that address a community issue, are innovative and benefit the community in the long term. These groups, clubs and charities also share the values and principles of the Co-operative.

Of course, there are a few criterias to fill before they can award you with a grant. So to be successful, a group must:

Carry out positive work in the community (it does not have to have charitable status to apply)

And the project must:

Address a community issue
Provide a long-term benefit to the community
Support co-operative values and principles
Ideally be innovative in its approach

Unfortunately, this great initiative is not available here in Ireland. It would be a wonderful thing to see here especially in the gloomy days we are experiencing. In the imaginary world in which I could apply for one of those grants, I would want it to profit an organization that gets children and elderly people together.

You can find out more about the projects that have already benefited from the Co-operative Membership Fund's kindness on their website. If you want to apply for one of the grants, you can do so here.

Sponsored Post

You have to be in it to earn some.

2010-11-26T20:00:00.000Z

For most of us, blogging is a hobby. It's something we do in between kids, cooking, cleaning and working in general. Sure, there are the occasional perks, the freebies, the awards, the reviews. But what if you could get more out of it? What if you could earn money and not just freebies.
I can see a few people rolling their eyes and thinking, here we go another sponsored post. Yes, I am not ashamed to admit it. It is another sponsored post. But it's a post written by me, in my own words and about a subject I chose to talk about. All I got was a brief with 3 bullet points about what the post should be about and, even at that, one of those bullet points was just about what links should be included. As for what way I want to present it and what I want to say, it's all up to me. Are you still reading?

If you are, then you must be interested. Good. How do I get to do this? I registered with a Website called ebuzzing. It took me less than 5 minutes. Big brands get in contact with them to promote products or campaigns. Ebuzzing then offers you the opportunity to write an article or display a video and pays you for it. It's really easy and you can chose not to take part in the campaign should you not wish to. The only thing that has to be clearly displayed is that you are writing a sponsored post. No sneaking about disguising a sponsored post as a normal post! And the brands that they work with are very well known brands, LLoyds TSB, Levis, Dell, HP amongst others.

One of brands I would love to write about is a french brand called Petit Bateau. Their clothes are simple yet stylish and the quality is incredible. I have owned some of their tops for more than 5 years and they are still as good as new. They are quite famous in France for their kids underwear, vests and pants. They also make kids clothes and adults clothes. I especially like their adults sizes. They're not your normal sizes, they go by age not the usual S, M, L and others. Knowing that the size of the top you're wearing is 12 years old or 18 years old is quite a boost, although purely psychological.

So, if you too are interested in monetizing your blog without deceiving your readers, or polluting your blog with millions of irrelevant videos, then why don't you join ebuzzing. It's easy, free, straight forward and they have a strict code of conduct that is very easy to adhere to. So come on, Find out more on ebuzzing.co.uk. And if you think you found out enough and want to register straight away, then click here and join!

Sponsored Post

Another go at making cupcakes

2010-11-26T10:57:00.000Z

This week, I received a very christmassy, beautiful big red box complete with silver ribbon from Tesco Real Food. We have tried a few times to make cupcakes and I have to say, it has not been easy. The cakes themselves are great but when it comes to decorating them, we are not as skilled as we thought we would be. So when Tesco Real Food contacted me to take part in their Christmas Cupcakes Competition, I jumped at the chance. So they provided me with everything I needed to make those beautiful cupcakes and I gave it a go.

Well, the cakes came out of the oven looking lovely and golden and tasted wonderful. Once they had cooled down, I got down to the business of making the frosting. And what a business it was. Frosting has never been my friend. I never get it right. Sometimes it's too runny, sometimes it just splits. So I braced myself, recipe in hand and utensils at the ready. First, I took my electric whisk to the butter, trying to get it turn pale and fluffy. Result: a kitchen counter, presses, windows and yours truly splattered with bits of butter. I think I licked more butter off my fingers than I ever put on toast! Next, add the icing sugar, a little at a time. Result: a kitchen counter, presses, windows and yours truly covered in a lovely dusting of icing sugar, which of course was sticking really well to the previously splattered butter! So, after a lot of kitchen redecorating, I got down to the business of decorating the cupcakes. Until my cheap piping bag burst at the seams and I found myself with more frosting melting on my hands than getting on the cupcakes.

So altogether a rather messy affair, but I managed to decorate a few cupcakes and enter the competition. Seeing some of the favourites they have put up on their website already, I don't think I have a chance to win but hey, it was great fun and who wouldn't love to win an afternoon of cooking with a celebrity chef? The 2 lucky winners of the competition will get to do just that and the lucky 10 runner ups will receive a great cupcake kit. So since the cold snap is here and we all would rather stay indoors than venture outside, why don't you give making Christmas Cupcakes a go and upload your pictures to enter the competition? You have until Monday 29th of November to enter so it sounds like the perfect thing to do over this freezing cold week end.

As for me, I think this was my last attempt at making the damned things. I think I'll leave it to the professionals and stick to my basic recipes. Although it was great fun, I don't think all that frosting and decorating is for me. The result wasn't too bad in itself and rather tasty too. Would you like to have a peep?

The Tesco Real Food website is a treasure trove of recipes and tips for anybody and I have bookmarked it already. So whether you want to enter the competition or just find a recipe for dinner tonight, go and have a look!

A new hobby.

2010-11-25T12:09:00.000Z

Dear blog,

I have somewhat again neglected you over the past few weeks. I have been busy, what with the bake sale at school for which I baked 6 big cakes, 32 little cakes and 6 loafs of bread (although only 5 made it because my dear neighbour who was in charge of taking them there decided to keep one for herself). There has been a christening (not Noelie's). There has been the discovery of delicious Swedish cinnamon rolls that I can't stop baking and eating (I'll post the recipe soon if people are interested). There has been sickness (a baby up half the night for 3 nights does not make for great inspiration although I could have posted about that but I feel like it has been done and redone and I had no new insight into it that people would find a) interesting, and b) useful. There has been studying for my course. And there has been the discovery of a new hobby, knitting. Marie had to bring in needles and wool into school and teacher showed them how to knit. Do you know how difficult it is to find knitting needles and wool these days? I hadn't knitted since those summer nights when I used to stay at my grandmother's and she taught me how to knit. But I decided to give it another go. So I went in search of more knitting needles (the kiddies ones were somewhat too small for me) and some nice wool (once again the one brought into school wasn't the nicest looking wool). It took me a few days to find it. I had to travel a bit to get my supplies in and I also bought a kids book on how to knit. People can laugh but kids books are great. I bought one for Mr Foodie so that he would learn how to cook and it worked. So I bought one for myself on knitting.

And so far I have managed to knit one scarf and hat for Noelie and I'm about half way through knitting a scarf for Marie. What I really appreciated though were the comments that I received. Mr Foodie, when I sent him a picture of Noelie wearing scarf and hat, said that it was lovely (of course it was lovely) and then admitted that he didn't think it would be nice but that it actually was. And so did my mum. Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys! I know that I try this and that and don't always succeed. I know that my hobbies change like the wind and that I still haven't finished that beautiful ABC embroidery I started when I was pregnant on Noelie. But it doesn't mean that I don't enjoy doing it or that I am not good at it. I just kind of lose interest after a while.

People look at me weird when I tell them I knit. It's something that their grand mothers used to do, not our generation. And I think it's kind of sad that all this knowledge and art is being slowly but surely forgotten. Not just the knitting, but the baking and to an extend the cooking. We are forgetting how to do all this when not so long ago, it was a normal everyday occurrence. We are hungry, we just buy ready made meals, we are cold, we buy a scarf and hat, we want something sweet, we pop into the shop and buy a pastry. Is it fulfilling? Not really. Instant gratification but no lasting sense of achievement. And although some people might find me weird and that even Marie calls me a granny (because you know, mummy, that's what grannies do. They sit on the couch with a blanket over their legs and they knit), I don't really care. I am proud of what I do. I am proud to see that people enjoy my food and my pastries. I am proud to say that I made that scarf and hat. And I am proud to say I baked it, I cooked it and I knitted it. Because it is fulfilling.

Maybe I was just born in the wrong era. What about you? Is there anything that would be considered old fashioned and on the brink of extinction that you enjoy and are proud of doing?

A wonderful start to the run up to Christmas.

2010-11-10T14:42:00.000Z

How would you feel if you got a text from somebody telling you that, unfortunately, their situation is such that they won't be able to buy your kids presents for Christmas this year?

You could react the way we did and reply that it's no big deal and that the kids get too much anyway and offer help to that person, in as big or small a way you can.

Or you could react differently. We weren't the only ones to get the text, and I was really shocked by somebody else's reaction. Well, shocked at first and, now that the shock has worn off, rather pissed off about it. Somebody else, after getting the exact same text we did, complained about it! Yes, you heard well, complained or rather said that they were quite annoyed over it. Their reasons for reacting that way were the following:

- ''We already bought presents for the kids.''

Good for you. You are obviously extremely organized and, unlike me, get your Christmas shopping in by the end of August. Although, personally, I think Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without that mad rush of last minute shopping. And I thought Christmas was all about giving! Obviously not for some people, you seem to give to receive.

- What's €10?.

€10 in itself is not much but multiply it by 5 that's €50 already. And that's without counting their partner, their own kids, and their parents at least.

- How can you explain that to the kids?

I know my kids, and I know that Marie (at least, because Noelie is too young) is told not to expect presents off everybody at Christmas. And if she was to be told that such and such can't buy them Christmas presents this year because they don't have enough money, she would understand it and, knowing her, she would probably even go and get her piggy bank and give it to them.
Which way do you bring up you kids? So that if they give a present, they expect one in return? In such a way, that they don't understand that sometimes people don't have enough money? In such a way that they feel entitled? Way to go! I'd hate to see you in a position where you can't afford it, how would you explain that one to the kids!

- We are all in the same boat.

Well obviously not, otherwise we would all have gotten our Christmas presents already, or we would have all sent the same text. Yes, it is hard on everybody this year but you have to admit that it is harder on some than it is on others. Everybody's situation is different. You were in that boat a few months back when you couldn't afford to chip in with a special celebration because you were only back from holidays. Did we say anything? No.

It took a tremendous amount of courage for that person to send that text, to publicize to a point that they are having difficulties. I am sure that to come up with such a decision must have hurt them immensely, especially knowing how much they adore the kids. But they are being realistic and I applaud them for it. I can only imagine how hard it must be for them not to be able to buy the kids something for Christmas or how hard it will be for them on the day. And bitching and moaning about it behind their back is not going to help them either or make them feel any better about it.

So don't worry, your kids will get presents from us this year. One thing I know though is that I won't enjoy buying them or giving them. Actually, I wonder how they would feel about some homemade present or is that not good enough either?

As you can tell, I am rather annoyed at them for reacting that way but what about you? How would you have reacted?

Allow me to choke on my French cheese.

2010-11-09T14:52:00.001Z

By no means do I want to turn this blog into a political one but there are some things that I just need to say. I have no intention of offending anybody, these are just my ramblings, my opinions and if you don't like them, well, sorry but look away.

First a bit of historical background and a bit of setting the story straight. During a time of great famine, a french princess supposedly said in response to the growing anger of the population: 'Let them eat cake'. OK, it wasn't cake, it was brioche which technically is a type of bread enriched with eggs and butter. But I'll allow that small translation mistake, you have to make it relevant to your readers. This was attributed to a few french princesses but it stuck to Marie Antoinette, for some reason, although when this was reported in one of Rousseau's book, she was only 13 and there was no famine so, more than likely, she wasn't the one who said but I digress.

For the purpose of this post, we will stick with the common misconception that:

During the French Revolution, while peasants were going hungry and bread was lacking, Marie Antoinette, disconcerted at the growing anger of the population, said: 'Let them eat cake'. Obviously, this shows how 'out of touch' and condescending Marie Antoinette was. She had no idea what the population was going through, and really didn't want to know. A while later, the French revolted and overthrew the monarchy in favour of democracy. The French people turned into Alice in Wonderland's Queen of Hearts and went around ordering people's heads cut off which of course included the King's and Marie Antoinette's. So for telling people to eat cake, you got your head chopped off.

Fast forward to 2010, the setting is not Versailles or Paris. It's Ireland and the government has announced a wonderful initiative to help the people through the bad financial times we are experiencing. They have really thought hard and probably way too fast and came up with this.

Imagine the following: sitting around a priceless ebony table, sunk in really plush, red velvet covered armchairs, sipping a glass of the best champagne, wearing Armani suits, with gold cuff links are 3 characters named: Brian Cowen, Taoiseach, Brian Lenihan, minister for Finance and the, up to now unknown to me, minister for Agriculture Brendan Smith. The conversation goes like this:

B.Cowen: 'So, gentlemen, since the people are losing their jobs and their houses, cannot afford to pay their bills and credits, are sitting in the cold because they can't afford to heat up their house, can't clothe their children or buy shoes for them and now shop in Lidl or Aldi, what can we do to help them through the Christmas period? It is, after all, a time when people should be cheerful.'

B.Lenihan, holding his hand up cheerfully: 'Me, me, me. I know. How about we cut another 6 billion in the budget. I mean, they can't afford anything as it is, so they're not really going to know the difference if we take another €10 a week on their jobseeker's benefit, or another €20 a month per child on their child benefit, are they?'

B.Smith, holding his hand up too: 'Me, me, me. I know, the EU has given me more than €818.000 from some kind of scheme they have going. They said we can use it on butter or cheese. We could distribute it to the people! That would cheer them up!'

B.Cowen: 'What a wonderful idea.'

B.Lenihan, not happy at not having come up with the best answer: ' Yes, but butter melts too fast. We'd have to pay for fridges and things to keep it cold and I won't give him the money for that.'

B. Cowen: 'Right, then, we can't pay for fridges and things so we won't give them butter. What was the other option?

B.Smith: 'It was cheese.'

B. Cowen: 'Right so, let them eat cheese for Christmas then! That's going to go so well with their non existent turkey'

So the government, all happy in their knowledge that they were going to make such a difference to the People's Christmas, set off to distribute some 53 tons of cheese.

Now, forgive me if I turn all French on you, but does that remind you of anything? No? Marie Antoinette, let them eat cake? No? And what did the French do? CUT OFF THEIR HEADS.

So they're talking about cutting 6 billion euro in the next budget, cutting child benefit, cutting old age pension, cutting frontline services, cutting benefits, cutting this and that. Now, that 'let them eat cake' anecdote and all that talk of cutting gives me an idea as to what else we, the People, could cut. That would save some money I'm sure, since they will more than likely look after themselves and their buddies bankers again and not touch their benefits, their pensions, their allowances. I, like so many other families and people in Ireland, am dreading the next Budget and I will not be taking the government up on their offer of free cheese. I think it is an insult to the People of this country to have come up with this stupid idea. People don't need Cheddar cheese for Christmas, they need hope and jobs and money in their pockets and those with children want to see them happy this Christmas which, believe it or not, still costs a little bit of money. So what next? An incentive to recycle aluminium cans and turn them into toys for our kids for Christmas? A little Arts and Crafts project?

Now, Mr Cowen and co, if you told me that you were going to give me some nice Brie or Camembert or any other nice stinky French cheese for Christmas, then maybe we could talk. But in the meantime, do us all a favour, call a General Election, find a hole, crawl into it and do not emerge for the next 30 years, maybe then we'll be out of the hole your party has dug for us all. Anybody fancy a remake of the French Revolution? I know I do!

Dreaming of a wonderful Christmas.

2010-11-08T12:09:00.000Z

What would I do with £40.000? There’s a lot I could do with it. I probably would splash some and keep some. I would splash and buy some presents for my family. I would completely redecorate the girls room because let’s face it, it is still quite bare since we moved in. I would get a new coffee maker since ours has decided to give up on life just yesterday and I would get an IPad for Mr Foodie. I would probably treat myself to some new clothes too. But most of all, I’d keep some. It would allow me to stay at home some more and not worry about finances. That would be a god send!

Now the dream is achievable thanks to Paypal. Just by buying something and paying with Paypal, you can be entered in a weekly draw. And the prize? You could Win £40.000! The more you buy using Paypal, the more entries you get in the draw. Find out more details on their website: www.paypal.co.uk/win/. Of course, no competition would be without its Terms and Conditions.

So come on, is there a better time than the run up to Christmas to do a bit of online shopping? You don’t have to brave the cold and the rain, all you have to do is sit there, pay for your purchases using Paypal and wait for the postman to come! And you might even be rewarded with £40.000 for it!
I know already what I would buy. So here is my shopping list for Christmas:

Noelie would get the In the Night Garden MegaBlocks for £19.99 and Pink Castle Bead Maze Tube for £29.99 from Toys R Us.

Marie would get the Nintendo DSi XL in Burgundy for £159.00

and I would get the camera I have been dreaming of for the past few months, the Canon 1000D EOS for £449.00 from Woolworths.co.uk.

Mr Foodie could get this new Dell 17R Inspiron for £449 from Dell.

Wouldn’t that be a wonderful Christmas! What would your shopping list be like? And more, what would you do with £40.000? Why don’t you Enter now for your chance to win!
Sponsored Post

I am worth it!

2010-11-05T16:01:00.000Z

Have you ever wondered what it was like to be famous, really famous? You know, paparazzis waiting outside your door, articles in the newspapers, TV appearances, photo shoots, fashion, make up and the rest? How far would you go to become famous? What would you like to be famous for? I have to admit that I do sometimes wonder what it would be like and whether I'd like it or not.
Well, I have had a taste of it without even having to leave the comfort of my own sitting room. I was sitting there, dressed in my pyjamas, hair not brushed, not a trace of make up to be seen anywhere (sound familiar anybody? No? Mmmh, all right then, must be just me, oops!) when I came across Hewlett Packard's new app: HP- Be A Star. So I leaped at the chance of putting a little bit of glamour back into my life. Forget the pjs, the lack of make up and the messy hair. I am now a glamorous star and I know what life is like for the Cheryls of this world. Would you like to see too?

Why don't you give it a go? All you need to do is visit HP- Be A Star and upload a photo of yourself and the dream can start! You can also go and 'like' their facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/HPUK. And while you're there, why don't you show me what it would be like for you to be a star by sharing your bit.ly thingy in the comments?
Why, do you ask? Come on girls, you know you're worth it (big swish of extensioned hair, massive flutter of fake eyelashes and huge smile of veneered teeth. Oh and the compulsory wink too!).

Sponsored Post

Serious lack of self discipline

2010-11-03T11:18:00.000Z

The course I have embarked on recommends that I write something everyday no matter how silly or significant it is. Just to 'sharpen' those writing skills. In itself, it makes sense and is a wonderful idea. But what happens when you just seem to 'dry out'?

Since I have started the course, I have managed to post once, maybe twice on this blog which would obviously be the perfect place to 'sharpen' those writing skills of mine (assuming I have any). But I can't seem to find either the inspiration or the will to do it. I don't know why. It's nothing to do with the course I am sure. I am one of those 'impulse' writers. I just put pen to paper and write what I feel like writing. It's not because I am trying to focus on what I write or the way I write it. So what the hell is it? Arghhh, it really annoys me.

Is it because there aren't enough hours in the day? I don't think so either. My body decided last night that there were more than enough hours in the day. For some strange and unexplained reason, I could not fall asleep. That is very out of character for me, even if I desperately want to watch something, if my body is tired, I can't help but 'rest' my eyes. But last night? No way. I couldn't fall asleep. Could it be that I was too taken by the 'Girl with the Dragon Tattoo' which I am reading at the moment and admit that I can't really put down? Could be, but the fact that I love the book didn't stop my eyes from itching and closing the nights previous. So what the hell was it? No idea.

Is it because Noelie takes a lot of time and attention during the day? Not even that. Since she is walking by herself, I have a new found freedom. She doesn't need me to hold her hand for hours on end, walking around the house in circles. She just goes where she wants to go whenever she wants to go there. She is also a big fan of 'In the Night Garden' and will happily sit in front of Cbeebies (I know isn't that evil and bad of me to let her sit in front of the TV watching people in costumes who can't express themselves properly jump up and down) in the evening while I or Mr Foodie get dinner ready.

Is it because I am cooking or baking too much? Not really, practice makes perfect (or so they say) and, despite baking my own bread nearly everyday, I think I have nailed it and as the name implies, it does really only take me 5 minutes to do it. As for cakes, cookies and the likes, it doesn't really take that much time and Marie helps. I admit that sitting in front of the oven watching cakes or bread rise somewhat magically is not a great way to free up time but I embarrassingly admit that I do sit in front of the oven and also the washing machine, especially on a coloured wash, it is just amazing! Beats watching TV anytime, and is seriously not half as depressing as watching the news these days.

So why the hell, can I not manage to have a bit of self discipline and sit down and blog everyday (or nearly everyday)? That remains a mystery.

The beauty of it

2010-10-21T13:53:00.000+01:00

I've been pretty quiet in the past few weeks. Nothing special has happened. We have just been busy living and enjoying it.

The last time I posted, I was getting ready to receive my mum and dad over in our new house for the first time. They were supposed to arrive on the Saturday and leave on the Tuesday but they unfortunately had to cut their stay short and left on the Monday due to the strikes going on in France and their Tuesday flight being cancelled. So they were over on a very short 1.5 days visit. Short but very very enjoyable. The girls loved them being over. We went on a nice walk on the Sunday followed by some cake and bread baking and a lovely dinner. We all walked down to school on the Monday before making our way to the airport.

I am glad to say that they loved the house and the surrounding area, although we didn't get much time to explore much with them. Noelie took her first steps after a lot of coaxing by my dad. She is now flying around but only on her terms. If she wants you to hold her hand, she will not walk unless you do. And then, after a while, she will just let go and doesn't want you near her. Her speech is also developing at an incredible rate.

Marie has already had 2 outings in her new school. One exploring the woods, from which she returned with a bag full of dead leaves (what for!!!), conkers and various other sticks and stones. Another one, to the library where she got to meet Steve Cole, author of the Astrosaurus children books which she loves. Tomorrow is the last day before half term and they can get all dressed up in their Hallowe'en costumes and finish early and the Parents association have organized a Spooky Hallowe'en disco for the kids tomorrow evening. Marie has decided that she wanted to dress up like her sister and so, will be going as a witch.

In the meantime, I have started on my course. It is a distance learning course and I really need to get cracking. I have nearly completed 2 modules of it already but there have been no big assignments yet. I have also indulged again in my love of baking and baked fresh bread nearly everyday. I have discovered a wonderful recipe for bread that requires very little time and effort and have been using it ever since. My parents tried my home baked bread and found it delicious. My mum even stole the recipe off me. My brother and his girlfriend who were over in August have been already converted and bake their own bread too, despite both of them working full time and working shifts! You can find the recipe here: Artisan Bread in 5 minutes a day. Look for their master recipe and you too will be able to make your own bread in no time at all and with no sweating from all that kneading!

Doesn't it look nice?

Other than that, Mr Foodie has too succumbed to the baking lightening that seems to have struck our house lately. He tried his hand at making cupcakes, no less and cookies. I have to admit, he did a very good job at it. I am no icing queen and the first time, I just made normal icing, none of that fancy swirly pink glittery stuff. But the second time, I tried to make THE frosting. And didn't do that good a job really. The stuff looked like it had split. I tried piping it onto the cakes and it just looked like a big pink blob had landed on them. Mr Foodie made them look a bit nicer by adding sprinkles and other stuff on them. He was all proud of himself and I was really proud of him too. He even brought some into work to share with his colleagues! Some of them probably thought that he was trying to poison them, but I can confirm that they are still alive one week on!

And the rest of the time? Well, the rest of the time, I have just been in awe at the beauty of the countryside. When you live in town, there are too many things around, too many streetlights, too many buildings, not enough trees to notice the beauty around. I have been looking from my kitchen window at the century old trees lining our little country road, their leaves turning from green to yellow, red and orange. I have looked at the mist hanging mid air and the sun rising over it. I have looked at the stars and the moon and the shadows it casts in the fields around. I have looked at the gust of wind taking with it colourful leaves from the trees and depositing them lightly onto the ground. I have listened to the conkers falling from the trees and hitting the road. I have watched the squirrel who lives on the big tree at the end of the garden, jumping onto the telephone lines and making its way safely across the road. I have looked at the pheasants in the field next to us and admired their beautiful autumn coloured feathers. I have enjoyed walking into the crisp morning air to the school and back, all wrapped up. And I am just wishing Christmas would come quick so that I can get a nice, decent camera to take pictures of it all and share them with you. But until then, I will make do with the better photographer of the family. Here are a few pictures that my dad took when he was over.

X
Foodie Mummy

Have you gone baking mad?

2010-10-02T11:13:00.000+01:00

Are you baking mad? It seems that in the past few weeks I have been. I bake nearly everyday either on my own or with Marie.

This week has been filled with baking, baking, baking. I seem to alternate between weeks of cooking and weeks of baking. As you know I hate waste, so when I saw 5 apples nearing the end of their life, I decided to do something with them. Now, Marie doesn't like cooked apples so I knew that I would have to be crafty so that I didn't find myself with half a cake going to waste. See, as my neighbour would put it, I'm a 'feeder'. Where I used to work, a feeder was a big big truck. I hope she doesn't mean I look like a truck. Oh dear! No, I think that what she means is that I cook, I bake and all but not really for me, for everybody else. And it's true, I don't really do it for myself and there are times when I don't even eat what I bake. Thank God, otherwise she would use Feeder in the other sense!

Anyway back to my apples. I didn't want to bake a crumble or an apple tart. I haven't broken the pastry key yet. So I decided I would bake something my grand mother used to do: 'Beignets aux pommes'. The translation would be something like Apple Donuts but they are not as big as donuts and the batter is slightly different to that of a donut. They are just apples dipped in batter and deep fried. Great idea considering I don't own a deep fat fryer of any kind, whether electric or not. So I used my wok and half filled it with oil. Now, they came out not looking quite like I remembered it. But they tasted nice and out of the 20 or so beignets I made they were all gone by the next day.

On Thursday, the unknown woman I had let Marie go off with in that first week of school came over to my house for a play date. and a coffee and a chat. I had been to her house 2 weeks ago and, in return, invited her to mine. And that morning, I went baking mad again. I baked for hours. When you don't know somebody well, it is quite difficult to bake or cook for them. I didn't know what she ate, I didn't know what her kids liked for lunch. So I played it quite safe (I thought) and baked some mini lemon cakes (well some... more like 12), some Nutella Muffins (again 12) and some Bacon and Cheese Muffins (yes, you guessed, 12). OK, I didn't know that her daughter (Marie's friend) was a vegetarian (I asked and she made that decision herself at 5 years of age, and the parents are not even vegetarians!). Surely 36 cakes/muffins would be enough for 3 adults and 4 children? Em, yes, that would be more than enough, Foodie. Despite the fact that we all, more or less, had one of each, and that she even took some home with her, I still have about 8 left over! Baking mad. That's me. I made too much again.

I probably won't bake as much this week for various reasons. One is that I baked to much this week and I am running out of baking powder. Yes, I know you can buy it in the shops, but I am a creature of habit and I am used to baking with my French baking powder. So I will have to wait for my mum and dad to get here on Saturday to get some more. Then, I am about to start a distance learning course too so I probably won't have as much time on my hands as I do now (although I need to point out that I only bake when Noelie goes for her nap, before somebody accuses me of neglecting my child in favour of cake tins and flour, although they make as much of a mess, but probably just a little less noise).

So in the meantime, I will leave you with the recipe for the Bacon and Cheese Muffins that I found in a magazine a few weeks ago (yes, I have time to read those too) and thought it would be worth a try. Everybody here loved them, they are incredibly easy to make and if you have any leftover, they are great to put into a lunchbox. The best thing about them is that once you know the ingredients you need to make the batter, you can make as many variations of it as you like! I tried olives, sun dried tomatoes and garlic cheese and that was yummy (although I was the only one who ate them because nobody else likes olives here).

Bacon and Cheese Muffins:

- 5 bacon rashers (I used streaky bacon, you can also use pancetta or even just ham)
- 100 grs of Cheese (I used Cheddar on the first batch and Emmental for the second)
- 140 grs plain flour
- 1 tbsp of baking powder
- 125 ml of milk
- 3 tbsp sunflower oil
- 1 pinch of salt
- 1 egg

- Preheat the oven to 180°C. Grease a 6 hole muffin tray.
- Grill or fry the bacon, set aside to cool and chop finely.
- Mix the flour, salt and baking powder
- Whisk together the egg, milk and oil
- Add the dry ingredients.
- Add the bacon and cheese.
- Spoon into the muffin tray.
- Bake for 10 to 12 minutes or until golden brown.

Yummy! Now I'm off to bake some soda bread. If it turns out nice, I'll share the recipe with you, shall I? Or are you sick of ready them? Let me know!

Review: Brio Pounding Bench

2010-10-01T12:35:00.000+01:00

Noelie loves throwing things and banging stuff. She loves to hear the various noises she can make by banging a piece of jigsaw against the table or even just drumming her fingers. The louder the better.

So she was delighted when last month, we received the Brio Pounding Bench for Noelie to test out, courtesy of the online nursery shop Hello Baby. The Pounding bench is one of those everlasting toy, one I remember my brother having when he was a baby, one that has run the test of time. The Brio one came out for the first time in 1957!

When it arrived in the post, I was surprised at the size of it. I didn't know what to expect. It is quite compact which makes it great for putting away and it is the perfect size for Noelie to play with, not big or not too small. It is designed for children age 24 months + and since Noelie is only 16 months, I was a bit concerned that she would not be able to play with it. How wrong was I? She has grasped the concept of banging onto the pegs very quickly, but still insists on banging onto the white ones (those that don't move!) instead of the red ones. The toy is designed to improve hand - eye coordination skills and I have to say that in the short time we have had it, I have seen quite an improvement. Although she doesn't yet bang on it with the hammer in the right position, she is now able to bang on the peg of her choosing. When she first played with it, she couldn't do that and would bang at any random peg on the bench, sometimes even missing the bench altogether. She has now understood that if she wants to keep playing with it, she has to flip it around and she gets to have more fun, so it has also helped in improving her problem solving skills (which amaze me everyday).

The hammer is light enough for her and it fits snugly into her hand and, as Mr Foodie's knee can testify, she had become quite agile with it. Mr Foodie, the biggest kid of the Foodie Household, loves playing with the Pounding Bench too. He finds it great especially after a stressful day!

So thank you to Hello Baby for letting us try this out. We are all looking forward to more months of fun with the Pounding Bench. Hello Baby offers a great range of toys and nursery equipment. Christmas is just around the corner, so why not pop over to their website to find out more about the Brio Pounding bench and all the others products they offer!

Waking up with the animals.

2010-09-29T13:48:00.000+01:00

This Saturday morning was a bit different to our normal Saturday mornings. Usually, I get up with the girls, whenever they are ready for their breakfast and I let Mr Foodie have a lie-on (before people say anything, he does return the favour on Sunday mornings).

But this Saturday, I set my alarm for 7 am. I got up while the girls were still asleep and got ready to go out. It was a lovely autumn morning, with a bit of a chill in the air, but the sun was shining and at least, it wasn't raining. I had to set off at 7h30 to make it into town for quite a special event: 'Waking up at Dublin Zoo'.

A few bloggers had been invited to go to the zoo, before the doors opened to the public and go around and witness the keepers waking up the animals, getting them out and giving them their breakfast. I had to get there for 8h15 so I rushed out and got on the road early.

We made our way into the zoo through the back door, the service entrance. After some tea and coffee, the big group was split into 3 smaller groups and we went off to different sections of the zoo. I got to meet Hot Cross Mum (whose TV appearance last year prompted me to start this blog!) and Eavan from Irish Moms. Since none of us specialize in photoblogs, you could spot us a mile away with our small (and in my case absolutely, completely outdated *hint hint Mr Foodie, Christmas is only a few months away**) digital cameras, amongst the 20 or so photobloggers with their paparazzi-like equipment. So I apologize in advance for the quality of the pictures!

Our group set off to the African Plains part of the zoo. We, first went to the chimps. The keeper let them out and threw them some apples. Although I had seen chimps before (dah!), I was amazed at how human like they were. They were gesturing at the keeper to throw them more apples and one in particular was clapping anytime one of his chimp friends caught them. The keeper told us all about the hierarchy within the group and also how aggressive they could be. Blogger doesn't want to let me upload my lovely pictures of the chimps, so unfortunately you'll have to do without.

We then moved onto the rhinos. While the keeper was talking, it sounded like he was talking about his pet dog. He was saying that they love being tickled and that they kind of rolled onto their backs too. Bear in mind that these are 2000 to 3000 kgs beasts, not a little chihuahua.

A baby rhino should be born soon in Dublin Zoo.

After the rhinos, we went to see the giraffes. The keepers had to let the zebras, oryxes and ostriches out first and while this is all happening, the giraffes were patiently waiting in a very orderly line in front of their gate. The keeper was explaining that they separate the male and the females at night so, in the morning, they greet each other by rubbing their necks together. She was also explaining that one particular giraffe greets her in the morning by licking her forehead, same when she brings her back in at night.

The giraffes go through an incredible 160 trees a week!

Afterwards, we met with the other groups and went to see the elephants. The keepers had planned to wash them for us but since the temperature at night had gone near freezing, the water was too cold to do so and they wanted to make sure that the calves would not catch a cold.

The only baby elephant ever born in Ireland was born in Dublin Zoo, 2 years ago.

We then went back to the Meerkat Restaurant for a warming breakfast and a chat and we were then released back into the wilderness of the zoo for a wander around at our own pace.
Dublin Zoo is a wonderful place to bring your kids on any given day. I would highly recommend it to anybody. My advice though: Wear sensible shoes as there is a lot of walking involved. Witnessing it, without the crowds and noise was just an amazing experience. The keepers were very eager to explain to us all about 'their' animals and they really are passionate about what they do.

I wish to thank Dublin Zoo for having allowed me to be part of such a wonderful experience.

You can find out more about the zoo and any upcoming events on their website: Dublin Zoo. And if you are stuck for ideas for Christmas, they also offer adoption packs!

Waste not, want not!

2010-09-26T12:29:00.000+01:00

I am sick of throwing food out. It looks to me that food goes off a lot faster here than it does in France. Take milk for example. Use by date: next week! My mum buys milk by packs of 6 bottles of 1 litres. They don't drink milk and she only uses it for cooking. But she can afford to buy them because the use by date is anything from 3 to 6 months away. I know that it is because the milk is pasteurised and some people would argue that it does taste differently. But what would be better? A slightly different taste and a longer shelf life or the way it is now? How much milk goes down the drain and gets wasted because it has gone off? It has happened a few times here. Not so much since Noelie has arrived but before it would be a regular occurrence. Buy smaller bottles I hear people shout. Yes, I would. But then I would decide to cook something that involves a nice bechamel sauce, or I'd want to make some crepes and, bam, not enough milk in the fridge. Such a dilemma!

Bread would have the same tendency sometimes. I have often bought bread that within a few days had either developed green mould or that pinkish dusty substance. There is nothing nicer than a nice fresh loaf of bread. But, I hate the fact that within a couple of days you can taste that it is about to go off. It's quite difficult to describe the taste. It is a dusty, cardboard-y kind of taste in the crust. Once again, in France, the equivalent 'Pain de Mie' wouldn't develop that taste, let alone mould unless you have had it for months in the cupboard. But that being said, it is not half as nice as the bread you can find here. It is a lot drier for a start and a lot less tasty.

But my biggest grudge is to do with yoghurts. To start with, there isn't half as many varieties of yoghurts here as there would be in France. Secondly, my child is allergic to strawberries. It is not very uncommon to be allergic to strawberries. So why, oh why do they insist on selling mostly strawberry yoghurts for children? Packs of 8 or even 16 strawberry yoghurts. I can steer clear of those. But even, the multi flavoured packs of yoghurts still have more strawberry yoghurts than other flavours. 2 x banana, 2 x pear and 4 strawberry! I want my child to experience different tastes but I am stuck with either buying a pack of 4 of the same variety. Or a pack of 8 and Marie (or god forbid me) who also likes banana and pear yoghurts is stuck with having to eat the strawberry ones because her sister can't eat the other ones. Hardly fair, is it? There is nothing more boring to eating the same type of yoghurt day in, day out. That and my apparent problem with use by dates. I can't seem to find yoghurt with a use by date of more than a week, a week and a half if I'm lucky. So guess, what happened to us again this week? Well, we are left with 5 yoghurts off a multi pack to eat by today. And Noelie has been eating one of them everyday since we bought them.

So I was racking my brain as to what to do with them. And I remembered a recipe from my childhood that would be using some of them up. It is a great recipe that is extremely easy for kids. It is so easy that I let Marie do it all by herself. The great thing about it is that the (empty) yoghurt pot is also used as the measure for the other dry ingredients. So without further a do, let me present to you the recipe for the 'Gâteau au yaourt' (Yoghurt cake).

Gâteau au Yaourt:

- 1 yoghurt (125 grs) (flavoured or not)
- 1/2 a yoghurt pot of vegetable oil
- 2 pots of sugar
- 3 pots of self raising flour
- 2 eggs (if you are allergic to eggs, you can substitute them by an extra pot of yoghurt I have read somewhere, however I haven't tried it yet).

- Mix all the ingredients in the order stated above (don't forget to wash and dry the yoghurt pot before using it for measuring though!)

- Pour the batter in a greased cake tin.

- Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes at 180°C (To check if your cake is ready, just insert the tip of a knife into it. If it comes out dry, then your cake is ready).

Cooling by the window

The possibilities are endless (well, about as endless as there are varieties of yoghurt). We used one of the orange and melon yoghurts we had and added the zest of an orange for a little bit more zing. I also then made a syrup with the orange juice by adding 70grs of icing sugar to the juice and letting it thicken over a low heat for a few minutes (I wouldn't recommend that children do this as the liquid is very hot and runny and they could very easily burn themselves as they pour it over the cake, just like I did!). You could also just use a plain yoghurt and add some chocolate chips to it. Or add some melted chocolate to half the batter and roughly mix it in the remainder of the batter for a lovely marble cake.

Let me tell you, once it was cooled, there wasn't much left off it! Hope you and your kids enjoy making it! If Marie's reaction is anything to go by, they will be extremely proud of having baked a cake all by themselves!

Holy Cow!

2010-09-24T13:20:00.000+01:00

Our landlord is a farmer. He is also by country standards our neighbour (if you consider half a mile up the road, behind century old trees a neighbour). He specializes in suckling i.e calves. I still haven't quite yet grasped the concept though. For me, a cow serves 2 purposes, milk and food. Now breeding cows just for the sake of breeding them is still a bit of a mystery to me. He probably sells them on to other farmers so they can make milk or food I suppose! He owns a few fields (as farmers do) and specifically, owns the field beside us. Well, actually, our house is built on one of the corners of the field. He also uses another bit of the field (right beside us to stare bails of hay). In itself, it's not a problem. It's actually quite nice to be looking at bails of hay, although these are wrapped in black plastic. He also parks one of his things there. I don't know what the thing is. It's some type of green trailer, with an open top, a bit like a big huge skip on wheels. I assume it has something to do with feeding the cows, but I'm not really sure.

I wouldn't say our landlord is much older than we are. We know that he is not married and lives with his mum in the big farm. We drove up there once before we moved in and I was expecting a farm, complete with, you know, chickens running around, a lazy cat somewhere, a couple of dogs, you know the stereotype. And to my surprise, oh no, it wasn't your typical farm. It looks more like a manor with manicured laws, ivy climbing up the facade and flowers strategically planted. Until he took us to the back, now, that was a proper farm yard, minus the chickens. I still have trouble imagining him living in that kind of house. With the job they do, farmers are not people that generally worry too much about their appearance, they are not afraid to get dirty, and wear practical clothes. So does our landlord, you will always find him wearing a pair of mucky overalls, or a dirty pair of jeans with a dirty shirt. OK, all farmers don't go around with big holes the size of my fists in their shirt but he does. That and his trusted boots, not wellington boots, more like safety boots. Anytime he calls in (which is not often), I invite him in for a cup of tea or something and whenever he accepts the invitation, he takes his boots off at the door, even though we keep telling him that it doesn't matter. There is something funny about your landlord standing in your sitting room wearing a shirt full of holes, dirty jeans and his socks though!

The other morning, as we were having breakfast, I took a look outside and as usual, the cows were in the field. And then, I noticed that one of the calves was standing by the bails of hay, despite the electric fence that is around them. I called Mr Foodie who called our landlord. A few minutes later, the landlord pulled up, not in his usual filthy, dirty Jeep but in a Jaguar and used it to block the entrance to the field. The place where the bails are kept doesn't have a gate, and there is no need for it, well at least until the electric fence stops working. He came in for a little chat and informed us that one of his 'girls' (he lovingly refers to his cows as his 'girls') was about to calf and if Marie wanted, we could go and have a look at the baby, once it was born. He also informed us that the fence was fixed and that there shouldn't be any more replays of the great escape.

Was it? Not really for the past couple of days, the same calf keeps going through the fence and grazes where the bails of hay are. We, being neighbourly, keep hushing him back into the field. We would be sitting down, helping Marie with her homework and notice the calf in there, again. So one of us would go out, make a lot of noise and wave our arms so that the calf would get a fright and go back in. Only, after 2 days of that treatment, the calf has grown used to the two legged weird looking things coming out of the big box and making strange noises and moving in a very suspicious way. He now just stares at us and doesn't move an inch. So we go out onto the road and into the field and get closer and closer and closer. So close, that eventually, he does get a bit scared and runs back to his mates.

So imagine our surprise when yesterday afternoon, while once again doing homework at the kitchen table, I looked out the window to see the calf. Not where the bails of hay are, no. With its nose nearly stuck to our sun room window, looking at us while ruminating. I felt like a fish in a tank! Mr Foodie called the landlord and told him that he was going to get him back into the field. We have a big gate at the back of our garden, that leads into the field. So off Mr Foodie goes, into the garden, opens the gate while wearyingly staring at the small bull who is now grazing on the lovely little arbusts that are supposed to eventually grow into a hedge. The young bull, having grown more than accustomed to us, is just staring at him. So Mr Foodie has to get closer and closer again and eventually manages to scare him back into the field. Mr Foodie closes the gate again and all is well.

But, oh no, about an hour later, the same little stubborn tear away is in our garden, again, grazing on all the tasty grass. Mr Foodie goes back out and chases him into the field again. Only this time, Mr Foodie has to run after the beast and this one, instead of going through the gate, decides to go straight through our barbed wired mesh fence. So now, not only does the electric fence need fixing but our fence does too. Our landlord will come by today to do so as we called him last night to let him know that the calf might have injured himself. But one thing is for sure though, we had a great laugh and it was well worth getting a new fence. My only regret is not having my camera at hand! Mr Foodie, how about dressing up as a cowboy for Hallowe'en?

Food, glorious food!

2010-09-21T18:22:00.000+01:00

I can never cook the same recipe twice. Really, I can't. The reason for it is because most of the time I don't follow any recipe. I just go with my instinct.
Take last week for example, for dinner I cooked one of my (what I like to call) One Pot Wonders. What is that? I hear you ask. Well, it usually consists of the following: some vegetables, some minced meat (anything from beef to sausage meat, while also taking a detour via turkey and lamb), a bit of stock and a lot of simmering.

I always start with the same 'base': chopped onions, carrots and celery. Then chuck in whatever else I can find in the fridge that needs using up like leeks, bacon, or peppers. Once that's softened, I then add the mince of my choice. Then, if I want a thick sauce, I add a bit of flour. If I just want some kind of brothy sauce, I skip the flour and just add the stock straight away. I then look in the cupboard for some inspiration and usually end up chucking a handful of herbs (usually rosemary, thyme and laurel) or spices (I always keep a tub of harissa in the fridge and ras el hanout in the cupboard) depending on my mood. And I let it simmer for a while. Some days, I would add some potatoes 20 minutes before serving or other vegetables like courgettes or aubergines, or a can of chopped tomatoes. Or I would just cook some pasta or rice or couscous.

Now, sometimes the result ends up looking like a bit of a dog's dinner, I'll admit it. And it's also the reason why I don't have any pictures of it. But, it's not what it looks like that matters. It's what it tastes like. And as my dad says: it's full of nice ingredients, so why wouldn't it taste nice?

However there are some ingredients I can't seem to cook with. What do you do with a parsnip? What kind of strange root vegetable is that? One day that my parents were visiting, we went to the supermarket and spotted parsnips. My mum being an encyclopeadia on all things foodie, I asked her what that was. And guess what? She didn't have a clue. She answered with one of her best cryptic answers: 'It's probably one of those roots that we stopped eating after the war'. As if people only ate root vegetables during the war, and also, what would she know about it. She wasn't even born then! We had to look it up in the dictionnary when we got home and strangely enough, this particular root has made a comeback in the past few years in French cuisine. Same with swedes and turnips? What the hell are they? They look like those plants that shriek and kill you in Harry Potter, the ones you need earmuffs for. My mum thinks (and is probably right) that they are somewhat akin to our dear 'navet'. Except that ours are tiny, white with a bit of purple at the top. Not gigantic and orange inside. That being said, navet or turnip, I think that both of them are tasteless and don't particularly like them as you would have guessed. So why would I bother cooking them? I bought one of those soup packs the other day in the greengrocer's. It came with a leek, some carrots, an onion, some herbs and guess what? A bloody parsnip. Next time I'm there, I'll make the suggestion that they replace the parsnip with a nice big potato instead. That would suit me better. I ended up taking a potato out of my potato bag and throwing the parsnip out. Talking about potatoes, why do they insist on selling you 5kgs or even 10 kgs bags of potatoes. I know it's a staple here, a bit like bread over in France. But seriously, Irish families are not that big anymore. How do you manage to get through 10 kgs of potatoes before they rot? You'll have to tell me, because my 2.5 kgs bag, bought only last week, is growing lots of little spider look a likes everywhere!

The meat front sometimes looks as bleak as the vegetable front. For a start, butchers here don't cut the meat the same way we do in France. Which makes me laugh everytime my mum gives me a recipe. She always mentions which cut of meat I should ask for (force of habit), which is pretty useless to me because first, it would have a different name, and second, the butcher wouldn't have a clue which bit of the bloody cow I'm talking about. You can't seem to find some specific types of meat here. And, no I'm not talking about horse meat, which is really, really bland, if you ask me. I'm talking veal in particular. Now, thanks to Mr Foodie, this problem has been sorted. He happens to work with somebody (as you do!) whose relative is a butcher. So on Thursday, I sent him into work with my shopping list. I am thrilled, I got 2 rabbits, some veal and some oxtail. The first time I asked for oxtail in the butcher's here some 10 years ago was memorable. He looked at me and asked me my age. What does that have to do with it? Are young people not allowed to cook oxtail or something? He then proceeded to ask me with a suspicious look about how I intended to cook it? Mind your own business how I cook it! I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't know how to cook it!

So what's for dinner tonight? Well, I need to use up those weird looking potatoes (it is still ok to use them, isn't it?). And I have some mince in the freezer, some carrots and a few peas at the bottom of the freezer. So cottage pie it will be. In the meantime, if anybody can tell me if they buy those huge 10 kgs bags of potatoes, please enlighten me and tell me what you do with them!

An afternoon of country living

2010-09-20T17:45:00.000+01:00

Before we moved to the countryside, our afternoons were never that much fun. I would collect Marie from school. Stress in the car that traffic wasn’t moving. Get home, get some lunch, do our homework and basically just get ready for the evening ahead. Nothing terribly exciting. Marie would probably play outside for a bit but I would constantly be looking out for her, making sure that she stayed in the back garden and not the front as it was too close to the main road with little boys racers flying up and down.
How things have changed! We now walk up and down to school almost everyday. I feel bad about taking the car for the half a mile journey. Marie loves it. Half way up, she usually asks me if she can run. As there are very few cars on this road, and you can hear them coming more than a mile away anyway, I let her. The other day, while sprinting up, she suddenly stopped and started waving across the road. I caught up with her and asked her who she was waving at. She was waving at cows in the field. Cows are of a very curious nature and they all came flocking over to see what that thing on two legs was doing. We stopped there for a few minutes and both Marie and Noelie were waving and talking to the cows. After we got home and all our homework etc was done, and Mr Foodie had come home from work, we all ventured out to the garden to pick up some blackberries. Noelie was sitting in her pushchair. Marie was standing beside us with a big bowl while we were trying to get to the blackberries without either falling into the thorn bush or slashing our hands to bits. Once we’d picked as many blackberries as we could reach, we went back in and washed them and eagerly ate them all. It was such a wonderful afternoon of country living and the best thing was that it was all absolutely free.
After such a nice afternoon, Mr Foodie decided to treat us to dinner and we drove to a big shopping centre about 15 minutes away. We didn’t fancy the usual fast food outlets but didn’t want to spend too much money either. We stumbled upon a Pizza Hut restaurant. They are running a special offer called Kids Eat Free.

For every adult main course or adult lunchtime buffet purchased, an accompanying child can choose from either a FREE 2 course kids meal (includes a drink) or a FREE kids lunchtime buffet (includes pizza, pasta and salad).I had never tried Pizza Hut before and was pleasantly surprised. As well as being very affordable, the staff was very nice and helpful and the food was lovely. As it was quite late, we steered clear of the Ice Cream factory as we wanted to avoid any kind of sugar rush before bedtime, but it did look incredibly fun. What I particularly liked was the fact that the children’s menu was very varied and that it offered healthy, yet kid friendly options such as spaghetti Bolognese and even vegetarian options! We will definitely go back especially since the Kids Eat Free options has been extended until January 9^th2011! Find more details about the offer at http://www.ebuzzing.co.uk/rd/13678_1481_204202_11863_9480/bit.ly/a1DhgJ

Sponsored Post

Rural mutliculturalism

2010-09-15T13:30:00.000+01:00

I have always thought of Dublin as a very multicultural city. After all, it is a capital and, like any other capital city, it is a main pole of attraction for businesses and people from every horizon. Other big cities like Cork and Galway would be too, of course, but not to the extend of Dublin. I have witnessed in the last 12 years, the development of Dublin as a multicultural city. When I first arrived here, being foreign was still a bit exotic. It was still something quite unusual. The Celtic tiger was only a cub at that stage, only a few years old. Walking on the streets of Dublin, you could hear English spoken everywhere. You could point out the foreigners, usually because they were large groups of unruly children on school trips. Loud Spanish, French or Italian youngsters, all with the same back packs. On a night out, you could play 'spot the foreigners'. They were the ones wearing jeans and big jumpers. Hardly dressed to impress, just dressed for the weather. Funnily enough, the less you seemed to reveal the more you seemed to draw attention to yourself. Irish people were the most helpful people in trying to integrate you into their culture.

As the years went on, I have seen more and more foreign people coming into this country, for work reasons, for personal reasons, for whatever reasons. I started working in a huge multinational, where due to the nature of the business we were in, only 5 to 10% of the workforce was Irish. Slowly but surely, over the years, on the streets, English was replaced by so many other languages. At some stage, even printed adverts on the sides of bus stops were in a foreign language. Being a foreigner was soon becoming the norm.

When Marie went to school, outside the school gates, I noticed that the Irish mums were mostly sticking together, and the foreign mums were doing just the same. A lot of invisible barriers seemed to be erected between the two groups, language, accents, cultures, etc. I never belonged to any of those groups. I was one of the lucky ones who didn't sound too foreign to talk to the Irish mums and who didn't look too Irish to talk to the foreign mums. But to be honest, I mostly kept to myself anyway.

Then we decided to move to the country. I didn't know what to expect at all when it came to multiculturalism. I didn't think that there would be as many foreign people around as there are in Dublin. I didn't know how people would react to me being a foreigner, to my children being half French. In my head, the Irish countryside was still very much inhabited by Irish people.

How wrong was I! This tiny place, probably the only village in Ireland that doesn't even have a pub, is as multicultural as Dublin is. I would even go as far as saying that it is more multicultural than Dublin. And here is why. Although most of the men are Irish, it turns out that a lot of the women around are not. There are British nationals, Dutch, Belgians, even some from South America! There are a lot of Irish women, don't get me wrong but I was amazed that for such a small place, such a small school, there were so many non Irish people. I was talking to the woman I let Marie go off with a couple of weeks ago. She is Belgian and we were switching from English to French during the conversation. Whenever people came over we would speak English and include them in the conversation. When they'd walk away, we would either keep on going in English or switch to French. I was talking to our landlord and he told us that one of the people who rented our house before us were German. I was talking to my ever so helpful neighbour, who happens to be British and she pointed one of the houses along the road and told me that a family from South Africa used to live here. I was also speaking to one of the South American mums at the school. So many different nationalities in such a small place.

And do you know why I think this small tiny little village in the middle of nowhere is more multicultural than Dublin? Because people mix, they talk together at the school gate when they're waiting on their children. It is true multiculturalism because cultures are being shared, and not just observed warily from one side of the yard to the other. I have felt so welcome and accepted in this tiny little place. I expected a 'rural' welcome, being looked at as the new mum etc. I thought it would take a bit of time but it didn't. Marie has been made feel so welcome and accepted in her new school by teachers, children and other parents. The people here have turned my expectations upside down and inside out. I have found again, here, that spirit, that helpfulness, that willingness to integrate newcomers that has slowly faded in Dublin again. THIS is the place where I want my children to grow up.

Open letter to the Social Protection department.

2010-09-08T13:11:00.000+01:00

Dear Social Protection department.

You recently changed your name from Social Welfare to Social Protection. Protection of who or what I wonder? What the f*&^ or who are you protecting, if I may ask? Because you certainly are not protecting me and my children.

When we decided to move, I inquired left, right and centre about what I should do with you. To change the address, to change the Post Office I collect my payment from etc. So that everything would go smoothly. I was informed I had to come in 2 weeks beforehand to inform the Social 'Protection' office that I would be moving. I did that. I was then told I had to go in to the new Social Protection office I was going to be dependent from within 3 days. I did that. I was told that for that week, I would have to travel an hour over and an hour back to go and collect my payment or it would take 4 weeks for it to be reissued to the correct Post Office. I did that. To cut a long story short, I went into your Office every week since I moved apart from the 2 weeks I was on holidays (but I had informed you of that) because there was no payment at the Post Office. I was showing up every Wednesday as I was told to and there was nothing there. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is? To show up at a tiny country Post Office only to find out that there was nothing there for me? The postmistress was very nice to me but she couldn't help me much. I found your office's phone number and I tried to call all day. But nobody answers the phone. It must be for outgoing calls to friend and family only, I'd say. Anyway, it took 7 weeks for my file and my payment to be sorted out properly. I received 5 weeks payment at once. Thankfully, I am not completely reliant on you to live. Thankfully Mr Foodie works. Thankfully I am not completely reliant on you to put food on the table or to keep a roof over my head and my children's heads. Thankfully, my ex-employer was kind enough to pay me off a reasonable amount of money which I put in the bank and into which I can dip. Thankfully, because if I had been reliant on you and your 'generosity' (feel the irony?), my children wouldn't have a roof over their heads, they would have starved by now too. Do you realize what 5 weeks of payments represent? How much of a hole that makes in a family's budget? Or do you care at all? I started to feel a bit paranoid and thought that it was because I wasn't Irish.

I thought everything was sorted. How naive of me. I took a look at my bank account today and realized that my Child Benefit payment wasn't there. WTF? Once already, this has happened to me. A few years back. When I had to leave everything behind, I missed a letter from you. And you cut me off for 4 months. I was working at the time and once again, thank god, I wasn't completely reliant on that money, even though we didn't have much of it at the time. So I had learnt my lesson. Anytime I moved, as soon as I moved, or before I moved even, I dutifully informed you of my new address. Which I did this time again. I sent you an email 3 weeks before moving. 2 weeks later, I got an email back asking me to send a letter. I hadn't waited on the response and had sent the letter already.

And what happened? Well, you sent me a letter. You know the letter I'm talking about. The one I get every 3 months or so because I'm not Irish. Yes, that one. The one I have to fill in with the same stupid information every 3 months. My only sin being that I am non national, a foreigner, an alien which makes me automatically a suspect of fraudulent behaviour. You have to keep your eye on me, of course you do, because I might have moved back to my own country and I might be taking your government's money fraudulently, when I'm not entitled to it anymore. It doesn't matter that I go and humiliate myself every week and collect a payment from the Post Office. Of course, the 2 systems are probably not linked. So you don't know that I have to do that. So, despite me informing you twice that I was moving, you still sent a letter to my old address and when I didn't return it, well, you assumed I'd left the country and you cut me off, again. If I were Irish, I wouldn't even get the letter, so I would still be paid whether I am here or not, wherever I move. If I 'forgot' to inform you, you wouldn't even realize. You would still be paying me religiously every month. But not me. Oh no. Not me, the fraudster alien sponger. Sure, why don't you consider doing what the mayor of Limerick suggested last year? Why don't you deport me back to my own country because I've been unemployed for more than 3 months? Who cares that my children are Irish citizens? That my fiance is Irish? Who cares if I have paid taxes in this country for more than 10 years? You didn't mind taking my hard earned money then, did you? But now? Now, it's a different matter. Tdiscrimination. There is a law that says that you can't be discriminated against on various grounds. Yet, it doesn't apply to you. You are allowed to discriminate against foreign nationals, EU or not. I wonder what the EU would think of your methods? I wonder if they would endorse such discrimination. I am sick and tired of being suspected of fraud on the basis of my nationality. There are to be other ways for you to keep an eye on me without me even knowing it. Maybe if you didn't do it so openly, I wouldn't feel so hard done by.

Or maybe you should change your name again to Social Protection Department for the Irish only. That way, we, non nationals, foreigners, aliens, whatever you would like to call us, would be forewarned that we will need to bend backwards to satisfy you. Because obviously, being proactive and following your rules is not enough for us, non Irish people.

Non nationally yours,
A very annoyed Foodie Mummy.

A dirty little secret.

2010-09-06T17:37:00.000+01:00

It's just past 4pm and I am sitting in my PJ's watching rubbish daytime TV. Yes, I know it's Monday. I didn't even bother getting dressed this morning. We went to a christening on Saturday and I spent yesterday suffering (or as a man would put it dying) with a sore throat, a bad headache (and no it wasn't just a hangover) and a really bad cough. I wasn't feeling well at all. Neither was Noelie. She had a bit of a runny nose and, I suspect, a very sore throat too, as she kept screaming whenever she swallowed as well as coughing for a bit.

So Mr Foodie took the day off work (thanks force majeure) so that he could look after me, Noelie and, of course, Marie. He has been pottering about today, hoovering, cleaning, cooking. He took Marie to school, made her lunch, collected her. He also took to fighting off the little buggers that we have found around our house.

For the past week or so, little bugs have been making our house their home. It turns out that they are fleas. Yes, I know, it sounds horrible. I'm itching all over just thinking about it. I bet you are all depicting me as a filthy person whose house is a dump. But we are not, I swear. I wash the floors every second day, I hoover everyday. Our cats don't go outside (apart from one who escaped the other day for about 15 minutes). So, how come we have fleas in the house?

It looks like the guy who was living here before us had 3 dogs and a rabbit, hopping around in the house. As per our neighbour, he left the house filthy dirty. So much so that the landlord called in a crowd of industrial cleaners. So could these buggers have been left around the house and awakened by our cats and ourselves? More than likely. Unless we brought one in from outside without realizing. Oh! the joys of the countryside!

So now, our house is a war zone. We have sprinkled flea powder on all the carpets, we have treated our cats, we have sprayed flea killer everywhere. I haven't seen any in a few hours now so hopefully, that will have done the trick. Every single teddy bear, bed cover, item of clothing etc is now being put through the washing machine. The weather is after turning cold too, and these little buggers don't like the cold so the windows are being left open.

I have been wondering if I should write this post for the best part of the week now. Because, like head lice, fleas are associated with dirty people. If you say to somebody that there are fleas in the house, people automatically assume that you are dirty, that your house is dirty etc. But, I now know that it has nothing to do with being dirty. I'm not dirty, my kids are not dirty, my house is not dirty. I am a borderline maniac when it comes to cleaning. I bleach everything. A bottle of floor cleaner doesn't last 2 weeks in my house, I wash the floors that often. I spray my counters 4 or 5 times a day, before I cook, after I cook, before I go to bed. So why, why, why are people associating fleas with dirty people? I am scared of inviting anybody in, in case one of them is still alive and jumps on a guest. I am completely paranoid now. Anytime I spot something small and black anywhere, I jump up to catch it.

It's been our dirty little (jumping) secret for the past week. We are doing our best to get rid of them and I know that we will but in the meantime, I'll turn into an even worse cleaning maniac than I already am. I just hope that you'll take my word for it: it doesn't just happen to dirty people.

How stupid can you get?

2010-09-02T19:18:00.000+01:00

Today, I've done something really stupid, really irresponsible. I am ashamed that I did it, but what's done is done and I can't undo it.

Today, I let Marie go off with a complete stranger. Yes, you've heard me, a complete stranger. I recoil at the horror of doing this. How stupid can I get?

Marie got out of school with her new friend, L. I had been briefly introduced to her mom by my ever so helpful neighbour (and by briefly, I mean: 'Hi J. Have you met my new neighbour?'). I was talking away to her mum and we mentioned a play date, sometime next week. Which eventually turned into today. As soon as the girls heard that, of course, they didn't need to be told twice. And they happily skipped away to L's car, real fast, fast enough so that we couldn't tell them to come back.

So we agreed to meet back at the school at 5.30pm. No phone numbers had been exchanged, I had met the mum for the first time there and I let Marie go off to her house, in her car, without knowing exactly where it was. Once again, how stupid and irresponsible do I get?

I was left standing at the gate of the school, schoolbag in hand, Noelie in the buggy, utterly disconcerted at my complete irresponsibility. I didn't know the woman from Adam (or Eve for that matter). I knew her name and that her girl was L. and she is the one sitting beside Marie in school. I had no phone number, no exact address, no make of cars (I couldn't see the car that was parked behind the school bus). What the hell was I thinking? Not much really. That's it, I wasn't thinking.

Had it been her old school, it would have been a straight no. Because I didn't know the people, I didn't know who those people knew (read into it if they knew Noodlehead or not). And here? Well, I'm pretty sure they don't know Noodlehead, that's a given. But I still didn't know the woman. What made me trust her with my child? Ok, she is pregnant if that makes it any more acceptable to let your child go off with a complete stranger because she's pregnant.

I walked back to the house, feeling sick, chastising myself for my lack of reflection. How did it turn from 'sometime next week' to 'today'?. She didn't look like a psycho, I talked to her for a few minutes and I learnt a few things about her but still, I let Marie go off with her without giving my number, or getting hers, without any more information than the general location of the house. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I started to panic a bit, I was sick with worry. My breath grew shallow, my heart started beating faster. What the hell had I just done? How did I come to trust a complete stranger met for 5 minutes and entrust them with the responsibility of my child? Silly, silly, silly.

That's the kind of stuff those bad movies are made off. I'll be the irresponsible mother, crying on the news for the safe return of her child. How stupid do I get? Just because you're in the country, doesn't mean that there aren't any psychos around. Yes but would that psycho take the shape of a pregnant woman collecting her daughter from probably one of the smallest schools in Ireland? Unlikely, but still. I took comfort in the thought that my neighbour knew her.

What did this woman think of me? She must have thought I was a complete fool. Surely, she wouldn't let her child go off with me, after having met me 5 minutes ago. Surely, nobody is that irresponsible. Well it seems that I am. But then again, she is the one who went from next week to today. I was quite happy with next week. I didn't get a chance to react. It all happened so quickly.

At 5.30 pm, we went down to the school, and as we got there, another car parked there. It was Marie, with J and L. Everything had gone really well, she was well behaved. I chatted for a few minutes to her. I still don't know her any better. All, I know is that she returned my child in one piece, thank god. And that they have a cat, two dogs and two horses.

You won't catch me doing that again! Playdates will have to be organized well in advance, no spur of the moment thing. And for you all gasping in horror at the thought of doing that, I completely get you. I put my hands up, I have been irresponsible and stupid.

Marie had a great time though, does that count for something and make me less of a bad mother? Probably not. Anyway, lesson learnt. It won't happen again, your honor.

First day back.

2010-09-02T13:38:00.000+01:00

Monday morning was the first day back at school for Marie. It was quite a special day since it was not only her first day back at school but also her very first day in her new school. Despite being a bit nervous, she was still fairly confident that everything would go well. I, for one, was probably more nervous than she was, you know, being the new mum and all that. The registration had been so easy and effortless that I was wondering, in the back of my mind, if I had done everything that had to be done, if she was really enrolled there. If I'd made a mistake and not fully enrolled her, would they turn us away?

Mr Foodie had taken a bit of time off work so that he could come with us. So we all got up nice and early (although for him it was more of a lie in, considering he got up more than 2 hours later than a normal working day). After breakfast, Marie went upstairs to brush her teeth, and her hair, and wash her face. Then, I helped her put on her uniform. In her last school, Marie only wore a tracksuit but this year, she gets to wear a 'proper' uniform. She was so smart looking in her pinafore dress, shirt and tie.

This school starts a bit later than her old school but we left the house much later than we would have before. It is only a short country lane walk as opposed to a stressful 15 minutes drive for the same distance. When we got there, we could hear some of the children murmuring: 'This is the new girl.' but I don't think she heard them. We waited outside for a short while, as our neighbour was on her way down. I was quite amazed by the number of children. Where Marie was before, there would have been close to 300 pupils in the junior side alone. But here, there are only 130 altogether. There were only 5 or 6 lines of children waiting to go in. The principal helped her find her line and she stood there. Before long, a few little girls had gathered around her and were talking to her. Thanks to our lovely neighbour, she already knew one of them. Her new teacher came over and talked to her. She introduced herself to us and seems very pleasant. Eventually, Marie's line went in and she followed without even glancing back at us.

We still had to pay for the copies and journal and other bits so we went in to the secretary who remembered us from the time we went in to enroll Marie. She asked us a few questions on how we were settling in and how we liked the area. Once that was done, we left and one of the dads came over to us to introduce himself (well jumped over the wall rather than just came over). He explained that he had met Marie while she was playing next door. He also has a daughter in the school although not in Marie's class but one year up and they only live down the road from us.

I felt a bit awkward (I'm not the best at meeting new people) but I didn't feel intimidated at all, or stared at. Our neighbour also introduced us to a couple more parents and we made our way back home.
Later on, I walked with our neighbour down to pick her up. She came running out, her face beaming. She loved it (big sigh of relief). Everybody has been very nice to her, helping her to get settled. She said that somebody bumped into her by accident and turned around to as her if she was ok. 'In my old school, they would have told me to watch where I'm going', she said.

It's been nearly a week now, she is settling in well. I spoke to her teacher again and she assured me that it was all going really well. When I drop her off, I can see a little girl waiting for her at the school gate. She's made a friend and I'm really happy about it. She also received a birthday party invitation for this saturday. We all really enjoy the walk up and down, morning and afternoon. It's so peaceful, walking up and down this little country road, waving as cars pass us by. I have met more parents, thanks to our neighbour again. She has been so helpful in helping us settle in and not feel isolated that I don't know how I could ever thank her enough.

I'm glad the holidays are over. We can finally settle properly now. Between visitors and holidays and other dramas, it has been a bit difficult to find a real routine but now that everything is back to normal, now, our real country life can begin. And we are all really looking forward to it.

Respect on the road

2010-08-27T09:43:00.000+01:00

As you know, we moved to the countryside recently and I have noticed that when it comes to respect on the road, the people here are so much more civilized than in the city. Whether you are walking by the side of the road, or cycling or even driving, whenever you pass somebody by on the narrow little country roads, people wave at you. My brother went for a walk with his girlfriend and Marie while on their holidays and they were really surprised when somebody driving a big huge tractor slowed down and waved at them. Somebody they didn't know and will probably never see again. People here are much more courteous and have a lot more respect for each other when driving on those small country roads than they do on big huge motorways. We often joke that, in the city, you are more likely to see somebody doing a quite rude gesture (which involves lifting a specific finger) than somebody waving at you to say hello.
Mr Foodie, for one, is a lot less stressed out when he comes home from work than he was before. You see, he had to travel on what used to be considered the biggest car park in Ireland, ie the M50, the motorway that circles Dublin. Disrespect is rife there, people not indicating, tailgating, horn honking, you name it, it happens especially in rush hour traffic. Most days, I would be on the other end of the phone when he was driving back (he always uses a Bluetooth though) and I was getting stressed just from hearing him give out to other drivers on the road. He was getting annoyed at blatantly disrespectful drivers who were hogging the fast lane when they should be in the slow The country air has done him the world of good though and he has now turned into one of those courteous, pleasant drivers.

AXA Car Insurance has launched a campaign called AXA Respect On The Road to try and restore respect and courtesy on the British roads. Having experienced what a difference a bit of courtesy and respect make, I went to their Facebook fanpage and gave them a big like, to show my support. If you feel, like me, that we could all do with a bit more respect on our roads, why don’t you do the same?

They have created a YouTube Channel, on which they show the CabCam, normal people talking to a cab driver about their experience on British roads, lack of courtesy, road rage etc.

They have also created a YouTube video, called Road Rage Kids. Everybody has witnessed road rage at least once but this video has a particular twist. It is enacted by 5 year olds replicating behaviours they have witnessed from their parents. Despite being funny, it is also a big eye opener as most of us will probably recognize themselves in it. I know Mr Foodie did. He also commented that you tend to forget who’s in the back and that he is glad now that he isn’t as bad as he used to be.

So for now on, I respect the road . What about you?
Sponsored Post

Fussy eaters.

2010-08-26T16:55:00.000+01:00

I'm sure you are all expecting a post about children being fussy eaters. I'm sorry to disappoint you. This one isn't. I'm very glad to say that, despite a difficult year between the ages of 2 and 3, Marie is not a fussy eater at all. We have managed to convince her that you need to taste new food 7 times before you get to like it. So, even if she doesn't particularly like something, she still eats it (eventually she loses count of how many times she's eaten it anyway). As for Noelie, well, this one eats everything and anything in sight, her new shoes seem to be a firm favourite on her list of food.

No, I'm talking about adults. I find adults that are fussy eaters quite ~~infuriating~~ challenging. See, I come from a different country with a different diet (all hail the Mediterranean diet!). My mum and dad both love good food and, growing up, I have often times been the guinea pig for their culinary experiments (think Heston Blumenthal gone wrong). Some have turned out to be lovely dishes, others not so (tip: do not decide to make spaghetti in the same water you have just used to make foie gras thinking it will give it a lovely taste. Think about the salt/water ratio used in the foie gras recipe first. 100 gr of salt for 1 litre of water makes for very very very salty, as close to inedible as you can get, spaghetti). I was made to taste, eat just about anything and everything. And no, I'm not exaggerating, I swear. Did your mum ever come home from the butcher's with ostrich meat, kangaroo meat and crocodile meat, just so see what it tastes like? Didn't think so. Well mine did! And I don't remember it that much, so it mustn't have tasted that horrible. My grandfather was a butcher, so (weaker stomachs look away now), I have eaten every part of any (normal) animal you can think off. Yes, even those parts. And, please, don't laugh, it's not funny. I was lured into it. I didn't know what it was until the next day so that I couldn't even throw it up.

Since moving to Ireland, I have come across a lot of adult fussy eaters. I'm not talking about people that are allergic to certain things or vegetarians and the likes. I actually consider cooking for them a different type of challenge, a pleasurable one. It gets me thinking outside of the box and I like having to be creative for them. I am talking about reluctance to try new things, or even plain stubbornness or defiance even.

Thankfully, Mr Foodie is willing to try new things and will taste anything I put in front of him, no matter what it looks like (and I have to say that sometimes my dishes don't look like they are worthy of gracing the dog's bowl!). Whenever we have people over, I try and curb my enthusiasm and cook tasty, yet quite unoriginal food. And I have noticed that the older the people, the harder it gets as they are unwilling to step away from their usual diets. They are not adventurous at all, although I don't think that it would be considered very adventurous to eat a tomato once. I have even heard from somebody that vegetables make them physically sick. I tried to reason with them that it was all in their heads but to no avail of course. What good is it to try and convince somebody who, for the best part of the past 50 odd years has refused to eat vegetables? Somebody also once told me that they hated garlic, could not stand the taste of it, could not eat it etc. This happened about 2 weeks after they had dinner at ours during the course of which I served a chicken stuffed with about 10 cloves of garlic and some roast potatoes with garlic on them too. And they had second helpings! So how much of it is in their head? A lot I would say.

But what happens when somebody like that has to change their diet for, say, medical reasons. How do you educate somebody in what is a healthy diet when a) they are not aware (or pretend not to be) that their diet is not healthy, b) are unwilling to change their lifelong dietary habits no matter what the consequences are, c) refuse point blank to try and eat something different? Unfortunately, this is the situation we are faced with at the moment with one of Mr Foodie's relatives. They have to change their diet after being diagnosed with diabetes and a high level of cholesterol a few months back. We all (and that includes a nurse!) explained what could happen if the changes were not made and, sadly, what we had predicted happened, a heart attack. Thankfully, the person is now on the mend but we still feel that not enough dietary changes are happening. It is extremely frustrating to know what can be done to minimize the risks of other heart attacks happening and be met with a wall of denial ('the meds will do it'), defiance ('no, I will not listen to the doctor and eat vegetables'), and a lifetime of bad habits and miseducation. I went as far as considering buying the Jessica Seinfeld book where she sneaks vegetables in everything so that children will eat more of them. But then again, where can you sneak pureed vegetables in the following: mashed potatoes, meat and peas? We're at a loss as to what to do and short of somehow force feeding them vegetables and good stuff, there is only so much we can do. It is quite terrifying since we know what the consequences will be, all we are unsure of is the time frame.

Has anybody ever have to face such a situation? How did you deal with it? Did you manage to convince them to change? How?

How do you do it?

2010-08-21T11:11:00.000+01:00

Seriously, how do you it? How do you manage to blog so often?

I'd said that my blogging would be back to normal and yet I haven't posted in what? More than a week?

We have visitors, if that's any excuse (here I am making excuses again). We have had a pretty busy week. They got here on Monday evening, so of course I spent Monday on my hands and knees scrubbing the place down (well not literally on my hands and knees, the place wasn't that dirty but still scrubbing). On Tuesday, Noelie was due back at the hospital for a check up on her kidneys. That was fun! (Not). We had to be in the hospital for 8h30. Since we moved, we are about an hour away. Unfortunately, I realized after I got up that I had no car seat in my car. We have been playing switcharoo with our cars lately. Although our cars are in perfect working order, we use our FIL's one as it will not be used for a bit and also because it is a bigger, more comfortable car than ours. But we you have 3 cars and 2 car seats, well, it's bound to happen, the spare car seat was in the spare car. The one parked in the drive of Mr Foodie's parents, 20 minutes away from here. Absolutely useless there, I'll admit. So, I placed a frantic call to Mr Foodie whose boss was kind enough to let him come home to hand over the car seat. Of course, there had to be a crash on the way up to the hospital which meant that we got there about 30 minutes late. Noelie got checked out and by 10h30, she received the radioactive injection that would allow the nurses to take pictures of her kidneys. Not too bad only for the fact that Noelie was moving too much and they had to prick both arms to manage to inject the thing. Then, you get to wait 2 hours until it reaches the kidneys, so we went for a walk around the hospital and a bite to eat.
After the 2 hours were up, we went back. Noelie doesn't like nurses. I don't know what it is. She just doesn't like them. And she tried to get rid of them with a technique that had me in stitches. If a nurse was looking at her, she would scream, something between a grunt and a proper scream, a big AAAAAHHHH. If the nurse was paying too much attention like talking to her or, god forbid, touching her, then it was the scream and the tears. But as soon as the nurse turned her back, that was it. All smiles.
So after the 2 hours wait, we went back and they strapped her onto a bench with 4 or 5 Velcro straps so that she couldn't move (more tears of course) and those 2 big huge plaques took pictures of her kidneys (10 minutes for each picture). They started sideways first, and then the front which meant that the top plaque was only inches away from her face. It was quite scary. We eventually got home about 2pm. Them we went to do a bit a shopping as our fridge was devoid of any type of food, not great when you have people over that expect to be fed!

Wednesday, we went to Newgrange. Despite a couple of showers, we manage to spend the day quite dry, which has amazed our visitors as they expected rain, rain, rain and more rain, after all, they are from the South of France and Ireland is well known for its rain.

Thursday, I went to collect my pittance in the Post Office. They had finally understood my problem and I collected 5 weeks of payments that I had been missing. So, rich as I was, we went to pick Marie's uniforms for her new school as well as her books.

Yesterday, I dropped our visitors to Dublin so that they could take the tourist's bus. There is only so much touristy things you can do really. Anytime somebody comes, we have to show them around, which means that we visited Newgrange twice in 2 months, we showed people around Dublin twice in 2 months. It is getting a bit repetitive now. However, they really enjoyed it and the weather so far has been quite good.

Today, we are off to Kilmainham Gaol, and the Leprechaun Museum (mind you, they do not know what Leprechauns are). Mr Foodie's parents are minding the girls for the night so that we can go out for dinner and a couple of drinks.

They are leaving Monday and hopefully, things will finally get back to normal. Well, as normal as they can get in the Foodie Household! We have learned that our Wimax will not be in until at least the end of September, so we are looking at alternatives other than borrowing somebody's dongle for a few days at a time.

So, back to my question, how do you do it? How do you manage to blog that often? Some people seem to manage it, even when visitors are around. What is your secret recipe? Please, let me in on it, because obviously, I am not that well organized that I can slot blogging into my schedule!

Foodie Mummy: the return (again!)

2010-08-13T14:30:00.002+01:00

Tentatively knocks on the screen. Hello? Is anybody there? Anybody at all? Remember me? No? Well, I don't blame you. It's been quite a while (sheepishly hangs head in shame). It feels like an eternity. Such a long time that I don't really know where to start. I thought that I'd be able to use my mum and dad's computer while I was away but we have been so busy that it never happened. Sounds like a lame excuse but it is true though. I have dozens more if you'd like to hear them: the fact that it takes me twice as much time to type a post with an AZERTY keyboard than it does with a QWERTY one, that I was too engrossed in reading the Twilight saga (well 2 of them anyway) that I just couldn't put it down, that the glare on the laptop screen from the sun was too strong to see anything on it, that the temperature of the pool was just right. Anyway, I hope that you will forgive my long silence.

We are just back from 2 busy yet wonderful weeks of holidays. As soon as we arrived, we were whisked away to a restaurant to celebrate Mr Foodie's birthday along with my brother's, his girlfriend's and her little girl's too. I had never met my brother's girlfriend before and I am really glad to say that we got on really great. My mum thinks that we are very much alike (albeit not physically but mentally). My brother seems to be really happy and so am I. I was starting to despair a bit as he had never introduced us to any of his girlfriends before, and he is well into his twenties now.

The next day, we all went to meet my best friend from school. We had lost contact for more than ten years but the wonders of Facebook and the Internet worked their magic and we got back in contact. We went to a water park for a picnic and an afternoon of swimming with our families. The last time I saw her I was leaving for Ireland, we were both still teenagers (well late teens anyway), both carefree, with our whole future ahead of us. We now both have families. If anybody had told us nearly 15 years ago that we would meet again with partners and families in tow, we probably would have laughed at the idea! But despite such a long time, we started talking as if we'd only seen each other the week before. We promised not to leave it another 15 years before we meet again.

We spent Wednesday afternoon in Albi, a beautiful town that recently acquired the title of UNESCO's World Heritage Cultural Site. Click on the link to view some pictures!

On the Thursday, we went into Toulouse and, for the first time, I blew my cover as an anonymous blogger. Organizing a meeting with somebody you have never met, have no idea what they look like, and yet believe you 'know' to a certain extend is quite an experience. And one that I don't regret at all. I hope that Toulouse Confessor had as good a time as we did. I hope we can meet again sometime!

On the Friday, we left the girls in my mum and dad's capable hands and drove the 6 hours to Marseille. We stayed in a very nice B&B in the middle of town called Le Mas en Ville. The 4 days away did us the world of good. We went to visit the Chateau d'If (Mr Foodie being a big big fan of the count of Monte Christo). We took a boat trip to visit the Calanques at sunset. We went up the hill to visit Notre Dame de la Garde and generally spent our time walking around the streets of Marseille and eating wonderful food (not that my mum's food is not wonderful, it's just that the whole eating out experience adds to it) . The weather was all you could expect of the South of France in August, blistering hot.

How clear is that water?

View of Marseille from the Island of If

The calanques at sunset

We came back on the Monday, refreshed from our little time away. The rest of the week was spent visiting family which generally involves more food and celebrating my parents' 34th (or is it 36th? oops) wedding anniversary the highlight of which was Mr Foodie's somersault into the swimming pool, fully clothed, at 1.30 am, after my mum dared him to go for a swim (and we had only drank 2 bottles of wine between the 6 of us!).

My dad had set himself two missions: teach Marie how to swim without armbands and teach Noelie how to walk unaided. His success rate was 50%. Marie now knows how to swim. Noelie still refuses to walk without at least somebody's little finger in her hand. I am extremely proud of my two girls. Marie has made an awful lot of progress in French. As for Noelie, well, she's being Noelie. She is a very loving, stubborn little clown, ~~just like her father.~~ Everybody was amazed at how much she eats and the fact that she now refuses to eat any type of baby food and insists on eating the same thing we do.

We came back on Monday evening, despite our wishes for the Icelandic volcano to come back to life and strand us for a few more days (although my dad pointed out that sleeping on the floor of the airport wasn't all that great, really !) and leaving behind us the sunshine. We nearly had to smuggle Noelie back into Ireland, as Aer Lingus messed up and didn't include her on the return booking nearly leading to another appearance of SuperFoodie. But it was all sorted out fairly quickly.

We are now waiting on my brother and his girlfriend to arrive on Monday. They will be staying for a week and then, it will nearly be time to head back to school (sigh). Where has this summer gone?

Anyway, my Google Reader is bursting at the seams and I have a lot of catching up to do on everybody's blogs. I hope I haven't missed too much! Despite still using our trusted little dongle, this time, I am back for good. I have missed blogging, reading your posts and your lovely comments. So on that note, talk to you all real soon!

X
Foodie Mummy

SuperFoodie: the return and a well deserved holiday.

2010-07-24T11:48:00.000+01:00

I'm temporarily back (again!). We're off on Monday to the South of France for 2 weeks of well deserved holidays. We will be staying with my mum and dad there and I'm sure they will allow me to use their computer to start blogging properly again. Isn't it funny the way most people take a break from blogging when they go on holidays and I'm the opposite. I look forward to being able to blog because I'm on holidays. We have a busy 2 weeks ahead of us, catching up with family and friends. My mum and dad have decided to send Mr Foodie and myself away for 4 days to Marseille. I know it's only a plot on their part to spend some time on their own with the girls but they claimed that it was for me since I haven't had a break from the girls as such in more than a year. We are really looking forward to 2 weeks of peace and quiet and sunshine especially after the crazy 2 weeks we have just had.

The last time I blogged we were in the house for a little over a week and were starting to settle in properly. A good few things have happened since and we even had our first proper visitor. My cousin, who had to cancel a trip planned in April or May over the ash cloud, came over for 10 days. She went home on Thursday morning. Unfortunately, we didn't do as much visiting etc as I would have liked due to reasons I will explain a little bit further, but the good point is that she got to meet SuperFoodie.

Yes, we had to call upon SuperFoodie more than once over the past couple of weeks. It all started on a quiet Tuesday. I was at home. The Sky man was supposed to come and install its machine that would finally allow us to have a decent reception and more channels than we need. My cousin was landing later on in the day. Perfect timing. Well, no, not really, by 11h30 Mr Foodie received a phone call informing him that the Sky man had to go home as he was sick and that he would come in Wednesday instead. Fine by us, what's an extra day without telly at this stage. So, when my cousin arrives, I explain to her that we are waiting on the Sky man so that the next day will have to be spent waiting on him. Of course, she didn't mind.

Wednesday: I get up bright and early as they can come anytime between 8am and 6 pm. And we wait. And wait. And wait. Mr Foodie calls them and Sky assures him that the supervisor of the subcontractor will call him back to reassure him that all will be fine. He comes home from work. Still hasn't received a call back and still no sign of the Sky man. He decides to call them while I go off to the Post Office with my cousin to collect my weekly pitance. Of course, it would have been too good for us to have a bit of good luck. My pitance is not there, and by the time we get home, the elusive Sky man still hasn't come. Mr Foodie decides that now is time for my cousin to meet his alter ego, SuperFoodie. SuperFoodie calls the Evil Sky people. They cannot apologise enough for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, they employ a subcontractor who is closed at this time and there is no way to find out why the Sky man hasn't come. SuperFoodie gives them an ultimatum. Either the Elusive Skyman is here by 10h30 on Thursday or he will be told to turn around, shove his Sky cards where the sun doesn't shine and get back to where he came from.

Thursday: I get up bright and early as they can come anytime between 8am and 6pm. And they were told explicitely to get here before 10h30, or SuperFoodie would engage them in a bloody battle involving Sky cards and arses. 10h30 comes and goes. SuperFoodie is working undercover as Mr Foodie in his office. But he manages to don his cape in a cubicle of the men's toilets in order to use the SuperPhone (that has actually been upgraded since the last time). The minions working in the Evil Sky Lair assure him that the engineer will be here within the next 2 hours, in other words before 14h00. At last, we are going to be able to watch more than the 4 blurry channels, one of which is broadcast in Irish which means that it could be sending messages to Aliens or Russian spies with Irish passports in American suburbia from all I understand from it. 14h00 comes and goes. Mr Foodie takes frequent trips to the loo in order to use the SuperPhone (well, this is not strictly true as he is allowed to use his phone from his desk but it makes for a better story, after all, Clark Kent used phonebooths, didn't he?). Meanwhile, in the Foodie House on the Prairie, we take turns window watching and I desperately try to contact the local Social Welfare (sorry, they recently rebranded, it is now the Social Protection) office to no avail to find out where my weekly pitance has gone to. Mr Foodie comes home from work, no Evil Skyman lurking on the horizon still. Then, Mr Foodie realizes that a voicemail has been left on the SuperPhone by the Evil Subcontractors Manager. SuperFoodie does not like the Evil's Skyman's tactics. Calling into SuperFoodie's voicemail directly is a low blow, only one that the Evil Skyman's Subcontractor could use. Very evasive. Call me back. SuperFoodie calls him back 3 times. The Evil Skyman's Subcontractor does not answer. SuperFoodie gets in Extra SuperFoodie Battlemode. They want a fight, they will get a fight. He calls back The Sky Lair (or call centre) and there are more talks of Sky Cards and arses. SuperFoodie talks to an Irish minion in the Evil Sky Lair and he decides to give them one last chance.

Friday: I get up bright and early as they can come anytime between 8am and 6 pm. And wait. I have to get to the local Social Protection Office so that I can find out where my weekly pitance is and when will I be able to get it. SuperFoodie gets a phone call on the SuperPhone by the Elusive Skyman. He will be here between 2pm and 4pm. I fly over to the local Social Welfare Office and find out that my pitance has been sent to the old Post Office. More than an hour away. And I need to go and pick it up by Saturday 1pm or I might lose it and it will be 4 weeks before they could reissue it. Eventually after about an hour a very kind lady places a phone call and I'm told that my payment should be in my local Post Office by Wednesday and I will be able to pick up 2 weeks payment then. I get home, quite relieved that I will not have to travel 2 hours for my measely pitance. Mr Foodie gets home and the Elusive Skyman hasn't arrived yet. But he gets another phone call by the Elusive Skyman that he is delayed and will get here by 5pm. And he does. Hurray! Well, actually no. Despite what the minions in the Evil Sky Lair told us, he could not install anything at all because we still didn't have a phone line. Actually, we nearly did but, as SuperFoodie found out, the phone company people are not capable of taking down a phone number correctly. So they couldn't contact us on Friday to come by the house to connect our line. Another fight for SuperFoodie. Another talk of arses but this time it's with phones. And the minions in the Evil Sky Lair get told something about Sky Cards and arses again. But this time, it's final.

So, after 4 days of increasing cabin fever and frustration at not being able to show my cousin around, we decided to give up. No more Sky, no more Eircom. It was way too much hassle, too much stress to deal with them and that was even before anything was installed. So we called UPC on Monday, and by Thursday, we had our box installed. No hassle. They said they'd be here about 2 pm and they got here at 2.20 pm (because they went past the house and missed it). By 3 pm everything was sorted. We still have no phone line but we will get one when the boradband is installed. My payment wasn't there on Wednesday again and I went back to the local office. It will definitely be there on Monday morning before we go away, I even got a follow up phone call to inform me.

On Sunday, we went for a walking tour of Dublin, called the 1916 Rebellion Tour and I would recommend it to anybody, Irish or tourist. It is not your typical tour with bland guide going through the motions. The guide is passionate about what he tells you about, is a fountain of knowledge and is funny. He pokes fun at people in the group, and makes the effort of getting to know every single member of the group and talk to them. Check out their website: http://www.1916rising.com/.

So many things have happened, that this is only a fraction of it. Noelie got her MMR on Monday. She had a check up on Tuesday in the Hospital and after 4 hours wait, they could not conduct the test because she had another kidney infection. She reacted quite badly to the vaccine, with temperature and now a rash that has appeared all over her back and belly. She is in great form though so I am not too worried. Our lovely neighbours have organized a playdate when we get home from holidays for Marie with a couple of girls that will be in her class in September so that she doesn't feel lost come the first day of school. We have spent an evening with our new neighbours and they are really really lovely people. Mr Foodie was invited the other day to go clay pigeon shooting and came back from it with a very bruised shoulder. We are all getting used to country life and we all love it but we will gladly do with a nice 2 weeks holidays.

Thanks for still being here despite my really lengthy radio silence,
X
Foodie Mummy