What to feed them

When the children were very small, I sometimes felt like I was missing a trick that I didn't really get into the habit of having pouches of baby food and special baby snacks around the house.  I cooked a lot of purees and child-friendly foods, and, having frozen the excess, using that as my convenience food.  I posted on facebook about feeling that perhaps I had "drunk the koolaid" and should just be buying the pouches, but an old friend intervened to say that I was doing the right thing (thanks, Zoe!)

Looks lovely and handmade, right?

 



So I kept on cooking, the kids kept on eating and all was good.  And then I had envy of the people who had little, individually wrapped snacks in their bags.  I tended to have a banana (individually wrapped, right?) or a tub of grapes or something, but my kids seemed to gravitate towards the little fruity bars of delight that I never remembered to buy.  But then, Hattie Garlick came along and made me feel like I was doing a good thing by eschewing mini-rice cakes and kiddie crisps.  And, to be perfectly honest, when I did buy perfectly uniform carrot cake snacks, my kids took two bites and fed them to the dog.

Apparently the packaging was more bewitching than its contents

And then, another friend on facebook shared this story and, after being a bit horrified, I allowed myself, very briefly, to feel smug about the kiddiwinks refusal to eat jars of food.  It turns out that my general kiddie-snack forgetfulness was actually the instinct of a great mum (cue ironic laughter).

Of course, an article like that makes you think (too much?).  The vet had suggested some changes to Coco's diet, and I started thinking that cheap fillers and inappropriate ingredients may not be limited to prepared food for children, so I settled in for a lengthy Google session on dog food.  Now, as much as we love her, I have neither the time, nor the inclination to feed Coco a raw diet, but it also seemed that even a lot of expensive, premium pet foods contained a lot of questionable ingredients.  I stumbled upon the Dog Food Analysis site, which answered a lot of questions and at least gave me some brands to look for.  I'm not saying Coco is going to be eating £70/bag Orijen, but at least I feel like I can make some good decisions for her.

Meanwhile, C and I will continue eating value ready meals with a guaranteed level of horse-meat content (just kidding)...

On women in fantasy fiction

I got some good news yesterday - one of my favourite authors released a new novel this month and I am looking forward to diving in and escaping grim reality for a few hours.

I really love Kay's work - I think his use of language is stunning, precise and beautiful.  His plots are sweeping and are clearly well researched without showing off.  All of this, and he writes awesome women.

He writes female characters who I would love to be.  They are powerful, intelligent, and interesting.  They are part of the team, contributing as much as the men in the story.  Jehane, the doctor, from the Lions of Al-Rassan, Catriana from Tigana - they are women who have opinions, personalities and skills that push the story forward.  And, nearly uniquely in the fantasty genre, they have not had to undergo a terrible sexual trauma to scour away their feminine weakness.  They are simply stong people, and it's so refreshing to read.

There are other authors who are getting there.  Brent Weeks has had several strong women who've gone through the rape crucible (Viridiana, Karris White Oak), but finally seems to have written a women who is both a bad ass and has escaped the "de-womanizing" process (Liv Danavis).  Katherine Kerr's Gill goes back and forth - set on her path as a conflicted love interest, but eventually arriving as a power in her own right.

But generally, female characters exist to reflect the male protagonists.  They are virgins or whores, sweet or evil, love interests or vindictive exes.  And it just gets a bit boring.  Most real women are somewhere in between and equally complex as the men with whom they interact.

It fills me with hope that writers are realising that, as women have related to male heroes, so can men relate to female heroes.

Are there any writers that you think write great women?  Who do you recommend?

Thoughts on Boston

On Monday, someone as yet unidentified did something terrible in a city I love at an event that I respect.  I am, of course, speaking about the bombs planted at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  It was an act of egregious cowardice, of hate, of evil against ordinary people celebrating the extraordinary achievements of the athletes running.

I lived in Boston for two years.  Boston is where I met C, my darling husband, during the 2000 presidential elections.  In 2010, we returned for a vacation and C ran the Boston marathon, not quite breaking the three hour barrier that was his goal.

I grieve for Boston, for all of those affected both directly and indirectly by the bombings.  But I know that Boston has a spirit of determination and I have faith in the resilience of humanity that we will recover from the tragedy.

This was my first "twitter disaster" - I learned about it via a tweet.  Crazy information and misinformation was flying around the internet.  It has, more than anything, brought home to me the power, the advantages and the disadvantages of the rapid flows of information in the world today.

In 1996, I was living in Paris when a bomb exploded on the metro.  It was on a line I used, at a time I might plausibly have been on the RER.  When I heard, I phoned my parents immediately to reassure them that I was unharmed.  The bombing had not made the US news, so the response was much less ecstatic than I expected.  No relieved praising of God, just a calm "Oh, I'm really glad to hear."

Again, in 1998, a bomb exploded in C's home town, causing some of the worst causalities in the Northern Ireland troubles.  When C told me the name of his hometown, Omagh, he paused pregnantly, expecting a reaction.  I spent the summer of 1998 teaching French in the woods of Minnesota.  I don't know for certain whether the bombing made headlines in other part of the US, but I know that I stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue on to whatever he was going to say next.

I contrast that with the 24-hour news cycle now.  Endless press speculation, endless commentary to fill an imagined void, to satisfy the interest of observers when, really, there is no new information and some of the invented stories are harmful, pejorative, or simply cruel.  Social media facilitates the good - information appeared nearly immediately letting Boston residents know where the could donate blood to replenish stressed supplies - and the ugly - made-up stories about the death of a child from Sandy Hook in the bombing using old, unrelated photos.

In 1996, following the bombing, I had to make a decision.  Would I start walking to my classes instead of using public transportation?  I considered at length and decided that I would continue on as I had before.  To do otherwise would be to let "them" win.  I still remember the stickers that officials handed out on the metro in the following period - "attentif ensemble".  And I still feel that same resolve today.  We will attend the Boston marathon again (assuming C qualifies again).  I will watch with my children.  We will remain defiant of those who would take away our joy in the world.

Post holiday blues

Today is the end of my holiday.  We had a rather extended Easter, with C taking a little bit of time off work for a staycation.  We did a lot of work sorting out the house - we will soon be able to get a car into the garage, the garden is in good order, and all the flatpack has been constructed.  The interior designer will pretty much finish her work tomorrow.  We will have curtains and all.

The weather is appropriately gloomy for end of holidays, an extension of the longest winter of my life.  I swear, even in Boston, it was getting warm before April!  I am dispropotionately sad at the end of our family time, considering we have been a plague house.  Itsyboo had a tummy bug that meant I had to eat his Easter egg.  Miss A was epically car sick the day we dared a trip to the sea side.  We learned that poor Coco has a yeast infection in her ears (I had to both cross my legs and cover my ears at the news).

But despite all the vomit and yeast, it was so lovely to spend time together.  It will be fun to recount for a while how Miss A had to have lunch wearing daddy's jumper, then got a new designer outfit from the only kids' clothing shop we could find in Rye.

It's especially great that it says Joules all over it, so everyone knows that I can drop a bomb on kids' clothes

Normally, I confess the kids are outfitted via donations from friends topped up with bundles from e-bay, but given the fact that I was going to buy a new outfit, I did go for the most gorgeous one there.  Her leggings, which I have utterly failed to find a photo of, have a print to die for. C, who does not buy the gift clothing in the family, nearly choked at the till.  Good times.

So now, on a day so grey that I have all the lights in the house on even though the curtains are open, I am back to business.  I had the kids fed, the dog's ears cleaned and medicated and the hot tub fiddled with by 8 am.  We played all morning, then had a fabulous home-cooked lunch (chicken, mushroom, and pea barley risotto).  Now we are fleeing to London to the afternoon because, seriously, what can you do in this weather?  This is not what I moved to the countryside for...

I still love it, though.