Camping

Where have the last couple of weeks gone?

The other weekend was particularly enjoyable.

We had a very full hen house but not actually in our house.

We filled our far field with friends and their children for a camping overnight.

The weather was iffy to start out with but then dried up a treat.

There is nothing worse then putting up a huge tent with no instructions, in the rain.

But that wasn't the case for all five families. 

We pretended to be very organized while 22 children romped and played along the river.

We never ask them to help prepare the tents because that's when extra poles  are left out and air 

mattresses get exploded.

The chicks  try to change the sleeping arrangements which is always amusing. 

Nobody wants to sleep with their perspective parents no matter what age and usually all the little girls cram into one little two man tent. 

That happened this past time and five girls woke up wet from due and lacking sleep. 

Their tent cover had slipped off in the night to expose them, poor chicks.

Though I'm not sure the odd older brother wasn't some how involved.

Dinner is always a treat on a campfire.

We've had butter-flied  lamb, salmon, pork fillets and more.

This menu consisted of kebabs.

But not ugly one, beautiful marinated pork ones, chicken satay ones,thai prawn ones and beef and lamb ones.

Couscous and tomato salad and little bakers warmed in the fire finished off the meal.

We even tried some tear away bread with success.

Camping puddings are the best. 

Lots of sticky finger food and chocolaty,gooey smores get served up way past sunset.

There is something so enjoyable about popping up chairs and sitting around a blazing fire with friends, sipping champagne or wine out of plastic cups or cold beer from a huge iced bucket. 

Children screaming, teenagers brooding and adults ignoring the lot.

We were all pretty smokey by breakfast but eggs and bacon sandwiches cooked over and open fire pretty much 

sums up a great camping weekend.

If the birds didn't start chirping at 4:15am that would have better but I'm not complaining.

Schools out and the chicks and I are off on holidays,best part is we get Dad with us too!

It will be nice to escape the English summer here even if we get a bit of rain where we're going, at least it's warm and I can leave my cashmere cardies at home!

A Job Well Done?

My best layer,Bazooka.
 I should feel very proud of myself but really it's more like dread.

I just finished a project, a book actually.

I have spent months deciphering my note book and then slogging away at the key board.

Having it all on A4  is  satisfying yet disappointing.

It was blinding me and it was time to finish. 

Finishing the book has exhausted me. 

After I bull clipped it together and put it in an envelope, I could have crawled into bed for a three hour nap!

But now what am I going to do with the time and energy I've had for the book?

As I handed it over to be proof read, I realized that I hadn't typed 'The End' onto the last page.

Maybe this was some sort of omen.

Maybe it's not really finished at all and I just wanted it out of the house so I didn't have to look at it anymore. 

So close yet so far I might say. 

Finishing a project, big or small, is rewarding mentally.

It would be nice if it was rewarding financially too but I won't press my luck. 

I like projects, especially menial ones around the house.

Cleaning windows, arranging the book shelves, cleaning out closets.

They are all mindless good jobs done. 

I like the little chicks to get satisfaction out of finishing a project too. 

I also like them to clean up when they are done with the project but I know that's asking a lot.

A job finished is a job well done.

I'm sure that phrase is coined somewhere. 

Maybe now I'll put my mind to a new book project.

That would fantastic.

I can feel the dread gurgling away inside me so I'll stop now. 

The wicked witch of the purse strings

Why does the concept of a  weekly allowance go so completely astray?

It was all started with such good intentions.

A bit of pocket money for the chicks to spend or save up, on the weekends.

A kind word in their ear,"take your plate to the sink, please" or "put your dirty clothes in the basket".

I didn't ask a lot of them when they were little but as they got older and wanted

pocket money, I would ask more of them. 

Rightly so.

"How about doing all of the dinner dishes or pushing the Hoover around the hall way."

So now, I pretty much have them well trained to get the dishes sorted, at least their own.

They'll clean up after themselves if they do their own cooking.

The laundry makes it as far as the floor in the laundry room.

My son can ball up his clothes and  Shoot...Score  right onto the laundry room floor as it's upstairs and right across the hall from his room.

By the way I would recommend an upstairs laundry room to any  one-what a life saver.

It's little things that can make a big difference and everyone has been happy with these little things.

Little things means a little pocket money here and there - happy chicks.

Well puberty is hitting and the whole 'little things' has gone right out the window!

I'm the wicked witch of the purse strings.

Dirty knickers now make it to the bedroom floor and no further.

Shoes get scruffier to the tune of  "I can't be bothered".

And my favourite, "Mom, where's my blah, blah, blah; I can't find it," because their room is such a tip that I am physically unable to get the door open to search inside.

The threat of black bagging the lot and leaving it out for non-recyclable day isn't made anymore as it would really be just too much work for me. 

The council would probably take my garbage for random sorting then black ball  me as a bad mother for throwing away perfectly good stuff from my children's room-filthy or not.

So they want to do less but want to get more pocket money for just being...older.

Amazing.

The wanting and needing of my lovely chicks is wearing me thin, not the waist line unfortunately, just the hair and the little lines across my forehead.

I would never let the chicks go unattended so to speak. 

I'm quite generous  I think, and I always am picking up bits and pieces for them.

"Thanks for the pen cartridges Mom, but I really wanted a new Jack Wills polo".

What ever is decided, it will never be enough.

Enough jobs done or enough money shelled out. 

I am willing to pay a good price for  civil manners  from my chicks though.

I wonder what that would be worth at todays inflation rates?

A steady three eggs these days and they don't ask for hard currency. 

Disappointment

What to do when someone you love gets disappointed. 

My littlest chick is sitting exams.

 She was truly prepared.

 Actually, I have never seen her so well organized and I'm sure she didn't get the skill from me.

I'm more the post it on the forehead or on steering wheel kinda girl.

Colour  coded index cards with mind maps and subjects organized by different smelling gel pens.

It was very impressive really. 

I tend to stick with black ink myself with the occasional blue thrown in.

On a real whim I might use purple.

She's got me beat.

But exam week is a long week and things can go wrong.

Hinduism, that chapter seemed to slip right past  her index card scheme. 

She winged it but I knew she was disappointed to have not revised it. 

She has high expectations and if her cards are anything to go by, I think she'll be just fine.

But what do I know about anything that happens in year 7.

What do I know about the real world really.

I also hate it when My rooster gets disappointed.

I want to tell him 'don't worry honey, there's a great job out there for you'.

A bit patronizing  when it's written like that. 

'Sorry, hon ." seemed to work better.

And anyway, there's a whole year to think about it.

He's not one to sit around though and wants to be busy now.

Not painting the kitchen busy or digging a new boarder busy.

7 am - 7 pm busy.

It's really nice to have him around at home but I didn't sign up for a house husband.

The food bill is higher and I have to provide a proper dinner every night. 

That bores me.

But I show support because I love him and I feel his disappointment.

Nice to have the chicks in the nest for half term.

Shame about the weather here in the South East though- disappointing. 

Three eggs four days in a row.

My little hens are defiantly not disappointing.