<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081</id><updated>2011-04-21T22:24:26.896Z</updated><category term='parenting'/><title type='text'>One Thing at a Time</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>97</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-8755049554175778110</id><published>2008-05-06T17:57:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-12-12T02:39:30.437Z</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='parenting'/><title type='text'>Fun in the garden</title><content type='html'>Our garden - which I secretly want to be beautiful (and weeded) - is a very child friendly place.  We have lots of garden toys in our garden (which at least helps distract from the weeds).  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We have this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356788647887666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCC4dmZSgzI/AAAAAAAAACA/tGuv9Ljq1xU/s320/IMG_6308.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356792942854978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCC4d2ZSg0I/AAAAAAAAACI/4qN-THEZRus/s320/IMG_6309.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356801532789586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCC4eWZSg1I/AAAAAAAAACQ/gXkiDh-OptM/s320/IMG_6310.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197325555645711106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCCcDmZSgwI/AAAAAAAAABo/kTIz6G5vSOg/s320/IMG_6307.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We even have a rather beautiful paddling pool, with straddling ladybird arch ( not shown today, as it was getting late when we went out to play).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But of course the very very best thing is this....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197356810122724194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCC4e2ZSg2I/AAAAAAAAACY/RmRzLFtFejw/s320/IMG_6316.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;resulting in a very happy Ellie...&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197325572825580322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCCcEmZSgyI/AAAAAAAAAB4/BBn2_AU2gds/s320/IMG_6318.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197325568530613010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCCcEWZSgxI/AAAAAAAAABw/ak7KgXjNXQY/s320/IMG_6312.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(of course the real challenge was getting her from the garden to the upstairs shower!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-8755049554175778110?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/8755049554175778110/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=8755049554175778110&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/8755049554175778110'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/8755049554175778110'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title='Fun in the garden'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/SCC4dmZSgzI/AAAAAAAAACA/tGuv9Ljq1xU/s72-c/IMG_6308.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-6642911963436981003</id><published>2007-12-25T21:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-25T21:18:32.956Z</updated><title type='text'>Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>I'm having a lovely time-  eating chocolate, playing board/card games and generally feeling content and happy (aided of course, by having a happily sleeping child!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hoping you are all having an equally lovely time!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-6642911963436981003?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/6642911963436981003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=6642911963436981003&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6642911963436981003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6642911963436981003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/12/merry-christmas.html' title='Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-391922407437514263</id><published>2007-11-14T20:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-14T20:37:52.351Z</updated><title type='text'>A good day!</title><content type='html'>Today has been a good day! Our cat, Kitty, who has been missing since Friday has returned - a very lovely couple took her in when she was looking scared out near the main road on Sunday evening, and rang us when they saw the posters we'd put up. Also, a nice plumber has come and made our central heating work downstairs (since we'd turned on the heating, it had only been working upstairs!) . And I managed to make the deadline of end of today, (set Monday) to write a new job description, put together a business case for recruiting to said job, and complete an advertising form for it too - which should hopefully mean that I get a team of 3 instead of 2 which will make a huge difference to my workload. &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(until someone realises that and gives me considerably more projects to work on... )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm applying for the job I've been doing for the last 11 months on a permanent basis - application form (as yet not finished) to be in by Friday so fingers crossed that my good luck holds!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-391922407437514263?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/391922407437514263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=391922407437514263&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/391922407437514263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/391922407437514263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/11/good-day.html' title='A good day!'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-4215137065353295901</id><published>2007-11-12T19:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-12T20:04:05.694Z</updated><title type='text'>Little mermaid</title><content type='html'>We rejoined the rather expensive, but rather nice, and very nearby gym recently.  In a determined effort to 'get our monies worth' (well we do live in Yorkshire!) we've been swimming at least twice a week with Ellie.  She's always been very confident in water, and has been happily swimming (with her own variation of legs and arms) for nearly 2 years now.  But in the last couple of weeks she's been determined to swim without armbands.  She's not very keen on fighting to stay above water though.  She's more of a put your head in, and get on with it kind of swimmer (whereas I'm a 'stiff neck' head out of water type). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this style clearly works for her.  If Paul and I stand about 10 - 12 feet apart in the pool, she can now happily swim between us.  All in one big breath.  I'm reluctant to encourage her try much further, until she has learnt to come up for air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really reminds me of when she first started walking - watching her toddle between us.  I held my breath then, waiting until she made if safely into our arms.  And I hold it now whilst she is swimming - even though it's not me under the water!  So wierd!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-4215137065353295901?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/4215137065353295901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=4215137065353295901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4215137065353295901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4215137065353295901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/11/little-mermaid.html' title='Little mermaid'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-5237174379936641528</id><published>2007-08-15T21:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-08-15T21:23:56.403Z</updated><title type='text'>posting</title><content type='html'>I was going to post properly tonight.  I'd half composed the post - but it relied on photos.  I've tried 3 times and my computer, Blogger and Photobucket are jointly and separately conspiring in various ways to prevent me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will post it soon.  But for now, I just wanted to let you know that the thought was there.  Now, I'm off to bed with a glass of wine and a book.  Technology - hah!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-5237174379936641528?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/5237174379936641528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=5237174379936641528&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5237174379936641528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5237174379936641528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/08/posting.html' title='posting'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-7467400213522585099</id><published>2007-08-09T13:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-08-09T14:42:21.788Z</updated><title type='text'>Lost in the Real World</title><content type='html'>Oh - it's been a long time since I posted.  Some of that was due to going away to the Lake District and having so much to post about that I didn't know where to start (Ellie fed giraffes and penguins and lemurs by hand - will post the pictures some time soon!).  And then by freak of nature, about 3 weeks ago, we had the most amazing thunderstorm.  Incredible - lasting 2 hours with the mid afternoon sky turning black, then illuminated by several simultaneous streaks of lighting in different sections of the sky (only I missed it because I was at work in Wakefield, where it just drizzled a bit).  However, apparently the thunderstorm made a surge come down our telephone line and 'fried' (talktalk technical term) our modem.  They sent us another one, but the Royal Mail managed to lose it, and the replacement only turned up today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not that I've been completely removed from the internet - I use it daily at work (but at work I struggle to make time to eat my sandwich, I can't imagine finding time to write a post - although I've stolen a couple of minutes to read other blogs whilst munching my lunch). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's made me realise though, how much I take for granted access to friends through blogs and email, how often I use the 'net to look up a phone number or address for a business, or to find out more about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd to reflect on my netless time and realise that I have rediscovered face to face social contact, opportunties and time to take up new crafts - but actually, I already did that, and being netless hasn't really altered it....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway, I'm back now.  And I realised that I missed posting.  So often, I thought I want to post about that (partly to share with you all, and partly just to record and capture something for my own benefit).  So maybe my posts will be a little more regular from now on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-7467400213522585099?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/7467400213522585099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=7467400213522585099&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7467400213522585099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7467400213522585099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/08/lost-in-real-world.html' title='Lost in the Real World'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-1010415804928332501</id><published>2007-06-05T12:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-05T12:55:53.185Z</updated><title type='text'>Illogical Language</title><content type='html'>Ellie has started to learn to straighten her duvet when she gets out of bed in the morning.  She call this 'making her bed pretty'.  In a 'perfect parent' attempt at gentle, non-corrective, instruction, everytime she told me this I said would say "well done Ellie - you've made your bed'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The conversation would run thus;&lt;br /&gt;"Ellie, are you coming downstairs"&lt;br /&gt;"One minute Mummy, I'm just making my bed pretty"&lt;br /&gt;"Well done Ellie, you've made you bed"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes I've made it pretty, haven't I?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes you've made it very well Ellie"&lt;br /&gt;"Very pretty, Mummy"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You know - she's right. She's not made the bed - some carpenter employed by Mothercare did that and Daddy assembled it.  She's transformed it from being covered with rumbled duvet and made it pretty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-1010415804928332501?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/1010415804928332501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=1010415804928332501&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1010415804928332501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1010415804928332501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/06/illogical-language.html' title='Illogical Language'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-7307405509248787969</id><published>2007-05-27T10:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-12T02:39:32.502Z</updated><title type='text'>Climbing Frame</title><content type='html'>Not the most inspired of titles, but I'm a little overwhelmed and amazed at the moment (in a very good way)!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Thursday, we were contacted out of the blue by Ellie's godfather's parents. (And if that sounds a bit of a tenous connection, it is.) They said that they had been asked by a neighbour to help take down a climbing frame and slide as it was not longer needed. It was in good condition and it upset them to think it would just be thrown away. Then they thought of their son's goddaughter and that she might like it, and so they rang us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only did they dismantle the frame, and bring it round to us, they even spend 2 hours today ( a miserable cold day, with rain threatening) helping Paul assemble it for us - along with the kind of assistance only an excited 3 year old can provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's wonderful when good things happen - and it's even better when you weren't expecting them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you want to see what an excited 3 year old on a climbing frame with slide looks like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Here's Ellie at the very top. I was convinced she would take a little while to build up the courage, as it's quite high - but as you can see I was wrong. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069183594065047170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RllbnwF8LoI/AAAAAAAAAAw/q7sB0ijKpnE/s320/IMG_5390.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Approaching the descent - (it really is as high as it looks!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069183602654981778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RllboQF8LpI/AAAAAAAAAA4/R9TqiEgNS38/s320/IMG_5391.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And coming down the slide...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069183611244916386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RllbowF8LqI/AAAAAAAAABA/n_kOb_Bz1a4/s320/IMG_5394.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went down it 3 times in the 5 minutes immediately after it was built - and were it not for the heavy rain which appeared as soon as it was finished, she'd probably still be on it now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-7307405509248787969?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/7307405509248787969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=7307405509248787969&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7307405509248787969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7307405509248787969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/05/climbing-frame.html' title='Climbing Frame'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RllbnwF8LoI/AAAAAAAAAAw/q7sB0ijKpnE/s72-c/IMG_5390.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-8551468563048519459</id><published>2007-05-09T20:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-05-09T20:33:33.902Z</updated><title type='text'>Social Etiquette of Parenting</title><content type='html'>I had a strange, fantastical idea early on that as I adjusted to parenting that it would become easier as time went on.  &lt;br /&gt;(I'll wait a moment whilst any other parents who might read this, pick themselves up from rolling around on the floor laughing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was, of course, wrong.  It's not exactly that it gets harder and harder, it's more that everytime you find a solution to a difficulty, another one (or two, or ten) quandries appear to replace it!&lt;br /&gt;We live on a relatively quiet cul-de-sac.  There is a small group of approx 4 children who regularly play out on the street without visible parental supervision (although I am sure that they are being kept an eye on, but mum/dad isn't sat in the front garden).  They are all at least 2 or 3 years older than Ellie, and live near each other at the other end of the street.  It's a nice street - everyone says hi to each other, and smiles on passing, but you don't really have conversations with people other than your next door neighbour.  (unless there is some big 'crisis' occuring).  Ellie's friend Evie also lives on a cul-de-sac, but the grown ups there appear to be more sociable, and I get the impression that they chat together, or take turns to be 'supervising adult' whilst the children play. &lt;br /&gt;I'd quite like Ellie to be able to play out on the street with the others, but a) I think she's a little young to be out on the road yet and b) we've not made friends with the other children yet.  So, I put this problem to one side until she is older.&lt;br /&gt;However, recently a 9 yr old, who I do not recognise from the street has been coming round to see our cat (ie we keep finding her sat/standing in our front garden stroking or holding our cat).  This has developed quite rapidly into her coming into our back garden when we are there (I hope not, when we are not) and even into our house - chasing after our poor cat, encouraged by Ellie.  I had hoped that she might play with Ellie, but if we point out that the cat is now hiding and looking very stressed and perhaps should be left alone, then she gets on her bike (literally) and heads off.  Conscious that our back garden is very private, I make a point of asking if her parents know where she is when she comes into our garden.   To which, she says 'yes' - although I doubt the accuracy of this.&lt;br /&gt;Short of insisting that she takes me back to her house to meet her parents, I am unsure what do about her prescence in our garden, and what her parents might make of her being hidden out of sight in our back garden.  And, I'm not even sure I want her round at all, if she is going to upset Ellie by dashing off as soon as the cat is unavailable without even saying goodbye, when Ellie was really enjoying spending time with the 'big girl'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-8551468563048519459?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/8551468563048519459/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=8551468563048519459&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/8551468563048519459'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/8551468563048519459'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/05/social-etiquette-of-parenting.html' title='Social Etiquette of Parenting'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-4135037642256149561</id><published>2007-05-09T20:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-05-09T20:15:05.097Z</updated><title type='text'>Inspiration</title><content type='html'>Maybe it's because I stayed away in a hotel last night and had eight and a half hours unbroken sleep (!!),&lt;br /&gt;maybe it's because I swam in the hotel pool late yesterday evening and also again early this morning (and I love the virtue of exercise combined with the rhythmic mediative quality of gently swimming)&lt;br /&gt;maybe it's because I spent the day at a conference on housing options for people with learning disabilities (and I was able to drop some of my prejudices and concerns about what was achievable)&lt;br /&gt;But, today, I feel switched on and excited about my role at work.  I see possibilities and opportunities to make a difference - to how we work &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;to people's lives.  I am glad that I work in the industry that I do - and whether it is in my current role as project manager or in my substantive role as community team manager, I can see how I can make a difference. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I hope I still feel like this tomorrrow!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-4135037642256149561?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/4135037642256149561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=4135037642256149561&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4135037642256149561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4135037642256149561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/05/inspiration.html' title='Inspiration'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-1932275704599978127</id><published>2007-04-26T19:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-04-26T19:43:33.186Z</updated><title type='text'>Hard at Work</title><content type='html'>It's almost 6 months since I was seconded to my new (current) post as Project Manager.  The change of role was hard in moving away from the team that I had worked hard to pull together, and also provided a steep learning curve as it was a very different role.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of months there has been a major restructure going on at work - an occupational hazard of working in local government I now realise.  Because my current secondment is the result of a domino effect of people moving around and acting up to cover vacancies, some of which may have been filled in the reshuffled and some deleted, it was not very clear how secure my post might be. Several of the projects I was working on had reached 'sticky' bits - which needed some complex problem solving with specialist knowledge, or a few risks to be taken, or close working with people who were quite resistant to the project - and with my feeling of 'newness' I didn't feel very confident about my skills in tackling them which dented my confidence overall.   Given that during the same period Paul was having his work contract terminated, and my main post is only a jobshare, none of this helped me feel particularly secure at work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last couple of weeks have been really hard.  There is still no clear news about the security of my post.  Unconsciously, I had taken my 'eye off the ball' on a few projects, and suddenly there is a backlog of work - people demanding answers and progress, and I haven't even written up the minutes of the last meeting let alone acted on most of them!  Several of the risk issues came to a head, and I could only really wait with sweaty palms to see if they turned out OK.  I still have so much to learn, but people cut me less slack now because, after all, I have been in post since before Christmas.  And on top of it all, I finally have an (long awaited) assistant who will take a lot of the pressure off my workload but, of course, at the start I need to invest time and energy in skilling her up on her role and the projects we are working on and I had precious little of either of those things! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week though I turned a corner.  I realised that I can't just put things on hold whilst I wait to find out about my post.  After all, it's been 7 weeks now.  (I knew this, I'd advised other people to do this early on, I just had failed to act on it myself).  The only solution is to take a pragmatic approach of getting on with it until someone tells me any different. Getting on with things I had been putting off, and feeling that I am starting to catchup with myself, and suddenly the workload is still hard and heavy, but maybe it might become manageable.  I realised that the tasks which felt like they were taking all my time, in fact needed very little time.   I actually needed to do very little work, but was expending enormous amounts of mental energy being anxious about doing them.  Hardly a productive use of time!  I spoke with my supervisor (and mentor).  She pointed out that I had skills and knowledge; that I was capable of doing the job.  She told me that it is a difficult job; the things I struggle with, I struggle with because they &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;difficult.  The bit that I am not getting right is around having enough confidence.   Which leads to a paradox for me.  My confidence comes from getting things (at least approximately) right, from feeling capable in a task.  So, I need to feel I am doing better at work, to increase my confidence.  But, now I've been told,  increasing my confidence is the way to get better at what I am doing.   Hmm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the only real way though this is just to get on with it.  So I'm going to.  It's a relatively small decision, so how surprising that my shoulders feel so much lighter now that I have made it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-1932275704599978127?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/1932275704599978127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=1932275704599978127&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1932275704599978127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1932275704599978127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/04/hard-at-work.html' title='Hard at Work'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-7513779483937350200</id><published>2007-04-25T18:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-12T02:39:32.996Z</updated><title type='text'>Gulp!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;When I last posted - drawing attention to our lack of expertise with fish - I knew it was a possibility that George might not last. I didn't really expect him to die after only 5 days though. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's a picture of happier times....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057440082575887026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/Ri-i9arCCrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/nHUbOkx6E3s/s320/IMG_5124.JPG" border="0" /&gt;And a very blurry picture of George himself... (It's hard to get a goldfish to pose!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057440086870854338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/Ri-i9qrCCsI/AAAAAAAAAAo/XSoWgxUGev4/s320/IMG_5128.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ellie has taken it all rather well.  He was clearly ill the night before, gasping and floating listlessly.  We mentioned that George looked ill to Ellie, who said "When I get back from nursery tomorrow George will be dead".  She stroked George's lifeless body goodbye before going to nursery the next morning.  Paul buried George as he could not face the traditional toilet cremation.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;On the positive side, we have found some excellent fish care websites, which includes one who will email a helpful and sympathetic response as to why your fish has probably died and what you can do to avoid it next time.  So, the future George 2 (or princess tinkerbell as Ellie is suggesting) may do much better....&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-7513779483937350200?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/7513779483937350200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=7513779483937350200&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7513779483937350200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7513779483937350200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/04/gulp.html' title='Gulp!'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/Ri-i9arCCrI/AAAAAAAAAAg/nHUbOkx6E3s/s72-c/IMG_5124.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-3735011731603407662</id><published>2007-04-18T20:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-04-18T20:40:30.301Z</updated><title type='text'>Ellie is three!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;No posts for a while, but now I'm here, should I tell you about the joys of a Wacky Warehouse birthday party for 10 toddlers? (somebody else clears up!)  Should I tell you about the uncontainable exicitement of a 3 year old unwrapping birthday presents?  (stopping to run round and round the dining table).  Shall I write a moving and articulate post about how quickly time has past, how this is the first year I have not fully relived the birth experience, how unutterably pround I am of my daughter, and how gorgeous she is....?  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;No instead, I shall introduce you to George the goldfish. (and maybe in the future I'll post some pictures of the birthday girl....)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Ellie's nana has given a fish tank (a stylish biorb) to Ellie for her birthday.  We set it up, waited the absolute minimum of 24 hours and then went to buy a goldfish...  Pets at home's fish expert was very very helpful, and gave us lots of advice about, for example, putting the plastic bag with the fish in the tank so it can adjust temperature before letting the fish into the bowl.  On the drive home, I wondered aloud whether the bag would float.  "It does in Nemo" said Paul.  We clearly have so much expertise in goldfish between us!!!!  Hm. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Welcome to your new home George the goldfish (and Good Luck  - you might need it!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-3735011731603407662?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/3735011731603407662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=3735011731603407662&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/3735011731603407662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/3735011731603407662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/04/ellie-is-three.html' title='Ellie is three!'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-4354339241028659475</id><published>2007-03-27T19:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-27T19:04:45.614Z</updated><title type='text'>Lighter</title><content type='html'>We've hardly had a winter here - a couple of weekends with sprinkles of snow, but rarely the biting cold in which you wish you'd put on your gloves or scarf.  And yet, today it feels even warmer.  With the clocks changing it's light when I drive home and suddenly, unexpectedly a weight I'd not really noticed has lifted. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, Spring must be here...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-4354339241028659475?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/4354339241028659475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=4354339241028659475&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4354339241028659475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/4354339241028659475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/lighter.html' title='Lighter'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-1941833426439489216</id><published>2007-03-26T21:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-26T21:18:43.817Z</updated><title type='text'>Personality Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#DDDDDD" align=center&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;b&gt;Your Personality is the Rarest (INFJ)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE"&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/howrareisyourpersonalityquiz/personality.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your personality type is introspective, principled, self critical, and sensitive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only about 2% of all people have your personality - including 3% of all women and around 1% of all men.&lt;br /&gt;You are Introverted, Intuitive, Feeling, and Judging.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/howrareisyourpersonalityquiz/"&gt;How Rare Is Your Personality?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good news! I do still have a personality!  Frustratingly, I did this test in a more detailed way a few years ago, but cannot remember how I came out in that one - I don't recall them being graded on 'rarity' though!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-1941833426439489216?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/1941833426439489216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=1941833426439489216&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1941833426439489216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/1941833426439489216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/your-personality-is-rarest-infj-your.html' title='Personality Test'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-878253606826848208</id><published>2007-03-26T20:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-26T21:02:31.729Z</updated><title type='text'>Families</title><content type='html'>Two random thoughts about families:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) Since Ellie was born nearly 3 years ago, I have spent 1 night away from home (when Paul and I went to a wedding.  Last night, I stayed in a hotel near Newcastle so I could be bright eyed and bushy tailed for a training course today.  Alone.  No Ellie.  No Paul.  Kingsize bed all to myself.  Very strange.  And I missed them both - dreadfully.  That's not to say I wouldn't stay away again if I needed to... but... it was much much harder than I'd expected.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2) Today, Paul needed to get yet another sicknote from the GP - to tie up the loose ends of his job termination, and so that he can get on with sorting out some incapacity benefit to replace his work (statutory) sick pay.  He ended up with a phone appt with the GP, who not only gave Paul a thorough verbal check over, but also asked how Paul's illness was affecting family life, myself and Ellie - on the grounds that we were all registered with the practice.  Clearly the days of 'family doctors' are not gone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-878253606826848208?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/878253606826848208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=878253606826848208&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/878253606826848208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/878253606826848208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/families.html' title='Families'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-6439559212460532421</id><published>2007-03-09T21:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-12-12T02:39:33.606Z</updated><title type='text'>Observation</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I found this on someone else's blog - so I'm hoping it's not copyright! Look at the picture below, and see how long it takes you to see the man hiding amongst the beans. Once you see him, you'll be amazed that you didn't spot him straight away. (Unless of course, your brain works in some incredible way which means that you do see him instantly - in which case I'm most impressed!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5040034686329216498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RfHM2A5M3fI/AAAAAAAAAAY/c_Kmy8sjdY4/s400/Bean+man+picture.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-6439559212460532421?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/6439559212460532421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=6439559212460532421&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6439559212460532421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6439559212460532421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/observation.html' title='Observation'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_opLPDrXL3Z0/RfHM2A5M3fI/AAAAAAAAAAY/c_Kmy8sjdY4/s72-c/Bean+man+picture.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-5827216364492062373</id><published>2007-03-08T20:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-08T20:39:47.764Z</updated><title type='text'>Poetry?</title><content type='html'>Tides turning&lt;br /&gt;Waves crashing&lt;br /&gt;Relentlessly battering&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tossed, turned&lt;br /&gt;Shaken, thrown&lt;br /&gt;Set all in a spin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But You -&lt;br /&gt;My anchor&lt;br /&gt;Hold me&lt;br /&gt;Firm and safe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-5827216364492062373?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/5827216364492062373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=5827216364492062373&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5827216364492062373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5827216364492062373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/poetry.html' title='Poetry?'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-7582762944555800513</id><published>2007-03-08T20:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-08T20:31:23.924Z</updated><title type='text'>Blogiversary - Random thoughts</title><content type='html'>It is exactly a year since I first posted.  Incredible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I re-read my first &lt;a href="http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-felt-rather-voyeuristic-looking-at.html"&gt;post &lt;/a&gt; (and a few subsequent ones) and it made me realise just how much things have changed in the last year.  Oh there's all the stuff I've already posted about Paul's illness and job, there's all the &lt;a href="http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006_11_01_archive.html"&gt;bits&lt;/a&gt; about my changing job - which you probably got fed up of reading about at the time.  Then there are the things I'd not thought about much - how when I went with Ellie to Wacky Warehouse a year ago, I used to lift her up between the sections, and come down the slides with her.  Now she does it all by herself (once we've taken her there!). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure that I've used this blog as much as I'd hoped as a reflective or creative space - although there have been elements of that.  I've veered between posting frequently (NaBloPoMo in November certainly contributed significantly to my year's total of 78 posts) and posting occasionally. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The blog also quickly became valuable as a way of sharing pictures of Ellie with family and friends, and with updating people on my/our situation when I was too busy, or events had left me too bruised to want to keep discussing them - but needed and wanted to let people know what was happening. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I hadn't expected was that my blog would open the way to reading other blogs - stranger's blogs - with whom I would find an shared interest, an affinity if you will.   Checking bloglines and realising that someone has posted - it's almost as good as getting a real letter (not a bill!) through the post.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, having made it to here - my next goal is to reach my 100th post, to make a little more time in my day to think about what to post, and to actually post it (at least semi-regularly!) and to make a little more time occasionally to visit those other blogs out there.  To meet more of those strangers who might yet become cyber-friends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-7582762944555800513?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/7582762944555800513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=7582762944555800513&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7582762944555800513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/7582762944555800513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/blogiversary-random-thoughts.html' title='Blogiversary - Random thoughts'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-2565678188420921331</id><published>2007-03-02T20:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-03-02T21:07:13.782Z</updated><title type='text'>Side Effects</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;A potentially humorous post - which never lived up to its potential (sorry)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned in my last post that generally I don't think of Paul being ill.  I know that Paul has momentary absences, memory loss (currently about 50%) from one day to the next, and functioning/processing difficulties which make it difficult for him to absorb and apply new information. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, on the whole, we have found coping mechanisms for most of the difficulties; little systems which you might do anyway, but which have added use when memories aren't going to be carried from one day to the next.  Having a shopping list which you add to as things are used up or about to run out, for example.   And these systems allow us to maintain that screen of 'alrightness' because we rarely have to directly face the fact that parts of his brain, at the moment, simply don't work as they are supposed to do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But sometimes this fails us, because our lovely screen means we miss the obvious!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're on a fairly tight budget for our food shopping, but on a 'good' week (not too many impulse buys) it's easily sufficient.  We also have our wonderful weekly organic food box which we pay for separately. However, for several weeks in a row we just kept overspending...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should also add that we went up to using a second freezer at Christmas time,  but by mid February both freezers were packed with food...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, that the fridge was always crammed full of food too - with some of it reaching use by dates and going off....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually it struck me - could this have anything to do with the fact that Paul, since he was doing the bulk of the cooking, had also by default been left in charge of shopping lists and menu planning?  Erm, that would be tasks which really relied upon &lt;em&gt;remembering &lt;/em&gt;what food is left half open in the back of the fridge (or hiding in the freezer) and &lt;em&gt;processing&lt;/em&gt; information about what food needed using up most urgently, and &lt;em&gt;planning &lt;/em&gt;combinations of food to cook/buy using these bits of information.   Not to mention &lt;em&gt;remembering&lt;/em&gt; to defrost food we needed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In fact, expecting Paul to do all the tasks he was least able to do, every day.  And then wondering why things weren't running quite as smoothly as they might! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's not just Paul's brain that isn't working properly!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-2565678188420921331?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/2565678188420921331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=2565678188420921331&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/2565678188420921331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/2565678188420921331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/03/side-effects.html' title='Side Effects'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-5579483796699615226</id><published>2007-02-28T21:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-28T22:39:32.571Z</updated><title type='text'>Paul and illness</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since Paul first started to be ill with a (not very well specified) neurological problem - since the last week of September in fact. The first few weeks, with strange behaviour, hospital stays and tests, anxiety about what it might be, were horrible. The next few weeks with reassurance that it (whatever it might be, and no-one was too sure) was nothing life threatening, and would correct itself in time, were less horrible, but equally uncertain - full of temporary adjustments to cope with a new situation, and lots of waiting for things to improve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks later, and it became clearer that 'temporary' meant months rather than weeks, and that recovery wasn't just around the corner (but was most definitely still there on the horizon). We adjusted into better routines - Paul starting to take care of Ellie one day a week, me working full time. But there were also new challenges to take on board, not just adjustments to Paul's 'absences' and memory loss but Paul's work moving him to a no pay situation, and the possibility of losing his job if he didn't recover soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my work life, I deal with change management quite a lot - using theories and beliefs about how change is hard to accept and how people resist it, particularly when it is imposed with no choice. But all this happening at home has reinforced to me that whilst it is not always easy to change, in fact adaptability is a great human strength. Once you have accepted that something has changed, it quickly becomes normal; what you are used to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt like a huge upheaval at first - and it was. But now, I know that Paul does not always remember things, I know that Paul has to walk or take the bus, that if we go in the car I will be driving, that we have no spare money to buy non-essentials, and Ellie knows that her Daddy will look after her while Mummy goes to work (instead of the other way round) and that if she goes out to the local shop or nearby playground with just Daddy she &lt;strong&gt;has&lt;/strong&gt; to sit in the buggy. I don't usually even consciously recognise that these things are changes, or that they are linked to Paul's illness - in fact, I rarely even think that Paul is ill. After all it's not like he's confined to bed, or taking medication. On the whole, this blase acceptance works fine just occasionally it's counter productive - but that's a post for another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, however, has had a combination of events which have reinforced that Paul is ill. Not that he is any different from his (now) usual self, but external events have tapped on the glass frame of 'alrightness' that we have placed around ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning Paul had a 2 hour EEG to check the functioning of his electrical brainwaves (or something like that) - frustratingly he had a cluster of 3 absences on the journey there, and one on the journey back, but none at all whilst wired up. The EEG didn't show anything. Which on one hand is good, as it means he definitely has not got epilepsy or anything permanent; of course, on the other hand, it means we still don't know exactly why he is having them, or if there is anything apart from time which could correct it. There's something about a hospital test which reinforces in a very strong way that someone is ill, and raises concerns and anxieties about them, even when you rationally know that these are unnecessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For good measure, Paul also had his final sickness review for work this afternoon. Since Christmas he's been to see the Occupational Health Unit, had reports written by his consultant, had various meetings with his manager and the Human Resources person. The outcome of all of this (not at all unexpectedly by this stage) is that since no-one can say with any certainty when Paul will be better (although they can say that it won't be next week, or even next month) then Paul's contract is going to be terminated at the end of March. Financially, it doesn't make a significant difference to us - they've not been paying him anything other than state sick pay since November. Emotionally, we had been bracing ourselves for this - reframing Paul's role from 'off sick from work' to 'stay at home dad'. But still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One at a time I think we could have shrugged off, ignored, these events. From behind that protective glass screen of 'alrightness', we could have looked upon them with a calm detachment. But together, they made me realise that my husband is ill. They made Paul realise that he is ill. They made us both recognise that our life is, and has been, shaped by Paul's illness. That we are here making the best of a difficult situation, rather than being somewhere that we have chosen. It's been a tough day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now, writing and reflecting, I realise - although I have just written that we are not somewhere that we have chosen - that it is not entirely true. Some of our choices have been taken away from us. Yet being forced to rethink our assumptions about our lives and our roles (and our finances) has enabled us to see options and paths which we had not noticed before. Obviously I wish Paul were well, but being here - where we are right now - is not such a bad place to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-5579483796699615226?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/5579483796699615226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=5579483796699615226&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5579483796699615226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/5579483796699615226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/02/paul-and-illness.html' title='Paul and illness'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-6428244378282743272</id><published>2007-02-28T21:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-28T22:44:14.540Z</updated><title type='text'>Blogging balance</title><content type='html'>Life has been busy recently - and it's been a challenge trying to keep to my new year 'resolution' of balance. The level of challenge is probably best summarised if I tell you that I've been so busy, that I literally forgot all about the word balance being a resolution. Which probably isn't the best approach!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This lack of balance has also been evident in my approach to blogging. You will possibly have noticed that my posts have been, shall we say, sporadic this year. For weeks I've been too busy, and preoccupied with other things to get further in my thought process than " I really ought to post". Ideas for things to post about - pretty much nil. Then the last few days, I've had more ideas for posts than I know what to do with - far too many to actually narrow down to writing just one, and no time for writing more than that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still. I have remembered the word &lt;em&gt;balance&lt;/em&gt;. I have added the word &lt;em&gt;order&lt;/em&gt; to my vocabulary too, as I think this may help achieve balance. I find it hard to be balanced in a world of chaos. (I'll make that my more advanced resolution for when I have basic, bog standard, balance sorted!).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-6428244378282743272?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/6428244378282743272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=6428244378282743272&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6428244378282743272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/6428244378282743272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/02/blogging-balance.html' title='Blogging balance'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-117122160596907625</id><published>2007-02-11T18:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-11T19:20:05.983Z</updated><title type='text'>The garden challenge</title><content type='html'>Did you notice the garden through the window in that last post? Here's a closer look :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/1600/977032/IMG_4748.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/200/178054/IMG_4748.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/1600/633648/IMG_4762.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/200/969216/IMG_4762.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/1600/641175/IMG_4752.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/200/321092/IMG_4752.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's clear that despite my increased gardening effort in the last year, the previous 2 years of neglect (or at best minimal input) has left a less than showcase garden. We've removed the plants we disliked most, but have since been overwhelmed by weeds (which had presumably been put off by the previous garden inhabitants).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, this year - I'm going to make a garden in which&lt;br /&gt;1)I can relax in the evenings with pretty flowers rather than weeds, and with a Pimms (or maybe a Kir or maybe a glass of chilled white wine - well you get the idea)&lt;br /&gt;2) We can all have fun and play on weekends (and Paul and Ellie can during the week too)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to make this a real challenge, not only shall I be hampered by my minimal gardening skills, but I shall also have only a maximum budget of £50.  (Although, this excludes the money we need to find for a new shed - the other one is at best unstable and falling to bits, and at worst verging on dangerous!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But before you are driven to comment " You fool, why try to achieve the impossible" .  Remember that gardens always look at their worst in winter, not to mention it's amazing how pretty a glass of Pimms can make anywhere look!  Besides, we're already pretty much there with aim No 2... we had a lovely 'party' outside today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/320/10185/IMG_4767.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-117122160596907625?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/117122160596907625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=117122160596907625&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117122160596907625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117122160596907625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/02/garden-challenge.html' title='The garden challenge'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-117122020840099782</id><published>2007-02-11T18:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-11T18:56:48.413Z</updated><title type='text'>"Competent Mother" status revoked</title><content type='html'>Today, I was with Ellie whilst Paul had a lie in. Actually, I say I was with Ellie but actually I had gone upstairs for a few minutes. Literally no more than 5 minutes. Honest.&lt;br /&gt;By which time...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/320/4761/IMG_4741.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I couldn't help but ask Ellie why she had put cream all over the window - she's usually such a logical child.  Her response?  "The window was a bit sore".   Anyway, she helped Paul and me to clean it up, and little more was said about it.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Which was probably an error - as I realised over lunch, when I casually asked her what she should do if the window was sore again.  "Put cream on it" she replied promptly.  We chatted for a bit about this, and she now fully understands that it would be &lt;strong&gt;much&lt;/strong&gt; better to tell Mummy or Daddy.  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;And the cream has been moved to where it should have been in the first place - far, far out of reach!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-117122020840099782?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/117122020840099782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=117122020840099782&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117122020840099782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117122020840099782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/02/competent-mother-status-revoked.html' title='&quot;Competent Mother&quot; status revoked'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-117071088322094502</id><published>2007-02-05T20:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-02-05T21:28:03.250Z</updated><title type='text'>The Gruffalo's Child</title><content type='html'>Sorry, no posts for a while - maybe one day I'll fill you in on all that's been happening, but it's nothing really spectacular so don't feel you're missing out at all....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, though, was exciting*.  Today was Ellie's first trip to the theatre.  And she loved it, which I think is pretty good for a 2 year old.  It probably helped that we took her to see a play of the book &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gruffalos-Child-Julia-Donaldson/dp/1405020458"&gt;The Gruffalo's Child&lt;/a&gt;.  It was really good fun, cleverly staged with just 3 actors and minimal scenery and some catchy songs too.  Ellie sat enthralled for the first 30 minutes, and easily managed the last 25 minutes with a few little prompt to sit still and watch. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, the play answered the question which has occassionally crossed my mind during numerous bedtime readings - why do the animals tell the Gruffalo's child where the big bad mouse is, when he doesn't exist?!  The answer, of course, is self preservation when they realise they are face to face with a gruffalo (albeit a small one!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie really loves this book (this, &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Winnie-Witch-Collection/dp/0192755048"&gt;Winnie the Witch&lt;/a&gt; stories and &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Toot-Puddle-Hardcover/dp/0316167029"&gt;Toot and Puddle &lt;/a&gt; are constant bedtime choices).  And I have to say I like it too.  The story is a good sequel to &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Gruffalo-Julia-Donaldson/dp/0333710932"&gt;The Gruffalo&lt;/a&gt;, but I like the way that it plays against traditional stereotypes.  The only parent in the book is The Gruffalo - who is "Dad".  No sign of Gruffalo mum, and in my experience  of pre-school books there aren't many single parent men represented.  (Indeed there aren't all that many stories where the Dad takes on a key role as carer - something I've become more aware of now that it seems very likely that Paul will be a stay at home dad).   Similarly, I appreciate that the adventurous, brave, exploring child is a girl - I remember reading it for the first time and feeling a moment of surprise (and pleasure) as I read that "&lt;em&gt;she &lt;/em&gt;tiptoed out of the gruffalo cave".  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think, that without a child I would have missed out on all of this - it almost makes those 5.30 am starts every day worth it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; * and that's without the additional excitement for me of having a 1.30pm performance in York, and at 11.50 am finding that my car that has decided (very uncharacteristically) not to start when I am trying to leave work in Wakefield 35 miles away....!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-117071088322094502?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/117071088322094502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=117071088322094502&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117071088322094502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/117071088322094502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/02/gruffalos-child.html' title='The Gruffalo&apos;s Child'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116872053502832464</id><published>2007-01-13T20:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T20:37:59.800Z</updated><title type='text'>Living with memory loss (someone else's) Pt 1</title><content type='html'>Part of the reason for needing to re-balance my life is because Paul's health changed last year. I can't remember exactly what I posted, and I'm afraid I'm too lazy to trawl my archives - but in summary, Paul developed some temporary, but longish-term, neurological problems.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had a dramatic start, but soon settled into a pattern of about 15 -20 abscence-type moments during the day (he will 'freeze' for about 5 seconds, then 'come to' with a slight jolt). This is accompanied by short term memory loss - he's fine on the day itself (as much as anyone is!) but only remembers about half of what has happened the day before (and this memory so far has remained lost). I should point out that this is the current situation and a definite improvement on when it all started in October -then he remembered little, if anything, of the day before and sometimes even lost memory from the same day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't think that I'm unusual in that I've pretty much adjusted to this now. The absences obviously have a day to day effect in that he can't drive, but don't affect most of his general day to day ability to do things. The memory loss often doesn't feel too prominent - he doesn't know what he's forgotten, I don't realise he's forgotten it unless I ask or make reference to something and anyway, we've always been big on writing lists. The biggest effect is financial in that he's only on Statutory Sick Pay at work, and that he is likely to lose his job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet despite this, I am often surprised by coming across evidence of what he remembers and what he doesn't. The other day I taught Paul to play cribbage. We did this in the knowledge that he finds it hard to take on new information, and that he might not remember any of it the next day. That same day, we received a belated Christmas card from a friend, with some beautiful magnetic pictures - we both admired them, and later that day he stuck them on the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day, Paul remembered enough about cribbage to beat me - thoughts about his memory loss moved to the back of my mind. In a break in playing, we made drinks and Paul went to get milk from the fridge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Those are lovely pictures on the fridge" he said "where have they come from?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116872053502832464?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116872053502832464/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116872053502832464&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116872053502832464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116872053502832464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/01/living-with-memory-loss-someone-elses.html' title='Living with memory loss (someone else&apos;s) Pt 1'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116871924356939486</id><published>2007-01-13T18:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T20:14:04.053Z</updated><title type='text'>Balance</title><content type='html'>Ok, I had many many New Year Resolutions in my head.  Usually I write them down, review them at the end of the year (if I can find them) and discover that I've achieved a few of them.  This year, because it's now 13th and I've not yet written them down, I'm going to try a new approach.  An approach shamelessly stolen from another blogger - oh well, not plagiarising was never on my list!   This year, I'm going to have a word.  The word is balance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In particular I want to work on finding that elusive balance between being an individual and being a mother.  And to find the necessary balance between work and home (I'd sorted that quite well, but now life has moved on and I need to re-find that balance).  I want to find balance in my new job -between trying hard to be efficient, effective and achieving results, yet not straying into the territory of being a bossy know it all.   And back to the purpose of this blog - I need to find the balance between this modern world's need to multi-task, and my need to take things 'one thing at a time'.  Because let's face it - all of these pursuits without balance are far less rewarding than they could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wish me luck.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116871924356939486?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116871924356939486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116871924356939486&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116871924356939486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116871924356939486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/01/balance.html' title='Balance'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116871250128800121</id><published>2007-01-13T18:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-01-13T20:16:54.280Z</updated><title type='text'>Rattling with pills</title><content type='html'>Just when you thought I'd forgotten where the post button is, I'm back. I've no real reason for not posting for so long, just other things have taken priority. However, part of my reason for failing to post this last week is because I've been poorly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My teeth- never the strongest part of me - started to hurt over new year. So, I ignored it. I thought of the £15 or £40 it would cost to go to the dentist, I thought of needing to take time off work when I was busy, I thought of how maybe it would just settle down by itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course it didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I ended up with an emergency dental appt on Monday. And a course of antibiotics to be taken 4 times a day on an empty stomach. Plus painkillers every 4 hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Wednesday, more swelling, more pain. another emergency appt. Diagnosis of an abscess. More antibiotics - to be taken 3 times a day, with a meal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, that is 7 separate doses of antibiotics. Plus painkillers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it any wonder my brain had no time to spare on remembering to blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, swelling is reduced (almost gone). Pain is much less. Only one more day of antibiotics then a course of dental treatment still to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to return to normal!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116871250128800121?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116871250128800121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116871250128800121&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116871250128800121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116871250128800121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2007/01/rattling-with-pills.html' title='Rattling with pills'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116699905993934674</id><published>2006-12-24T22:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-24T22:24:19.950Z</updated><title type='text'>A Very Merry Christmas</title><content type='html'>We're safely arrived and unpacked at &lt;a href="http://glingle-glingle.blogspot.com/"&gt;Glingle's&lt;/a&gt; house.  Ellie is fast asleep in her 'holiday' bed having been told that Santa will not leave any presents if you are awake and see him.  The mince pie, sherry and carrot are waiting by the fireside ready for Santa and Rudolf.  And I'm about to settle down by the real coal fire (which is, of course, warming the chimney so Santa doesn't get too cold) and drink mulled wine.  It's shaping up to be an excellent Christmas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wishing you all much happiness and joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116699905993934674?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116699905993934674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116699905993934674&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116699905993934674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116699905993934674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/very-merry-christmas.html' title='A Very Merry Christmas'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116586994226165732</id><published>2006-12-11T20:33:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-11T20:45:42.273Z</updated><title type='text'>Ladybird</title><content type='html'>A new store opened in York this weekend. We came across the advert for it by chance at midday on the Saturday - its first day of trading. The advert promised furniture, soft furnishings, toys, Christmas decorations and craft stuff - along with free face painting and balloon modelling. How could we miss it?&lt;br /&gt;There was a Santa who Ellie would not go near at first. An robotic singing and dancing reindeer. Free balloons. And face painting. Ellie waited for 15 mins for her turn. Then sat completely still whilst she was transformed into a ladybird (which she had requested). With her new face she also found new courage and actually spoke to Santa, as well as taking the sweet he offered.&lt;br /&gt;It was a great time (and didn't cost anything!). We may need to purchase some face paints in the future however as Ellie has constantly since asked "what happened to my face?" " Can we go to the shop and paint my face again tomorrow?".&lt;br /&gt;So you want to see a picture? Of course you do. (There was more paint around the mouth originally, but if Santa will give out toffees...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/320/134674/IMG_4528.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't she look happy?!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116586994226165732?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116586994226165732/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116586994226165732&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116586994226165732'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116586994226165732'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/ladybird.html' title='Ladybird'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116517879059477679</id><published>2006-12-03T20:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-03T20:46:30.606Z</updated><title type='text'>rubber band art</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/1600/675142/IMG_4486.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/200/525949/IMG_4486.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You may remember I &lt;a href="http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/add-little-imagination.html"&gt;posted &lt;/a&gt;a little while ago, promising photos of Ellie's art from rubber bands. Well here are a couple she created today.  For a two and a half year old, I think they are pretty good.  &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/1600/219365/IMG_4487.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 212px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 125px" height="150" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/125/2441/200/103823/IMG_4487.jpg" width="423" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;One is a rabbit.  The other is called Mr Cools (or is it Koolz? I forgot to check the spelling?!).   Ellie was particularly proud of his tummy and hair. &lt;br /&gt;Ellie devised this art technique all herself - and it is also recyclable and costs nothing...!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116517879059477679?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116517879059477679/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116517879059477679&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116517879059477679'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116517879059477679'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/rubber-band-art.html' title='rubber band art'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116517775558473727</id><published>2006-12-03T20:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-03T20:29:15.596Z</updated><title type='text'>Curtains</title><content type='html'>No, it's not another 'endings' post.  I'm trying to move on from that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our bedroom, there are two big windows (the only ones in the house which aren't double glazed).  These windows have full length curtains (in a just about Ok pattern).  However, they have annoyed me (in a 'oh' every morning way, but not in a 'must do something about it right now' kind of way since we moved in 3 years ago).  Initially, I placed my annoyance on the fact that they were supposed to close by pulling a cord to the side.  But the cord had snapped, which meant that you had to pull them closed.  Not a problem by itself, except that the 'cord' mechanism always led to them sticking/tangling, so it was more of a wrestle than a pull.  Eventually, I removed all the cord, but it wasn't really any better until Paul removed the mechanical bits too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realised I also had two other gripes.   But bear with me, this does have a happy ending... They always gape at the top, which looks really untidy from outside - and inside, but I rarely noticed that due to being asleep. Outside, however, I noticed every time I approached our house.  The other gripe is that being full length they cover the two radiators under the windows.&lt;br /&gt;Very effectively channelling all the heat straight up to escape from the draughty windows - making our room a very effective fridge.   Which has led to us tucking the curtains up on the window ledge, making it look more untidy than ever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But yesterday, my mother and my sister and father visited with the sewing machine, energy, patience and curtain shortening skill.  My sister pressed, my mother sewed and my dad hung the curtains.  (I just played with Ellie... sorry folks!)  The curtains now beautifully rest just behind the top of the radiators.  And as a throwaway comment my mother mentioned I should get round to gathering the top of the curtains.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How could I not have realised that the horrible gaping (which was in fact the MOST irritating thing) was simply because they'd not been fitted to the window width?  I suspect that Paul's comment that my irritation had blinded me from actually really seeing the curtains is very true.  Anyway, today we gathered the curtains. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They now hang beautifully- our bedroom is effectively transformed. &lt;br /&gt;I know this is a long post about a domestic triviality, but really, it has made such a difference!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(If the pattern was a bit nicer, I'd post a picture of them!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116517775558473727?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116517775558473727/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116517775558473727&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116517775558473727'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116517775558473727'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/curtains.html' title='Curtains'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116505910847273432</id><published>2006-12-02T11:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-02T11:31:48.493Z</updated><title type='text'>Parenting</title><content type='html'>Well, somehow, it seems to have been a few posts since I've written about Ellie.  That surely needs addressing!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has been difficult.  I think Ellie has started to realise that I am around less (due to working more).  There have been tears at nursery on a morning.  There have been refusals to let go of my legs, and my work bag mysteriously returning itself to the cupboard.  It's been very hard for me.  And it's taken most of my "mummy skills" to see past that and realise that its even harder for her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, the mornings have also had their happier moments.  Last week, out shopping, Ellie tried to persuade me to buy Coco Pops instead of weetabix.  As they both come in supercheap own brand varieties, and of course because I wish to promote her making choices and becoming more independent, I agreed.   Ellie has chosen coco pops every morning for breakfast.  Now as she is getting older and more independent, but still wakes at 5am we have developed a habit of setting her up with breakfast in front of a DVD and hopping back into bed.  (As a parenting strategy I'm a bit mixed about this.  I think it is 'slack' parenting, which I'd wish to avoid.  On the other hand, I function much better with the extra sleep.  Which currently is vital to get through the bedtime routine with a toddler who is exhausted from nursery, whilst I am also exhausted from work. The jury is still out, and in the meantime it's what I do.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie, once upon a time - not so very long ago, would have finished her cereal and shouted for attention.  This week she has instead gone to the cereal cupboard, co-incidentally the only one in the kitchen that is not child locked, carefully removed the clip from the container, poured herself more  coco pops, placed the clip and container back in the cupboard and taken the cereal back to her table.  She started the week by also trying to get the milk from the fridge (using her step to reach the handle), but has found that the fridge door is just impossible to open.  She alternates solutions for this 1) shout for mummy or daddy to get milk 2) just eat it dry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so there are a few split and trampled coco pops on the kitchen floor - but how can you criticise such determination...?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116505910847273432?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116505910847273432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116505910847273432&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116505910847273432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116505910847273432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/parenting.html' title='Parenting'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116505826255110173</id><published>2006-12-02T11:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-12-02T11:17:42.563Z</updated><title type='text'>NaBloPoMo - more ending!</title><content type='html'>It's well and truly over.  I failed to post every day.  I think I have good reasons - too much happening in my home life, including a new job and a holiday, combined with a dodgy broadband for the first three weeks of the month.  Still, I'm a little sad that I failed to achieve something I set out to do.  It would have been much worse, however, if I had achieved posting everyday and neglected other areas of my life which have all been in upheaval this month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, despite not achieving a post each day - there have been real upsides for me.  It has made me more dedicated to my blog, and that in turn has led me to realise the postive impact that blogging has on me.  And the NaBloPoMo randomiser, whilst I have merely dabbled, was an inspiration - leading me to blogs I might never have come across otherwise. Some blogs merely convinced me that I prefered my own style, other blogs provided a model for me to aspire to.  Very few (if any?) left me untouched in some way.   The randomiser was like attending some big fundraiser and finding yourself surrounded by people you didn't know, and with whom you weren't initially sure what you had in common.  But unlike the real life version, which would have me frantically downing my drink and grabbing my coat - the blog version had people easily and openly telling me about their life, thoughts and ideas and even coming over to talk to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I may not have done what I set out to do, but I have really enjoyed the experience.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116505826255110173?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116505826255110173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116505826255110173&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116505826255110173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116505826255110173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/12/nablopomo-more-ending.html' title='NaBloPoMo - more ending!'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116492818260670047</id><published>2006-11-30T23:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-30T23:09:42.623Z</updated><title type='text'>Endings (temporary)</title><content type='html'>So, I've got a replacement for my post - in a couple of weeks I'll have fully switched from my current post to my secondment.   As you may have noticed in my last post, although I claim on job applications to be very good at managing change (and I am!) I have to confess that I find it as difficult as anyone.  I enjoy the new challenges it brings, but wish I could keep all the old ones too - particularly the ones I've just sorted out!   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight also marked another change and ending.  It was my last swim/sauna at our gym.  Again it's only temporary - we've suspended our membership as we have other priorities at the moment.  However, I am already really missing it...  On the other hand, I am well aware that (as gym managers rely on with minimum contracts etc) we have often paid for a month or so when we have not actually made it though the door.  I know that when we resume membership we will be making much better use of the facilities, and will probably appreciate them more for having not had them for a while.  I'm still a little sad though (but know it will have passed by morning).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really I should be looking to the future so finally, a conundrum.  My new office has an enormous desk area - well 3 desks assembled in a big L to be accurate.   Is this&lt;br /&gt;a) a sign of status&lt;br /&gt;b) a sign of overwork&lt;br /&gt;c) a sign that the previous occupant was a hoarder?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116492818260670047?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116492818260670047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116492818260670047&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116492818260670047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116492818260670047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/endings-temporary.html' title='Endings (temporary)'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116475253900962869</id><published>2006-11-28T22:08:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-28T22:22:19.020Z</updated><title type='text'>The irreplaceable, indispensible, super woman</title><content type='html'>So much is going on in my life at the moment.  Ellie is about to move up a class at nursery.  She is trying new things and testing boundaries constantly at the moment.  Paul is still off work with neurological problems (which haven't changed in the last 6 weeks).  He may lose his job.  He may decide to be a stay at home dad.  I am about to start a new job - a new, exciting, different to now job.  I am about to change the work life balance from an idyllic 3 work 4 home days to full time work (which is much better financially, but has less child time).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this is going on.  So what am I having sleepless nights about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving my current job: How can my current team manage without me?  Surely my efforts over the last 2 years will disappear?  And I will I lose the staff I've just recruited? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Surely it's impossible for the team to carry on without me.  My head is so big -  I am so outrageously self-important.  Only I can be me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the last statement is true.  The others I am recognising are part of my hysterical and misguided belief that I am an irreplaceable, indispensible, super woman.   I am starting to realise that the real cause of stress in my life is having unrealistic expectations of myself - or worse, trying to live up to them, or even worse, believing that others hold such equally implausible beliefs about me and trying to live up to those too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am me. I am human.  On a good day, that's a very good thing to be.  On a bad day, it's a less good thing to be - but still OK.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116475253900962869?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116475253900962869/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116475253900962869&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116475253900962869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116475253900962869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/irreplaceable-indispensible-super.html' title='The irreplaceable, indispensible, super woman'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116475167340286577</id><published>2006-11-28T22:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-28T22:07:53.416Z</updated><title type='text'>Blogger</title><content type='html'>Blogger wants me to go to a new, better, more exciting version....&lt;br /&gt;Oh I so dislike change!&lt;br /&gt;It says once I go, I cannot return...&lt;br /&gt;Where has my fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants attitude, taking risks in my stride gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone else changed?  Does the world still work once you've crossed over?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116475167340286577?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116475167340286577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116475167340286577&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116475167340286577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116475167340286577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/blogger.html' title='Blogger'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116467010885075117</id><published>2006-11-27T23:17:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-27T23:28:28.876Z</updated><title type='text'>Good things</title><content type='html'>I've had a few days of 'good things'  - little, almost insignificant things which have made me smile, laugh or just pleased to be me at that time and that place.  They are the sort of things which don't really mean much to anyone else- but are precious and priceless to me.  And, whilst as always, Ellie has contributed greatly to such things they haven't all been about her - which is in itself a nice counterpoint to my usual perception of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to give you a few examples (and so on a less good day, I can look back here and smile about them all over again...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend I'd not seen for several years (post-motherhood in fact) told me that I had not changed since being a student - definitely a compliment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A work colleague, who I work with occasionally, gave me a huge smile and a big hug when she realised I was going to be working near her office in my new job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had evidence that I chosen a fantastic friend for Ellie's godfather when he was unselfconciously playing 'animals' with Ellie in the toddler pool - bounding around saying ribbit ribbit.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seeing my goddaughter Maisy and teaching her to play draughts - immediately followed by her wanting to play another game with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So life is busy, hectic, unstable, even stressful at times - but basically good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116467010885075117?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116467010885075117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116467010885075117&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116467010885075117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116467010885075117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/good-things.html' title='Good things'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116432503286220687</id><published>2006-11-23T23:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-23T23:37:12.883Z</updated><title type='text'>Procrastination</title><content type='html'>Why, oh why, do I do this to myself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm teaching tomorrow am.  I've just finished the presentation (it's a good hour past my bedtime).  Once upon a time I might have justified this on the grounds that it was done, it was just that it still could be improved.  But tonight, it  reallywasn't all that started.  It was in my head.  Which is very different from being on a powerpoint presentation and handouts. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I am a deadline kind of person.  I work much better with that adrenaline thrill of - can I actually achieve this in time?  But really this is ridiculous.  There are so many things which can go wrong with leaving things to the last minute - particularly when you have a small child who is reliant upon you.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am cross with myself.  I am also cross because I know that I have been here before.  And I was cross with myself then too.   And, apparently, it has made little difference.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here I am.  Tired and cross with myself.  And the tiredness could have been avoided.  And the crossness is ineffective.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I will just go to bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tommorrow, I will be less tired and less cross -  with a renewed resolution to plan my time better. (We'll see how that goes!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116432503286220687?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116432503286220687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116432503286220687&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116432503286220687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116432503286220687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/procrastination.html' title='Procrastination'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116405702866023143</id><published>2006-11-20T20:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-20T21:10:32.773Z</updated><title type='text'>Feeling at ease</title><content type='html'>Isn't it strange how age changes your expectations of holidays?   I remember clearly as a teenager reaching a stage (as I suspect most teenagers do) when I considered it definitely more fun to go on holiday with my friends rather than my parents.  Yet earlier this year when we went to France, it was the natural choice to go on holiday with my parents.  Not just because they could babysit (although thank you...!) but because I wanted to go on holiday with them, knowing that we would enjoy similar things, and wanting them to spend some quality time with Ellie - see Ellie on holiday in person, not just through photos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Similarly I can remember a time when, whilst envying the afflence, I was bemused by why people would buy a holiday villa.  Why limit your holidays to one place when there is so much to see and do around the world?  Yet here I am having just come back from &lt;a href="http://www.centerparcs.co.uk/villages/sherwood/index.jsp"&gt;Center Parcs&lt;/a&gt; at Nottingham for the eleventh time (probably, I've lost count).  And will definitely be going back there again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't stop my desire to visit many many places, but it is a perfect way to relax, unwind and have an idyllic holiday (for me, anyway).  It's only an hour from home, so I'm not at all tired when I arrive.  I know where everything is (which is lovely for someone with such a poor sense of direction). It's an isolated village, which could be anywhere, and feels a long long way from  work, housework and the world at large.   There are lots of fab things to do, but I don't feel I have to do more than I want - because I can always do some next time.  And, best of all - it's all child friendly.  All of it.  From the moveable step in the villa bathroom, to the staff who say 'thank you for letting me know' and bring a replacement when you tell them your child has tipped their drink on the restaurant floor.   And, I know that is their reaction - so even when this time nothing was split, I hadn't wasted a moment's anxiety in case it was.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel better than I have for a long time.  (I'm going to hold onto how I feel right now.  Picture it.  Feel it.  Remember it for when work hits tomorrow!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116405702866023143?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116405702866023143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116405702866023143&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116405702866023143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116405702866023143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/feeling-at-ease.html' title='Feeling at ease'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116370971167726063</id><published>2006-11-16T20:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-16T20:41:51.690Z</updated><title type='text'>Failing</title><content type='html'>Oh dear, due to internet connection hassles, I've been only just scraping through on this NaBloPoMo thing (well, Ok replace scraping through with occasionally failing to post every day - but still posting more than not!). &lt;br /&gt;However, I have completely failed to take into account that we are off to Center Parcs tomorrow, for a long weekend away from it all.  So there may be a mid packing post tomorrow.  There may be a return post on Monday.  But unless our housesitter hacks into my account and posts on my behalf there'll be no posts this weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Failure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Failure, at the half way stage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But do I care?  Afraid not.  I'm off on holiday.  Away from work, away from housework, with my family and some good friends and my gorgeous god-daughter (one of them, I have two equally gorgeous).  And I've packed the wine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, in spirit of contrition and penance, I hereby pledge to ensure that by the end of November I have posted at least 30 times.  (which will be at least one a day from when I return).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116370971167726063?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116370971167726063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116370971167726063&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116370971167726063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116370971167726063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/failing.html' title='Failing'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116357809128036871</id><published>2006-11-15T08:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-15T08:08:11.290Z</updated><title type='text'>The value of others</title><content type='html'>Blogging started out as a way of making time for myself, to think about things and develop some perspective - as well as being a way of using my writing skills. Strange how things turn out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to NaBloPoMo combined with the vagaries of my broadband connection, thoughtful crafted posts have been replaced with a manic scramble to compose and post before the connection fails (if only I was organised/had time enough to draft in word then try to upload on the same day!). And the reasons why I am writing are also changing. It's still a place for me to reflect, (or perhaps more accurately causes me to reflect during the day - how would this look as a post? what would I write about this event? what do I actually think about it??) but it's also a way of keeping up with friends - real world ones, re-found ones, and new ones who I may never meet but whose opinions and thoughts I now value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I hit a challenge. Someone has reacted in a way that has surprised and disappointed me. I'd quite like to blog about it - a chance to figure out whether or not I am going to take their reaction to heart, how I truly feel about what has happened. It's not major but it's on my mind. I'd quite like to poll others opinions about this - without having to take over every conversation by rehashing it when I'm not really too clear what I actually think and feel. But I can't. Maybe one day they will read this blog. And I can guess that my blogging about it would surprise and disappoint them...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's a shame that you will never read enough to know what I am actually on about, but at least I know, and now you know, that I really value your comments and feedback. Blogging has made my world bigger and more interesting and that must always be a good thing. Even if I don't spend as much time on it as I'd like&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116357809128036871?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116357809128036871/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116357809128036871&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116357809128036871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116357809128036871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/value-of-others.html' title='The value of others'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116353317021737343</id><published>2006-11-14T19:28:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-14T19:39:30.243Z</updated><title type='text'>Blogging</title><content type='html'>Blogging started out as a way of making time for myself, to think about things and develop some perspective - as well as being a way of using my writing skills.  Strange how things turn out...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Due to NaBloPoMo combined with the vagarities of my broadband connection, thoughtful crafted posts have been replaced with manic scramble to compose and post before the connection fails (if only I was organised/had time enough to draft in word then try to upload on the same day!).    And the reasons why I am writing are also changing.   It's still a place for me to reflect, (or perhaps more accurately causes me to reflect during the day - how would this look as a post? what would I write about this event? what do I actually think about it??)  but it's also a way of keeping up with friends -  real world ones, re -found ones, and new ones who I may never meet but whose opinions and thoughts I now value.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I hit a challenge.  Someone has reacted in a way that has surprised and disappointed me.  I'd quite like to blog about it - a chance to figure out whether or not I am going to take their reaction to heart,  how I truly feel about what has happened.  It's not major but it's on my mind.  I'd quite like to poll others opinions about this  - without having to take over every conversation by rehashing it when I'm not really too clear what I actually think and feel.  But I can't.  Maybe one day they will read this blog.  And I can guess that my blogging about it would surprise and disappoint them... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, it's a shame that you will never read enough to know what I am actually on about, but at least I know, and now you know, that I really value your comments and feedback.   Blogging has made my world bigger and more interesting and that must always be a good thing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I don't spend as much time on it as I'd like.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116353317021737343?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116353317021737343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116353317021737343&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116353317021737343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116353317021737343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/blogging.html' title='Blogging'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116345435761092907</id><published>2006-11-13T21:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-13T22:03:17.320Z</updated><title type='text'>Success</title><content type='html'>I got the job!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots more posting when broadband connection is working again and celebrations are over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116345435761092907?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116345435761092907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116345435761092907&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116345435761092907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116345435761092907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/success.html' title='Success'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116332218811072756</id><published>2006-11-12T08:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-12T09:03:08.123Z</updated><title type='text'>Organic Veg</title><content type='html'>&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4361.jpg" border="0" /&gt;Maybe you remember a while ago, my &lt;a href="http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/09/dichotomies-and-dilemnas.html"&gt;post&lt;/a&gt; in which I worried about how to buy organic veg, without going bankrupt at the supermarket checkout (amongst many other things!). Some friends suggested that it would be worth checking out if there were any organic veg box schemes locally. It’s taken a while to choose one - the post was in September!. But the first box arrived on Friday. I was so excited in anticipation of it arriving. It's a 'small variety' - ideal to trial - and promised carrots, onions and pototoes as standard and 3 -4 other things. And here it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4364.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4364.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As well as 4 pototoes, 3 carrots, and 3 onions it had some Kale, 3 leeks and 2 squash and a swede.  The squash is most definitely one of those veg I see in the supermarkets and think "that looks really interesting - I ought to find a recipe to cook with one some day" and then never do....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now, I have to cook with one (which is exciting), and I've planned wonderful seasonal recipes like casseroles and leek and bean pie for the other veg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm feeling pretty good about this veg box thing so far - I'm eating organic veg, I'm eating seasonal veg, I'm eating local produce, and I'm cooking 'proper' food.  Oh, and (probably because I've menu planned carefully around the veg) my remaining shop at the supermarket was within my reduced budget for food!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116332218811072756?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116332218811072756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116332218811072756&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116332218811072756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116332218811072756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/organic-veg.html' title='Organic Veg'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116325808642085020</id><published>2006-11-11T15:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-11T15:14:46.430Z</updated><title type='text'>Optimism</title><content type='html'>This afternoon provided an incredible opportunity to witness optimism in action.  It's November.  It's raining and very very very windy.  Yet, we could hear the strains of 'Greenselves' sounding steadily nearer, until eventually the ice cream van pulled up into our cul-de-sac.  Yes, that's right.  The &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;ice cream&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder how much business he is doing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116325808642085020?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116325808642085020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116325808642085020&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116325808642085020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116325808642085020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/optimism.html' title='Optimism'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116323864585199186</id><published>2006-11-11T09:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-11T09:50:45.910Z</updated><title type='text'>Phew...</title><content type='html'>(once again, this is yesterday's post, but couldn't get a connection)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been an unsettled week. &lt;br /&gt;It started with a MAJOR overhaul of our finances.  Paul is still unwell (forgetting about half of what happened the day before, and having 'absences' when he just freezes for 5-10 secs about 15 -20 times a day - which is Ok, unless for example he is off balance walking up the stairs, or pouring boiling water), he's out of company sick pay, and onto Statutory Sick Pay(which isn't a lot, believe me!), and there's a significant risk that since the GP says he may take another 3 -4 months to recover that they won't hold his job open for him.  So, time to face up to reality.  To take a long look at our finances (which have never been plentiful since Ellie and her nursery fees came along and I cut down to working part time).   It was hard.  No two ways about it.  However, at least there were things we could cut back on, and because I work part time, there the potential for me to work more hours and bring in more money).  So, it could have been a lot worse.  There's a roof over our head - and it's going to stay there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When all this started with Paul, and we thought it would be better soon, I expressed interest in a secondment at work.  They wanted full time, but would consider part timers.  It's a fantastic exciting, really really grown up job (even more so than managing a nursing and social work team... gulp!).  It's a Project Manager post for 6 months intially, under a manager I get on really well with (even though she expects everything yesterday), to redevelop and create innovative learning disability services.  Overseeing the opening of a new 4 bed short stay (respite) unit, designing and building (and arranging support staff for) 6 bungalows which will provide tenancies for 18 people with learning disabilties and additional complex needs, setting up a supporte accommodation project, not to mention redeveloping and modernising a day service for 100 service users.  It's a fabulous and terrifying job desciption.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I applied, I thought that if I got it then a)  Paul would be better before I started and b) that my fantastic job share partner could 'look after' our team .    Two weeks before the interview I found a) Paul is not getting better in the next few months (probably) and b) my job share partner has been poached to work in another team where they are in crisis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent a sleepless weekend last week tossing and turning ideas.  Can I commit to such a demanding role when my home life is unsettled?  Paul and Ellie are my priorities.   And what about my current team?  It's still a newish team, only 2 years old.  It's been a real challenge to get nurses and social workers to work together as a team not as individuals - in fact it still is.  It's been very very very hard... with personalities, short staffing, budget cuts... but it's just starting to come together.  Another 12 months and I think we'll be doing really well.  But what will happen if I'm not there, and my job partner's not there.  What will happen then?  But then again, I'm not indepensible.  Maybe someone else will do just as well, maybe better.... OMG, what if they are better than me and then I have to come back to the team, and no one wants me any more....  You can see how my thoughts become less and less rational in a way which has a strange correlation to the amount of sleep achieved!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Monday, I spoke to my manager.  Told him I wasn't sure about the secondment - maybe I should withdraw my application.  Being the lovely manager he is, he told me that he understood, that he knew that I was the sort of person who would not want to take something on unless I was sure I could fully commit and make a good job of it (which was very reassuring because my current post is hard, and I feel like at least half the time I've just bodged it to get along and keep my, and the teams, head above water).  He told me just to see how I felt by the day of the interview - Friday 10th, and withdraw then if needed.  Partway though this conversation, past the point of no return,  I realised he was on the interview panel... so probably not the best person to tell that I was really uncertain about it all!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I went to the interview.  I did OK - at least I'll be able to look at the managers who inteviewed me and not feel totally embarrassed by what I said (or didn't).  4 applicants, so it is whoever was best on the day.  All candidates notified of the results on Monday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I went it, I just decided it would be fate.  If I get it, I get it, and it will be a fantastic job.  And I can work full time hours, but flexibly.  If I don't get it, I get to stay with the team, working my jobshare's extra hours.  The team, knowing that I am possibly leaving are just starting to let me know that I'm not always the wicked witch of the west and that they would &lt;em&gt;perhaps&lt;/em&gt; actually miss me.  (One told me "I'll not wish you luck" and another said "well, I hope you don't get it" - and I &lt;strong&gt;know&lt;/strong&gt; that they are compliments).  It will work out fine either way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116323864585199186?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116323864585199186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116323864585199186&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116323864585199186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116323864585199186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/phew.html' title='Phew...'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116310978028946098</id><published>2006-11-09T21:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-09T22:03:00.303Z</updated><title type='text'>Proud Parents</title><content type='html'>Can there be anything more lovely than going to a Parent's Evening at your child's nursery, drinking their free wine (albeit no doubt included in our monthly fees), eating their nibbles, catching up with other parents you like, and having the staff in the room your daughter is leaving saying how much they will miss her, and the staff in the room she will be moving to saying how very much they are looking forward to having her as she is always so lovely?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know my daughter is gorgeous.  But it is so nice to hear other people say it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And we won the raffle too!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A happy evening to provide a solid rock in a sea of uncertainty.  I love my family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116310978028946098?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116310978028946098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116310978028946098&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116310978028946098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116310978028946098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/proud-parents.html' title='Proud Parents'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116306060316569177</id><published>2006-11-09T08:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-09T08:23:23.176Z</updated><title type='text'>The 4 'R' s</title><content type='html'>The area where I work has "Remember the 4 R's" on the side of the bin lorries. It took me ages (and a peek round the opposite side) to realise this stood for&lt;br /&gt;Reuse&lt;br /&gt;Reduce&lt;br /&gt;Recyle&lt;br /&gt;Repair&lt;br /&gt;Where I live they only ask you to remember the 3 'r's which are the first three. Over the last couple of days I've had a couple of conversations which have really brought home the fact that we have lost the art of repairing and 'making do'...&lt;br /&gt;One of my work colleagues explained he had had a slightly embarrassing dinner party when at the end of the meal he went to make coffee only to find that the element on the kettle was no longer working. One of his guests came from an Eastern European country and calmly finished his can of beer, cut up the can, fixed it round the broken element, whilst explaining at home they would never just throw away a good kettle... and hey presto it worked.&lt;br /&gt;Paul explained how when he was younger he helped tidy up his grandparents' kitchen drawers and found some small metal discs - which they explained were for repairing pans when they got holes in the bottom. I simply can't imagine ever using a pan enough to wear through the base ! And then another friend explained that as a child her grandma always used to whisk away any jumpers she had grown out of (which were usually stripy) and then she would get a very similar jumper back with a stripe of whatever was her favourite colour. It was a few years before she realised her jumpers were in fact essentially the same ones!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that in this busy world where we are learning new skills constantly (how to work the DVD player, how to use blogger, how to use sat nav etc etc) there are lots of skills that we are also losing just as fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;ps once again, I have posted this late... after trying for over 12 hours to get a connection with my broadband...! I feel a phone call to the provider coming on - just as soon as I have time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116306060316569177?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116306060316569177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116306060316569177&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116306060316569177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116306060316569177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/4-r-s.html' title='The 4 &apos;R&apos; s'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116291549836222858</id><published>2006-11-07T15:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-07T16:04:58.433Z</updated><title type='text'>Nobody told me...</title><content type='html'>In the days of my pregnancy and over the first few weeks of motherhood, many many people told me (whether or not I knew them) that my life would change.  And it has!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But nobody told me that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;my trousers would all wear out at the knees (in months)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;my shoes would be scuffed to holes at the toes&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;no matter how many boxes/cupboards I have, they will never contain &lt;strong&gt;all &lt;/strong&gt;the toys&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;if you really love a tiny baby item of clothing - you should buy it in the next size up too!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;you &lt;strong&gt;can&lt;/strong&gt; function (kind of) on only 5 hours of sleep, which has been interrupted 5 times&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I would end up singing Rudolph the red nosed reindeer 70 times to keep my toddler calm in the car - in July&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;you will be so happy that someone else is pregnant because then you can unload all the baby stuff from the cupboard under the stairs &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;when you are out with a baby or toddler you need a clean top for you as well as them&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;and last but not least - wet wipes can clean anything (crayon from the TV screen being the most useful).&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116291549836222858?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116291549836222858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116291549836222858&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116291549836222858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116291549836222858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/nobody-told-me.html' title='Nobody told me...'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116283457225177876</id><published>2006-11-06T17:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-06T17:36:12.266Z</updated><title type='text'>Teaching</title><content type='html'>This morning was spent teaching a group of student social workers.  It's a really lovely course module, with lots of self-directed learning by the students and just a little judicious facilitation by myself here and there (which is much much more fun than talking myself hoarse in a lecture that I've spend 2 full weekends preparing!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This year it's a great group; they are all engaging with the material, engaging with each other and making pertinent comments throughout.  But what is really fantastic is to spend time talking about policy, frameworks, values, culture, difference, ethics, the desire to make the world a better place with a group of interesting, articulate, well-informed and enthusiastic social workers.   (Which isn't to say that my work place doesn't have similar people - albeit often hiding behind exhausted cynicism, but there is rarely time to talk about such essential things).  It's made me remember why I trained to be a social worker, why I still am a social worker (albeit in a management capacity) and gave me a fresh perspective on the enormous pile of work which was waiting for me when I got into my office today. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All this and I got paid for it too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116283457225177876?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116283457225177876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116283457225177876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116283457225177876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116283457225177876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/teaching.html' title='Teaching'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116281338135760333</id><published>2006-11-06T11:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-06T11:43:01.370Z</updated><title type='text'>5th November's post</title><content type='html'>It's not that I didn't try to post yesterday, it's just that the dratted connection wouldn't let me.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, here it is (belatedly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traditional Curries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Saturday, we went over to Bradford to meet with a good friend, and to take Ellie for her first curry out.  Bradford has a large ethnic minority population, and consequently is known for some very very good curry houses.   And Paul and I both come from cultures of eating curry in Bradford, so it was the obvious place to go. &lt;br /&gt;We went to Ambala (on Great Houghton Road, a bit nearer town than Mumtaz - for those of you who may know the area).   It's a 'modern' curry house - all laminate flooring, coloured gel filled vases of single stems, square plates etc.  Lovely surroundings, lovely food, and given we went late lunchtime when it was very very quiet excellent service (attentive yet not standing over you - a very hard balance to strike!).  Ellie loved it - well, except for the lime pickle which I failed to intercept her trying. &lt;br /&gt;But it was a far cry from the 'traditional spit and sawdust' places in Bradform where I learnt to eat curry whilst a student.  Yes, I was a student in York but the cheapness of curry in Bradford made it affordable, particularly if you could persuade someone else to drive and that wasn't usually hard...! &lt;br /&gt;Paul had had a much earlier introduction, and with an even longer commute. He had been taken to Bradford for curries by his parents whilst a small child from Lincoln!   I realised what a family tradition I was joining into when the first time I met Paul's parents they collected us from York and took us over to Bradford for a pint and a curry.  And if that wasn't enough of a clue, the waiter greeted Paul and his parents by name and commented it had been a while since he had last seen him! &lt;br /&gt;I realise this post will mean little to most, but it was a lovely meal, and all the more so for being a continuation of a family tradition, and the start of one of our own.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116281338135760333?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116281338135760333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116281338135760333&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116281338135760333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116281338135760333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/5th-novembers-post.html' title='5th November&apos;s post'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116263486529530137</id><published>2006-11-04T10:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-04T10:07:45.296Z</updated><title type='text'>Add a little imagination</title><content type='html'>I've often heard people comment that you buy a small child a fabulous, and expensive toy, then they only want to play with the box.  Paul is very clever at turning this to good use - for example when Ellie got a pots and pans set, he spray painted the box, added dials and created a cooker. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it fascinates me how small children can turn the most basic of items into toys, which are far more creative than I would ever have come up with.  Ellie's current favourite is a box of rubber bands.  She will empty them out on the carpet, then create pictures with them.  Placing bands to be the 'googly' eyes, the arms, the legs, the hair.  And making far more recognisable pictures than she is able to do yet with her drawing skills.   I'll remember to take a photo of the next one to show you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116263486529530137?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116263486529530137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116263486529530137&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116263486529530137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116263486529530137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/add-little-imagination.html' title='Add a little imagination'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116263448095369842</id><published>2006-11-04T09:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-04T10:01:20.966Z</updated><title type='text'>A lovely day...</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, I had a lovely day...  One of those lovely, meandering, but busy, kind of days.   Ending with a gorgeous display of fireworks (well, it is nearly Bonfire Night).  We had gone to the gym where we are members to see the fireworks but arrived to find it had sold out.   However, the entrance of the gym was just outside of the safety zone for the actual display lighting, so we just stood there - with others, and watched the fireworks explode and dazzle almost directly overhead.  Then we stolled home in the cold, crisp air, feeling the cold nibbling at our fingers and toes.  Which inspired me to make mulled wine once Ellie was in bed.  So by the time I went up to bed, I was merry and warm inside, and fully reconciled to the idea that winter is coming....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116263448095369842?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116263448095369842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116263448095369842&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116263448095369842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116263448095369842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/lovely-day.html' title='A lovely day...'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116255271910662398</id><published>2006-11-03T11:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-03T11:20:57.603Z</updated><title type='text'>Uncertainty at work</title><content type='html'>I'm having a time of difficult decisions at work - well, primarily one major one, a secondment which I shall post more about later. Interestingly though, it's made me realise that although I work hard, and sometimes find the actual work stressful at times, I spend far less 'worry time' on work than I used to do. I think the key change has been this whole parenthood thing! I clearly only have a quota of worry time (at least whilst functioning on a sane and rational level), and it's taken up with anxieties about parenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn't really recognised this until the secondment came up. But now I'm tossing and turning mentally about whether I should go for it or not, what the consequences could be, etc etc, I have suddenly recognised the absence of such career anxiety thoughts over the last 2.5 years. It's not even that I've not made decisions - I've chopped and changed about enough to drive my boss to distraction (except he's too good for that). Honestly, I was going to return to work full time, then three days a week as a social worker, then 2.5 days as a job share team manager, then increased my hours whilst my job share partner was on sick leave, and now increasing them again temporarily whilst she's on a secondment (at least until I decide what I want to do about the secondment I've applied for). But I made all these decisions - well just by making them! I thought through the pros and cons (what I wanted, the financial implications, the stress levels of each course) then just made the decision. There was no tearing myself in two, no constantly revisiting to be sure I was making the right choice, no seeking everyone's advice, no comparing myself to how others might handle the situation. I just got on with it - and that isn't how I used to be about my career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I can definitely recognise all those signs of anxiety in thinking about how to be the best parent I can be to Ellie. Leading to my conclusion that I must have a limited quantity which I have transferred from work to parenting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, I'm doing well at work. Not constantly self-examining has not made me less effective (that' s not to say I don't take stock of what I'm doing and how well I'm doing it at work from time to time - I have to, it's part of my role - but I'm not going round in circles like I used to). Maybe there is a lesson to be learnt here that I can transfer to parenting...!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(but what would I worry about then?!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116255271910662398?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116255271910662398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116255271910662398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116255271910662398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116255271910662398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/uncertainty-at-work.html' title='Uncertainty at work'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116248606079587085</id><published>2006-11-02T16:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-02T16:49:20.520Z</updated><title type='text'>Challenges</title><content type='html'>Wouldn’t you know it…? Just as I decide to commit to NaBLoPoMo, my Broadband provider decides to upgrade my connection. Which, theoretically, is really good – potentially quadrupling my connection speed (2.2 mbps to 8 mbps, if you really want to be technical). Of course, in reality, (probably because we are using one of the ‘free’ broadband providers) what this means is that our connection has become completely unreliable….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how committed to this am I? Will I really try several times a day to get my post online…? Will I dash round to friends' houses to use their connection to put my post up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows? But let me point you to the lovely NaBloPoMo button now residing on my sidebar and, when you understand that my html skills were previously non-exist, you will see the measure of my determination!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116248606079587085?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116248606079587085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116248606079587085&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116248606079587085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116248606079587085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/challenges.html' title='Challenges'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116239161885865858</id><published>2006-11-01T14:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-11-01T14:33:38.873Z</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4325.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4325.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday was Halloween.  Here is Ellie dressed in her 'spider' costume which she happily wore all day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4323.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_4323.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116239161885865858?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116239161885865858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116239161885865858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116239161885865858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116239161885865858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/11/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116219602799102666</id><published>2006-10-30T08:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-10-30T08:13:48.006Z</updated><title type='text'>Posts</title><content type='html'>I started this blog because I wanted to make some time for me.  A chance to step off, and step back from, the merry-go-round of my life.  A chance to reflect on how things were, how I wanted them to be, and how I did not want them to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that simply having this blog, even when I do not post to it, gives me a different perspective on my life.  It's encouraged me to stray out of my own world, my own friends and meet new people - some I agree with, others I may disagree with, but the majority have inspired me in some way.   It's encouraged me to think about what I am doing, and how I feel about it - whether or not those thoughts get written up it's still a better perspective than just swirling about in the tides of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But another part of having this blog was a chance to be creative - to have a chance to express myself.  And I've not done so well with that...  But hey.  My life is busy.  My family has to come before my blog.  My work needs to come before my blog (at least enough to get paid!).  So I'm not giving myself a tough time over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I am going to make a commitment to myself and my blog.  Right now.  I am going to participate in &lt;a href="http://www.fussy.org/nablopomo.html"&gt;NaBloPoMo&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(1).&lt;/span&gt; A post every day in November.   Will I manage it?  The proof will be in the posting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(1) Can it e National NaBloPoMo if  I know people in the US who are doing it and I am too (in England)?  Hmmm.  Oh well, that won't stop me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116219602799102666?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116219602799102666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116219602799102666&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116219602799102666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116219602799102666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/10/posts.html' title='Posts'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-116099587241569659</id><published>2006-10-16T10:42:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-10-16T10:52:49.760Z</updated><title type='text'>Things are looking up...</title><content type='html'>It's been a rough few weeks recently, as no sooner had Ellie recovered from Chickenpox than Paul became ill - possibly with a reaction to Tramadol, but no one is really sure. Whatever the cause it's meant he's spent the last 2 weeks in hospital whilst the neurology team try to figure out what is happening. They've now ruled out 'hundreds' of possibilities, and have decided that it was/is a 'localised electrical disturbance'. It sounds like it's the sort of thing which should cause your lights to flicker, but in fact it's caused Paul to have frequent moments similar to absence type seizures, and big patches of recent memory loss. Paul still has the symptoms, but has been discharged from hospital as they think it will fix itself over the next few weeks/months. Which isn't ideal, but is much much better than it could have been.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to prove that things are getting better, today the fruits of my obsessive online competition entering have finally arrived in the post. I'd discovered an on line competition search site, and entered about 300 competitions in the fortnight before Paul went into hospital. (It's a sign of my recent worry that I have neither blogged nor competitioned in the last fortnight!). Today I finally won a prize!!!! A packet of Discovery garlic and coriander flour tortillas.&lt;br /&gt;And I really am, genuinely, thrilled and excited....!!! (just as well I didn't win a luxury holiday - I don't think I'd be able to cope)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-116099587241569659?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/116099587241569659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=116099587241569659&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116099587241569659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/116099587241569659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/10/things-are-looking-up.html' title='Things are looking up...'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115929762004322109</id><published>2006-09-26T18:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-09-26T19:18:47.750Z</updated><title type='text'>Ups and Downs</title><content type='html'>My poor neglected Blog - patiently waiting for another post, and now it's come it's not carefully crafted, but rather a hasty scrawl. One day, Blog, I will make it up to you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life has been a rollercoaster recently - not one of those exciting, white knuckle, stomach churning, life affirming rollercoasters, more like one of the 'baby' rollercoasters you sometimes get in the children's areas of theme parks...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie got better from her chickenpox eventually (yeah). My boss was fine about my needing a few days off work to look after her (yeah! yeah!). My mum came over to manage the last few days of illness - and Ellie loved seeing her (yeah yeah yeah!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Ellie is still waking 3/4 times a night even though she's better, so I'm very tired. Work is very manic as I missed several urgent deadlines due to being off. And I ended up being so tired I had to go to bed at 6.30 (before Ellie!) on Thursday... but Paul put Ellie to bed and let me sleep so that's not really bad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw an old Uni friend over the weekend, which was lovely! Although I'm left with mixed feelings of how great it was to catch up, and how annoyed I am that I left it so long... (but that' s probably exhaustion hitting!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul has hurt the base of his spine and needs to get it x-rayed - which is Ok because it's under control, but he had a bad reaction to either one of his painkillers, or the combination of painkillers (or maybe both) that he was prescribed... and he's still really out of it 3 days later...&lt;br /&gt;And I have remembered that my perfect husband is really hopeless at recognising when he is ill - swearing he is Ok to drive, but then driving home to the flat we left 3&lt;strong&gt; years&lt;/strong&gt; ago. Althoughhis being out of action does make me realise how much childcare he usually does!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last night I was going to go out to meet a friend, to swim, and gossip with, but I had to stand him up at the last minute... because Paul was crashed out and Ellie isn't sleeping though, and I just couldn't be sure it was Ok to go out in case she woke and Paul didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, I got a lovely parcel in the post - which I will photo and tell you more about tomorrow.... but thank you &lt;a href="http://sstuntmother.blogspot.com"&gt;Stuntmother&lt;/a&gt;!!!! You have no idea how much that has cheered me up. And today I also had social work teaching/lecturing sessions confirmed at Huddersfield Uni (just 1 session) and at Leeds Uni (2 sessions, maybe more in future). Which is very exciting (especially as I still also have teaching at York agreed). But, the sessions are all in the next few weeks before mid November, and I have to plan them... and I'm tired, and work is really busy, and my ever so supportive husband who I rely on completely is poorly.....!!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who knows what tomorrow will bring....?&lt;br /&gt;(but right now, my tea is boiling over and Ellie is crying " Mummy", so I'd better go!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115929762004322109?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115929762004322109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115929762004322109&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115929762004322109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115929762004322109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/09/ups-and-downs.html' title='Ups and Downs'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115822590858487077</id><published>2006-09-14T09:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-09-14T09:25:08.593Z</updated><title type='text'>Too busy to blog</title><content type='html'>I was going to blog about how I was starting to have a social life ( I even had three invites to choose from last saturday night - and that's not happened for years and years!), with amusing highlights from out homelife (how the pavement is being redone, and the workmen managed to burst our gas main, and how it was ever so lucky that Paul was at home that day or they would have needed to get the police to bust in our front door to be able to fix it.... followed by how they left the pavement 'in progress' overnight and we managed to get our car wheel wedged in the foot deep hole they'd left, completely blocking the road and needed to get a specialist truck to winch us out). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But right now, Ellie has chickenpox.  And she needs me more than my blog does... so no more entries for a while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115822590858487077?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115822590858487077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115822590858487077&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115822590858487077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115822590858487077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/09/too-busy-to-blog.html' title='Too busy to blog'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115723116535525487</id><published>2006-09-02T21:04:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-09-02T21:06:05.373Z</updated><title type='text'>Dichotomies and Dilemnas</title><content type='html'>You may have noticed I've not posted for a while.   It's not that I've not had anything to post about - just very little time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The thought behind the title of this blog was that it would be my space.  Some time and space just for me.  Without needing to juggle several tasks.  But the juggling just seems to take up more and more time and energy (with less time to blog).  This sounds much more miserable that I am - I just need to find a few answers...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To questions such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) &lt;strong&gt;How does a lazy (or busy - depending upon the day of the week) person balance eco-friendly attempts to save the planet with trying to cut the household budget?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see I could walk more, saving CO2 emissions, and money on petrol - but it takes longer, and is hard when you work 34 miles away! &lt;br /&gt;I want to buy organic food, but it costs a fortune in the supermarket, and I'm too lazy/buzy to grow my own or trail a toddler around local 'good' shops.&lt;br /&gt;I used to use washable nappies, but now Ellie will only wear trainer pants, and I can't find non bulky washable trainer pants in any of the places I've looked...&lt;br /&gt;And somehow, just using Ecover products really doesn't seem enough to save the planet for my daughter's future!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)&lt;strong&gt;How do I find time to be a good mother, good wife/partner, keep the house clean (all of which take up lots of time)and still find time to be myself? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;Because if I don't spend time doing things for me, that I enjoy, then I will be a less good mother, and a less good partner, and being in a clean house won't be enough...&lt;br /&gt;But then I do also enjoy doing things with Ellie and with Paul - and there never seems to be enough time to do everything... And yet, I'm still gutted that I never made it to Infest,a nd that there are friends I've not seen in ages!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh this does sound miserable... and really, honestly, truly, I'm not.  But I would be ecstatically happy if I could just answer these questions!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115723116535525487?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115723116535525487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115723116535525487&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115723116535525487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115723116535525487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/09/dichotomies-and-dilemnas.html' title='Dichotomies and Dilemnas'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115619011066115802</id><published>2006-08-21T19:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-21T19:55:10.686Z</updated><title type='text'>The Cardigan</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/blogging/ElliecardiganMosaic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/blogging/ElliecardiganMosaic.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie is a very lucky girl - not only can her Nana, and great-grandma knit for her but so can her Auntie!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See the evidence.  Yes I know that Ellie's head is chopped off in some of these, but for once it's not about Ellie (!).  It's about the cardigan.  It fits beautifully, with a little room for growth.  (The sleeves are turned over once)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS the beautiful subtle colours of the cardigan are not best set off by the stripy dress, but it's what Ellie was wearing when it came in the post.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115619011066115802?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115619011066115802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115619011066115802&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115619011066115802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115619011066115802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/cardigan.html' title='The Cardigan'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/blogging/th_ElliecardiganMosaic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115588949045865945</id><published>2006-08-18T08:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-18T08:25:53.416Z</updated><title type='text'>Me Myself and I</title><content type='html'>&lt;table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#E6E6FA" align=center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Birthdate: July 29&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#F2F2FB"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/birthday.jpg" height="100" width="100"&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;font color="#000000"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have the mind of an artist, even if you haven't developed the talent yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Expressive and aware, you enjoy finding new ways to share your feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You often feel like you don't fit in - especially in traditional environments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have big dreams. The problem is putting those dreams into action.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your strength: Your vivid imagination&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your weakness: Fear of failure&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power color: Coral&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power symbol: Oval&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your power month: November&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatdoesyourbirthdatemeanquiz/"&gt;What Does Your Birth Date Mean?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you read these things and they ring true (usally when they are vague or flattering I suspect) but this one hasn't.  Which is leading me down a path of uncertain introspection... what do I think the answer should have been?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No time to go into details now, Ellie has a swimming lesson to go to, but watch this space!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115588949045865945?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115588949045865945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115588949045865945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115588949045865945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115588949045865945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/me-myself-and-i_18.html' title='Me Myself and I'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115528503338198049</id><published>2006-08-11T08:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-11T08:30:33.400Z</updated><title type='text'>York Maze</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/mosaic611489.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/mosaic611489.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last weekend we went to &lt;a href="http://www.yorkmaze.com/pages/index.html"&gt;York Maze&lt;/a&gt; with Ellie's godfather (to be). We had a great time.  There was a  very big maze (Star Trek themed this year).  There was a little 'maze of illusions'.  There were animals to see, games to be played, and ice lollies to be eaten.  What fun!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Ellie particularly loved having 'long legs' but was a bit concerned at the next mirror when they had disappeared!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115528503338198049?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115528503338198049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115528503338198049&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115528503338198049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115528503338198049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/york-maze.html' title='York Maze'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115480678399761906</id><published>2006-08-05T19:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-05T19:51:12.300Z</updated><title type='text'>The Bag</title><content type='html'>A story of identity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, our heroine had a handbag. The handbag was nothing special. It wasn't a designer label. It didn't hold incredible secrets. Just a purse, mobile phone, keys, hairbrush, mascara, lipstick, tissues, tampons etc. But it went everywhere with her - our heroine would not have dreamt about stepping across the threshold of her house without it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she had a baby. The first couple of times she left the house with the baby she took the handbag with the baby and the baby's changing bag. But she simply did not have enough hands to hold the baby, the baby's buggy/car seat, the changing bag, and her handbag. So she took the purse, the mobile phone and the keys out of the handbag and put them in a pocket of the changing bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the baby got older, more and more things were put into the changing bag - cups, feeding utensils, books, plastic toys as well as nappies, wipes and bags. And the purse, mobile phone and keys were still in a pocket too. The handbag that had been hung up in the closet, still with the mascara and lipstick inside it, was hardly given a second thought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One day, our heroine realised that she did not need to take such a big, heavy, changing bag if she was only going out for a short while, and so she found an old (big) handbag and put into it some wipes, tissues, a spare nappy and a couple of nappy bags, as well as her purse, keys and phone. Now on the rare occasions when she is going out without her child - in a rush she takes the handbag with her, having fought hard to squeeze in a comb and lipstick amidst the wipes and tissues. It is only when she is out surrounded by others with tiny, pretty, handbags that she realises she could have used a different bag with just her things inside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115480678399761906?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115480678399761906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115480678399761906&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115480678399761906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115480678399761906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/bag.html' title='The Bag'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115459191651538197</id><published>2006-08-03T07:52:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-03T07:58:36.516Z</updated><title type='text'>My baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3746.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3746.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some moments she seems so grown up that I can't believe she is only 2. Other moments she is so clearly still my baby.&lt;br /&gt;It makes my head hurt and my heart melt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;(This would be a much longer post, but apparently the computer is needed to see &lt;a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/cbeebies/"&gt;Razzle Dazzle and Mr Tumble&lt;/a&gt; )&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115459191651538197?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115459191651538197/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115459191651538197&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115459191651538197'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115459191651538197'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/my-baby.html' title='My baby'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115459145061201178</id><published>2006-08-03T07:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-08-03T07:50:50.620Z</updated><title type='text'>Anyone for Tea?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3914.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3914.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;There we were sat around the dining table at teatime the other day, when Ellie spotted a visitor stolling along our garden towards our window... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115459145061201178?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115459145061201178/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115459145061201178&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115459145061201178'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115459145061201178'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/08/anyone-for-tea.html' title='Anyone for Tea?'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115437908854596590</id><published>2006-07-31T20:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-31T21:08:19.736Z</updated><title type='text'>Brodsworth Hall</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/2c223d1b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/2c223d1b.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Sunday we went for a picnic at &lt;a href="http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/server/show/ConProperty.359"&gt;Brodsworth Hall &lt;/a&gt;- one of my two favourite English Heritage properties. Built mid 19th century (I think?), it was owned by private family until fairly recently, and was falling into disrepair until EH stepped in. The gardens are beautiful, and the house is probably unique to visit! Because it was a 'lived in' home for so long - there are incredible 'updates' done to the house (my favourite being a proper Crapper loo with 1950's pink walls!) The gardens are also being 'redone' and are gorgeous. Anyway, it was the first time I'd visited since I'd had Ellie - and whilst I love the house I was unsure how she would find it. There were several 'child friendly' touches, but Ellie's favourite was a wooden horse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently it was Paul's favourite too!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3912.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115437908854596590?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115437908854596590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115437908854596590&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115437908854596590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115437908854596590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/brodsworth-hall.html' title='Brodsworth Hall'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115420180050099584</id><published>2006-07-29T18:43:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-29T19:36:40.563Z</updated><title type='text'>Friends and Friendships (and Weddings and Children too)</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I was at the wedding of an old schoolfriend.  I'll not dwell on what a lovely ceremony it was, or what a lovely location, or how it reminded me of my own wedding (even though they are all very much true).  Or even how we won the table top quiz during the wedding breakfast (two sections - one on the bride and groom and the other on general knowledge- with points awarded for the correct, or most amusing, answers). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was wonderful to meet up with my old schoolfriends who were once so close but whom I now  rarely see (rapidly moving towards the old cliche of weddings and funerals - well, just one funeral so far but that's one too many).    That the old 'gang' is now 5 rather than 6 gave a poignancy to our meeting, but sad feelings didn't last long at such a happy occasion. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our lives have changed so much since school - then we shared experiences of going to see gigs, going to clubs, joys and traumas of first relationships, what were we going to be 'when we grew up'.  Now - on the whole - we are settled with partners, with careers, with children.   In many ways we are very different from who we were.  Yet, once we'd caught up on lifechanges, the years just fell away.  Conversation flowed, topics came and went, reminiscences and plans for the future were shared.   There was no competition about whose house was biggest, who earnt more, whose children were brightest.  We just were, together as friends.  I really wish I saw them all more often.  But it doesn't matter that I don't.  They will still be my friends when next we meet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a related note, &lt;a href="http://www.stuntmother.blogspot.com"&gt;Stuntmother&lt;/a&gt; has posted about why she believes children should be included in weddings.  The bride and groom had taken the decision to only invite children who were related to them.  I can't disagree with this decision,  as I did exactly the same at my wedding, yet I will admit to being sad that I would have to leave Ellie and that she would not be able to share the occasion.  Yet when I got there I felt quite differently.   Meeting up with my old schoolfriends was such a chance to be myself; to remember that I had my own life before being a mother,  that I still do have a life separate to my child (and work).  Of course I talked about Ellie, of course I showed pictures of her.   Not having Ellie there, competing for my attention and needing her needs to be put first, meant that I could immerse myself in the event and in conversations with friends.  I needed that.  I needed time to be me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the first night I've ever spent away from her.  My mother and sister came over to look after her.  She was fine (of course).  I'd looked forward to not being woken at 5am - particularly since it is my birthday today!  But of course old habits die hard and I awoke even without her.  I appreciate her even more for being separated for a little while - and I will give her a very big hug at 5am tomorrow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS.  Sorry this post is a little disjointed - it was a very merry wedding by the end!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115420180050099584?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115420180050099584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115420180050099584&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115420180050099584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115420180050099584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/friends-and-friendships-and-weddings.html' title='Friends and Friendships (and Weddings and Children too)'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115368639535817655</id><published>2006-07-23T20:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-23T20:28:14.106Z</updated><title type='text'>Unfinished Statement of Needs</title><content type='html'>I saw over on &lt;a href="http://www.glingle-glingle.blogspot.com"&gt;Glingle's&lt;/a&gt; blog a meme whereby you create a statement of your needs by Googling your name and the word needs and then display the most interesting results. I tried to resist it, but the social worker in me could not (it's a technical thing!). However, the three entries all related to a ecological kids song about Lisa the Lemur (you can see one of them &lt;a href="http://www.britishcouncil.org/kids-songs-lisa-lemur.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;). It even plays the tune for you if you want.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I got distracted following the link, and have lost the google page. Maybe one day when I'm less busy and tired I'll retry! Or maybe I'll just use the energy on teaching Ellie the song - it's so cool to have a song with your name! (even if it is really about a lemur!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115368639535817655?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115368639535817655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115368639535817655&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115368639535817655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115368639535817655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/unfinished-statement-of-needs.html' title='Unfinished Statement of Needs'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115348622786526398</id><published>2006-07-21T12:36:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-21T12:54:24.720Z</updated><title type='text'>Changing Shape</title><content type='html'>I was starting to feel differently about my shape. Last week I re-started going to the gym (after a 3 year break). As my wise husband predicted, just going and getting a programme sorted out has started to make me feel better about myself. Like most people, whilst I am grateful and appreciate that my body functions perfectly, I wish that it did so in a more stylish and slender way! When I look back at photos of my younger self, part of me regrets that my self image then was unreasonably negative and that I did not appreciate the positives of the body I had, whilst an even stronger part of me is frustrated that I now look fatter and flabbier than I did then. Still, I know that regularly going to the gym will slowly change my body in a positive way - so I recognised that it's a slow process but it's worth putting in that effort.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, on &lt;a href="http://www.stuntmother.blogspot.com"&gt;Stuntmother&lt;/a&gt;'s blog, I found a link to this &lt;a href="http://www.shapeofamother.blogspot.com"&gt;site&lt;/a&gt;. And overnight it changed the way I feel about myself and my shape. Oh, I'll still continue to go to the gym, to become slimmer, fitter and healthier - but now I no longer feel the need to perform strange contortions to get showered/changed without showing an inch of flesh.  I have realised that I have two physical reminders of getting pregnant and giving birth, and fortuntately only one of them throws tantrums!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115348622786526398?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115348622786526398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115348622786526398&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115348622786526398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115348622786526398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/changing-shape.html' title='Changing Shape'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115348530307847177</id><published>2006-07-21T12:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-21T12:35:03.086Z</updated><title type='text'>Much too much</title><content type='html'>Yesterday, I was trying to 'quickly' set up broadband (which worked Ok, but the webmail really didn't leaving us with no sending email).  In the midst of this unresolved and quite stressful situation the gas/electricity man came to read the meter.  Then I realised that we (but particularly Ellie) needed lunch so started to make very simple beans on toast.  And in the midst of this the phone rang, an important call about arranging a visit to take forward being respite foster carers.  And with all this going on, Ellie walked into the kitchen, lifted up her skirt and wee-ed on the kitchen floot (not tiles, not lino, CARPET!) then walked out again.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to look around for a suitable corner to either scream, cry or gibber (or maybe all three).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Ellie reappeared, with a tiny, moist wetwipe, and tried to clean up her puddle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, you just have to laugh! (and give your child a cuddle)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115348530307847177?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115348530307847177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115348530307847177&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115348530307847177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115348530307847177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/much-too-much.html' title='Much too much'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115307776809607484</id><published>2006-07-16T19:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-16T19:22:48.106Z</updated><title type='text'>Three Wishes</title><content type='html'>Today, I went to my god daughter’s christening (Emma this time, not Maisy – that was last month!).  On the buffet table, there was a box with some paper slips so that everyone could write their 3 wishes for Emma.  When they were read out, there was a lovely mixture of ‘traditional’ (variations on wealth, health and happiness) some more emotional ones, and a few relating to current events (world cup in particular).  The intention is to keep them so that Emma can read them when she gets older. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paul commented that he dislikes it when this kind of thing is ‘sprung’ on you – purely on the basis that he wants more time to prepare (he has such a competitive/perfectionist streak!).  So, assuming that at some point we get round to Ellie being christened - you have been warned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115307776809607484?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115307776809607484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115307776809607484&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115307776809607484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115307776809607484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/three-wishes.html' title='Three Wishes'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115289983116634572</id><published>2006-07-14T17:53:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-07-14T17:57:11.180Z</updated><title type='text'>Local</title><content type='html'>Driving out of York today, I noticed at some traffic lights that my route was headed ‘Local Traffic’ and it made me think about when you actually become ‘a local’.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Having lived in York now for half my life, and owning a house here, I usually confidently say that I’m from York when someone asks.  I’ve finally shrugged off the need to say “Well, I was from x, but now I live in York”.  I certainly didn’t feel I could just say “I’m from York” when I first came to study here, and still felt rather a fraud if I did say it for years afterwards.  I still didn’t have that mental sense of ‘localness’ even after buying my first home or having wide social and work networks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m not sure when the mental change occurred or what caused it; the length of time I’ve lived here; having a daughter who can only be described as ‘a local’; finally being able to get myself everywhere I need without a map; or maybe having so many of my memories tied to places here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, as I headed straight across the lights, I had a sense of contented settled belongingness.  I'm sure that there are deeper thoughts to be had, about how my sense of belonging, and self identity, interconnect but at the moment, I'll just focus on the contentment.  (*It's been a busy few weeks... and good feelings should be treasured.  Especially when they come in unexpected places like road markings!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115289983116634572?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115289983116634572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115289983116634572&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115289983116634572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115289983116634572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/07/local.html' title='Local'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115115188533143737</id><published>2006-06-24T12:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-24T12:24:45.346Z</updated><title type='text'>contentment</title><content type='html'>My life is feeling pretty good at the moment.  I knew this already, but it's nice to have it confirmed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellspacing="0" style="border: 1px solid #333333; margin: 10px;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="border: none; font: bold 16px sans-serif; background: #ffddbb; color: #000000; padding: 5px; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;This Is My Life, Rated&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 18px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: 1px solid #333333; border-left: none; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Life:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 18px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: 1px solid #333333; border-left: none; border-right: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/blubar.gif" height="12" width="152" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 7.6&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/greblubar.gif" height="12" width="136" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 6.8&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Body:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/grebar.gif" height="12" width="128" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 6.4&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Spirit:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/greblubar.gif" height="12" width="130" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 6.5&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Friends/Family:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/greblubar.gif" height="12" width="142" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 7.1&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/blupurbar.gif" height="12" width="182" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 9.1&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="width: 85px; padding: 5px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; border-right: 1px solid #333333; background-image: none; background: #ffffcc; color: #000000;"&gt;Finance:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="width: 240px; padding: 5px; padding-left: 0px; font: bold 12px sans-serif; text-align: left; border: none; vertical-align: middle; background-image: none; background: #ffffff; color: #000000;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/img/blubar.gif" height="12" width="158" style="border: 1px solid #000000; border-left: none; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0px; margin: 0px;" /&gt; 7.9&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" style="border: none; border-top: 1px solid #333333; font: bold 14px sans-serif; background: #ffeedd; padding: 5px; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monkeyquiz.com/life/rate_my_life.html" style="color: #0000ff;"&gt;Take the Rate My Life Quiz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115115188533143737?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115115188533143737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115115188533143737&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115115188533143737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115115188533143737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/contentment.html' title='contentment'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115048494411722344</id><published>2006-06-16T19:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-16T19:09:04.126Z</updated><title type='text'>Godmother</title><content type='html'>Last Sunday I officially became Maisy’s godmother.  Maisy is seven so this isn’t a major change - more a tidying up of an arrangement made a few hours after she was born.   Ellie’s description of the ceremony probably sums up the practicalities: “The priest man poured water on Maisy’s head.  He talked long time then we went home to Maisy’s house”. &lt;br /&gt;The ceremony gave me a focus however to reflect on my relationship with Maisy, and to re-affirm how lucky I am to be her godmother and part of her life.  Maisy is a lovely, thoughtful, considerate, energetic, intelligent, artistic, sociable child.   She’s also been a typical baby, toddler, pre-schooler etc with all the challenges those stages of development bring and is now a pretty typical seven year old adjusting to having a two year old brother and an unhelpful class teacher at school.   Thinking about Maisy, made me realise just how much she has given me over the last seven years. Having spent time looking after Maisy as a baby and toddler gave me a real headstart in confidence in looking after Ellie – I didn’t have to learn how to put on nappies, or give a bath, whilst fumbling my way through that post partum exhaustion.   When things have been difficult, in work or relationships, Maisy’s obvious love and affection for me (along with the support of her parents) has really helped me to hold things together.  Not to mention the (selfish) pleasures of Maisy drawing pictures specially for me, or insisting that only I am able to read her night time story.   Or the recollection of things she has said and done which bring a smile to my face even now as I write this.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which leads me to question – am I her ‘fairy’ godmother, or is she mine?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115048494411722344?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115048494411722344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115048494411722344&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115048494411722344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115048494411722344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/godmother.html' title='Godmother'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115031471804655908</id><published>2006-06-14T19:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-14T19:51:58.046Z</updated><title type='text'>Potty!</title><content type='html'>Ellie has, in the last week, started toilet training and she’s doing really well.  In fact, we’ve had hardly a wet nappy overnight since we started (which we didn’t expect) and only a few ‘accidents’ during the day times.  Our chosen method (and nursery’s) is to prompt her regularly to sit on the potty, and to give her lots of praise (and a sticker if she’s at home) for any ‘result’.  As a consequence of giving praise, I’ve ended up having lots of strange conversations along the lines of “Aren’t you a good girl doing a wee – shall we go and tell Daddy that you’ve done a wee?” then she gets a second lot of praise also.  In terms of toilet training, this is working very well with only one or two ‘accidents’ a day (usually when she’s doing something far too interesting to interrupt for the potty!).  However this has led to the weird situation this evening when, shortly after Paul left the house, Ellie did a poo and was adamant that I couldn’t empty the potty until Daddy got back to see it!  In the end, we compromised and we took a picture of it.  (Thank goodness for digital cameras and never having to get that picture processed!).   No matter how much expert advice you read -  it just doesn’t cover every eventuality!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115031471804655908?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115031471804655908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115031471804655908&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115031471804655908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115031471804655908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/potty.html' title='Potty!'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-115031465383852431</id><published>2006-06-14T19:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-14T19:50:53.853Z</updated><title type='text'>Time Out</title><content type='html'>The other weekend was very sunny so we ended up having a barbeque with our friend, Mal.  Whilst we were all sat out enjoying our food, Kitty went after a bird with a much greater degree of success than usual.  The bird, which appeared to be struggling to get off the ground after Kitty’s pounce, hopped to a patch of long grass and hid there.  Whilst I understand that as a cat it is inherent to Kitty’s nature to chase birds, it’s not something I want to see (particularly over my dinner!).  Mal interrupted Kitty’s search of the long grass and shut her in the house.   A little while later we checked on the bird – a rather shaken fledgling – who hopped out of the grass as we disturbed her (or possibly him) and desperately flapped back to a nearby tree where her mother was waiting anxiously.  Ellie’s comment on all this?  “Kitty in time out!”.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-115031465383852431?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/115031465383852431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=115031465383852431&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115031465383852431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/115031465383852431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/time-out.html' title='Time Out'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114966491739507892</id><published>2006-06-07T07:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-07T07:26:59.936Z</updated><title type='text'>Barnaby Bear</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec029.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just before we went on holiday, amidst the blur of ‘things I must finish at work’, ‘clothes I must wash &amp; dry to take away’, ‘important documents I must find to enable us to go abroad’ etc, I happened to see a programme on CBeebies channel. It was ‘Barnaby and Becky’ (about a small bear who goes on adventures usually without the little girl Becky). In this particular episode, Barnaby went on a Ferry across to Roscoff (in Brittany), where he had a crepe and explored ‘le jardin exotique’ (an usual tropical garden). When I saw it, I forgot the grown up tasks I needed to complete to go on holiday and was filled with holiday excitement because we too were going to go on a Ferry to Roscoff, and I had every intention of having crepes too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the penultimate day of our holiday, Paul motivated us out of our holiday ‘laissez-faire’ and we went to Roscoff’s ‘jardin exotique’. It was fabulous, a wonderful tropical garden, overlooking the Channel. Even as a novice (and ‘do it when I have to’) gardener, the plants and setting were awesome! And Ellie thought it was wonderful to find long leaves, and sticks, to trail along the ground. The weather was also tropical too, which added to the illusion of being much further away than Northern France. And, to top it all, I was walking along the very path that Barnaby had been on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, impossible though it is to show the magic through the pictures, I thought I'd show you a couple anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec052.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114966491739507892?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114966491739507892/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114966491739507892&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114966491739507892'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114966491739507892'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/barnaby-bear.html' title='Barnaby Bear'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/th_Carantec041.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114962584958727363</id><published>2006-06-06T20:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-06T20:30:49.600Z</updated><title type='text'>Holiday snaps</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec002.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No time to write about our hols, but on the basis that a picture speaks a thousand words...&lt;br /&gt;Here are Paul and Ellie in the pool! It was very quiet on the campsite for the first week, and also rather wet and windy. However, there were a few brighter spells which we made the most of! the second week was school holidays - much better weather but many many more people. I quite like the luxury of this private pool. The pool was 'heated' but this mean solar heating which raises the temperature by only a few degrees. The smaller pool to the back left was a jacuzzi and excellent for warming back up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 324px; CURSOR: hand" height="240" alt="" src="http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/Carantec007.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Ellie loved swimming, even in the cold pool!  But she also really loved going on this bike riding game afterwards.  Which is very lucky as I'm not sure the cold pool would have been healthy for too long!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Best for us as parents - at 2 not only is she too young to play, but she's also to young to have any expectation that the bike might actually do anything)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, more about what I did on my holidays to follow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114962584958727363?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114962584958727363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114962584958727363&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114962584958727363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114962584958727363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/holiday-snaps.html' title='Holiday snaps'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://i37.photobucket.com/albums/e65/valerian101/Carantec%20Holiday/th_Carantec002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114945098206906103</id><published>2006-06-04T19:54:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-06-04T19:56:22.080Z</updated><title type='text'>Lost in France</title><content type='html'>I’ve not posted for a while as I’ve been away in France for two weeks.  It’s been a fabulous holiday – although the EU (or should that be European Community?) Ironing Mountain I’m now facing has soon brought me back down to earth!  Once our clothes are safely hung back up in our wardrobes I’ll post some more and let you know all about the wind, the lashing rain, the very cold swimming pool and that absolutely wonderful time we had (really – we did!).  Oh, and due to my Dad's  and husband's excellent driving I didn't get lost and was able to drink instead of driving.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114945098206906103?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114945098206906103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114945098206906103&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114945098206906103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114945098206906103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/06/lost-in-france.html' title='Lost in France'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114742064046800509</id><published>2006-05-12T07:50:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-05-12T12:13:07.496Z</updated><title type='text'>Love</title><content type='html'>I've not posted for while, simply because I've been busy working, seeing relatives, having my 7 yr old goddaugher to stay, and assembling a playhouse and sand pit. Good times but with little time to think, reflect or write.&lt;br /&gt;When I get more time, I want to join &lt;a href="http://poetrythursday.blogspot.com/"&gt;Poetry Thursday&lt;/a&gt; (one day I'll have time to find out how to link to other posts! EDIT Update: apparently that is today!). However, inspired by that idea, by discovering this poem yesterday, and because Paul is having a hard time at the moment and I love him very much - I thought I'd post this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Love by Roy Croft&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;Not only for what you are,&lt;br /&gt;But for what I am&lt;br /&gt;When I am with you.&lt;br /&gt;I love you,&lt;br /&gt;Not only for what&lt;br /&gt;You have made of yourself,&lt;br /&gt;But for what&lt;br /&gt;You are making of me.&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;For the part of me&lt;br /&gt;That you bring out;&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;For putting your hand&lt;br /&gt;Into my heaped-up heart&lt;br /&gt;And passing over&lt;br /&gt;All the foolish, weak things&lt;br /&gt;That you can't help&lt;br /&gt;Dimly seeing there,&lt;br /&gt;And for drawing out&lt;br /&gt;Into the light&lt;br /&gt;All the beautiful belongings&lt;br /&gt;That no one else had looked&lt;br /&gt;Quite far enough to find&lt;br /&gt;I love you because you&lt;br /&gt;Are helping me to make&lt;br /&gt;Of the lumber of my life&lt;br /&gt;Not a tavern&lt;br /&gt;But a temple.&lt;br /&gt;Out of the works&lt;br /&gt;Of my every day&lt;br /&gt;Not a reproach&lt;br /&gt;But a song.&lt;br /&gt;I love you&lt;br /&gt;Because you have done&lt;br /&gt;More than any creed&lt;br /&gt;Could have done&lt;br /&gt;To make me good.&lt;br /&gt;And more than any fate&lt;br /&gt;Could have done&lt;br /&gt;To make me happy.&lt;br /&gt;You have done it&lt;br /&gt;Without a touch,&lt;br /&gt;Without a word,&lt;br /&gt;Without a sign.&lt;br /&gt;You have done it&lt;br /&gt;By being yourself.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps that is what&lt;br /&gt;Being a friend means,&lt;br /&gt;After all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114742064046800509?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114742064046800509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114742064046800509&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114742064046800509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114742064046800509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/05/love.html' title='Love'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114599210654769992</id><published>2006-04-25T19:06:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-25T19:08:26.596Z</updated><title type='text'>Watery Reflections</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Last night whilst Paul was multi-tasking (playing ‘boardgames’, and babysitting) I enjoyed a late night swim, and lounge around in the Jacuzzi at the gym.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Not too surprisingly my thoughts turned to a friend’s observations on Jacuzzi etiquette.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I have three observations of my own – which since I’m lacking inspiration and motivation to write anything else, I will put here.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; TEXT-INDENT: -18pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list: Ignore"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;1)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT: 7pt 'Times New Roman'"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;My friend, Steer is right that there is an unwritten rule that when the bubbles stop whoever is nearest the steps (and consequently nearest to the Jacuzzi ‘on’ button) is expected to get out to turn it back on.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;However, there also appears to be a chivalrous element to the male gym members and if it is a woman nearest to the bubbles then she isn’t expected to get out.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;There’s not even an &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;‘are you going to go or am I’ questioning look – as soon as the bubbles stop there’s a chivalrous man half standing up to get out. (And I double checked that it applies to women generally not just me – so it can’t be explained by them not wanting to see my blubbery body!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; TEXT-INDENT: -18pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list: Ignore"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;2)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT: 7pt 'Times New Roman'"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;No body speaks to anybody in the Jacuzzi, unless they already know them.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In fact, there is almost a London Underground determination not even to make eye contact – let alone say thank you if some presses the on button.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I particularly notice this, because if you are sat in non-bubbling hot water in the toddler pool there is almost an inverse expectation that you will chat to other parents as your child refuses to share floats/toys with theirs!&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Yet I can’t be the only person who sits in both places – such situational conditioning!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; TEXT-INDENT: -18pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 36.0pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="mso-fareast-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial"&gt;&lt;span style="mso-list: Ignore"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;3)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="FONT: 7pt 'Times New Roman'"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;Far too many times when I have been recently (late at night without Ellie – with the main intention of going of sitting in the Jacuzzi and avoiding all exercise), the Jacuzzi has been out of action.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I am sure this is linked to the extra frothy water which often occurs and which Steer and I have speculated is possibly due to people failing to rinse their shampoo.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Anyway, last night I found floating in the Jacuzzi a half full travel size shampoo bottle (thankfully with lid on), which I fished out.&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;I suspect it says a lot about the gym prices that it was a bottle of Molton Brown shampoo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 18pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0cm 0cm 0pt 18pt"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;As you can tell, it was a lovely evening – very relaxing, and completely switched off from work and motherhood!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114599210654769992?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114599210654769992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114599210654769992&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114599210654769992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114599210654769992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/watery-reflections.html' title='Watery Reflections'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114547706941408114</id><published>2006-04-19T20:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-19T20:04:29.416Z</updated><title type='text'>Training</title><content type='html'>Last week, most of my working week was spent on a training course on supervision.  Today, I had an unexpected ‘difficult’ conversation with one of the people I supervise.  At the end of the conversation, it struck me that the conversation had been almost identical to a role play I had done on the training… if only I had realised earlier maybe I could have actively used the strategies discussed at the end of the role play to improve the outcome.  (On the other hand, two hours later the worker informed me they had now done all the tasks I had asked of them so something about the conversation must have worked!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s probably an indication of my level of overwork last week, that although I am contracted to work 2.5 days, it was a three day training course.  And that was only ‘most’ of my working week!  But my jobshare partner is back at work today after 10 weeks off sick – I was so glad to see her….!!!!  I feel a spring in my step, a song in my heart, and an all over glow of happiness.  (Which will probably last until Monday since I’m not working again until then).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114547706941408114?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114547706941408114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114547706941408114&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114547706941408114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114547706941408114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/training.html' title='Training'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114547701446625422</id><published>2006-04-19T20:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-19T20:03:34.486Z</updated><title type='text'>Terrible Twos or Terrific Twos?</title><content type='html'>Ellie is now two!  She stirred on her birthday morning at 5am, then woke properly shouting for “mummy” at 5.30am.  She often wakes early, so this isn’t really unusual.  However, it was also a strange co-incidence since two years earlier, she had woken me up with a strange pain at 5am (at which point, for reasons which I don’t really understand, I got up and did the washing up from the night before) and at 5.30 very strong contractions started.  Luckily for me, the rest of her birthday this year went very differently… with a really enjoyable birthday party, with friends, food, drink, pass the parcel, and much fun.  As opposed to a stream of midwives, a few glucose sweets and far more drugs than I’d expected!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few moments reflection has left me amazed at how much my life has changed, at the strength of feeling in unconditional love, at the enormous number of clothes Ellie has grown out of, at the number of nursery rhymes I have learnt/remembered, at how toys creep into every corner of the house despite attempts to contain them in boxes and tubs, at how brazen I have become at ignoring tantrums in the middle of shops, at the way my heart still skips a beat when she takes my hand in her tiny one…  Friends, books and even complete strangers all told me how different life would be once I’d had my baby. It’s not that I didn’t believe them because I did, but I really had no idea about just how different it would be.  Or how it would be constantly changing as Ellie changes, with new joys, new challenges and new experiences.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114547701446625422?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114547701446625422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114547701446625422&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114547701446625422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114547701446625422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/terrible-twos-or-terrific-twos.html' title='Terrible Twos or Terrific Twos?'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114470061184518127</id><published>2006-04-10T20:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-10T20:23:31.846Z</updated><title type='text'>Water Water Everywhere</title><content type='html'>I’ve always found it quite hard to understand why on an island surrounded by water we often have water shortages.  I’m finding it even harder to understand how Thames Water have a hosepipe ban when I pass at least a dozen flooded fields on my way home from work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Assuming flooding is better than drought (at least where both are in moderation) this is yet another reason why it’s better to be ‘up North’.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114470061184518127?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114470061184518127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114470061184518127&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114470061184518127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114470061184518127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/water-water-everywhere.html' title='Water Water Everywhere'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114470056934134585</id><published>2006-04-10T20:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-10T20:22:51.263Z</updated><title type='text'>Breast is best</title><content type='html'>Depending upon your views on breasts, or more specifically extended breastfeeding, you may be advised to read no further…!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;……&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read on a friend’s blog a while ago (I’d do a link if I was clever – but I’m not) that you know you’ve been breastfeeding too long if your ‘baby’ says “The other side Mummy” and you hear “The Udder side”. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In relaying this anecdote to another friend, she laughed and assumed I’d reached the end as I said “The other side, Mummy”.  I assume she felt babies were too old to breastfeed once they could speak. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellie is 2 next week.  Initially I wanted to feed her for 6 months – because I’d read that had lots of health benefits.  By 6 months we both enjoyed the feeds – and I’d learnt by then that the WHO believe there are health benefits in feeding up to 2 years – so we carried on.  Although I’ve kept the idea in the back of my mind that I’ll stop feeding Ellie when she’s 2.  Which, as I’ve just said, is next week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve got mixed feelings though. It’s just so lovely having her feed and snuggle against me when she’s just woken and I’m still half asleep (after all, if I don’t feed her I’ve have to properly get up at 5.30am!).   And being able to use a feed as instant paracetamol substitute if she’s had a bad fall, or is ill, and needs more comfort than a ‘kiss better’.  And having that quiet time together at the end of a long day at nursery/work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the other hand, not only does she demand “other side, mummy”, but she’s also told me “I got snot on mummy-milk.  Tissue, mummy”.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet I’m having a hard time preparing to stop feeding her – sometimes I amaze myself!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114470056934134585?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114470056934134585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114470056934134585&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114470056934134585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114470056934134585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/breast-is-best.html' title='Breast is best'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114452570766396168</id><published>2006-04-08T19:47:00.001Z</published><updated>2006-04-08T19:48:29.053Z</updated><title type='text'>Salsa</title><content type='html'>Paul and I went out to our Salsa class last night.  We only started going a few weeks ago and have had to miss a few weeks as our regular, trusted babysitter wasn’t well, so we are still very much in the beginner phase.  I’m amazed by how much I enjoy it - which I’m conscious sounds a little odd given that I was the one who talked Paul into going. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought it would be a fun thing to do together – some time for us as a couple rather than a family.  I also thought that it might be a good chance to show to Paul that actually he does dance well.  (Paul consistently gets better scores than me on the occasions when we go on our playstation dancemat but dismisses this as ‘it’s not dancing; it’s just moving in time to the music’!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Salsa is much harder than I expected.  There’s a lot of different steps and moves - even within the limited ‘beginner’ repertoire.  There is also an emphasis on it being a social dance so the aim is to be able to ‘mix and match’ these moves on the dancefloor – with the guy leading and the woman hopefully understanding what’s expected of her as she follows rather than being choreographed.  I know that given a choice, I don’t usually undertake things in which I expect not to be at least vaguely competent.  I think it’s partly a confidence thing – I don’t like the risk of looking like an idiot when it’s avoidable.  I also think, why do something when I’ll almost certainly not be good at it, when I could use that time for something which I am better at doing.  It’s probably got a lot to do with my perfectionist streak.  All of which are reasons why I am amazed at how much I enjoy Salsa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like that Paul and I are doing something together, but that because we constantly change partners it’s a very different experience for both of us.  I like feeling virtuous that I am doing something which could be (loosely) described as exercise on a Friday evening.  I like that I need to use a part of my brain that I don’t usually use – the bit that co-ordinates my body to move in a planned /structured way rather than automatically.   Trying to create from scratch the physical and intellectual memory for Salsa is a real challenge, and one of the things I most love about it.  When I’m in the class, my whole brain power has to be applied to dancing – there’s simply no room left to dwell on any of the events of the week.  It is a perfect and total switch off.   And on top of that, it really doesn’t matter that I’m not any good.  Lots of the other people aren’t any good either – but we’re trying, and having fun whilst we do it.  And it’s an added bonus when I do get a sequence of steps right!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114452570766396168?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114452570766396168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114452570766396168&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114452570766396168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114452570766396168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/salsa_08.html' title='Salsa'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114400460575493258</id><published>2006-04-02T19:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-04-02T19:03:25.770Z</updated><title type='text'>My life in a pint glass</title><content type='html'>I was supposed to be going out with friends to a club on Saturday night (although due to sore throat, laryngitis and a toddler who hasn’t properly slept these last few nights, I didn’t manage it).   I was asked earlier in the week if I had any preference about which pub to go to beforehand.  Once upon a time, this would have been a simple question; that time I now realise was quite some time ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hadn’t realised that I no longer went out drinking in town.  It was never a conscious decision – I still think about myself as someone who goes out for a few drinks.  However, the fact is that I no longer have any preferences about which pub to drink in, because I can hardly remember the last time I went out to one.  Actually that sentence is inaccurate on two counts.  Firstly, I do have pub preferences ie ones with child-friendly lunchtime menus, buggy access and no smoking areas  - but that’s not helpful in choosing a pub for a Saturday night out.  Secondly, I can remember the last time I went out to a pub (in fact I can remember all 8 places I’ve had a drink in over the last 2.5 years).  It’s probably that fact that makes me realise how much I’ve changed! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the last couple of days I’ve idly wondered: How did my self perception become so separated from reality?  But I suspect this question is really the result of too little sleep and too many painkillers.  The real question is “how do I (re)discover my favourite pub?”  which will be much more fun to find the answer to!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114400460575493258?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114400460575493258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114400460575493258&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114400460575493258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114400460575493258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/04/my-life-in-pint-glass.html' title='My life in a pint glass'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114357486675573849</id><published>2006-03-28T19:34:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-28T19:41:06.766Z</updated><title type='text'>Questions</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Sunday’s question&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q.    How many times can a nearly 2 year old go down a slide intended for over 4’s before they get bored?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.     I still don’t know – I lost count at 46!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Monday's question&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q.   How much shorter is  my urgent to do list at work at the end of the working day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.    In fact, it's longer than when I started!   I'm clearly in need of improving time management skills, the problem is that I've not got time to do that either!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Tuesday's question&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q.   Should I drive 36 miles to work to join in the Unison picket, or should I find an alternative way to improve workers' morale?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A.  Paul and I spent the day having a lie in, swimming, jacuzzi-ing (if that's a verb!), and planning our utility room kitchen 0- whilst Ellie maintained her normal routine at nursery.  It's certainly improved my morale - so much so I'm ready to tackle that urgent to do list again tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114357486675573849?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114357486675573849/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114357486675573849&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114357486675573849'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114357486675573849'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/questions.html' title='Questions'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114329105870905640</id><published>2006-03-25T12:49:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-25T12:50:58.723Z</updated><title type='text'>Identity</title><content type='html'>This week I watched The Bourne Identity..  It left me with a sense of yearning that I’ve been trying to figure out.  Was it yearning for an ‘in control’ yet ‘vulnerable’ man (that ideal film stereotype of masculinity)? Definitely not - Paul is strong enough to open tight jar tops, courageous enough to remove spiders, and I’ve seen tears spring to his eyes when Ellie gives him a spontaneous hug.  Even in a fantasy I don’t think I’d swap this for an amnesiac who kills people with his bare hands.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rather it’s the precision lifestyle of a super-trained assassin that’s left me with a sense of longing; the minimalist and spotless flat, everything instantly planned, never making a mistake or forgetting things.  Why isn’t my life like that?  You just know that someone like Jason Bourne would never come back from Asda with more bargain smoothie than they are ever likely to drink and having forgotten to buy food for the cat.  But then, do super trained assassins go shopping? You never see them cook, or sort out the washing up.  Do they have to wash, dry and iron their clothes?  Do they have a small whirlwind in their life who scatters blocks and other toys faster than an adult can pick them up? Do they have to negotiate the emotional up and downs of sharing your life completely with another person? I imagine it’s much easier to achieve a precision lifestyle without all these factors in the equation…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, would I really want to swap my life, with the intricate richness and unpredictability brought by Paul and Ellie, for the life of a super trained assassin? (even if completely ignoring my ethical difficulties with the killing people part?) Definitely not.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114329105870905640?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114329105870905640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114329105870905640&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114329105870905640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114329105870905640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/identity.html' title='Identity'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114322884513115271</id><published>2006-03-24T19:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-24T19:34:05.140Z</updated><title type='text'>Independence at Wacky Warehouse</title><content type='html'>Some days people surprise you.  Ellie had been desperately keen on doing her own thing early this morning - taking no account of my words of wisdom (eg. "give me those scissors they're dangerous").  Luckily for both our sanity, today is Friday.   This means we got to meet up with friends at the Wacky Warehouse where Ellie could run riot, in a carefully padded, almost impossible to do yourself an injury, environment.  At the end of the session, Ellie announced that she wanted a sticker; a yellow one.  I was busy putting on my shoes at the time, and almost without thinking I said "Go and ask the lady for one, whilst I finish putting on my shoes".  I say almost without thinking because I had no expectation that she would do it - I just wanted to say something to distract her momentarily whilst I finished tying my shoelaces.  Anyway, she went over to the counter.  At that moment, another parent and child arrived for the next session and I watched Ellie stand patiently next to the counter whilst they were served before actually asking the lady for a sticker.   Later conversation with the 'lady' revealed this request was not of the polite "please may I have..." type I have been teaching her, but a very effective, single word: "Sticker". &lt;br /&gt;I don't know who was more proud - Ellie of her sticker, or me of Ellie!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114322884513115271?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114322884513115271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114322884513115271&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114322884513115271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114322884513115271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/independence-at-wacky-warehouse.html' title='Independence at Wacky Warehouse'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114245343642219446</id><published>2006-03-15T20:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-15T20:10:36.430Z</updated><title type='text'>Balancing Act</title><content type='html'>That lovely balance I spoke about last Wednesday has been rather wobbly this week.  Ellie has been unwell – sick once on Monday, high temperature on Tuesday, followed by a night of very little sleep (for both of us!) and generally unwell today although seeming much brighter this evening.  Consequently, I’ve had to take some time off work to look after her and in compensation I’ve brought a mass of work home to catch up on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, it could be much worse.   The nursery staff are excellent at judging the fine line between pulling me out of work when Ellie is unwell and keeping her at nursery when she’s a just little under the weather.  When it became apparent this morning that Ellie really wasn’t going to be fit to return to nursery today, Paul and I split the task of staying at home with Ellie between us.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This led to the interesting verbal  ‘diary’ game, half asleep at 6.30 am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;“What have you got on this morning at work?”&lt;br /&gt;“Team meeting”&lt;br /&gt;“I’ve got a student’s direct observation and a meeting with my manager – I trump that”&lt;br /&gt;“OK – what have you got on this afternoon?”&lt;br /&gt;“Team meeting – and I’m chairing it”&lt;br /&gt;“I’ve got a mental health review tribunal – that beats team meeting, even with chairing”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;Thus the cunning plan of swapping cars at Paul’s work car park at 12.20pm, with sleeping Ellie in the back, was hatched. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which worked really well – except that when I got into Paul’s car it wouldn’t start!  So I called him to come back, intending to take the keys for the other car and leave him to deal with the AA/RAC person at the end of the day. Of course, cars being what they are, it started as soon as he turned the key!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114245343642219446?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114245343642219446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114245343642219446&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114245343642219446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114245343642219446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/balancing-act.html' title='Balancing Act'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114210329628179346</id><published>2006-03-11T18:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-11T20:12:23.636Z</updated><title type='text'>Technology</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/125/2441/1600/IMG_0299.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/125/2441/320/IMG_0299.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like the world is moving faster than I can comprehend. Most of the time this isn't a problem - I'm quite happy being an insular person spending time on the things that I know and care about and not paying too much attention to the ever changing, other things around me. Perhaps that is why I've taken so long in getting around to having a blog, when for many of my friends it's an integral part of the way they conduct their social lives.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm starting to realise that this turns into a self-perpetuating situation. I don't use the internet every day (really... some people don't! In fact only 10% of the world population have ever used a computer). Since I use it intermittently, I don't have broadband. So I tend not to spend hours on the net finding out how to use new technology. So I ignore the new technology... and remain happy in my non-broadband world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Starting this blog has shifted my technological equilibrium. Now, I'm wanting to post entries. More than that, I'm wanting to emulate those other lovely blogs which have links and pictures. Luckily for me, I'm staying with my parents and sister for the weekend. This has many many benefits (more adults to child ratio, someone else planning and cooking meals... I could go on and on). Usefully for this blog however they also have broadband which, combined with the childcare factor, means that I have learnt to how to post a picture - as you can see from the lovely image of Paul and Ellie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a good thing to learn and do new things. I should remember that and do it more often.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114210329628179346?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114210329628179346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114210329628179346&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114210329628179346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114210329628179346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/technology.html' title='Technology'/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114193947426797190</id><published>2006-03-09T21:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-09T21:24:34.276Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>3 good things beginning with S.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today has been one of those days when small but good things have happened, and until now I’ve not even spared a thought for what might be happening at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First Ellie and I went swimming – not just ordinary swimming, but the first swim of the year in the re-opened outdoor pool. I’ll acknowledge a moment’s anxiety about the environmental impact of heating all that water - for it only to turn into steam in the freezing cold air. The anxiety, however, was quickly outweighed by the sheer joy of swimming in the open air. Swimming outside instantly makes me feel like I’m on holiday; with all the sense of well-being and relaxation which usually accompanies that. Luckily, Ellie also enjoyed it and was visibly and audibly happy – which stemmed my fear of being a poor mother by taking her out into the freezing cold air in only a swim nappy and swim suit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following swimming and lunch, Ellie had a sleep. For many children this would not be significant, but Ellie and I have had a running battle over a) sleeping for more than 40 minutes in the middle of the day and b) sleeping in her own bed without me. Last week, I won to the extent that for 2 of the 4 days she was at home she had a nap in her own bed after only 30-40 minutes of crying and protestation. Of course, what happened 4 days ago is no indication of what would happen today. The swim had obviously worn her out though as today after only 10 minutes of sobbing she slept for 2.5 hours! (Which is the longest I’ve EVER known her sleep during the day when she’s not ill).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally we went shopping which could so easily have been a stressful thing. Ellie was charming to all the passing “people”, she helped find things in the shop, and put them in the trolley, and then put them on the checkout. And for not the first time, I was struck by how helpful the checkout staff are – little things, like waiting until I’ve got most of the trolley unloaded before starting to scan the items, chatting to Ellie, and not batting an eye at the half opened, half chewed pack of tomatoes that Ellie had taken a fancy to whilst shopping.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114193947426797190?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114193947426797190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114193947426797190&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114193947426797190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114193947426797190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/3-good-things-beginning-with-s.html' title=''/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23684081.post-114185237877281828</id><published>2006-03-08T20:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2006-03-08T21:12:58.780Z</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It's felt rather voyeuristic looking at other people's blogs; but also enjoyable, interesting and thought-provoking.  Maybe it's time to have one of my own.  Although how much I'll write is another matter, after all it's just another thing to fit into a schedule which always feels fuller than is comfortable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm stealing a few moments to write this, at the 'pivot' of my week.  Once upon a time, work ended on a Friday and then the alter-life of the weekend started. Now I work Mon - Wed, this time on a Wednesday evening is the changing point from busy working woman, to concentrating on being a mother, spending time with my child.  That's not to say that I don't ever work in the second half of the week, or that I don't spend time with my child earlier in the week, but the balance changes.   And at the moment, it's a good balance and working really well for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But somehow, it's always a struggle to fit it all in!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/23684081-114185237877281828?l=custancia.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/feeds/114185237877281828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=23684081&amp;postID=114185237877281828&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114185237877281828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/23684081/posts/default/114185237877281828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://custancia.blogspot.com/2006/03/its-felt-rather-voyeuristic-looking-at.html' title=''/><author><name>Custancia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15956878679728860375</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n97/custancia/IMG_3310.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
