Music still the food of love

This Sneaky photo is taken at the marvellous Chiswick music school. One of those photos taken deliberately so you don’t get any faces in it!

I can’t sing the praises enough. We pay £180 a term but we get one percussion lesson & one 1:1 piano lesson every week in term time.

If you read this blog then you’ll know we’re massive fans of music in this house. We have 3 ukuleles, 2 guitars (none of which we can play!), 1 gorgeous Native American flute (which I do play), a great keyboard (my way of chilling out & for DS to practice piano on), plus a whole box of percussion .

As far as we’re concerned,music really IS the food of love. It’s one of the greatest additional gifts you can give your children (on top of cuddles, kisses, bedtime stories and your own special family routines that only you know about).

Chess and other violent games

Violent games?

I don't know how you feel about them. For the last few months DH & DS have been embroiled in an old war game where two relentless sides battle it out to destroy pieces one by one and eventually – ruthlessly and unabatingly – cage in the king.

This is having a strange effect on me. Yes I do sit down and play chess with DS, but for the most part it is daddy's and his little enclave. I've even caught myself saying 'oh I don't know the best move, you'll have to ask daddy.'

So what does this mean for the dynamics of the flat? Am I:

 

A) Letting them have a wonderful male bonding space?

B) doing that female thing of giving certain activities over to the 'male' psyche?

 

Do other people even have this association of chess with father bonding? Perhaps I only do because it was MY father who taught me how to play chess, when I was 3. And who gave me my first electronic chess set, when i was 8.

 

I was in Chess Club, ranked high on our Chess Ladder, read (mild) books on strategy. My mother left us to it, much more interested in her beloved Russian literature and Trollope (Anthony not Joanna). But was this really the case, or was she really stepping back for me to have this space with my dad?

 

In any case, my chess days ended in a fizzle at around age 11. By that stage my brother was 7 and well down the route of playing challenging games with our father.

 

Me? I stepped back, under the feeling/illusion that this was really a male world. And that I should bow out to my brother. About the same time I stopped concentrating on mathematics (my father's obsession) and went down the road of words, literature and writing (my mother's skills). I thought this was the correct thing to do.

 

I wonder now whether I too am repeating a false gender pattern, every time I retreat to allow DS & DH this bonding space over the black and white board.

 

But then Hey – who am I to complain? In our male-heavy household, they're obsessed by a game where the queen is the most powerful piece on the board.

 

And it gives me time to retreat to the sofa and read my beloved Trollope (ashamedly Joanna, not Anthony).

 

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If music is the food of love…get piano lessons

Two things we love as a family are chiswick as a community, and making music.

So one of the best additions to our family life this month has been Chiswick Saturday Music Centre.

 

Run by parents (but with professional music teachers) it offers a range of musical instrument and singing classes for kids and teenagers on a Saturday morning. DS, (aka Chiswick Boy) does junior percussion at 10:20, with a piano lesson later on.

That's a civilised enough time to still let us have our beloved leisurely Saturday morning long breakfast with the newspaper and crosswords.

Our piano lessons work out at £18 a session, which for 20 mins was a bit eye watering at first. That's even with all the admin & organisation done by the volunteer parents. But actually in piano lesson terms that's a reasonable price. (No really!)

But the amazing thing is that once you sign up for one course of lessons, you have access to a range of other, free classes and groups. Hence the junior percussion. Plus there's senior percussion, choirs and orchestras.

Learning any musical instrument is an amazing addition to a child's life. Not only does it provide a life long gift and a fulfilling hobby, it also helps with maths (counting beats, keeping rhythm) and reading (recognising the shapes of notes, plus their associated letters).

Walking round Chiswick Music School, listening to the sounds of everything from drums and rock guitar to piano and opera singing, takes me back to my childhood.

For me, violin lessons were a major part of my life from 10 to 14. Saturday morning orchestra was the highlight of my week (until I got a paper round which meant I could afford to pay for weekly teenage drama lessons).

I tinkle on the piano myself most evenings (I'm teaching myself). We have a whole house full of instruments – from ukeleles to jews harps, broken guitars to hand carved native american flutes.

Chiswick Music School is a I way I can share a passion with my son. If he continues to like it, then my £18 a week will have bought him love of music that will last a lifetime. And that is priceless.

Chiswick Saturday Music Centre, held in Chiswick Community School.

http://www.chiswicksaturdaymusic.org.uk/

 

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Cool blogs of the week

 

Since I started my blogging journey I have found so many amazing blogs, written by honest, open, funny, inspiring and real women. I love the way that I can be reading about a welsh smallholder who dyes her own yarn one moment; and then delving into the lives of two mamas in a civil partnership running a local library the next.

One day I'm learning about how to make pompoms, the next I'm reading about ideas for homeschooling on a round the world year long trip. I wake up to someone sharing a long night of baby crying and post natal depression. I go to bed with someone describing her disastrous attempts at home dying her hair in between the school run and a board meeting.

I wanted to give a high five, thumbs up, shout out share to some of the blogs I trip across on my journey through cyberspace.

Every week I'm going to pick three of the fabulous blogs I've discovered or been reading that week. Just my way of sharing the luuurve…

So here is this week's haul of lovely blogs that have been inspiring me.

1. At home with Ali: a blog about being creative with my kids

I love blogs about crafty stuff to do with kids. In my house we have a massive wooden crate designated as th craft box. As well as the usual glue sticks, glitter, tissue paper, it's also where we put used ice lolly sticks, 'Interesting' small boxes, and used gift wrap to creased to be reused but too cute to recycle.

But I like the more chaotic craft sessions, so don't even attempt to emulate anything that has masses of instructions or looks too complicated. I love Ali's blog because it really conveys a sense of honest, get stuck in, fun, creative play.

Just look at that gorgeous gloopy pink mess about to drop on the floor in her latest post. That's my kind of crafting! Crazy, sweet and child-centred.

 

2. Nyssapod

The first post I saw on here had me hooked. I could happily look at the piles of books on people's bedside cabinets all day. Nothing gives you a true snapshot of someone…it's like snooping round someone's bookshelves, only tons better (because by the bed are the books that someone truly wants to read, not just the ones they think they should read).

The blog itself looks really clean and fresh, with lovely, clear images. I love the post on how to shop in charity shops…one of my own passions.

 

3. 29 year old mama

I've been following 29 year old mama for a while. But what brought her really into my esteem this week was when she wrote that her husband had bought her a pink radiator for her kitchen.

Let's just pause. This woman has a pink radiator. I want to come and sit in her kitchen. Not just that, but in the same blog post she casually reports that they have a camper van, and have just designed their bedroom to a camoer van style. This is utter style kudos in my book.

I can't even manage to get a matching set of bedding on the bed, and this domestic design powerhouse has color matchd radiators and a theme bedroom. And a wonderful, happy writing style.

I'm still dreaming about that pink radiator.

 

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Gentle domesticity…and cheese

You know you've reached a certain time in life when your definition of calm and sophistication is Waitrose cheese counter. Seriously, I walk through those hallowed doors with DS on a Saturday and I feel like I've entered another world.

Gone are the days when I needed a gin martini in a slick bar to feel glamorous. Now I just need a trolley (for our bags – we are not doing a weekly shop here!), DS' warm palm in my hand, and a prolonged hover at the cheese counter to feel the height of glamour.

Buying a wedge of Brie and a small slice of Irish blue is now the equivalent of a spa break or a day pass to the Sanctuary.

And then I had a flashback to when I was DS' age, and how this was exactly what I used to do with my mum. We'd nip into Fine Fare together and hover at the deli, eventually settling for a small tub of cream cheese, an avocado and a glass bottle of orange juice, with a screw top lid.

We would find a bit of wall to sit on, and we'd munch the purchases, watching the cars and pedestrians rush by.

The strongest memories I have of being with my mum are these simple rituals. Buying socks. Buttering bread. Sitting down for a cup of tea.

Now these are the things I love doing with DS. Sublime in their normality. I work full time and so don't get to just have these gentle domestic moments with DS every day. So I cherish them.

Doing nothing, ambling home, munching soft warm pretzels, learning the names of the spring flowers which are poking their way through the earth. and yes, buying a simple wedge of cheese.

We spend so much time trying to make things 'big' and 'fun' and 'wonderful', and forget that the wonderful moments are the gentle everyday ones; the subtle rhythm of gentle domesticity that connects our children with us, and (if we are lucky) us with our parents, and so on through the generations.

…I have tied my tiger print scarf round DS' scooter to pull it. We roll home in this way.

On the way back DH catches us up. He's loaded with Sainsburys bags, having just done the proper shopping. He is humming. We all stroll back together.

Where do you find your moments of gentle domesticity? I'd love to hear…please tell me, using the comment box below.

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A life on the ocean wave……?

If you follow me on twitter (@chiswick_mum) you may have noticed that over the last month or so I've become rather fixated with the idea of getting a boat.

Not a weekend saunter up the river, Wind of the Willows style, boat. But a proper live in, porthole, pot plants on the bridge, boat. It's my solution to living in wonderful, wonderful chiswick, beating house prices, and being near the lovely river which we all adore.

Plus, if my indecisive nature gets the better of me, if I want to uproot us back up north in a few years, then I can just yell 'man the anchor' (or whatever it is salty seadogs shout) and we can sail up the river to Yorkshire.

Now some may say my plan has more holes than a Swiss cheese (or a dodgy boat on gumtree). For a start, kids and water don't mix outside of bath time, swimming pools and holidays.

Plus you have to haul them out of the water every few years (or so I understand from my limited research) to get their hulls looked at. This is a bit like an MOT for boats and – judging by the camper van fiasco of 2012, where I spent ~~sob~~ three grand on a van which broke down dramatically on the motorway on the WAY TO our holiday and has never seen the open road again, phew are you still reading this multi clause sentence – could render you homeless quickly.

People go on about the mooring fees, but to be honest, if you know what you're getting into that doesn't rally bother me. It's the unknown quantities which I find more cautionary.

We have done some beautiful walks up the river, surreptitiously staring into port holes and squinting into steering wheel rooms. I have yet to be brazen enough to go for a viewing via an estate agent, but it is only a matter of time before I cross that line.

Oh, then there's the financing. Boats aren't cheap and mortgage companies (apparently) laugh at you and call security if you ask about a boat mortgage (this may not be true. In fact I may have dreamt this last bit after eating too much Camembert one night.)

But the upshot is you have to get the loan from a broker. With prices what they at, the price of a cheap boat can be as little (I use that word in the widest possible sense) as the cost of a deposit for a 'normal' flat.

So do you know, or feel, anything about boats? Do you live on a boat with kids? I've found it really difficult to find any information from real families who are doing the urban boat lifestyle thang.

So get in touch if you do and fill me in!

And for you landlubbers our there – what do you think? Crazy idea or damn fine thinking? Let me know using the comments boxes that should be below!

Ahoy there me hearties…

 

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Just another Chiswick week

Part of the best thing about leaving no-ties freedom behind and becoming a mother, is that it’s a lesson in living in the moment.

Suddenly it’s the little things that matter…not the great big wow moments. It’s the gentle rhythm of day to day life and the little pockets of joy that pepper the hours that roll into one. In fact it’s precisely because they can so easily roll into one that its good to remember the little things.

For me living here in Chiswick, it’s all about the small moments. I’m not going to be writing about the wild night out I had at the cocktail bar, or the fabulous play we saw this week, or the long boozy Sunday lunch we did with friends. Those regular beats belong to a melody of the past.

And my Chiswick life has a more gentle, if just as passionate and life-affirming tune.

It’s the barely-Spring walk up the river, breath-held wonder at the new chicks; feet crackling on low-tide shingle as we watch the misty breath come off the faces of the rowing eight who glide seemingly effortlessly through the water.

(Although I know they are like a troop of ducks, calm on the surface, but underneath they are working at super power to keep themselves afloat. And isn’t that like my life itself…like all mothers’ lifes, wandering through the journey of family life appearing calm, when really I feel I am working ten to the dozen to keep my family raised up and afloat.)

And then it’s moving to an outside table, where one of us is happy because it’s fresh air, and another is happy because there’s no music (me!) and DS is just happy that there is fish and chips on offer.It’s the celebratory treat of a family pub lunch. Our reward for coming out the other end of four weeks of chest infections (including a hospital stay for me, see http://chiswickmum.wordpress.com/2013/01/19/life-threatening/ )It’s the grumpy row over which table to sit at and the drooping blood sugars threatening to ruin the treat before it’s even begun.

It’s enjoying a chilled, crisp, large glass of white wine and tucking into mussels…fingers and shells acting as cutlery, warm buttered bread mopping up juices.

It’s DS proudly reading the pub name from the menu: The Bell & Crown (right on the river, on Strand on the Green – one of those amazing views that makes you wonder if you’re really in london at all).

It’s happiness at being at a local pub and spending money on a big treat (the kind of treat that pre-kids you’d have every week or more without blinking an eye!).

It’s listening to the other punters…solitary cyclists with pints of ale; a table of European tourists; a group of friends; another family with a baby; a sweet older couple, still staring lovingly into each others’ eyes. A friendly waiter who smiles, even though this must be his stressful, busiest time.

It’s walking on up the river, sated, to look at the house boats at the various moorings…all the way up to The Thames Lock. It’s chatting about whether it really is possible…my newest idea of trying to beat chiswick house prices and buy a boat…or whether it’s a crazy idea.

On Sunday back at our house it’s knowing that we live in London and that the world is on our doorstep, and yet choosing to stay in and spend most of the day in our PJs.

It’s twister, and dominoes, and ‘sorry’ (the board game). It’s Winnie the Pooh and Peter Pan jigsaws. It’s stories and colouring.

And then it’s guilt-inducing but oh-so-gorgeous snugly sofa netflix time (we limit tv and still feel guilty when we put it on, although DH is much more relaxed about it – about everything – than me).

So it becomes wonder pets. And Charlie Brown. And Cars 2. And popcorn. And chicken Caesar salad.

Then it’s Monday and I feel jealous at leaving DH & DS to play together all day, as it’s half term – and I’m off to work.

But I get to read on the tube, and I see some of the old familiar commuter faces. And I do enjoy my work, and yes I consider myself a full time mother, even though I work full time. For what on earth is a part time mother?

And it’s spag Bol for supper, and more dominoes and animal lotto while DH finishes cooking.

Then it’s daddy reading sponge bob, which mummy just DOESN’T get…and the mummy reading four books and then falling asleep. It’s waking up at midnight and having a fumbly but yes lovely shag, because yes it’s the ‘window’ that everyone who’s trying to conceive knows by heart! And we want another baby to grow our family even more.

Then it’s not getting back to sleep, and eventually getting up to write and tweet, even though it’s 1am and DH, DS and the cat are all sensible and snoring.

And it’s dishes not done, and tights hanging up to dry from the doorway, and DS’ artwork stuck on every wall, because we love it and hi pm so much. And it’s too much mess and too much clutter, and too many dreams, all jostling for space.

And somewhere in the midst of it all it’s the quiet certainty of family. And another day to come of being a family in Chiswick, trying to live 150%.

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It takes a village

Like thousands of mothers over the last week, I have wept 1,000 useless tears of anguish for the beautiful Edspire and the beautiful baby Matilda Mae who tragically passed into the stars.

No amount of tears that any of us could shed can help, and that is part of the gut wrenching agony that has torn up the twitter community.

It has taken me a while to write about this, for who am I to write about it? I know nothing of the true pain and anguish that this family is going through….I am lucky, an observer.

Yet through the unfolding of the events on twitter I can say what a thousand mothers are saying. That your child is my child. That all our children are everyone's children. And we will be here for edspire, for her family.

They say it takes a village to raise a child. In the land of twitter, women have carved out this sacred village space for ourselves.

It is a place where gentle domesticity marks out the rhythms of the day. It is a space where we come together to raise our voices and howl together at the injustice of the universe. And the pain that is felt by one mother is pain that is felt by all of us.

We are mothers. We are one. Our child is one child.

Tweet by tweet, 140 characters at a time, we are creating that village together.

Edspire, I am so sorry. We are so sorry. And we salute Matilda Mae.

 

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Life threatening

Last weekend I had a life threatening incident. It included a rather dramatic paramedic visit; ambulance visit to Charing Cross a&e; lots of tubes and masks and bleepy monitors; and two nights in the acute ward.

Now it would be really tacky to say that this has prompted me to re-evaluate my life. But, er, this has prompted me to re-evaluate my life.

 

Number 1 - cherishing those I love is okay as a number one priority.

 

 

Number 2 - you know what, it's okay for life just to be okay.

I don't need to do my major three yearly life overhaul which normally sees me panic moving city/job ( in the past even relationship). I bloody love living in Chiswick, and in the hospital when I finally had the ability to stand up and look out of the window, just the sheer joy of seeing london spread out in front of me in all its urban imperfect glory – this was life affirming.

The Thames is like a deep raw vein throbbing through this city. It is the lifeblood of the people who live and work and die and play here. Just as London is part of me.

Living up north for three years to raise my child was amazing, and I am blessed to have had this space and this experience.

But I am meant to be here: it is my home.

So all these stressful 3am fears I've had ( that we should go back up north to save money, to live in a bigger house…)are now irrelevant. I will not leave. We will make it work out.

 

Number 3 – Noone will either live my creative dreams for me, or judge me for not achieving them. The magical work and goal planning I have been doing with my Leonie Dawson Incredible Year workbooks is my responsibility.

No one will love me the less if I don't publish my book, remember to do my hair, save money, connect spiritually with higher creative self. The universe will not punish me. But – having seen the number of old, in pain, unhappy women I hospital – I believe LIFE IS TOO SHORT not to live it 150%.

 

Number 4 – Anyone who calls the twittersphere and blogosphere 'virtual' communities is bonkers!

I am an intensely private person. I love to make people laugh, to buoy up a room, but I never reveal anything about my pain or fears or worries. I am more honest here in Blog and Twitter-ville.

When I was in hospital, only DH & DS knew. And Twitter. The messages and caring enquiries I got from Twitter meant the world. Virtual? Nah. Magical? Yes.

That's why I'm going to continue with my goal of blogging. I think you guys, reading this, are amazing.

 

Number 5 – life can be amazing and then shitty and then loving and then you die.

One thing is true: Life is too short. Full stop. Lets make the most of it. Together.

 

 

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2013 – your year of dreams!?!

If you're like me, then every year is going to be the year you really crack it. It willl be the year you finally work out what it is you are here for. The year all your resolutions are kept. The year you become the la-la-lady who's got it all together. Well it's going to be another year of trying anyway.

Ever since I was a teenager I've had a New Years Eve ritual of writing down the key personal / global achievements of the last year; plus my hopes and expectations for the year ahead.

So this year two tiny things have had an impact on how I do this goal setting. Firstly, I ordered the 2013 Create Your Incredible Year Calendar & Workbook by Leonie Dawson. I've never bought that kind of thing to download before; and I ummed and aaahed for ages.

I mean the worksheets were gorgeous and crying out to be filled, all rainbow hued and filled with Leonie Dawson's beguiling art. I was just a bit luddite-ish about the idea of downloading an ebook workbook. But look at this…how could I resist?

.

Ms Leonie Dawson is Australian creative goddessey guru, with bags of energy and a beguilingly cheerful and straight talking manner. She also runs an affiliate scheme, which I'm guessing is why there are so many reviews of her work on the web.

Which I'm pleased about, because these women-entered reviews were so compelling that they really persuaded me to take the plunge and spend the 16 quid or so on these.

I've taken the plunge and signed up to be an affiliate too, so if you do click through and purchase via my link then I get some lovely pennies!

 

The whimsical artwork is gorgeous and life affirming, and the questions really cut to the chase. There is a section on reviewing 2012, which I loved, as once I started writing things down I realised that I'd achieved more than I'd thought last year.

Not just the gentle domestic joys (seeing DH start reception, learning to crochet), but also some small creative ambitions (starting my blog, beginning to tweet) and some amazing family experiences (a much wanted and much appreciated good old fashioned warm beach holiday on the Canary Islands, and yes I know that makes me sound spoilt, but believe me I know how blessed we are)..

I also – rather grudgingly – used the releasing 2012 pages of this workbook to look at some work issues that have been the downside of last year.

There was a lot of processing to be done here (aka much wailing and gnashing of teeth). BUT by answering the question on what lessons i learnt last year, I began to see why a particular scenario was manifesting itself in my life again.

Touch wood, I may be ready to take a deep breath, grow up and move on (figuratively! No big moves for a while please.).

Okay, ahem, in the spirit of sharing and of illustrating how this workbook can help you find the diamonds in the rough of your year, here are a few of my insights that I learnt through this 2012 closing ceremony. In 2012 I learnt:

1. .

   1. I discovered I love creating music. Singing, piano, Native American flute. Beginner pleasures but ones that give me great joy, even in the midst of self-indulgent darkness.

2. I am proud of myself for taking baby steps into creativity after a period of being blocked. Blogging; tweeting; going to the mumsnet blogging festival. Next year it's dusting off the novel time!

3. I know myself more because I have been authentic by following som creative callings, and allowing myself also to fall in love with Chiswick (allowing myself to feel safe and at home and grounded here).

4. I was transformed by getting an ipad…~~grins bashfully ~~. No really, let me explain. This isn't about a piece of expensive technology. It's about having the ability to take those free 10 minutes that are so rare and so precious when a mother, and turn them into a piece of writing you can create on the hop; or connect with other mums from around the world on forums and twitter.

5. I am happy because of my darling son, my loving partner, my extended family who surround me with connectedness, even our darling fat hearth cat.

So maybe these workbooks can help you find some closure of 2012 and excitement about 2013 too.

 

PS I know I haven't mentioned the second thing that's helped me set my goals for next year. That will have to wait until next blog post now!!!,

PPS I've only spoken above about 2012 closure. I've been doing a lot of work on 2013 goals, so again – more on this later, including more shots of Leonie Dawson's wonderful workbooks.

 

 

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