I must go down to the sea again

So I was talking to a mother that I met in the street the other day. We were saying how tired our children had been before the Easter holiday; how ready they were to just relax. We were saying we hadn't done much at all with the lazy days, and how that was just what everyone needed.

"On one day," I said, "The Lattes watched Mamma Mia two-and-a-half times through."

She looked at me. She said something about day trips. I realised we were not having the same conversation at all.

And so it was that the next day, the one day that Mr Coffee was using the car, I decided that we should all get on a train and go to the beach. It wasn't far! It would be fun! Fun, that is, after I had stopped hyperventilating on the landing because I didn't know where the sunhats were. Fun, if you discount the fact that the buckets that were meant to go with the spades were actually in the garden full of spent fireworks from last November. Fun, if you like trying to push a wheelchair whilst carrying a rucksack, a pair of crutches and a bag full of sandwiches. Fun, after I had gone out into the world and shouted "If we stop every minute to look at your foot we will never catch this train" so loudly that a woman in a parked car wound her window up.

But we made it, in the end, and were soon sitting on the beach enjoying our picnic. Luckily for me, Joseph Heler had sent me a delicious parcel full of free cheese, and I was finding that their White Cheshire cheese with ham and a bit of Uncle Roy's cherry sauce that my mother had brought back from holiday was a very fine sandwich indeed.

Well, it was until a child threw some sand in it.

We couldn't get very far onto the beach because you can't go very far with a wheelchair on sand before the wheels stop going round. And then you have to stay quite close to where you abandoned it, because though surely no human being would steal a child's wheelchair you would be extremely b*ggered if they did, and you really don't feel like taking the risk.

It all just added to the excitement, because we were so far from the actual sea that we lost sight of where Littlest was paddling every five minutes. These little adrenalin rushes where we thought we had lost her kept Eldest and I on our toes. Eldest went for a bit of a paddle but not much of a one, because I had all our valuables stuffed into my pockets so I couldn't leap right into the water if she stumbled and began to drown.

(I took a book! How ridiculous was that? As if I thought I was going to get a rest!)

Still, seawater was experienced. A bucket of candyfloss was annihilated. A tick was placed in the box marked 'Day trips', and another step towards a successful Easter was made.

(Don't forget I'm giving away marshmallows and aprons on the last post! There's still time to enter.)

Sugar rush - a giveaway

I've told you before about the sponsorship I'm getting from Kelloggs. And I promised to make some Rice Krispie cakes in celebration. Luckily, Kelloggs decided to send Easter cooking kits out to a handful of bloggers, so my job was made even easier - I didn't even have to shop.

(I don't want you drifting off during this, because I've got a Rice Krispie cake kit to give away. It's got marshmallows in it. Stick around.)

So, this was the recipe. (You should be aware that I am very much a follower of recipes. I don't do much winging it. If it says 300g of something, I am not the kind of person who is comfortable using 290g or 310g. I do what I'm told over here.)

We donned our special Rice Krispies aprons and chef's hat, grabbed our Kelloggs wooden spoon, and got to work melting our marshmallows.

The next job was to pop the Rice Krispies into the pan, and 'stir to coat' with the marshmallowy goop. Then the mixture was to be rolled into balls, and turned into little rabbit shapes with sweets for eyes.

Hmm. About that.

I can honestly say I have never been so sticky in my life. Those 1960s films where people had to be pulled out of quicksand? I thought we were going there. I thought I would never be free.

Rolling it into balls? No chance.  We decided to just squash it down into a tray. You can see how well this went below.

The only way that the mixture could be pushed down into a tray was by adding a secondary surface to push down on. We chose a layer of Dolly Mixtures. Because, you know, there wasn't enough sugar in the marshmallows already.

It goes without saying that this Rice Krispie slab is one of the most popular things we have ever made. The Lattes gave it a resounding thumbs up. And, once dried, it is not sticky at all, and can safely be held in bare hands without a can of WD40 being nearby.

So! If you'd like to have a go, I have a kit to give away. It contains an apron, a chef's hat, a wooden spoon, a packet of Rice Krispies, a cookie cutter, marshmallows, Dolly Mixtures, and tubes of decorative gel. And it all comes in a handy bag.

Just leave a comment to enter - the giveaway closes on Sunday May 1 at midnight. And though I'd love to hear from you wherever you are, I am only posting the prize within the UK.

Oh yes sir, I can boogie

I'm not overkeen on exercise videos. Not since this - the Cindy Crawford post-natal exercise video. In my post-baby state, the last thing I needed was Cindy doing press-ups on a beach in her knickers. Worse - she pretended to find the exercises hard.

I refused to accept that Cindy Crawford could only hack 10 leg lunges.

The workouts were interspersed with slow-motion videos of her faffing around with her infant son. I remember screaming at the screen - Cindy, get your damn child out of the rose garden and get on with the workout.  I haven't got all day.

But this week I got the offer of a review copy of a Zumba DVD (the top one here). And where was the harm in trying? Sitting on my backside watching Waking the Dead hasn't done me any favours.

So yesterday Littlest and I decided to get our Zumba on. The cheery music began, and the three superhuman women onscreen started moving around. God knows what they were doing. They went so fast that we could barely see their arms. Even Littlest couldn't keep up. "I can't go that fast! She's going bananas!" she shouted, whilst throwing herself around the room like a pinball. The main onscreen woman kept grinning. Her elaborately-coiled hair continued to look fantastic. "Doubles!" she cried. "Singles!" We didn't really have much of a clue which was which.

But the music was upbeat, so we carried on. We abandoned all attempts to keep up with the moves, figuring that as long as we kept jigging about, it didn't really matter. The workouts were split into tiny little segments, and no-one asked us to stop and fetch tins of beans or bits of furniture (I'm looking at you, Cindy) so we didn't get bored. We were dancing! We were in the zone!

The Grandmother came round to borrow something and just joined in. And for one golden moment there we were, three generations of the same family, exercising together, laughing, dancing, living the dream... and then The Grandmother said her back was hurting and wandered off.

Later we strapped Eldest into her standing frame so she could do the arm movements. (What, you don't strap your child into a frame? Doesn't everyone?) Because when we test something, we test it good. Young. Old. Disabled. Does anyone have a dog we can borrow?

I had to hide behind the stairs to snap Eldest. "Not the face," she said. Too cool to be pictured doing Zumba with her mother.

The workouts are split across three DVDS, all working on different 'zones', but the individual routines are so quick that it's easy to fit one or two in without thinking you have to cancel your plans for the day. I wouldn't pay £24.99 for it, but then I buy nearly everything in charity shops so I'm not a reliable barometer when it comes to cost.

And I have to admit it, I really enjoyed it.  Twenty minutes dancing round the living room with my children and I was a different person. Exercise can be boring, but dancing does make you happy, it seems - even if you're doing it all wrong.

And now a word from our sponsors

Something new has appeared on my blog. There it is, in my sidebar - the little badge with the Rice Krispies men on it.

Back in January I went to Kellogg's, where I talked about healthy eating and did cutting and sticking. I have to admit, I'd turned up in a bit of a grump - I was fighting a losing battle with breakfast most mornings, with children refusing to eat their delicious porridge or taking one bite out of slices of toast and declaring the rest to be 'crusts'.

One of the things I liked most about the visit to Kellogg's was just how straightforward they were. When another blogger asked a question about low GI diets vs low carb, the nutritionist looked perplexed. Why not just eat a healthy diet? she said. And then showed us the good old Eatwell Plate. No-one was trying to reinvent the wheel here.

Since then, I've relaxed a bit - a bit of variety never hurt anyone. The Rice Krispies men are welcome at our table, and we all enjoy weekend visits from the Choc 'n' Roll monkey.

A few weeks later, Kellogg's emailed to say they were planning to sponsor some bloggers to go to the Cybermummy parent blogger conference in June. Did I want to be considered? I said yes, but didn't really expect to hear anything back. I was very excited to hear that I'd been chosen to receive sponsorship.

I'm looking forward to it a great deal: a day full of blogging workshops, a speech by Sarah Brown, and a night in a London hotel without children. I'll get to meet new people, learn new things, and eat my breakfast without anybody screaming.

In celebration - and to show my thanks to Kellogg's - I shall be doing the Special K diet, and making something out of Rice Krispies, and blogging about both very soon. Kellogg's didn't ask me to do this, I just thought it would be nice - I might lose some weight, and the children could eat something gooey. Everyone wins.

High on a hill

Ah, The Grandmother. Where would we be without her?

Not here.

Or here.

Sometimes it takes a shock to remind you what you really want. A couple of hours alone on a sunny day, on a hill we had never had the time to climb.

I want to thank everyone so much for the lovely comments on my last post. Blogland is truly a wonderful place. And those internet strangers? The best.

A marker

A blog isn't a diary. When you sit down to write a post, it's an exercise in editing your life. Friends read it, as well as bloggers who have come to be friends, but also there are people out there reading it that you know nothing about.

When something happens that is a body blow to your family, that leaves you gasping and unable to conjure up enthusiasm for posts about poached eggs or crafts or ships in bottles, it must be marked. But to reveal specific details would get too close, would change your blog somehow, would pull down the floaty comedy curtain that you have hung between your blog identity and your real life.

I'll just say this. Those politicians who spend their days attacking public spending, watching from afar the closure of libraries, the cuts to arts organisations, and the changes to services for ill or disabled people, I wonder if they realise what they are actually watching. It's the threat over family's livelihoods, their hopes, and the attempted destruction of things that people have worked passionately for years to build. I wonder if these politicians sleep at night.

Because we can't. We've barely slept at all this week.