The Joys of Life with a Two Year Old

Being bossed around...

"I be back, stay there Mummy"

"Don't want do it, Mummy do it"

"I want cereal!  I want farl!  I want chocate!" etc etc
And upon being presented with said demanded item, "Don't want it"

Having to endure endless reruns of...

Train videos on You Tube (oh my god there are soooo many train geeks out there)

Justin Fletcher's Nursery Rhymes (and not being able to get the image of angry inflamed arses out of my mind upon hearing hot cross buns)

'ister Tumble

Refusing to have his nappy changed

Today's example:  Can I change your nappy Jake?

"No.  I drawing now.  I drawing Sponboj"

His creativity...

"Jake, can you please pick up the paper you threw on the floor?"

"I drinking tea now.  Mummy do it.  Pease."

And my very favourite...his made up songs. 
Most of them are very endearing.  His latest one however, could do with some work...

Mummy Mummy (awwwww) horsey horsey (erm....okay....) knickers knickers (heh?)

Mummy horsey knickers!

Thanks kid. 

At least he still wants cuggles.

Ten Things That Make Me Feel Happy

I'm really annoying right now.  Full on whiny, why-me, annoying because of this god-awful cold which is a nasty one.  One week on and it doesn't feel like it's getting any better.  Apart from the snot and not being able to breathe through my nose, or hear very well or sleep very well or think very well, not to mention the many forests we've used up by way of tissues, the worst thing about this blasted lurgy is not being able to smell or taste my food.  If you know me, you'll know how infuritating that is.  So I thought it would be a good time to post this.

Many moons ago, Cheeky Mummy tagged me with this meme.  I didn't notice the tag till a few weeks later and I've been meaning to do it and post it up since June.  Here it finally is.  It's nice to see that nothing on the list has really changed.

~

Ten things that make me feel happy


1. People – specific people: Jake, Paul, my close friends, family, people who love me and care about me, meeting new people – potential new friends, the prospect of the people I’ll meet in my lifetime. I could never be a hermit. I might not be very good at talking or opening up to people, but without them, I’d be even more of a basket case than I already am.

2. Books – owning them, looking at them, coveting them and reading them. I’ve been a bookworm ever since I was 6 or 7. My Dad introduced me to Richard Scarry and my Mum introduced me to Pearl S Buck. I read my first novel, The Good Earth, at the age of 8. I’ve been hooked on books ever since. I try not to judge people, but I do feel sorry for people who don’t read. I would not be who I am today if I didn’t read. And the thought of a life without books makes me shudder.

I’m currently addicted to Charlaine Harris’s Sookie Stackhouse novels. I know, I know. Feel free to mock me and throw things. But if you do throw things, can they please be nice, non-bruising treats.

3. Writing - I guess this makes sense what with all the book reading. I started writing stories as a child and was encouraged to keep a diary by my Mum when I was 10. I’ve never really stopped and now writing is as necessary to me as breathing. It doesn’t matter to me anymore that I may never get anything published. To me, the point of writing is to write, not to become famous.

4. Travelling - Probably a throw over from my nomadic childhood, but I love love love seeing new places, new sights, new colours, new smells, being immersed in the dream of another life. I love being reminded that the world is a much bigger place than the one I am in, full of possibilities to explore and discover. One day, I’d love to be able to do this with Jake:
http://travelswithanineyearold.com/

5. Learning – I finished school and University a while ago, but I’ve never stopped doing courses or trying to teach myself one thing or another. Since finishing my Masters degree, I’ve done courses in: counselling, tai chi, massage, aromatherapy, reiki, shiatsu, photography, watercolour painting, drawing, various writing courses, yoga. I taught myself to knit, bake vegan goodies, cook, and I want to learn screen printing, solar etching, embroidery, how to use a sewing machine and bookmaking. I’m sure there will be more things I’ll want to learn in the future. If I ever lose my desire to learn then it probably means I’m dead.

6. Food – food glorious food. There are fewer things better than good food. Simple, fresh, tasty. Bacon sarnies, crispy fried eggs with rice, steak and chips, black bean tostadas, cannellini beans (all beans and pulses really), miso soup, sushi, tempura, lobster with butter sauce, egg fried rice, fried chicken, crisps, chocolate croissants, TEA, fresh lemonade, Moroccan mint tea, calamari, guacamole, pancakes, lemon cupcakes, roast potatoes, souvla, souvlakia, cheese pastries, all pastries, larp, peking duck, steamed eggs, minced pork omelettes, bun xa with tofu, brinjal bhaji, crispy aubergine, stir fried marinated soy garlic aubergines, all things aubergine, pesto, linguine with pea and mint pesto, a full English, toast with marmite, cashew pilaf, dal, masala dosa, fish masala, tom ka, ho fun, and all the wonderful dishes I can’t recall now and have yet to discover.

7. Projects – my regular blog readers will know how much I love projects. 100 days to make me a better person, 100 word diary, 250 words a day, 100 day to do list. And those are just my most recent ones. I love having a project to be getting on with and coming across a new project or an idea for one always fills me with hopeful glee. Being challenged, having a crack at something new, being creative – it helps keep me going and growing. I don’t do well when I feel static.

8. Music – all kinds. Currently rediscovering Lhasa's The Living Road

9. Being inspired, especially by other people’s talent and creativity. It lights a spark in me and gives me that sense of expansiveness, the feeling that the world and life is full of possibilities to be discovered.

10. Yoga – it opens my mind, stills me, centers me, calms me, roots me, helps me to be present, awake, restores me, challenges me, strengthens me, teaches me. And doing it feels good too.

~

I was supposed to tag a bunch of people to carry on the meme too, but I'll leave it up to you.  If you fancy doing it, please do.

Lotus

So we didn't make it up North.  We all got the lurgy, and it hit Jake quite hard so we cancelled our trip.

Cooped up indoors while the weather was lovely (of course), I started work on my next piece of stitchery...



Tracing the pattern from one of my drawings



I used a 90gsm, non-waxy tracing paper and
Sulky Iron On Transfer Pen to retrace this image
on the reverse side of the paper




Preparing to transfer onto fabric





Even using the transfer pen, some of the lines were still faint
But it worked better than last time



I went over the fainter parts with the transfer pen,
drawing directly onto the fabric



On the hoop

My progress to date



Magic!

Spotted this today.  It wasn't in the process of falling but suspended as if by magic (spiderweb magic naturally).

We're away for a few days visiting the in-laws oop North so see you on the other side...

Is it twee?

So here it is, my very first piece of embroidery (or stitchery, as I prefer to call it).  Considering that it's my first and that I used my own drawing to create the pattern, I'm quite proud of it. 

I originally wanted to stitch this on a different fabric, a lovely slightly textured chocolate coloured chambray (in fact a cheapo table cloth I found in Wilkinson's). But my transfer pencil left such faint lines I couldn't see the pattern so I had to make do with white. Transferring the pattern was not quite as trouble-free as it's portrayed here.  Even though I followed all the instructions, I still had trouble getting clear lines and had to draw over the fainter bits directly on the fabric with the pencil.  I've since found some non-waxy tracing paper and even a transfer pen (wonderfully named Sulky) so I'm hoping that will solve the problem.

Anyway, this is stitched entirely in split stitch on a bit of cotton napkin procured from Sainsbury's (a pack of 4 for £3.50!).  I used the split stitch simply because I couldn't get my stem stitches to work.  I know that sounds terribly fancy - it isn't.  The stitches have names and once you know them it's like knowing how to use certain ingredients for cooking.

There were a lot of false starts...muck-ups, pulling out threads and restarting, and some of the stitches are still not terribly neat, but once I got started (with Jenny Hart's book Sublime Stitching to hand), it was easier than I expected and I like the overall result. 

 

My only worry is that it might be just the wrong side of twee.  What do you think?

The magic of kisses

Yesterday Jake & I (well, mainly I) were making a Charlie & Lola mobile, printouts and instructions courtesy of the cbeebies website.  Jake did some of the colouring in and I did the rest.  It was a day of having to make the best out of bad instructions.  Suffice it to say that the website instructions were far too simplistic and I had a bit of a struggle with the thing to get it to balance.  Jake watched me and said, "Mummy not happy?" I told him I was having a bit of trouble with the mobile.  He watched me a bit more and then said, "Mummy want kiss?"  The power of a lovely kiss!  It did make everything better.



A close up of the mobile
Photo taken by Jake



Unfortunately no number of Jake's kisses could rescue my disastrous attempt at Ash-E-Jow, an Iranian barley soup.  I wanted to use up the pearl barley that's been sitting in our cupboard for yonks and stupidly went with the first vaguely interesting recipe I found on the internet and only realised too late that it was a shite recipe.  Not only did it leave out several key ingredients, it said it was for "1 serving".  Now I knew it couldn't possibly mean for 1 person, but I did not think that what it actually meant was 1 serving for a family of 8.  So now I have a pot of plop for 8 people.  I've thrown half of it out and hope to rescue the remainder today.

Things I meant to share earlier



Post bath pixie child
(The one time he asked Mummy to give him a bath)



On the E17 Art Trail



My little photographer



A display at the Vestry House Museum



Zig zags



September sky



The worst fear

I read a horrific story today. If you're feeling at all crap or sensitive right now, don't read on.

A friend of a friend found her 3 year old son dead in the washing machine. She was exhausted and lay down for a nap. When she woke up, she panicked when she couldn’t find him. Then she noticed something in the machine and she knew she hadn’t done a wash. First she pulled out the dead body of their family cat. And then her son. She tried to revive him but it was too late. Even more horrifically, she was initially under suspicion for murder but was later cleared by the Australian police.

When I read it I felt sick. I thought about the few times I’d fallen asleep when Jake was up on his own. I inspected our washing machine and thought about all the different things that would have to happen for Jake to lock himself in there. He would first have to turn the knob to the start of a cycle. Then he’d have to press the on button and press it hard. Then he’d have to squeeze himself into the drum. Our machine is quite small, but it could be possible. Then he’d have to pull the door firmly shut. I don’t think Jake would be able to do this with our machine. There’s no handhold that would enable him to pull the door hard enough to shut it from the inside. I cannot imagine what that woman is going through. I can’t imagine that level of grief. Just thinking about whether Jake could possibly hurt himself or worse in this way was bad enough.


Lately, the only way I can get Jake to have a nap is if I pretend to have one too. Usually in a separate room. I can always hear him and will go in to him if he’s up to something. He usually potters about for a bit, for about 20 minutes, then it goes quiet and I come out and find him sleeping somewhere. On the sofa, sitting up in the rocking chair, on the floor. Once I fell asleep unexpectedly and slept for 45 minutes before I woke up, panicked and went downstairs to find him reading quietly on the sofa, beaming at me when I came down the stairs.

Today, I was especially paranoid about every single sound I could hear coming from the living room. Twice I almost mistook distant birdcall for possible snoring and car door slams for the thud of falling. I then heard a lot of rustling and definite Jake snoring. I went downstairs and I couldn’t see him. I could hear him but I couldn’t see him. Then I spotted him. Safe and sound.

Today



10am ~ jamface



After lunch ~ doing painting

1pm ~ assembly line of handprints completed



Right now



What I've been up to...

Since I'm not blogging every day at the moment, I thought I'd aim for at least once a week.

Here's what I've been up to...


Elderly People Today. Tsk tsk.

On Tuesday I took Jake to Sainsbury’s. As usual, he wanted to help by pushing the basket. The basket with no wheels. As usual, he pushed it a bit, said, “Oh, no wheels!” then carried on. Then stopped, turned to me and said (complete with pointing index finger), “Be careful. People.” I duly nodded and told him he was right. And he was careful, just like he always is.

As I crossed the busy intersection between the onions and the hummus aisle, I noticed Jake had stopped. He’d noticed an elderly woman in a mobility scooter and waited for her to go first. So I stopped and waited too. She however, didn’t budge. Instead, she chose that moment to patronise me.

“You’ve left your baby,” she said, looking at me like I’d just tried to stuff him into a sack and throw him in a river.

All my childhood schooling in suppressing one’s instincts kicked in as I gritted my teeth and said “I haven’t left him, he’s stopped so you can go.”

She was deaf and/or ignored me and said, “You should be careful, I could have hit him.”

I said, “Thank you but he’s actually stopped so you can go.”

In the middle of this excruciating exchange, Jake sensibly decided it was safe to cross the intersection and pushed the basket over to join me.

“Oh!” the woman said, “He’s helping you.” No shit Sherlock.

When she finally moved, Jake turned and said, “Bye!” with his irresistible toddler cheer.

She didn’t even say thank you.

Old people today. I don't know.  If you ask me, technology’s ruined them.

Today

Today was notable not only because it was Indian Summer warm, but because I didn’t do any shouting. That’s been rare lately. Jake and I had a gorgeous afternoon in the marshes. I only raised my voice once, when he told me he’d done a poo but wouldn’t let me change him. I asked him a few times, he didn’t listen, I raised my voice in annoyance, he looked at me warily then deliberately went and stood in the furthest corner away from me. Of course he did. Why should he want to listen when I talk to him like that? It sounds obvious but I didn’t really get it till I saw the look on his face. It was so different from the rest of the day, which was full of laughter and cuddles and kisses.  Tone is everything.  Children hear it all.

Collage of Colours

So this is the original photo of the tissue paper that I peeled off

from the 'Fall' drawing (see previous post) once dried.

And this is a digital collage, edited in Picnik.

I'm considering having the collage printed out as postcards.

Whaddya think?

More bleedin' art...

Fall

A drawing on a background of bled tissue paper, made for one of my "facebook five".  I don't think the recipient of this drawing reads my blog so I feel I can post it here before sending it to her.

To see what I did with the remains of the tissue paper, stay tuned for my next post.

I need a title

I still haven't been able to start any embroidery, but I have been working on this drawing, for which I need a title.  When I was drawing it, I kept hearing Jake's voice in my head saying "Go home now?"  I don't know why.  So maybe that's what I should call it.  What do you think?

These things made me cry today

1) Jake asking Paul if he'd had a nice day when he got home from work.  (It was the first time we've heard him ask that).  And then when Paul asked Jake if he'd had a nice day, Jake said, "Oh yes, playing jumping on sofa with Mummy."  It's definitely the longest sentence he's spoken so far.  (Proud Mummy tears)

2) Unexpected tears poured from the depths of my sad little soul when I watched this video on you tube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n1lnZQjeG6Q

The Loi Krathong song is a song I remember from childhood trips to Thailand.  I watched a few different versions of the song, mainly sung by Thai people, but for some reason, seeing these two non-Thai people sing this traditional Thai song with such heart (and excellent pronunciation!) made me bawl. 

(I looked it up because I went to visit a friend yesterday who'd lived in Thailand for many years and she mentioned that her 3.5 year old is currently addicted to watching the Loi Krathong song on You Tube.  I have yet to find Thai lyrics written out phonetically in English.  I'll just have to try and work it out myself.)

For the past few days...

I've been getting stupidly upset (again) about "friendship" and how hard it is to meet and make true friends.
Well, enough stewing already. 

Only true friends are worth all the time and energy I've been wasting on making myself feel like crap about this.  And they wouldn't make me feel like this in the first place.

Besides, who needs bastard fickle friends when you have:

1) A therapist
2) A fat warm cat
3) Real friends who actually give a shit
and last but not least,
4) A gorgeous boy like this...

These "head kisses" was spontaneously initiated by Jake
last Sunday while we were eating cake

11.9.10 ~ shadows

Right now, I’m alone. Paul’s taken Jake out and I’ve tidied the flat, Jake’s toys and my digital photo albums. What I’m supposed to be doing is making sketches for possible projects. But I’ve got this feeling that if I even outline the ideas that have been flowing through my head, if I even commit a shadowy skeleton of them to paper, they will disappear. It feels good to be the only one to see them right now. Even writing about sketching them feels risky. I can’t begin till I have all my materials anyway. And they haven’t arrived yet.

Quiet

I know I've been unusually quiet here.  It was an entirely unplanned break, but one I need.  A break in my routine so I can come back to it feeling refreshed.

Plus, I've been squirrelled up in my creative brain, getting ready for a new project.  All will be revealed in time, but here's a sneak peek...

Let me explain.  I received my redundancy cheque yesterday.  (Yup, I am now officially an unemployed layabout stay at home mum living the life of Riley).  And I spent a tiny portion of said cheque on these beauties.  I was a tad over-enthusiastic, but embroidery threads are not expensive and there isn't a haberdashery near me and I don't get a chance to pop into town that often so there you go.  When I took them to the till, the check out person asked me if I was sure I had enough colours.  Rather than give the same wordy and boring explanation I just gave you, I told her it was for a community project.  She was duly impressed and didn't ask me any more embarrassing questions.  It's not lying, it's saving face.

Reminiscing...

I was going through Jake's baby photos, looking for ones of us "wearing" him and I came across these...

In the kari-me at 2 weeks old.
We didn't use it much in the very early days
because it was so hot when he was born.

16 weeks old

6 months old ~
Around this time Paul started carrying
Jake in the Baby Bjorn

We stopped carrying him at around 10 - 11 months
when he was happy to go in his buggy.

I didn't carry him again until Feb 2010,

when I remember walking around the hospital ward

with him in the Yamo.

 

Today, looking grumpy at 25 months

And finally, at 6 months.
This photo pretty much sums up my first year of motherhood.

Light

While playing house today,

the afternoon light filtered in through the blanket.

I love September light.

I took the photos above.

Jake took the ones below.

Trains ~ photos taken by Jake

3.9.10 ~ the joys of babywearing

Note: unless you are a babywearing enthusiast, much of this post may well sound like geek-speaky jargon.

The power of thought is astounding. For many many months, I assumed and believed that carrying Jake in a back carrying position in our Yamo carrier would be difficult. In fact I believed it would be impossible for me. So I never even tried it. Just yesterday I got the Yamo out and put it back again almost immediately, exasperated with all the straps and buckles.

But I’ve been having strong feelings of wanting to carry him again and started looking at hip carriers but felt guilty about spending money on another carrier when we already have two. I knew my kari-me sling wouldn’t be supportive enough. It had stopped feeling supportive enough when he was nearly a year old. So I got the Yamo some months ago but had only ever used it in the front carrying position. Lately I’ve been looking at various blogs and sling websites and dearly wishing that I could be one of those people who could pull off a back-carry. Mainly because I lusted after a beautiful woven wrap. But I was sure it just wouldn’t work for me.

Then today, something shifted. I stood up, said, “Damn it, I’m not gonna know unless I try am I?” got out the Yamo instructions and I bloody well did it. I got it on the first try. Jake was a bit freaked out and kept asking to get down, and the straps did need some adjusting, so I let him down and did the adjusting and we tried again. And guess what – it was perfect. I was comfortable, he was comfortable. There was no pain or strain on my back at all. I was just going to go out with him for a short trial walk but ended up going all the way to Sainsbury’s and doing a normal morning out with him. He did get down when we were in Sainsbury’s – to push the basket for me of course, and he also wanted to walk part of the way home. But it was so easy getting him in and out, even when we were out.

It was a revelation. It felt so good I was walking around with a big smile on my face (something that doesn’t come naturally to me!) It also felt great to have him close to me. I loved having him rest his face against my back. He even held and stroked the back of my arms when he started to feel sleepy. It was soooo lovely. Just overcoming this one obstacle made me feel like I could do almost anything. So, the next time you think you can’t do something – think again!

I just wish I’d seen all the pretty patterned carriers before I bought my plain ones. I might have to keep an eye out for a mei-tai for bubba no. 2. (And no, I’m not pregnant yet).

(I've also decided to try the Scootababy on a 5-day hire.  If I like it, there's someone who might be able to sell me her used one at a good price.  Yup, I think I'm a sling addict.)

2.9.10 ~ Defiance, assertiveness, potayto, potahto?

Yesterday when talking to my counsellor about the one time I defied my mother, she said, “It’s interesting you use the word defy. It sounds to me like you were just standing up for yourself. You were trying to assert yourself as a separate independent person, and yet you internalised it as defiance.”

That stopped me, opened my eyes, made me think. Not just about myself as a child, but how I view Jake’s behaviour. At this age, we tend to use words like tantrum and terrible-twos. But tantrum, like defiance carries a certain connotation. It adds a layer onto the event of a child expressing / asserting himself in the limited way that he knows how to in that moment. A layer that makes it seem as if the act is calculated – designed not only to make life difficult for the parent, but which also makes it seem personal.

The word becomes both a description for the child’s behaviour as an attack as well as a shield to ward it off, and sometimes to justify using some sort of parental attack in return, be it a withdrawal of affection or something more physical. Like defiance, tantrum carries with it connotations of a power struggle, a battle. And use of the word colours the way you see the person, maybe even renders them “fair game”. When they’re toddlers they throw tantrums. When they’re teenagers, they’re defiant.

I’m not saying that these words should never be used, or that they are “wrong”. I for one think that defiance can be healthy and necessary. But the distinction my counsellor pointed out made me want to stop and look at things more carefully.

1.9.10 ~ 970 word diary (yes it's long, but there are pictures at the end)

Having talked this morning in counselling about how (throughout my childhood and into my teens and beyond) my parents routinely gave me nonsensical reasons why I couldn’t do something, particularly if it meant going out, either with or without them, to do something that wasn’t planned or anticipated by them in advance, and how it ruined most of my summer holidays growing up and probably instilled a sense of unfounded anxiety about the outside world within me, I was even more aware than usual of any tendencies I might have to do that with Jake. So, this afternoon, when he was crying and asking repeatedly to be held (Cuggle now, cuggle now) – much longer and more persistently than usual – I let go of my plan to get him to fall asleep during our walk through Walthamstow marshes and got him out of the pram and cuddled him. Nap times have been difficult to predict anyway lately. Some days he hasn’t napped at all. Other days, he’s had shorter naps than usual. And all at different times. Just yesterday I’d been preparing myself for the fact that he might be dropping his naps altogether and then he dropped off for an hour and a half.

Lately he’s also been wanting to be held a lot more, both at home and when we’re out and about. So much so I’ve been wondering whether I should start using the sling again, dodgy back or not. And lately when I’ve taken him to nursery, he bursts into tears as soon as we get to the entrance. Sometimes he even starts whimpering as soon as we turn left as we leave the house. This morning he was crying well before we got there and when we did get there, he cried harder and kept saying, “Mummy now, mummy now.” It’s the only time I can’t make it better. It’s the only time I walk away, leaving him in tears.

So, when I stopped the pram and we sat on the pavement and I thought about why I needed to get him to sleep by a certain time or why I felt we had to head back home by 2pm, I was aware that these timeframes came from something inside me – a belief that if things went according to these timeframes, then they were controllable and I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed. And then Jake interrupted my thoughts. He was busy pointing up at the sky and saying “Wow!” and seeing dragonflies and airplanes and birds and asking me, “Mummy happy now?”

Structure is important. Trying to get them to sleep when they’re tired is important too. But I don’t want to be dogged about it. I don’t want to be inflexible. Most of all, I don’t want to act out of fear.

So I let the day be what it was. The 1st day of September, but still late summer. If he was older and going to school, it might be the last day of his summer holidays. As it was, we were both free. We didn’t have anywhere we had to be. No obligations. Paul wasn’t even going to be home till way after Jake’s bedtime.

It was a beautiful day. The kind of day I’ve always loved. That late summer light. The warmth of the sun without the scorch of it. The way there seems to be a feeling of things settling down, like sitting down to read a good book in the garden. The frenetic-indolent extremes of summer had passed.

So I followed Jake's lead. He agreed to go back in his pram to go look at trains. We found a nice spot on some grass with a good view of the train lines. I think he’d resigned himself to being strapped in there because he was really surprised when I asked him if he wanted to get out. We lay the picnic blanket out and he ran around happily, eating clementines and chocolate cake, turning around every now and then to give me a hug and point at me saying, “Mummy happy now!”

After a while, he decided he wanted to go. I let him lead the way. We went under the bridge and then through a kissing gate into another bit of the marshes. Lots of people were out walking with their kids and their dogs. We stood and then sat watching the trains for a bit longer, till he asked to go home. So I told him that if he got in his pram, I’d give him my camera and he could take pictures. He agreed.

On the walk home, I kept telling myself that it was okay if he didn’t fall asleep. Then he yawned. Near home, he said, “Tired. Go seep now.” I just said, “I know darling, Mummy’s tired too.”

I then decided that I would try and persuade him to lie down for a nap with me when we got home rather than pushing the pram till he fell asleep. Just as we turned down our road, his eyelids started drooping. I knew that if I let him fall asleep then, I’d have to be pushing him round for another 15 minutes otherwise he’d wake up as we got home and I tried to get him out of the buggy. So I took him out of the pram and decided to let him fall asleep on my shoulder. As I did he said, “Cuggle now?” then fell asleep.

He’s now been asleep for nearly an hour. To lessen some of the anxiety I have about being with Jake for the rest of the day without Paul, I plan to order in some Chinese food and watch last night’s Eastenders and Holby City whilst Jake plays with his trains. Then again, who knows how the evening will go.

Walthamstow Marshes, taken by Jake

31.8.10 ~ 225 word recipe (Rustic bean & quinoa soup, aka hearty slapdash meal)

Chop up the half onion languishing in your fridge.

Drop into a large saucepan with some olive oil and cook for a few minutes.

Sprinkle in some garlic granules. 

Add what’s left of the carton of sieved tomatoes from the fridge along with a few shakes of whatever dry herbs you fancy. Let it all simmer on a lowish heat, stirring occasionally.

Rummage through your kitchen cupboards for the macaroni and find an open packet of white quinoa you didn’t know you had. Change your mind in the middle of cooking and ditch the macaroni.

Thoroughly rinse a handful of quinoa, pondering once again whether they are grains or seeds*, and simmer in a separate pan for 15 – 20 minutes.

Put the kettle on.
Once boiled, make 500ml of stock in a measuring jug and add to the simmering tomatoes. 

Then add the drained & cooked quinoa along with a tin each of drained borlotti and butter beans (or any beans or pulses you fancy).

Taste.  Add more stock powder.**
Let simmer for another 10 minutes while you wash up or read your book.

Taste.  Sprinkle with yeast flakes and a drizzle of olive oil.
Serve with the last of Paul’s homemade bread.^^

The verdict?

“You can cook, you can” says Paul.

And because it’s all so dang healthy, follow with handfuls of Kettle Crisps.


(*They’re grain-like seeds)

**I used Marigold's vegan buillon. 
~ Makes approximately 4 large servings
~ This soup is naturally vegan.  That is, even if I weren't making it for a vegan, it would still be vegan.

Addendum:
^^For Helen :-)
Here's the recipe Paul used to make his bread:
http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/2060/easy-white-bread