The joy of shopping with a three year old

On Sunday, my gorgeous adorable son was taken over by someone or something.  I can’t explain it.  Many have been there before.  Many will be there again.  You know the drill…

I picked him up at Grandma and Grandpa’s on Sunday morning.  He had spent the night there on Saturday as mummy and daddy had been going out for a friend’s birthday. We’d had a great night.  He’d been a good boy for Grandma.

All was good.  He was happy.

We went to Tesco to do the weekly shop.

He had a ride on Barney outside the shop.  All was still good.  He was still happy and helpfully moving around the supermarket with me, chatting and putting things into the trolley.

All was good.  He was happy.

We were nearing the end of the shopping experience.  It had been uneventful.  I was proud of us.  We were approaching the till.  Then I realised I’d forgotten something so we went back through the aisles.

All was still good.  He was still happy.

Then it happened.

We passed the Monsters vs Aliens stand.  Child height one-eyed aliens galore.  A bargain at £7.95 each.

He wanted one.  “Mummy, look.  Please can I have a one-eyed alien.”

“No darling.  Not today.  Let’s go.”

“But I want one.”

“No darling.  It’s too much money.  Not today.”

“But Grandma has given me some money.  I want to use my money.  Look.”

At which point he proceeded to empty his pockets of the pennies that Grandma had given him.

“Darling, that’s not enough money.  When you have saved up all your stars, you can choosed a one-eyed alien next time.”

Cue full-blown, 35 minute tantrum.

Screaming, hitting, shouting, rolling around on the floor, kicking.

I was the parent everyone was looking at on Sunday morning in Tesco’s in Didsbury.  If you were there you couldn’t have missed us.  No one did.

We got the looks. You know the ones.

The knowing looks from parents who’d all been there before, all feeling sorry for me I am sure.

The disapproving looks from older people – the “can’t you control your own child” looks  – the “what a terrible parent” looks.

I managed to load the belt and pay.  I tried to sell him to a shopper at the next till, but strangely he didn’t want to buy.  Shame.

Lest we forget

Today is Yom HaShoah -  Holocaust Remembrance Day.

We must never forget.

Follow the Entrepreneur

Last night I was invited to a TiE event, where the guest speaker was Julie Meyer of Ariadne Capital.  I was really inspired by her and her story.

I am a big fan of quotes and especially like these referred to in Julie’s presentation:

“It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or how the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasm, the great venture and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.”   Theodore Roosevelt

Loved this one too:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? …. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. …. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”  Marianne Williamson

You’ll never walk alone

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, the sons and the daughters, the cousins, the aunts and uncles, the friends and communities – our thoughts are with you today.

Justice for the 96.

You’ll never walk alone.

My friend, Mark Edwardson, the BBC Northwest presenter, was there.  I had no idea, until today, but then I suppose it is not something that comes up in coversation every day, until a day like today, 20 years on.  Mark’s brave report is here.

The Power of the Beautiful Game

I’ve just got back from seeing City lose – again.  I’ve not got much to say about that, apart from how rubbish we were, how the team didn’t play like a team and how most of them looked like they really couldn’t be bothered.  I’m not going to write about that dire home defeat to Fulham as it doesn’t warrant the space on the page.  It was far from “a Beautiful Game”.

With the activity (or more like inactivity) on the pitch being so dull, my thoughts moved to the meaning of it all.

Why do a few overpaid grown men kicking a ball around a pitch inspire such passion and deep-rooted feelings in so many people?  How can you be so elated one minute and so shattered the next?

How does football manage to bring so many diverse people together that it transcends upbringings, backgrounds, ages, religions and for most, race, (although there is still a small sickening minority who’s behaviour means they are not true football fans)?

Why am I a City fan?  How has this been instilled so deeply in me that I punish myself week after week, season after season, and am mostly disappointed at best?  Some say it is character building.  I say how much easier and more fulfilling life must be as a United fan.  This of course could never be as I am a City fan through and through, inspite of the pain and misery of it all.  Blue is the colour you see.

Football shapes memories, friendships are built on it, deals are done, business is created, and all because of an alleigance with a team, a colour, a city.

I have so many stories – the games I have been to both home and away, the matches I have watched on TV through the years, the business that has come from talking about it.  Too many to mention here.

Anthony, my husband, joined me at the match today.  He is a United fan – yes I married a red.  What will my son be?  Only time will tell.

I also started thinking about the tragedies that football has endured over the years, most probably due to the Hillsborough Anniversary, 20 years since 96 people were crushed to death, just for being at a football match.  It is unthinkable.  I nearly took Natan with me to the match today.  In the end he did not want to go but I would have taken him.  It took 96 people to die to make it safe for me to take my 3 year old son to a football match.  The report here is a powerful one.

Football divides us, but it also brings us together. I was one of those at Old Trafford on 10th February 2008 at the Manchester derby match, 50 years on from the Munich Air Disaster, one of those who took part in the minute’s silence, one of those who cried – it didn’t matter if you were red or blue – everyone cried, one of those who was proud to be a football fan on that day.

Football fans everywhere will remember the Hillsborough 96 this week.

Happy Pesach / Happy Easter…

… to all my family and friends.

(Delete as appropriate)

Being a mum is the best

This morning on the way to nursery Natan said to me:

“Mummy, when you’ve got some more money and I’ve been a good boy, can I tell you what I’d like next?”

“Yes darling, what would you like next?” I answered.

“I’d like a Ferrari” (pronounced “Fewawi”)

He then thought for a moment and said,

“No, actually I wouldn’t really like a Fewawi, I’d like a Power Ranger instead.”

Lucky that really!

Catch up Laura, come on!

Natan and mummy on Mother's Day 2009

I have been rather bad of late.  Life has just been getting in the way.  Sorry.  I feel shamed into getting this blog up and running again by this post – sorry Michael – “Must try harder”!

So I’ve spent the last few weeks doing various things – I’ve spent lots of time with family – firstly in Israel, taking Natan to see his Israeli cousins – and then here in Manchester – when my niece, Jemma, came to stay on her Spring Break from Stanford University in California.

Natan with his Israeli family

You will know how important I feel these family times are. Natan has thrived on all the attention.  It never ceases to amaze me how we all manage to stay so close whilst living all over the world.

He is so grown up now and seems to understand his lot as the son of a working mum.  He asked me if I was going to work to “buy more money” this week!  Everything is simple when you are three – you go to work, you come home, you buy things, therefore you buy money at work!

Last night he asked me what we were going to do when we woke up this morning.  I told him that we would get up, have breakfast, go to school to see our friends and then come home and play.  “What will we do then?”, he asked.  “Do it all over again the next day” I replied.  “Oh, okay” he said and jumped into bed and said “Love you mum”.

I am stunned by his understanding.  He asked me if I would buy him a new coat on the internet.  “Where is the internet?” I asked him, more to see if he understood the word than anything else.  “On the computer, mum, silly!” Amazing stuff.

Tonight he picked a daffodil from my mum’s front garden and then said, “This is for you mum.”  Nothing better than a half dead daffodil picked by your three year old son, I can tell you.

Crazy Crazy Crazy Wendy’s

We had a great night out for Anthony’ s birthday here.  If  you’ve not been, then go.   As you can see, I did not enjoy myself at all in the limelight!