Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 94
August 11, 2011
Guest post: the inspirational Kerry Painter
Most of us like a moan, especially on the parent-feed of Twitter: lack of sleep, lack of time, lack of money, lack of energy - you name it, it's there daily, in prodigious quantities. So it's inspiring to hear of someone who has struggled against genuine odds. I've been a Twitter friend of Kerry for several years and I was delighted when she agreed to be this morning's guest blogger. She writes...
"Hi folks. Firstly, before I get started on my ramblings, I'd just like to say a big Thanks to Tim Atkinson here. This is my first guest blog post and I hope that this will be the start of many. To be honest, he's made the task of writing this post pretty darned simple really. He just wants me to tell you about me so here goes.
"I'm Kerry Painter. I live in Blackpool and I'm a single mum to gorgeous daughter Madison. She's 7 and probably my main reason for taking the hard route to success. :-) No big deal you might say. There are lots of single mums out there and lots of dads who bring their kids up from home for whatever reason too and you would, of course be absolutely right.
"However, As well as being a single mum, I'm a home-based business owner/mentor and I'm also blind. Now you think I'm amazing right?
"My one and only job I had before I had Madison and I loved it. I helped people with disabilities access computers and I loved seeing the absolute infinite amount of things they did with the knowledge I gave them. I remember one such guy who was a headmaster at a school and was told that he would have to learn to touch type which just wasn't possible given his time constraints. Last I heard, he was writing a book and that was all because I helped him learn how to use voice recognition software which meant he could simply dictate his thoughts into his computer….no keyboard skills required.
"However, I am a mum first and foremost and it was through the internet that I was able to start and grow my own home-based business and help others do the same. I've actually only really been seriously marketing online since the beginning of this year but it took me 6 years to finally find what it was that was missing for me and I love it. My daughter gets to have me all to herself and I have been there for her first steps, first tooth and I've never missed a dance show or competition yet.
"Parenting isn't easy whether you're parenting with your partner or on your own and being blind and having a child has its added difficulties too but I think it has its advantages. Despite the question that I get at least once a day from strangers "Does Your Daughter Help look after you?" actually, no. We look after each other. I'm still the mum regardless of what people might think but Madison is learning some of the best lessons that life can teach her…those which aren't often taught at school such as working as a team, knowing that others who you may see as different, are successful both in life and in their chosen careers and I'd also lay money on the fact that my child will grow up to be an amazing person who understands others and doesn't shy away from differences.
"I am extremely proud of everything I've accomplished but my main message here is that you get one shot with your kids and it is absolutely possible to have an income without sacrificing time with your kids. I'm sure I haven't covered half the questions this article may bring up for you so if you have any, whether it be about parenting, disabilities, home business issues, just contact Tim and he'll doubtless pass the information on to me and I promise you will get a reply."
"Hi folks. Firstly, before I get started on my ramblings, I'd just like to say a big Thanks to Tim Atkinson here. This is my first guest blog post and I hope that this will be the start of many. To be honest, he's made the task of writing this post pretty darned simple really. He just wants me to tell you about me so here goes.
"I'm Kerry Painter. I live in Blackpool and I'm a single mum to gorgeous daughter Madison. She's 7 and probably my main reason for taking the hard route to success. :-) No big deal you might say. There are lots of single mums out there and lots of dads who bring their kids up from home for whatever reason too and you would, of course be absolutely right.
"However, As well as being a single mum, I'm a home-based business owner/mentor and I'm also blind. Now you think I'm amazing right?
"My one and only job I had before I had Madison and I loved it. I helped people with disabilities access computers and I loved seeing the absolute infinite amount of things they did with the knowledge I gave them. I remember one such guy who was a headmaster at a school and was told that he would have to learn to touch type which just wasn't possible given his time constraints. Last I heard, he was writing a book and that was all because I helped him learn how to use voice recognition software which meant he could simply dictate his thoughts into his computer….no keyboard skills required.
"However, I am a mum first and foremost and it was through the internet that I was able to start and grow my own home-based business and help others do the same. I've actually only really been seriously marketing online since the beginning of this year but it took me 6 years to finally find what it was that was missing for me and I love it. My daughter gets to have me all to herself and I have been there for her first steps, first tooth and I've never missed a dance show or competition yet.
"Parenting isn't easy whether you're parenting with your partner or on your own and being blind and having a child has its added difficulties too but I think it has its advantages. Despite the question that I get at least once a day from strangers "Does Your Daughter Help look after you?" actually, no. We look after each other. I'm still the mum regardless of what people might think but Madison is learning some of the best lessons that life can teach her…those which aren't often taught at school such as working as a team, knowing that others who you may see as different, are successful both in life and in their chosen careers and I'd also lay money on the fact that my child will grow up to be an amazing person who understands others and doesn't shy away from differences.
"I am extremely proud of everything I've accomplished but my main message here is that you get one shot with your kids and it is absolutely possible to have an income without sacrificing time with your kids. I'm sure I haven't covered half the questions this article may bring up for you so if you have any, whether it be about parenting, disabilities, home business issues, just contact Tim and he'll doubtless pass the information on to me and I promise you will get a reply."
August 9, 2011
Guest post: children's playtime = parent's learntime
The child is father to the man, as Wordsworth once said. We probably learn as much from our children as they do from us, and that's the idea behind today's guest post from Susie Newday, who blogs (appropriately) at New Day New Lesson about learning and seeing the positive in the lessons that life hands her each day. She writes...
"Becoming a parent is a heck of a lot easier than parenting. When I think about it, I find it amazing how clueless many of us are when we start the journey of parenting. I find it even more amazing that no matter how much we learn, there are constantly new things we end up being clueless about.
"As parents, we often wonder how well we are doing with the whole raising our kids business. We want the best for our kids. We them to have a better life than we had. We want to encourage their talents and be there to support them. Mostly, we wonder whether we are managing to instill good habits and values in our kids. We talk to them, we teach them and sometimes we forgot the most important thing.
"Sometimes we forget that the things our kids learn the most from are our actions. Darn. I'm in trouble. Our kids are mirrors of our behavior, for good and for bad. They will pick up the little acts of kindness they see you performing, like helping old people, but they will also pick up your short temper. They will pick up your way of talking through things, but they will also pick up phrases like because I said so and that's it.
"For me, the best parent education I have received has been to surreptitiously watch my kids play, especially when they are young. My 5 year old highlights all my parenting fails and faults and also my triumphs. She uses her toys and her dolls to play mommy and when she plays I know where I have gone wrong and right that week and in general. When my daughter plays a yelling and impatient "mommy", I know that I have been impatient that week. When she tells her "child" I need to finish writing this, you have to wait, I know I have neglected her in favour of the computer. When she tells her "babies" momma loves you so much, I know I have made her feel loved. And the list goes on and on.
"If you want to know how you are doing at this whole parenting lark, find a way to watch your kids to play when they don't realize you are watching. Why? Because playtime = parent education, for good and for bad. Playtime is the best insight we have into what are kids are really feeling and absorbing.
"What things have you learned from your kid's playtime?"
"Becoming a parent is a heck of a lot easier than parenting. When I think about it, I find it amazing how clueless many of us are when we start the journey of parenting. I find it even more amazing that no matter how much we learn, there are constantly new things we end up being clueless about.
"As parents, we often wonder how well we are doing with the whole raising our kids business. We want the best for our kids. We them to have a better life than we had. We want to encourage their talents and be there to support them. Mostly, we wonder whether we are managing to instill good habits and values in our kids. We talk to them, we teach them and sometimes we forgot the most important thing.
"Sometimes we forget that the things our kids learn the most from are our actions. Darn. I'm in trouble. Our kids are mirrors of our behavior, for good and for bad. They will pick up the little acts of kindness they see you performing, like helping old people, but they will also pick up your short temper. They will pick up your way of talking through things, but they will also pick up phrases like because I said so and that's it.
"For me, the best parent education I have received has been to surreptitiously watch my kids play, especially when they are young. My 5 year old highlights all my parenting fails and faults and also my triumphs. She uses her toys and her dolls to play mommy and when she plays I know where I have gone wrong and right that week and in general. When my daughter plays a yelling and impatient "mommy", I know that I have been impatient that week. When she tells her "child" I need to finish writing this, you have to wait, I know I have neglected her in favour of the computer. When she tells her "babies" momma loves you so much, I know I have made her feel loved. And the list goes on and on.
"If you want to know how you are doing at this whole parenting lark, find a way to watch your kids to play when they don't realize you are watching. Why? Because playtime = parent education, for good and for bad. Playtime is the best insight we have into what are kids are really feeling and absorbing.
"What things have you learned from your kid's playtime?"
August 7, 2011
Guest post: what are dads for?
This is a subject close to my heart, for obvious reasons. So when freelance writer and blogger Nicki Cawood (Curly and Candid) offered to guest-blog an open letter to her partner Roy it was too good an opportunity to miss. She writes...
As Mum I do the art & craft, bakes, reads stories, take the kids out and about, play Lego... what does their Dad do?
Dear Roy.
By the time you read this it will have already been published so it'll be too late to wince at my soppiness! You see, I don't think I tell you often enough how fab a Dad you are to the boys. I knew you would be, but seeing your eyes light up when you see them and their faces break into beaming smiles when you walk in the door just makes my heart sing!
We always knew we'd have children – we assumed we'd have them straight away but then we found out I had fertility problems. I felt so guilty – you were born to be a Dad, I could just tell from the first moment you'd be a great one and then we were told it may never happen! When we finally managed to fall pregnant that first time it was as if a light switched on inside you. When we lost the baby I was crushed. So many lovely people consoled me but they seemed to forget it wasn't just me who was hurting, but you too. You were so brave and supportive but I know how much it cut you. I hope I never have to see you suffer like that again. An awful time but we knew we'd get there and that we'd be Mum & Dad some day.
When Kieran was born I fell in love with you all over again! A hands on Dad from the very beginning, you've never shied away from dirty nappies or snotty noses and no-one makes story-time as fun as you! You give prize winning horsey-rides, can sing the silliest songs imaginable, do a better Spongebob Squarepants impression than most and know the Gruffalo off by heart.
When you get in from work, clearly shattered some days, the first thing you do is kiss me and cuddle the boys, asking Kieran what he's done and if he enjoyed it and cuddling Taylor and making him giggle.
Ok, you aren't a saint and you need to learn to share the Lego properly and realise that making sandcastles does not mean giving Kieran an allotted area to build his "heap" so he doesn't ruin your feat of sand engineering which includes a working moat... but all in all you do a grand job!
Seriously though, never underestimate how good a Dad you are – they don't and neither do I!
Love, Nicki x
PS, I appreciate how fun playing SuperDad is but next time you run round the living room with your pants on the outside of your jeans..... close the curtains dear.
As Mum I do the art & craft, bakes, reads stories, take the kids out and about, play Lego... what does their Dad do?
Dear Roy.
By the time you read this it will have already been published so it'll be too late to wince at my soppiness! You see, I don't think I tell you often enough how fab a Dad you are to the boys. I knew you would be, but seeing your eyes light up when you see them and their faces break into beaming smiles when you walk in the door just makes my heart sing!
We always knew we'd have children – we assumed we'd have them straight away but then we found out I had fertility problems. I felt so guilty – you were born to be a Dad, I could just tell from the first moment you'd be a great one and then we were told it may never happen! When we finally managed to fall pregnant that first time it was as if a light switched on inside you. When we lost the baby I was crushed. So many lovely people consoled me but they seemed to forget it wasn't just me who was hurting, but you too. You were so brave and supportive but I know how much it cut you. I hope I never have to see you suffer like that again. An awful time but we knew we'd get there and that we'd be Mum & Dad some day.
When Kieran was born I fell in love with you all over again! A hands on Dad from the very beginning, you've never shied away from dirty nappies or snotty noses and no-one makes story-time as fun as you! You give prize winning horsey-rides, can sing the silliest songs imaginable, do a better Spongebob Squarepants impression than most and know the Gruffalo off by heart.
When you get in from work, clearly shattered some days, the first thing you do is kiss me and cuddle the boys, asking Kieran what he's done and if he enjoyed it and cuddling Taylor and making him giggle.
Ok, you aren't a saint and you need to learn to share the Lego properly and realise that making sandcastles does not mean giving Kieran an allotted area to build his "heap" so he doesn't ruin your feat of sand engineering which includes a working moat... but all in all you do a grand job!
Seriously though, never underestimate how good a Dad you are – they don't and neither do I!
Love, Nicki x
PS, I appreciate how fun playing SuperDad is but next time you run round the living room with your pants on the outside of your jeans..... close the curtains dear.
August 4, 2011
Is it ever right to smack a child?
Today's guest post is from novelist Christopher Wakling. In it, he asks the question few parents can't have at least considered at some time or another: is it ever right to smack a child? His answer?
"I don't know.
That's why I've written a book about it, a novel called WHAT
I DID.
Good novels don't have the answers. They explore.
They put the question well.
WHAT I DID is narrated by Billy. He's six.
The opening sees him run away from his father and into a busy road. When Billy's dad catches up with him he
smacks him. Hard. In public.
A passer by intervenes; soon the social services are involved.
Why did I write WHAT I DID?
When I was growing up, parents smacked naughty
children. It happened to me, I'm told,
though I don't really recall it. But I
do remember 'a smack' being there as the ultimate sanction, the nuclear bomb.
By the time I became a parent attitudes had shifted. Holding my newborn son, the answer seemed
obvious. Violence against children? Or the threat of violence. Just plain wrong.
Cut to two-and-a-half years later, in a queue to see the
T-Rex at the National History Museum.
The same son, in a rage, kicked my pregnant wife in the stomach. I found I'd shifted camp. I smacked him, and hated myself for it.
But was it really wrong?
Hell, I'd 'restrained' him before then.
I'd shut him in his room; I'd sat him down hard on the pointless
'naughty step'. Perhaps more damagingly,
I'd shouted at him, bringing down thirty-five years of invective on his
uncomprehending head.
None of those punishments worked. The smack cut through the fog. It spoke in the present tense and my son
understood. Don't do that ever again.
And yet, and yet. I'm
a loving father. My children are the
heart of my world. To see my son flinch
from me after I smacked him made me feel physically sick.
If I'd come to a coherent conclusion one way or the other
there would have been no point in writing the novel. WHAT I DID is about much more than smacking:
it's about fatherhood, the boundary between the state and the family, and being
six. But corporal punishment of children
lies at the book's heart, and since writing it I've learned that most people
have a strong opinion on the subject.
If the book makes them question it, well that's a good
thing."
WHAT I DID was published by John Murray yesterday and is available to buy on Amazon.
www.christopherwakling.com
Twitter: @chriswakling
"I don't know.
That's why I've written a book about it, a novel called WHAT
I DID.
Good novels don't have the answers. They explore.
They put the question well.
WHAT I DID is narrated by Billy. He's six.
The opening sees him run away from his father and into a busy road. When Billy's dad catches up with him he
smacks him. Hard. In public.
A passer by intervenes; soon the social services are involved.
Why did I write WHAT I DID?
When I was growing up, parents smacked naughty
children. It happened to me, I'm told,
though I don't really recall it. But I
do remember 'a smack' being there as the ultimate sanction, the nuclear bomb.
By the time I became a parent attitudes had shifted. Holding my newborn son, the answer seemed
obvious. Violence against children? Or the threat of violence. Just plain wrong.
Cut to two-and-a-half years later, in a queue to see the
T-Rex at the National History Museum.
The same son, in a rage, kicked my pregnant wife in the stomach. I found I'd shifted camp. I smacked him, and hated myself for it.
But was it really wrong?
Hell, I'd 'restrained' him before then.
I'd shut him in his room; I'd sat him down hard on the pointless
'naughty step'. Perhaps more damagingly,
I'd shouted at him, bringing down thirty-five years of invective on his
uncomprehending head.
None of those punishments worked. The smack cut through the fog. It spoke in the present tense and my son
understood. Don't do that ever again.
And yet, and yet. I'm
a loving father. My children are the
heart of my world. To see my son flinch
from me after I smacked him made me feel physically sick.
If I'd come to a coherent conclusion one way or the other
there would have been no point in writing the novel. WHAT I DID is about much more than smacking:
it's about fatherhood, the boundary between the state and the family, and being
six. But corporal punishment of children
lies at the book's heart, and since writing it I've learned that most people
have a strong opinion on the subject.
If the book makes them question it, well that's a good
thing."
WHAT I DID was published by John Murray yesterday and is available to buy on Amazon.
www.christopherwakling.com
Twitter: @chriswakling
August 3, 2011
Guest post: family re-enactment
Today's guest-blogger will be well-known to a lot of you. Jax blogs, waffles, rants and pontificates (her words!) at Making it up about all manner of things, sometimes including home education, book reviews and techie things. It's eclectic, all right? And well worth a read. Anyway, with the summer hols now in full swing this post should be more than a little useful if you're beginning to scratch around for entertaining - and educating - holiday ideas:
No, that isn't pretending to be a family, that's going out as one to a historical event and dressing and working accordingly. Myself and the three children recently spent nearly two weeks at Kentwell Hall in Long Melford as part of their Great Annual Tudor Re-Creation.
It's not a particularly cheap or easy activity, and it was several months in the planning. The application stage started way back in January, and the forms included passport photos, then there were open days to meet the more established re-enactors and to be interviewed by the man in charge. And then there was costume buying, borrowing or making, and all the accessories too.
You might think Tudors lived in simpler times, and in a lot of ways they did. But there were a lot of rules and conventions too - you don't go out with your hair uncovered so everyone wears a coif, under a hat if a hat is to be added. And the women's outfits are quite cumbersome - linen shift or smock, under kirtle, then kirtle, which is the bit with the lacing up the bodice. If you don't have sleeves as part of your kirtle you have ones that lace or pin on - most working women don't actually wear them but have them dangling from their shoulders and tucked into their belt at the back. And over all of that a linen apron, and possibly a coat.
All of which costs time and money to make. Children's clothes aren't much simpler, and pre teen girls are dressed as women. And then there are the accessories. A basket for carrying things in. A knife in leather sheath, wooden or pottery plates (wooden are better, they don't smash so easily), spoons and cups. I was still acquiring things partway through our stint at the weekend cart boot sale, and it meant more and more to carry every day.
Re-enactors start their day early (though not nearly as early as the Tudors themselves would have done). You get up on the campsite, get dressed into layers of tudor clothing and then hike over for breakfast. It's not really that far, but when you're wearing all those layers and carrying the stuff for a day and a toddler, it's quite far enough that you don't want to to and fro. Breakfast, and then the final touches - for me that meant taking off my glasses and putting in contacts. I'm blind as a bat without any correction and I wasn't prepared to labour under squinting and headaches for that length of time.
Smallest adapted surprisingly well to being a Tudor. She learnt to say nay and aye, and pigling, and pottered around mostly happily as long as I was within sight and milk was in easy reach. Turns out it's quite easy to breastfeed in a bodice, just don't lace it up to tight and make sure your shift has a low cut neck as it were. I wore a pinner (piece of linen) over to protect from sun and cold which always served to preserve modesty.
Not that the Tudors laboured under the same kind of body modesty we do, you've only to look at men's codpieces to work that one out. Which is probably a good if tantalising way to draw this post to a close for now. I hope you've found it interesting.
No, that isn't pretending to be a family, that's going out as one to a historical event and dressing and working accordingly. Myself and the three children recently spent nearly two weeks at Kentwell Hall in Long Melford as part of their Great Annual Tudor Re-Creation.
It's not a particularly cheap or easy activity, and it was several months in the planning. The application stage started way back in January, and the forms included passport photos, then there were open days to meet the more established re-enactors and to be interviewed by the man in charge. And then there was costume buying, borrowing or making, and all the accessories too.
You might think Tudors lived in simpler times, and in a lot of ways they did. But there were a lot of rules and conventions too - you don't go out with your hair uncovered so everyone wears a coif, under a hat if a hat is to be added. And the women's outfits are quite cumbersome - linen shift or smock, under kirtle, then kirtle, which is the bit with the lacing up the bodice. If you don't have sleeves as part of your kirtle you have ones that lace or pin on - most working women don't actually wear them but have them dangling from their shoulders and tucked into their belt at the back. And over all of that a linen apron, and possibly a coat.
All of which costs time and money to make. Children's clothes aren't much simpler, and pre teen girls are dressed as women. And then there are the accessories. A basket for carrying things in. A knife in leather sheath, wooden or pottery plates (wooden are better, they don't smash so easily), spoons and cups. I was still acquiring things partway through our stint at the weekend cart boot sale, and it meant more and more to carry every day.
Re-enactors start their day early (though not nearly as early as the Tudors themselves would have done). You get up on the campsite, get dressed into layers of tudor clothing and then hike over for breakfast. It's not really that far, but when you're wearing all those layers and carrying the stuff for a day and a toddler, it's quite far enough that you don't want to to and fro. Breakfast, and then the final touches - for me that meant taking off my glasses and putting in contacts. I'm blind as a bat without any correction and I wasn't prepared to labour under squinting and headaches for that length of time.
Smallest adapted surprisingly well to being a Tudor. She learnt to say nay and aye, and pigling, and pottered around mostly happily as long as I was within sight and milk was in easy reach. Turns out it's quite easy to breastfeed in a bodice, just don't lace it up to tight and make sure your shift has a low cut neck as it were. I wore a pinner (piece of linen) over to protect from sun and cold which always served to preserve modesty.
Not that the Tudors laboured under the same kind of body modesty we do, you've only to look at men's codpieces to work that one out. Which is probably a good if tantalising way to draw this post to a close for now. I hope you've found it interesting.
August 1, 2011
Guest post: newbie alert!
Today's guest-blogger is Neil - otherwise known (on Twitter) as @Trampy_joe. He's a bit of a newcomer to blogging and here's his take on the story so far...
For some reason, known only to the deepest darkest recesses of my brain, I took up blogging. I had thought about doing it in the past but never really had anything to blog about but this time, this time was different. This time I was a dad. This time I had something to say.
Or so I thought.
Let me give you a brief overview of my writing experience:
* made to write some stuff at when I was at school
* I think I failed English, but I'm not sure
* I once wrote some poetry - it was crap
* The longest email I've ever sent was about 50 words
* studying for a degree so have to write scientific reports
So I'm sure you will surmise from that rather short list that I have all writing skills of a small Amazonian tree frog and you wouldn't be far wrong. I'm giving it a go anyway.
So far I've only actually written four blog posts and to be honest they're not that good. But looking on the positive side, they're better than the aforementioned poetry and they're a start. Not only am I finding it difficult to put into words what I'm thinking (and to be fair with what goes on in my head it's not surprising really) but I'm also finding it difficult to comprehend how big the world of 'daddy blogging' is.
I was aware of mum blogging as during my wife's pregnancy we frequented the go to mum sites where there is a lot of advertising for mum bloggers. What there wasn't, and as far as I can tell still isn't, was the same thing but for dads. So I did some searching and found two forums and a couple of similar blogs. The forums seemed to be a dead end so I gave up on them; the blogs however were just the tip of the iceberg. From each blog I followed link after link to other dad bloggers, most of who are in the United States.
There was a whole world out there of people just like me! Well, not just like me, god forbid. The world would be a crazy, if colourful, place if the world was full of people like me. You get the gist though, I wasn't alone anymore. I was part of something and that something was something big!
Natural progression took me onto twitter and linked me with lots of other dads. The thing is though, as a newbie who has no real idea how to write, I feel like I'm at a party where I don't know anyone and I'm considering bolting out the front door. What I should do is make for the kitchen and grab a drink. So this post is me doing just that. Getting myself onto the dance floor and getting myself known.
So that's about that then. I've used similes and metaphors, my punctuation and grammar are reasonable and my spelling should be perfect (if not, I want a new spell checker!). I've somehow managed to write yet another blog post and I have no doubt that when I read it back it will make little or no sense.
Hopefully this will get a few views and at least one comment that will include some tips or constructive criticism. From there I can only get better. Thanks for reading.
For some reason, known only to the deepest darkest recesses of my brain, I took up blogging. I had thought about doing it in the past but never really had anything to blog about but this time, this time was different. This time I was a dad. This time I had something to say.
Or so I thought.
Let me give you a brief overview of my writing experience:
* made to write some stuff at when I was at school
* I think I failed English, but I'm not sure
* I once wrote some poetry - it was crap
* The longest email I've ever sent was about 50 words
* studying for a degree so have to write scientific reports
So I'm sure you will surmise from that rather short list that I have all writing skills of a small Amazonian tree frog and you wouldn't be far wrong. I'm giving it a go anyway.
So far I've only actually written four blog posts and to be honest they're not that good. But looking on the positive side, they're better than the aforementioned poetry and they're a start. Not only am I finding it difficult to put into words what I'm thinking (and to be fair with what goes on in my head it's not surprising really) but I'm also finding it difficult to comprehend how big the world of 'daddy blogging' is.
I was aware of mum blogging as during my wife's pregnancy we frequented the go to mum sites where there is a lot of advertising for mum bloggers. What there wasn't, and as far as I can tell still isn't, was the same thing but for dads. So I did some searching and found two forums and a couple of similar blogs. The forums seemed to be a dead end so I gave up on them; the blogs however were just the tip of the iceberg. From each blog I followed link after link to other dad bloggers, most of who are in the United States.
There was a whole world out there of people just like me! Well, not just like me, god forbid. The world would be a crazy, if colourful, place if the world was full of people like me. You get the gist though, I wasn't alone anymore. I was part of something and that something was something big!
Natural progression took me onto twitter and linked me with lots of other dads. The thing is though, as a newbie who has no real idea how to write, I feel like I'm at a party where I don't know anyone and I'm considering bolting out the front door. What I should do is make for the kitchen and grab a drink. So this post is me doing just that. Getting myself onto the dance floor and getting myself known.
So that's about that then. I've used similes and metaphors, my punctuation and grammar are reasonable and my spelling should be perfect (if not, I want a new spell checker!). I've somehow managed to write yet another blog post and I have no doubt that when I read it back it will make little or no sense.
Hopefully this will get a few views and at least one comment that will include some tips or constructive criticism. From there I can only get better. Thanks for reading.
July 29, 2011
We're all going on a...
... Summer Holiday. Ah, Cliff! Or the White Cliffs. Or the White Horse of Wiltshire. It doesn't matter. Further to my last post about the depressing prospect of the long summer holidays being scrapped (and Christmas cancelled if they have their way, no doubt) I have today some tips for those of you planning on 'getting away'. First, if you're thinking of booking your summer getaway: here's something you should know courtesy of Senor Flemenco...
Right, once booked you'll need to make sure you're holiday money goes further. In which case this might be of some help...
Finally, the journey. Motion sickness can be a real bore - but not for us anymore thanks to our Sea-Band Motion Sickness Relief Band. (I should have been in copywriting...) Seriously, we've been sent a couple to try out and a couple more pairs (one adult, one child size) to give away. All you have to do is... tell me where you're going on your hols and why. And if you're lucky, you might get there without the plaintive cry from the back seat of, 'daaaaaaad, I feel sick'.
Right, once booked you'll need to make sure you're holiday money goes further. In which case this might be of some help...
Finally, the journey. Motion sickness can be a real bore - but not for us anymore thanks to our Sea-Band Motion Sickness Relief Band. (I should have been in copywriting...) Seriously, we've been sent a couple to try out and a couple more pairs (one adult, one child size) to give away. All you have to do is... tell me where you're going on your hols and why. And if you're lucky, you might get there without the plaintive cry from the back seat of, 'daaaaaaad, I feel sick'.
July 27, 2011
The Oreo Lick Race!
'Get involved in the UK's tastiest challenge yet,' the man said. 'Upload your video and be in with a chance of winning a VIP family trip to Florida,' he went on. 'Oh, and for every video uploaded to the website www.oreolickrace.co.uk we'll be donating £1 to the children's charity, KidsOut.'
Oh well, if you put it like that. What are we waiting for? After all, it's as easy as Twist. Lick. Show. Dunk. Eat. Drink. So, on your marks, get set...
Oh well, if you put it like that. What are we waiting for? After all, it's as easy as Twist. Lick. Show. Dunk. Eat. Drink. So, on your marks, get set...
July 25, 2011
Should we scrap the six-week holiday?
Well, here we are on day one of le grand départ and already we're being told how bad it is for the kids, how awful for the economy and how stressful for parents. If you were reading the same Sunday 'paper as me yesterday you'll have seen reports claiming that the long vacation is responsible for something dreadful known as 'summer learning loss', with children sliding backwards down the educational performance scale during the holidays as fast as they scramble up trees and climbing frames, that the brain is like a muscle and 'forgets' to learn if it isn't being hot-housed in a classroom and all manner of other spuriously backed claims.
Let's take the so-called 'learning slide' first. Sounds fun and - as one columnist put it yesterday - is apparently 'beyond dispute'. (I would link the to article, but it's on one of those odious Murdoch pay-per-read sites so it'd be pointless.) Anyway, I'd like to dispute it. Because, although the learned columnist rightly claims that 'As early as 1978 as American study found a dramatic deterioration in performance during the long vacation, particularly in maths...' it seems to have escaped this particular polemicist that, in America, the long vacation is much longer - typically over ten weeks. Next, let's tackle this 'muscular learning' red-herring. Of course, it's true that - like anything - you either use it or lose it, but there are many, many more ways of learning - about all sorts of different things - than the sitting-in-a-classroom-with-teacher kind of learning, and while it's undoubtedly true that the habit - and I really do mean that most sincerely, folks: it's a habit - of learning might need a little refreshing on the first day back in September, there's no 'loss' that can't be swiftly recovered, and certainly no loss which can't outweigh the far greater, wider, broader and richer learning opportunities most children are able to access (for themselves) during the vacation.
And no, Mr Syed, I don't mean simply 'going to museums' either. Although there are undoubtedly some holiday educational opportunities open only to the children of the well-off - and I'm not disputing the fact that poverty makes non-school learning harder - I'm not just talking about that kind of learning. Think about it. What you - we all - learn at school is but a small part of what we need, as adults, to function in society, to maintain healthy relationships, to hold down jobs, to bring up children, to appreciate the world we live in. There has to be some time to learn in the way our brains were intended to learn - in an unstructured, exploratory, random, trial-and-error manner - and time too to learn the things that can't be taught.
I could go on. I could regale you with an armful of reasons why we teachers need six weeks to get ready for the new school year (those course don't write themselves, you know) or tell you why I think I long break can actually be good for pupils (new starts, a new beginning - vital for those who've messed up a little the yea before). I could, but I won't. Because it's the holidays. And whatever you're doing, have a good one. And make the most of it. Because if some of these nay-sayers have their way, it might be your last.
Let's take the so-called 'learning slide' first. Sounds fun and - as one columnist put it yesterday - is apparently 'beyond dispute'. (I would link the to article, but it's on one of those odious Murdoch pay-per-read sites so it'd be pointless.) Anyway, I'd like to dispute it. Because, although the learned columnist rightly claims that 'As early as 1978 as American study found a dramatic deterioration in performance during the long vacation, particularly in maths...' it seems to have escaped this particular polemicist that, in America, the long vacation is much longer - typically over ten weeks. Next, let's tackle this 'muscular learning' red-herring. Of course, it's true that - like anything - you either use it or lose it, but there are many, many more ways of learning - about all sorts of different things - than the sitting-in-a-classroom-with-teacher kind of learning, and while it's undoubtedly true that the habit - and I really do mean that most sincerely, folks: it's a habit - of learning might need a little refreshing on the first day back in September, there's no 'loss' that can't be swiftly recovered, and certainly no loss which can't outweigh the far greater, wider, broader and richer learning opportunities most children are able to access (for themselves) during the vacation.
And no, Mr Syed, I don't mean simply 'going to museums' either. Although there are undoubtedly some holiday educational opportunities open only to the children of the well-off - and I'm not disputing the fact that poverty makes non-school learning harder - I'm not just talking about that kind of learning. Think about it. What you - we all - learn at school is but a small part of what we need, as adults, to function in society, to maintain healthy relationships, to hold down jobs, to bring up children, to appreciate the world we live in. There has to be some time to learn in the way our brains were intended to learn - in an unstructured, exploratory, random, trial-and-error manner - and time too to learn the things that can't be taught.
I could go on. I could regale you with an armful of reasons why we teachers need six weeks to get ready for the new school year (those course don't write themselves, you know) or tell you why I think I long break can actually be good for pupils (new starts, a new beginning - vital for those who've messed up a little the yea before). I could, but I won't. Because it's the holidays. And whatever you're doing, have a good one. And make the most of it. Because if some of these nay-sayers have their way, it might be your last.
July 23, 2011
Saturday Review...
Some books are funny; some inadvertently; some intentionally. Seldom is a book so laugh-out-loud funny that you have to ask your other half - politely - if she would refrain from reading it in order that you can hear what's on the telly. This is that book...
Reviews are often more about the reviewer than the object of the review. So I'm going to let Ben's book speak for itself. Here's what you're missing if you don't buy 'Teething Pains' by Ben Wakeling (available now on Amazon).
On weaning...
Are there any foods to avoid? Indeed there are. Vindaloo is one. And you'll be the one clearing up the mess when it comes out at the other end...
As I write, some scientist bods have just recommended that a child should be weaned at four, not six months. Argh! Panic! Quick, get that nipple out of your baby's mouth! (Not your nipple, obviously. Yours won't work.)
On bonding...
I know this is a job usually reserved for women (he said it, missus!) but cooking with your child is a great way to bond. In this instnace, 'cooking with your child' mean alongside your child, not actually using him as an ingredient'.
On baby massage (specifically, a technique known as 'milking')...
Imagine you're milking a cow or, if that's too weird, pretend you're squeezing the filling from a sausage. Mind you, that's also pretty weird.
If you like your parenthood tips with a generous dose of humour buy this book. You'll laugh and learn all at the same time and the only person crying (unlike that chap on the cover) will be Ben... all the way to the bank!
Reviews are often more about the reviewer than the object of the review. So I'm going to let Ben's book speak for itself. Here's what you're missing if you don't buy 'Teething Pains' by Ben Wakeling (available now on Amazon).
On weaning...
Are there any foods to avoid? Indeed there are. Vindaloo is one. And you'll be the one clearing up the mess when it comes out at the other end...
As I write, some scientist bods have just recommended that a child should be weaned at four, not six months. Argh! Panic! Quick, get that nipple out of your baby's mouth! (Not your nipple, obviously. Yours won't work.)
On bonding...
I know this is a job usually reserved for women (he said it, missus!) but cooking with your child is a great way to bond. In this instnace, 'cooking with your child' mean alongside your child, not actually using him as an ingredient'.
On baby massage (specifically, a technique known as 'milking')...
Imagine you're milking a cow or, if that's too weird, pretend you're squeezing the filling from a sausage. Mind you, that's also pretty weird.
If you like your parenthood tips with a generous dose of humour buy this book. You'll laugh and learn all at the same time and the only person crying (unlike that chap on the cover) will be Ben... all the way to the bank!
