The best 59p I ever spent

My mobile phone is of the variety that my kids would be ashamed to be seen with. It is big and clunky (ideal for me for ease of finding in the jumble of mess that inhabits my handbag) and does little else other than phone calls and texts. As the reason for owning a phone, in my opinion, should be for the functionality of phone calls and texts, I have always been entirely satisfied with my non-singing non-dancing equipment. Until this evening.

My eldest daughter insists that she needs a phone with internet capability for her professional and personal life. This may be true and as she is a working girl who pays her own monthly phone contract, it is no business of mine. She occasionally shows me the latest App that she had downloaded which tend to be vaguely amusing and trivial. None have ever convinced me that I am missing out on anything. Until this evening.

This evening my daughter, Liberty,  popped round for a visit as she often does. She was showing off her latest App - a jangly skeleton for Hallowe'en - shake the phone and the eyeballs roll out of the skull. It was cute but not exactly what I would classify as 'interest sustaining'. Then she told me about another App that her friend had shown her. This one did intrigue me.

The App was called Fat Booth. My daughter had not downloaded it because it was not a free one (I have brought all my girls up to be a little bit frugal - sometimes too frugal). I gave her the money. 59p. She humoured me.

The next 10 minutes or so was spent in hysterical laughter. It was definitely the best 59p I ever spent! We all took it in turns to have our photos taken on Liberty's phone and then gave them the 'Fat Booth' treatment. The resulting images were incredibly realistic pictures of ourselves in an alternative reality where we were junk food junkies, biscuit bingers and general all round overeaters.

It was hilarious but there was a serious side too. I am 7 weeks in to my 12 week plan to get into shape after having my baby boy. I have lost well over a stone and still have maybe 10lbs to go before I feel that I have achieved my target. It can all get a bit monotonous and dull if you're not careful and the bad habits can creep back very quickly. Seeing the pictures of obese me - even if they are just manipulated images - was actually very motivating.

I have a date to go to the gym tomorrow and I know now that I will pull a little bit harder on the rowing machine, jog a little bit faster on the treadmill and sweat just a little bit more on the cross trainer because that image will be dancing in my mind.

The FatBooth Treatment

A Year of Being Virgos

A year ago today, my family was in full celebration mode - the reason? - a Naming Day.

Although I consider myself to be quite a spiritual person, I have never had any religious leaning. It was not my intention to have any  of my children christened because the ritual had very little relevance to me. I always said that when the children were old enough to make up their own minds and decided that it was something they wanted, I would support them and make that possible. I never actually expected that to happen, but it did.

We were living in a small Oxfordshire village. I was pregnant with my fourth child and Liberty was the grand age of 8. The primary school she attended was adjacent to and strongly affiliated with a lovely, rural church. From a very young age, Liberty exhibited a strong vocal talent. She had a beautiful, tuneful voice with a maturity far beyond her years and she loved to sing. When the church choir started recruiting for new members she joined with massive enthusiasm and proudly wore a woollen hat appliqued with the words 'I Love God' given to her by her auntie. To the ladies of the choir, most of them of retirement age, Liberty became something of a darling. For the first time in my life, I was regularly attending Sunday service and was even called upon to do some readings. Although my personal belief system remained unchanged, I did enjoy being at the heart of the life of the village and I will never forget the Xmas Carol Service when Liberty was selected to sing the traditional solo for the first verse of 'Once in Royal David's City' as the choir processed down the aisle.

When the new baby was born on New Year's Eve (there was some disappointment from the ladies of the choir that it wasn't a Xmas day birth) it was only natural that the church community would turn their thoughts to a Christening. As it transpired that not one of my little angels had felt the holy water on their brows, a quadruple event seemed inevitable. Liberty was thrilled at the prospect so we went for it.

It was a lovely pink and white themed occasion. The older girls wore co ordinated pink and white outfits with pink pearl necklaces and the baby wore a traditional christening gown borrowed from one of the godparents. One of the ladies of the church did an amazing job with the floral arrangements and my sister in law did the catering for the party afterwards which we held in the village hall. We had pink and white balloons and an absolutely fabulous cake which looked like an open book with all the girls' names written onto the pages.

Liberty's passion for the church choir finally deserted her when we moved to Shropshire and she discovered pop music!

Eleven years on from the quadruple Christening, almost to the day, I gave birth to baby number five with my new partner. I had no interest in the church side of things but I did want to celebrate my beautiful child and her place in our family. I found plenty of information and ideas regarding non-religious naming days on the internet and started making a plan. The event took on a new level of significance when my two younger daughters from my first marriage decided that they both wanted to adopt my new partner's surname. It was a slightly unusual request because at this point we were not married and I still used our original family name. They were undeterred by this fact and I think it showed a huge commitment to their new stepdad and the new life that we were all building together.

The girls' names were changed by deed poll with effect from the day of our Naming party, witnessing of the legal documents forming part of our ceremony. We performed a 'Rose Petal Blessing' during which our guests took it in turns to pluck a petal from a rose as they bestowed a wish. The petals were collected in a bowl and sprinkled over the heads of the wishes' recipients. We had music and readings and of course plenty of good food. Our colour theme this time was purple and both the older girls looked gorgeous in new purple party dresses. The little one wore pink as a tribute to the Christening from all those years ago. The final part of the ceremony was the 'Spirit Soaring Balloon Release' with each of our guests letting go of a helium balloon after the count of three to represent the bright little spirits of our children, climbing and soaring - so full of potential and on an unknown journey.

It is a year on now. I am married so I also share the new family name and we have another little addition in the form of my beautiful baby boy. We have a celebrated 'A Year of Being Virgos' with a small family get together. Perhaps what I ought to be thinking about now is a 'Naming day' for a new son.

Funeral (anagram of real fun!)

The were numerous reasons why my ex-husband and I were entirely incompatible. One such reason was the fact that he could not understand my habit of making a joke out of a bad situation. In my life, humour has helped me to deal with all manner of things that might otherwise have proved intolerable. I am a firm believer in the power of laughter. Thankfully, my new husband accepts me for who I am and how I deal with things.

When my sister-in-law telephoned to tell me that our Auntie Ruby was in hospital, I scribbled it down on the wipe board I have in my kitchen for memos to make sure I remembered to inform my husband when he returned from work. Ruby was my mother-in-law's sister, elderly and a little odd. I had only met her once briefly and I don't think she quite understood who I was. Sadly, she passed away. My sister-in-law called to break the news. In the way of most mums with young children I was holding the baby, trying to stop the 2year old climbing into the fridge to help herself to cheese whilst also preparing the dinner. Without really thinking, I grabbed my wipe board pen, crossed out the 'in hospital' from my previous message and wrote 'dead'.

Although I didn't know Ruby, news of a death still triggers feelings of sadness. This time of year I am particularly sensitive to it. Fifteen years ago, my sister who I adored, died of cancer. Her birthday was in October. She would have been 51 this year.

As well as bringing back the very raw pain of how much I still miss my sister, news of a death always brings to mind the awareness of one's own mortality. Having had two babies in my forties makes me very determined to live a long and healthy life so I can watch them grow to adulthood and play an active part in their lives and hopefully in the lives of their children. The thought of not being there for that is horrible. It was a thought that was made very real for me a few weeks ago when I heard the desperately sad news that a lovely lady I had worked with and had also had children in her forties,  had died aged 62.

In the face of all this potential sorrow, it was quite nice to laugh at how awful my note looked.

Ruby's funeral was a couple of hours drive away. We put on our best sombre attire, loaded the kids in the car and set off. It was always the plan for my husband to attend the service while I waited outside with the 2 year old and the baby and then for all of us to attend the wake. That is exactly what we did.

The crematorium was very nice with large well kept grounds. As the sun was shining on a beautiful autumnal day I took the children for a walk. The baby seemed to enjoy the fresh air and the 2year old loved the freedom to run after having been cooped up in the car for so long. She maybe took her freedom too far when she started running over the graves and saying 'hello flowers' to each of the floral tributes. I was about to rein her in when I thought that actually, the dusty dead would probably love to have such a bright little life light shining so gloriously in their midst. So I thought of my sister and how much she would have adored her feisty little niece and I smiled at her antics.

Graveyards are strange places. They really do seem to hold onto the sadness of mourners. It is hard not to be affected by it. I saw four funeral parties in all as I waited, passing through the system - in one door out another. It would have been a bit soulless and depressing had it not been for that heavy sense of solemnity that hangs in the air.

I had three really sad moments -when the hearse carrying Ruby arrived, when I found a grave of a 14year old boy and looking at the displays of sympathy flowers.

The thing about those sad moments is that they can really make you focus on your blessings. I am not short on blessings and I never want to take it for granted how lucky I am.