Ten reasons why walking with your children is bad for your health

1. It will inevitably give you heart palpitations as they scoot/run/ sprint/ bike off into the sunset and leave you shouting ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS,’ ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS,’ ‘LOOK DOWN DRIVEWAYS!!’

2. They will complain every. step. of. the. way.

3. You will end up holding the scooter/ bike/ dirty clothing/ and the child in some bizarre uncomfortable configuration.

4. They will need to go to the toilet.

5. They will shout at you about how cruel you are for taking them walking.

6. You will have a near heart attack with the weight of all the gear you are carrying and the guilt of being a bad person for taking the children walking when you should have just let them watch another movie.

7. You will get tired beyond belief at the half way point and struggle to comprehend how you might return home.

8. You forgot to bring your cell phone because you were trying to be all free and lovely and you will KICK yourself.

9. Your children will glare at you with unfettered hatred in their eyes.

10. What has been walked, cannot be unwalked.

11. Blisters.  See? Walking is such an unwise activity, there is no end to this list…

12. You will get a stick in your eye.ImageImage


13. You will discover that the new jandals you just brought will again be two sizes too small and you will make them wear the jandals anyway.ImageImageImage

14. There will be gate fights, and they will be of EPIC proportion.Image


You have been warned.








I wish I was a Gentle Person

Photo of my son. It looks like he will become one of the Gentle People.Image

This is a real thought in my head. When I was growing up, I knew a Gentle Person. Actually, my own father is pretty close to being one himself. You may know one of these Gentle People. The type that will take ten minutes to make a proper, perfect cup of tea, rather than the insipid cup of milky water you are likely to get given in my house (apologies family and friends).

The type that (don’t read this if you are squeamish) fold, nay, IRON their clothes so that they are flat and sit level in their drawers. I am ashamed to say that my folding ability is lacklustre, to say the least. I have more of a rolling action with the washing. Bundling things into piles, then looking on furiously as the piles topple over at the merest provocation. The drawers in our house are a barely contained maelstrom, I actually sometimes have to kick the drawers shut, and once with my fingers enclosed trying to force in some stray bit of shirt or pant leg.

These gentle people are truly a joy to watch, even if sometimes you want to hurry them up. You want to scribble over the borders they have lovingly given their assignments, the ruled, squared off, triple checked documents they will inevitably hand in for marking. Gentle People excelled at bubble writing in primary school, they also always have neat tidy haircuts, and never the double crown/cowlick I grew up trying to reign in.

Ah, I wish I was a Gentle Person, instead of the weird juxtaposition that I actually am. Slightly perfectionist with a healthy dash of complete feral.

Aaaaand, here is a completely irrelevant photo of the hill behind our house.

It’s lovely.ImageAs is my wee daughter (most of the time.) Excuse the photo, it was dusk.IMG_2905Although, I suspect, like me, she will not be a gentle person, this makes her no less lovely.