Author Archives: sophieblovett

Tropical Trebah

As well as catching up with family and enjoying the beautiful Lizard, we managed to fit a bit of exploring into this trip to Cornwall. There are so many brilliant places to visit nearby, and one of them is Trebah Garden.

We set off from Cadgwith to Helford Village, getting the ferry across the river for a quick lunch at The Ferryboat Inn. Arthur had his usual fish and chips, particularly enjoying dipping the chips in the mushy peas – a new and vitally important skill!

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We decided to take the scenic route to Trebah, walking alongside the river until we got to the tiny village of Durgan – so unspoilt and picturesque it’s like stepping back in time. It wasn’t an easy walk though, and by the time Arthur had nodded off as we followed the path up to the gardens I was certainly feeling like I’d had a bit of a workout…

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When we actually stepped into Trebah, though, there was no doubt that it had been worth it. The gardens sprawl over a valley, lush vegetation lining the paths which lead back down towards the river and massive trees towering above it all. Some areas had been carefully crafted, others appeared much more wild – the overall effect was of a tropical paradise rather than an English garden.

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As Arthur continued his nap we were free to wander for a while, and I found myself seeking ideas for our garden at home. The flowers were so beautiful that even I, notoriously not green-fingered, couldn’t help but be inspired!

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When Arthur did wake up, he was blown away by the place he found himself in. He pointed all around saying ‘Rose! Rose!’ (his universal word for ‘flower’ at the moment), and was thrilled by all the birds he could see and hear enjoying the gardens too.

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He was even more excited when our meandering took us to a little play area where he rode a horse and became the captain of a ship. He was so taken in fact by that little red wheel that I thought at one point we’d never be able to lure him away…

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We did have to move on eventually, but fortunately Arthur’s disappointment was short lived as there was still plenty more to keep him entertained. He was fascinated by the tadpoles in the fountain pool, and when we slipped into the cafe for a much needed cup of tea he was kept busy by the toys he found there.

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It was so lovely to find somewhere different to explore, especially somewhere that had so much for all of us to enjoy. We’ll definitely be back – I’m intrigued to see how the gardens change with the seasons – and I would very much recommend a visit if you ever find yourself in that part of Cornwall. You can find out more about it here!

 

Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall

 

Making deals with the universe

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I often catch myself doffing my hat to solitary magpies, not able to take the chance that they won’t otherwise find a way to let their sorrow seep into my life. No-one’s yet picked me up on it, stopped and enquired exactly what it is I think I’m doing, and if they did I’m not entirely sure what I’d say.

It’s not the only superstition I buy into. Unless I absolutely have to, I’m really not fond of walking under ladders. I try to convince myself that I’m being ridiculous, that it’s no big deal if the pavement and scaffolding are configured in such a way that avoiding it’s impossible. But I can’t ignore the fact that my heart quickens slightly and I apologise silently to whoever or whatever it is that might be offended by my actions. For ages I had a thing with drain covers too, adjusting my path to avoid walking over three in a row. That was pretty tricky to keep up in London, though not as tricky as avoiding stepping on the cracks between the slabs, something which I have felt compelled to try to adhere to during the more anxious periods in my life.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, exams have always been a bit of a magnifier for this irrational behaviour. I can’t remember the exact details of the little rituals I’d enact to maximise my chances of success, but I still have the tiny, intricately decorated wooden elephant my Granny gave me as I was about to sit my GCSEs. It became an essential addition to my exam pencil case, watching me from the corner of my desk. I didn’t dare to see what would happen if it wasn’t there, though I knew deep down that any power it held was all in my mind.

I find it strange that I get sucked into this kind of superstitious behaviour, as on the whole I’d consider myself to be pretty rational. I’m not religious, feeling no presence of a greater being beyond humanity. And yet there must be something in my core that fears that the universe may one day turn on me, may decide that my luck has finally run out.

Because I know that I’m insanely lucky. Even on the days when I feel like everything is going wrong – maybe especially then – I cannot help but reflect on all the things that I am blessed with. If I did believe in a god, perhaps it would be him who I would thank. But as it is I’ll just go on making my little deals with the universe and trying to make the very best I can of this wonderful life I’ve been given.

Thank you to Sara at Mum turned Mom for inspiring this post with her prompt: Calvin: You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help (Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes)

mumturnedmom

 

Word of the Week: Dada

Today the word that sums up the week that was is:

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After the fantastic family wedding that drew us down to Cornwall, Leigh had to head home pretty promptly to keep up with his medical school commitments. Not having anything in particular to lure us back, Arthur and I stayed in Cadgwith with my parents.

From moments after Leigh drove away Arthur began to wonder where he was, and calls of ‘dada’ have punctuated the rest of our week. Whenever anyone came to the door Arthur’s eyes lit up, and the anticipation when anyone reached for the phone was almost too much to bear. It was dada who was on the other side of the door whenever Arthur heard the shower running, and dada who he cried out for in the middle of the night as I tried to hold him close.

There was a silver lining to all this: over the course of the week having only me as a familiar comforter Arthur has come to trust my parents more and more. From beach fun to sleepy stories it’s been lovely to watch them bond – and to watch Arthur realise that his safety net extends further than he perhaps initially thought.

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Still, though, I think Arthur is going to be overjoyed to realise his dada still exists – and not just on Skype. And without a doubt I’m going to be very glad to have my co-parent back by my side.

 

The Reading Residence

The most important meal of the day

When I was a teacher, I was always more than slightly alarmed to see teenagers clutching litre bottles of cut price energy drinks as they arrived at school in the morning. Sometimes this was supplemented with a packet of crisps, but either way I doubted it was going to do much to set them up for a day of learning.

Just by talking to kids about their breakfast habits, it was clear that there was a strong correlation between a healthy and nutritious morning meal and the ability to focus, study and learn – something that has been confirmed by numerous studies over the years.

It is a sad fact that one in seven British schoolchildren go to school without having eaten breakfast at all, but when you look at Africa the figures are even more stark. Research has highlighted that about a third of people in Uganda and Rwanda are gravely undernourished – an estimated fifteen million people. For children, this becomes yet another factor which holds them back from reaching their full potential.

It is for this reason that Send A Cow has launched the Break… Fast Appeal which aims to raise £500,000 to give children in Africa a better start to their days and to their lives. And as part of this appeal they have launched a fantastic free recipe book, ‘The Most Important Meals of Their Lives’, which is available online here and captures in stunning images the food that fuelled the achievements of some of the greatest people in the history of humankind.

From Winston Churchill to Rosa Parks, from Florence Nightingale to Nelson Mandela, this intriguing and inspiring book offers an insight into the meals that created history. And not only that, the clear and straightforward recipes offer you the chance to recreate the meals for yourself.

I rather like the look of Cleopatra’s Ancient Egyptian bread sweetened with honey and dried fruits.

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Someone else who was keen on a starchy start to the day was Jane Austen, with her breakfast of bread and cake accompanied by tea and cocoa.

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Or perhaps you’d rather go for something a little more savoury, like Charles Darwin’s feast of game and eggs?

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Whatever your tastebuds crave in the morning you’re bound to find something in this book to tickle your fancy. I’m certainly looking forward to trying out some of the recipes as an alternative to our breakfast staple of porridge and fruit.

But this is more than just a recipe book. It is a fantastic educational resource that could be used at home or in school not only to raise awareness of the importance of breakfast for children in Africa, but also to spark off conversations with young people about how they start their day. Perhaps by exploring the meals that their heroes enjoyed, teenagers might be encouraged to rediscover this essential meal for themselves – who knows, it might just be enough to release the potential of the people who will shape our future just its subjects have shaped our past.

You can find out more about the appeal and download your copy of the book at www.sendacow.org.uk/breakfast. Whilst the book is free, there is a suggested contribution of £2.50 to the appeal. The UK government are doubling all donations made until the end of June 2014, meaning that your £2.50 would provide enough to support an African child for a month. For £30, you could support a child for an entire year! Now that’s a lot of breakfasts…

 

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B is for beach

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More specifically, Breakwater beach in beautiful Brixham. There might be better beaches out there but this one is mine and I love it. From the gently rounded pebbles that on certain days appear to be almost entirely uniform to the slightly too sleep slope that builds anticipation as you stumble down towards the sea, from the water that glows turquoise in the sunshine to the panoramic views across the bay. B is for beach.

Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.

The wonderful wedding of Non and Ash

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Since I was little I’ve been going on holiday to glorious Cadgwith Cove, a truly idyllic little fishing village on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall. Not only is it stunning, but it’s also home to much of my Mum’s family – and on Saturday it was the spectacular site of the wedding of my cousin Non.

The ceremony took place in the beautiful tin church that sits at the bottom of my Nanny’s garden. From there it was a bit of a challenging walk to the reception: we set off with my brother and sister-in-law, Arthur dozing and feeding in the sling.

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We arrived to find two geodesic domes in a field which sloped down towards the sea. Arthur woke up almost immediately, and was desperate to get down and start to explore.

He braved the bouncy castle first with the help of my mum – he wasn’t too sure what to make of it but at least he had a chance to try it out before the older kids (and adventurous adults) took it over!

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Then he was off across the field, calling out ‘water’ as he pointed at the sea. Fortunately he was intercepted by the bride and groom’s dog, Poppy, before he managed to get that far…

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He made it back up to crash a couple of wedding photos before heading off to enjoy the view again with dada. It really was quite a view, and the weather could not have been more perfect.

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When it was time to head inside the fun continued as Arthur split his time between the kids’ table and the various grown ups keen to keep him entertained.

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It was such a lovely occasion for all of us – surrounded by family in a gorgeous setting with so much creativity and attention to detail. As the meal came to a close we spilled out on to the grass to soak up the last of the sunshine and recharge ready for an evening of dancing: the perfect end to a perfect day.

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Poldhu Cove

I love Devon, but one of the great things about living there rather than London is how much closer we are to Cornwall. My Mum’s family live down here and we’re visiting for a few days. And with the weather being as glorious as it has been we thought we’d better make the most of it and head to the beach!

Since we got back from Cyprus Arthur has been dying to get in the sea again. We’ve managed a couple of little paddles in the beaches near us, but we haven’t quite had the time or the weather to get stuck in with some proper beach action. So today we got Arthur layered up with his swim nappy, wetsuit and uv top and set him free at Poldhu Cove.

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He headed straight for the sea, running over the golden sand and not hesitating for a second as the cold water lapped up over his ankles. I was impressed with his bravery, and relieved that last summer’s enthusiasm for the English sea had not diminished with his new awareness. It definitely bodes well for the rest of the summer.

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He enjoyed playing on the sand too. He seems to have moved on from eating it thankfully, and with the little bucket and spade set my mum picked up from the beach shop he sat transfixed as I had a quick (chilly) dip. He was fascinated with the way the sand behaved in the water, beginning little experiments which I’m sure will get more complex as he gets older.

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His enthusiasm seemed to go on and on, long after I thought the shivers would have set in and much to the amusement of the watching lifeguard. He was clearly in his element, loving the space to run, the sea to splash in and the sensation of the sand between his toes (and pretty much everywhere else too).

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Needless to say, by the time we did manage to distract him for long enough to get him dry and warm he was exhausted, and very ready for a nap the moment we got him to the car. All in all a highly successful beach trip – the start of summer, and the first of many more to come.

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Country Kids from Coombe Mill Family Farm Holidays Cornwall



Word of the Week: Cuddle

Today the word that sums up the week that was is:

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Arthur has been wanting lots of cuddles recently. Partly I think he’s needed the comfort: his teeth have been bothering him for sure – he has eight coming through at the moment – and he’s had a bit of a cold this week too. More than that though he’s worked out how to name them – they’re ‘duddles’ rather than ‘cuddles’, but now he can ask for them he wants them all the time.

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It starts from the moment he wakes up in the morning: reaching out his arms for cuddles, not only from us but also from his bears.

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As the day goes on he’ll keep checking in to recharge, making sure he gets his cuddle quota. If we’re hard to reach then anything will do – his water bottle, or perhaps a piece of roasted carrot.

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Each expression of cuddly affection is accompanied by a cry of ‘duddle!’, full of urgency and enthusiasm. It is the cutest thing to watch, and to be on the receiving end of the duddles is even more adorable.

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I hope that this isn’t entirely just a phase, that what we’re witnessing is the growth of our baby into a little boy fuelled by the exchange of such heartfelt affection. It might just be one of the best things about being a mum, and if I’m honest I’m not sure how I coped when I didn’t have so many cuddles in my life.

 

The Reading Residence

 

The power of attachment

Before Arthur was born, I didn’t really have much of an idea about the kind of parent I wanted to be. I knew I wasn’t great at keeping to fixed routines, and my time as a teacher had taught me that nurturing young people generally works best when you take the cues from them. But it was one thing listening to teenagers communicate their needs and wants – how on earth was I supposed to do that with a tiny baby?

I knew I wanted to breastfeed, but I figured I’d want to express fairly regularly so that other people could feed the baby too and I could have a bit of freedom. It was losing my freedom, if I’m honest, that I was most nervous about. I was sure I’d want to make the most of my parents’ enthusiasm as new grandparents to get out for time alone with Leigh, to touch base with the me that I was before I became pregnant rather than letting this new little person take over everything.

We were given a pram by Leigh’s parents, having researched endlessly which one would be best for tackling the off-road paths and beaches near where we live. My mum helped me decorate the nursery, all decked out with the cot the baby would move into once he’d passed the six month stage and was ready to graduate to his own room. I knew there would be times when he would sleep with us, but I definitely didn’t want to encourage that on a regular basis.

And then when Arthur was born everything changed. He went from being an abstract baby to a real little human being – and I was surprised to find that I didn’t want to leave his side. I didn’t really get out of bed for the first two weeks after he was born. Partly because it was the middle of winter, and partly because it took all the focus and energy I could muster to overcome the problems we had getting breastfeeding established (you can read about that here). And during that time, when I wasn’t dozing, I read. I started by browsing internet forums looking for inspiration about how I was actually going to approach this business of parenting. I know people say that you should just trust your instincts, but I was terrified of getting it wrong – I did have an idea about how I wanted to do things, but it was so different to what I considered socially acceptable that I needed validation. And slowly I began to find it.

I realised that I identified with what people were calling attachment parenting – I’d never heard of it before, but keen to find out more I ordered several books – Dr Sears’ The Baby Book was great for day to day questions and concerns, but it was the work of Deborah Jackson that really inspired me. I read When Your Baby Cries and Three in a Bed, and as I journeyed with her through different times and cultures I realised that the status quo I had come to accept was far from the only option.

As Arthur and I began to face the world together, I began to put these ideas into practice. After nearly being put off by the first sling I tried I soon became a convert to babywearing – I wrote about the beginnings of that journey here. I found that I was so calm and focused when I was wearing my baby – I didn’t have to put him down alone to get things done, or worry about him as he napped elsewhere. Bizarrely by physically attaching Arthur to me I found I finally had the freedom to begin to live my life again, starting with beginning to write the novel that had been swimming around in my head for so long.

It was a long time before we asked my parents to babysit – they’ve still only done it a couple of times – because we decided we’d miss Arthur too much and would rather he just came with us. And so he did, to meals out, to parties, to gigs, to festivals. I was surprised again – though of course relieved – to find that Leigh shared my inclinations, and as a result the three of us have had so many fantastic adventures together.

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The thing that has most surprised both Leigh and I though has been I think our attitudes to sleep. The sixth month point came and went long ago and Arthur is still sleeping in our room. We’ve talked about it, and both agree that it’s going to be a little while before we’re ready to give up co-sleeping. Arthur loves being close to us, and there is something quite magical about sharing the moments just before he goes to sleep and when he has just woken up as well as the groundswell of love that I still feel when I watch his sleeping form in the middle of the night or he snuggles up to me for a feed.

I know that we’ve been lucky, that there are certain freedoms that we’ve had that have meant I have been able to let Arthur set the pace. I haven’t had to go back to my job as a teacher, and as I muddle through in my attempts to forge a new career at home I can adjust how and when and where I do things to suit his rhythms.

And bizarrely, with all this talk of attachment and the warnings I’ve ignored from well meaning advisors, Arthur’s actually becoming a very confident and easy going little boy. He rarely cries, and as much as I try to follow his cues whenever I can he is proving himself to be highly adaptable when he has to fall in step with me.

I am just so glad I took the time to explore the alternative approaches to parenting that were out there, to find a way to meet the needs of both my baby and myself. I’m glad too that I accepted the changes that becoming a parent wrought within me – however surprising they were at first. I suppose you’ll never know what sort of a parent you’ll be until you are one – I’m not for a second suggesting that the approach we’ve taken would work for everyone, but for the time being at least it definitely seems to be working for us.

Thank you to Sara at Mum Turned Mom for inspiring this post with her prompt of ‘surprise’.

 

mumturnedmom