Posts Tagged ‘Treats for teenies’

Growing up nicely

Saturday, January 28th, 2012

We were given some poo in a box this Christmas. It was probably the children’s favourite present.

They can’t wait to use it, and I’m all for it. It’s a National History Museum product, a small recycled box containing elephant dung manure and a sachet of sunflower seeds. We’re going to plant them all out for our annual sunflower competition. Perhaps I should do a control and see if elephant dung produces elephant-sized sunflowers.

I’m also going to try Grow Your Own for kids!, a collaboration between the Royal Horticultural Society and Chris Collins, the Blue Peter gardener. We tried growing a few bits in the garden last year, to mixed results. Squirrels got the strawberries, snails everything else, except a few small, but delicious, potatoes.

Squirrel pie is being sold nearby at the excellent weekly Balham Farmer’s Market (check it out every Saturday 9am-2pm, Chestnut Grove School, Chestnut Grove, SW12) by Little Jack Horner’s pies so perhaps I should ask him for the recipe. Little Jack Horner’s is fab, by the way. These gorgeously oozy, comfort food pies are made to traditional (sometimes with a twist) recipes. They’re available at selected London farmer’s markets or for home delivery and cost from £6.50. They’re served in blue and white enamel tins which you can keep for retro kitchen chic or return and receive from £1.50 per tin.

Bake, don’t fake, a cake

Wednesday, January 11th, 2012

Set sail on the ultimate dairy-free chocolate cake

Set sail on the ultimate dairy-free chocolate cake

Sigh. To my lasting shame I didn’t bake a cake for my fourth child’s birthday. I still feel the guilt now, five months on. Anyone who isn’t pinny-inspired and doesn’t feel that a real home is one filled to the brim with homemade calories won’t understand, and might even accuse of focusing a little too much on the Nigella way of life. It’s true, but I blame my mother. I can’t remember a single day during my childhood when there wasn’t something in a biscuit tin to nibble on. To give you some idea of the butter and refined sugar zone I was brought up in a day that only, (yes ‘only’) had fresh flapjacks in a tin, rather than, say, Maori kisses (a fiendish concoction of chocolate biscuits joined with oozy chocolate butter icing) was a black letter day indeed. Which – along with a natural propensity to gluttony, I can’t blame it all on my mother – has made me want to recreate the home-as-cafe for my children.

It’s a rare week that doesn’t have me baking something, where it’s butter cookies flecked with chocolate chips or a lemon drizzle cake given a tiny crunch with hundreds of poppy seeds. This probably sounds smug, but baking is more of an escape valve. It’s something I can do with the children helping, making it count as an educational activity that helps towards making tea. So all I’m really doing is indulging myself while getting out of another round of Play Doh.

One of my mother’s best ever recipes is a dairy-free chocolate cake. I blogged about it here.

And, though it might look more like an old-fashioned flat iron, the picture, above, is of a chocolate pirate ship cake I made using the recipe for my second son’s third birthday.

You think I’d be a natural to win a one-day cookery course at Leith’s Food & Wine School in West London. But, pah, I’m not allowed to enter, given that I compile angels & urchins blog. Go ahead though, it takes seconds to enter and you might just win. Don’t be put off by the competition being held in conjuction with Sudocreme; you don’t have to create a baking delight with the white stuff, the company just came up with research that revealed that quite a lot of mums would rather make a cake for their child’s birthday than buy one.

Enter here - good luck!

Bedtime stories in aid of Save the Children

Wednesday, December 14th, 2011

Parent Bloggers Save the Children Bedtime StoriesWell done to the seventeen parent bloggers behind this gorgeously illustrated book. They put it together in aid of Save the Children, and have created a masterpiece!

I’m going to buy it and will love reading it to my children this Christmas. Not least because they’re so lucky, unlike so many around the world whom Save the Children is trying to help.

Most of the purchase price goes to charity – to buy, visit the Blurb bookstore. It costs £15.99 for a softcover version, £24.99 for a version with a dustjacket.

And a very Happy Christmas!

The Stig in our playground

Wednesday, December 7th, 2011

Stig Visits London School

The Stig visited our elder son’s school yesterday. He created chaos (the Stig that is, not my son), with teachers suspending lessons and mothers trying to pull him into their cars. A pupil had won a prize of a lift home with Stig, and the entire school descended on the playground at home time to watch. My lot didn’t know who he was, not being Top Gear fans (or rather, their mother not being a Top Gear fan) but loved seeing someone in a racing outfit and helmet.

I took five children home that day, including two of my own. And here is what they knew about the Stig

  • The Stig has never taken off his helmet. Without it he cannot breathe
  • The Stig might be a girl
  • The Stig’s best friend is silly
  • The Stig is actually a cartoon
  • The Stig is also an astronaut which is why he wears a space suit
  • If you look at The Stig’s bare face then you will turn into The Stig

So there you have it. And I totally agree with all the statements, especially the one about his best friend being silly, as I’m taking that to mean Jeremy Clarkson.

Make a Christmas Advent calendar?

Friday, November 25th, 2011

What was I thinking? I’m afraid. Very afraid. A cutesy, fabric make-your-own Advent calendar has domestic goddess smugness in its very DNA. I saw one for £12.99 at Lakeland, had visions of quiet evenings sewing in front of the fire, and congratulating myself about the clever presents I’d pop in all the pockets. Here’s what the calendar should look like:

Have yourself a homemade Christmas

Have yourself a homemade Christmas

And here’s what mine currently looks like, and what I suspect it will look like for some time to come. How many days left till 1 December…?

Buttonbag Kit

I might have to shimmy over to the angels & urchins Advent Calendars Guide where I like the look of a do-it-yourself calendar the children can get engaged in. Usbourne’s Advent Calendar to Colour In. It costs £5.99, and is beautifully illustrated with street scenes and markets. It would be a lovely object to look back on when they’re older.

Usbourne Advent Calendar to Colour In

Wish me luck with my fabric version – I’ll show pictures of my finished masterpiece, should I ever finish it.

A Plum in your mouth for charity

Wednesday, November 2nd, 2011

Plum Baby Logo

When you find yourself eating your being-weaned child’s food, you know you’re either a bit of a greedy piggy or the food is pretty good. Possibly a bit of both, I mused, as I wolfed back a Plum Chicken & Chickpea Tagine. If that sounds as though my baby was missing out, he was. However, it was his own fault because the tagine turned out to be one of the few Plum Baby offerings he wouldn’t eat.

I try and make most of my children’s food myself, but have found Plum Baby a massive help when out and about, or on holiday. The food actually tastes of food, rather than wallpaper paste, and I like the space age tubes much of it comes in. The fruit varities are also great for older children, as are the biscuits.

While I’m happy to wax lyrical about Plum Baby, this post is really about their initiative to support the Bliss charity for babiefs born too soon, too small, and too sick. On special promotional packs in the supermarket 5p is donated to Bliss to help their deserving cause. Plum is aiming to give a huge £30,000 to help give poorly and premature babies the best possible start we can. Every penny counts! Like us on Facebook and we’ll donate another penny for every “like” we receive.

Ps. If you’re at the weaning stage, don’t forget to check out The Weaning of Life featuring content and feedback from a number of mummy bloggers is now at www.weaningoflife.co.uk.

No tricks, just a treat

Monday, October 24th, 2011

Looking for something to do in London?

The London Dungeon is an obviously spooky place to haunt this Halloween and beyond. Be warned, it’s pretty scary. It brings 1000 years of history to life in all its gore, with 14 actor-led shows and three scary rides. From The Torture Chamber to Sweeny Tod’s Barber, it makes you realise that perhaps the capital isn’t such a bad place nowadays. There’s loads going on in the run up to Halloween, which nicely coincides with many schools’ half terms.

Your ghoulishly easy opportunity to win a family ticket to the London Dungeon

Your ghoulishly easy opportunity to win a family ticket to the London Dungeon

We have three family tickets to give away (up to two adults and two children each ticket). Simply enter a comment in the box below, making sure you leave your email address (this won’t be publicly visible)

Whizzy fundraising idea

Friday, October 21st, 2011

This struck me as a wheely (sorry) great idea for fundraising this Christmas. My sons’ school and nurseries, like so many others, hold Christmas fairs. I find them a lifesaver for getting gift buying out of the way – no postage costs and you can try out the stuff before you buy. Micro Scooters, a firm I’ve always admired because it was set up by two mums, has come up with an enterprising way to make some extra cash for your school.

More dash than cash this Christmas

More dash than cash this Christmas

Sell Micro Scooters, earn commission, and you even get two free scooters to get the money rolling in – one Mini and one Maxi. Sell £300 or more from their website and you’ll also get a free EzyRoller

Good luck! If you end up selling Micro Scooters at a school fair we’d love hear from you.

Email schoolfairs@micro-scooters.co.uk to find out more.

Creepy Crawler Bug Maker Review

Monday, October 10th, 2011

NOT a sponsored post, and NOT a freebie. We were stupid enough to pay for this ourselves.

This is almost a story of two halves. Or lots of little pieces. I’ll explain.

It was recently son number two’s birthday. Among all the fabulous presents he received and is loving playing with was something which was bought for him by his parents. Call it pester power, but said son had seen the Creepy Crawler Bug Maker on a cITV advert (that’ll teach me for letting him watch television. It was at the weekend, m’lud, and, ahem, I needed a lie-in) and thought it looked the business. Against my better judgement (well, I would say that…) it was bought, wrapped, and opened amidst much glee. At this stage I should confess that it cost £38.99. Yes, nearly £40. Enough to buy a scooter or half a night in a budget boutique hotel. Not that I’m bitter or anything.

Could this be the start of something big?

Could this be the start of something big?

The son and his fraternal cohorts had convinced themselves, and therefore me, that the bugs were edible and part of a game. I tried to convince myself that the eventual game would be educational and teach them about mini beasts. No such luck.

Move over Doctor Frankenstein

Move over Doctor Frankenstein

Basically, you pop out a couple of coloured jelly-like pods from some pill-like packaging, place them in the Creepy Crawler Bug Maker machine, wait for it to heat up, then ooze the resulting heated goo into a bug mould. Bug mould is then cooled, before resulting bug is taken out. This bit was given a quasi-scientific bent with the instructions advising to use the enclosed plastic tweezers. No need. Even our one-year-old baby managed to pick out a bug, and he also managed to play with it in the only way possible, by squishing it.

Here's one I made earlier. And wish I hadn't

Here's one I made earlier. And wish I hadn't

Nothing educational about that,  nor about the insect’s anatomical details. The only variant on the play was the ability to create bugs filled with goo, all the better to squish.

As I said, though, this was a story of two halves. Naturally, my four boys aged six to one, were thrilled at being able to create disgusting slightly slimy bugs. Once they realised they were not only allowed to squash them, but that this was the entire point, they were in heaven. So I let them have their fun, and it was about two hours of fun in all. Which isn’t bad for a weekend afternoon in the kitchen. But we’ve only enough jelly pods left to make three or so more bugs. You can recycle existing bugs, according to the instructions, but they didn’t give instructions on scraping the stuff off the walls. Besides, none of the children have mentioned using their bug maker again. So I feel thoroughly ripped off and might just have to sell the TV. Or make it an ad-free CBeebies-only zone.

So, the Scores on the Doors:

What the children like: Making like Frankenstein and creating grim bugs that they’re allowed to squash
What I like: Erm, not much. Guess it kept them quiet for an hour or two. Though for the same price we could have enjoyed a pizza takeaway. Twice.
What the children aren’t sure about: Helping mummy clear up the goo created by squishing the bugs.
What I’m not sure about: The point. What is the point? Why create uselessly expensive bugs that will be ground into the carpet and over the walls, and cost about £6 each to make?
The verdict: Save your money. You’d get as much fun from a vat of Plasticine at a fraction of the cost.

SCORES ON THE DOORS? 4/10, and that’s only because the children enjoyed playing with it and couldn’t understand why I kept saying, ‘Are you actually enjoying this?’

My boys made my lunch

Friday, October 7th, 2011
Children Cooking Menu

Fancy coming for dinner?

So, what do you think? Yesterday, on discovering that I hadn’t had time for lunch (sigh, I know) my children scurried off to a corner and discussed how to make me some. A menu was drawn up (you’ll see lots of delights on the world’s best ‘babey menu’, including sweats and tam tarts), a table was laid, and mummy was welcomed to the restaurant by three mini waiters.

“What would you like to eat?” they chorused.

“What’s on the menu?” lone diner replied.

Lots of scuffling, giggling, and an announcement that there would have been a jam tart and would have been some cornflakes, but they had disappeared so how about a couple of mini marshmallows, a scattering of raisins and a Cadbury’s chocolate thing with nuts in. (The latter is the thing that looks like something a maladjusted squirrel might have left in the house.)

What could I do but take the lot, and wash it down with a thimbleful of water? Delicious.

I was thrilled that the boys had taken the initiative. I want them to grow up to be able to cook for themselves, and am always looking for ways to get them involved. Here’s our version of a pizza they concocted earlier in the week – English muffin base, a few mushed up, chopped tomatoes, mushrooms, shredded ham and lots and lots and lots and lots of cheese.

Move over Pizza Express...

Move over Pizza Express...

Not sure the Italians have much to worry about, but it was certainly tasty.

The boys (my oldest is six) are also a dab hand at crumble toppings, very keen to chop carrots, and always happy to pick herbs from the garden to add to salads and pasta. Will this mean they’ll be able to cook when big boys and in the world on their own? I hope so. Mummy won’t always be there to do it for them, and I’d hate them to think that future girlfriends and wives will do it all.