Keris Stainton's Blog, page 34

52 Books: Before I Met You by Lisa Jewell

I love Lisa Jewell’s books. Thirtynothing is one of my all-time faves and I also really loved The Making of Us (Lisa’s last book before this one).

Before I Met You is a slight departure in that it’s Lisa’s first book featuring dual narratives: that of Betty Dean, living in Soho in the 1990s, and Arlette, Betty’s grandmother, in London in the 1920s. Sometimes when I read a book with dual narratives, I favour one over the other and am disappointed when they switch – that never happened with Before I Met You. I loved the characters of Betty and Arlette and loved the descriptions of London both in the 90s and the 20s (if I had to choose, I’d probably go for Betty’s story, since I was working, if not living, in Soho in the 90s and so much of it was enjoyably familiar).

I find myself saying “sad and funny and true” about so many books, but I don’t see why that should stop me saying it again about this one. It’s a bit of a heartbreaker, I have to say. I read the last 100+ pages in one go, after getting up in the night to read “just for a bit”. I didn’t go back to bed, but instead finished reading at 5.45am, tears streaming down my face and with a numb bum. That’s the mark of a good read, right there. (No? Okay then.)

The end of an era: Joe’s in a bed

Joe  finally moved into a proper bed tonight. He’s been big enough for a real bed for ages, but I figured as long as he was happy in a cot, I was happy for him to stay in a cot… because he stayed in his cot… and I didn’t have to worry about him wandering around in the night and falling down the stairs.

But he saw me ordering our new bed (which we still haven’t got, but that’s another story…) and said he wanted a bed: “Cos I’m a big guy…” How could I resist?

David and I had a moment earlier. David said, “No more Stainton babies in cots…” and though we don’t want any more Stainton babies… it’s just another of those moments. My babies are growing up. *Sniff*

* Btw, he hasn’t been in that bouncy hammock all this time – that would be mad. That was just the earliest photo I could find of him in a cot.

Flattering swimsuit klaxon!

I’ve been meaning to blog about this swimsuit since I bought it, but kept forgetting. Have just been reminded by a conversation on Twitter and discovered that it’s been reduced to a tenner. A tenner! It’s a bargain, I’m telling you.

I’ve struggled to find a flattering swimming costume for YEARS, but loved this one straight away. I love it so much, I might actually buy a second one just in case something happens to the one I’ve already got…

Majorca photos. Finally.

I know, I know. You’ve all been desperate to see the photos. I’m really surprised you’ve managed to contain yourselves this long, to be honest.

Click to view slideshow.

The holiday was completely brilliant, if a little too hot. I would highly recommend Puerto Pollensa to anyone – we’re now desperate to go back and stay on the Pine Walk, directly opposite the beach. Incredibly family-friendly and relaxing at the same time with the most fabulous pizza place. (Plus Bradley Wiggins has a place there, so David thinks we’ll bump into him, they’ll compare sideburns and become best friends.)

UKYA Top 100

This past week has been mad busy – particularly for someone who rarely ever leaves the house – so I’ve got lots to post about and a heck of a lot of catching up to do, but I just wanted to make sure to mention the Top 100 UKYA book list, which you can find here.

Now that we’ve got the Top 100, we’d like to whittle it down to a Top 10, so please do vote. It won’t take long, honest.

52 Books: Holiday reading (part 3)

I read Caddy’s World, the latest in Hilary McKay’s Casson Family series, a while ago and adored it, but hadn’t read any of the other books in the series, so I took the first – Saffy’s Angel – on holiday. It’s gorgeous (as I knew it would be) and this bit in particular made me give a little squeak of joy:

The only things that grew in the garden were guinea pigs. Caddy owned at least half a dozen of them, scattered around in ramshackle runs and hutches. Occasionally they escaped and flocked and multiplied over the lawn like wildebeests on the African plains.

I also started Half-Assed by Jennette Fulda (but didn’t finish it until weeks after we got home) and My Life in France by Julia Child, which I still haven’t finished. I’m enjoying it, I’m just finding it slow-going.

Joe tells a joke.

I’m sitting at my desk and Joe walks in, holding a piece of plastic rollercoaster, his mouth wide open.

Joe: “Mama, this is a joke.”

Me: “What’s a joke?”

Joe: “It’s funny!”

Me: “It IS funny. But, I don’t think I get it. What’s the joke?”

Joe, showing me the bit of rollercoaster and opening his mouth wide again: “This!”

Me: “Okay, but what’s the joke?”

Joe: “You yaff! Cos it’s funny!”

Me: “But what’s funny about it?”

Joe: “THE JOKE!”

Hilarious.

Almond cake. Sort of.

Making almond cake was on our Summer To Do list, after we tasted it at the airport on the way back from holiday. Fortunately, there was a recipe in the Kitchen & Co book I bought recently and so yesterday… we made it.

The recipe said to cook it for an hour, but after 40 minutes I could smell burning. I opened the oven to find there was a good reason for that – it was extremely brown and almost black around the edges. But when I cut into it, the inside looked fine.

I tasted it and it was really good. I mean REALLY good. The outside almost tasted caramelised and the inside was mega-moist. I gave the boys a slice each and they almost immediately asked for more. By the time David got home, we’d eaten half the cake, which, considering the ingredients included 250g of butter and 325g of sugar, probably wasn’t the best idea ever.

I turned it into Miss Pacman to make it look prettier

Shredding

Since the end of Daily Exercise June, I’ve continued to exercise, but not every day. Although I probably *do* do something every day, I haven’t been working to a schedule.

I finished the beginners kettlebell DVD (it was too boring to keep doing) and I’ve ordered another. I’m still Zumba-ing and doing yoga (usually via YouTube) and I’ve also started doing a short-but-painful Matt Roberts DVD that came free with a newspaper a couple of years ago. I’m a bit tired of the Wii Fit too – I love the balance games, but I need more challenging exercises.

Last night on Twitter, my friend Michelle mentioned she was planning to do Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred DVD. Now I’ve heard a lot about this and I’ve been intrigued, but it sounds way painful. But I do love a monthly challenge, so I ordered it too and me and Michelle are going to do it together. Virtually. Michelle’s written about it here and I’m sure we’ll both be blogging and tweeting about it as we go. Please cheer us on – I think we’re going to need it!

Harry weeps for his lost youth. No, really.

On Sunday, he and David were messing around and D ended up feeding Harry his breakfast “yike a baby” as Joe would say. Afterwards, Harry was in tears: “I wish I could be a baby again!” (I was writing this blog post at the time and said, “I wish I was 13 again, listening to Gary Davies…”)

But Harry does this a lot. If he looks at photos – or, even worse, videos – of either himself or of Joe, he gets tearful. If he catches me throwing away some baby item, he can get really upset. I gave Joe’s bath bucket away with one hand, while holding a sobbing Harry at bay with the other.

I’m trying to have a clearout at the moment and that is not going well. Harry basically doesn’t want me to get rid of anything. He even wants to keep stuff he’s never used or doesn’t like, just because… well, just because. I’m reading Happier at Home by Gretchen Rubin at the moment, and she created memory boxes for her two daughters for keeping things that mean something to them. I’m doing a couple for Harry and Joe, which will, no doubt, be filled with crap. But I’ve told them they only get the one box and so, at some point, they’ll have to make choices – the birthday card that used to play Old MacDonald really annoyingly, but is now broken (and which has been scanned in so we have a digital version) or a precious teddy? We’ll see.

We’ve been going to soft play a lot during the holidays and when I mentioned the one we used to go to when Harry was a baby, he got very excited. Even though it was a bit rubbish, he wanted to go again. Turns out it closed a couple of years ago. I was driving when I told the boys the reason we couldn’t go. There was a pause. And then a wail. “Now we’ll never go there againnnnnnnnnn!” Harry was so upset that Joe started to cry too and he doesn’t even remember it.

I get this. I really do. Last time I went to Deepdale Retail Park, I welled up when I saw Borders. But I’m 41. Harry’s 8. What’s he going to be like when he’s my age?!