Cauliflower tastes like chicken...?

Warning - sentimental outpouring ahead...


Who would have guessed it?

Not long ago - and still now from time to time to be honest - mealtimes chez Potty were a battleground. I've blogged about it before, I won't bore you with examples now.

But this evening we passed a milestone. Boy #1 ate cauliflower.

Not knowingly, you understand. If he were to have willingly picked up a fork and said "Gosh Mama, this cauliflower truly is delicious!" I would have taken out a full page ad in The Times publiscising the fact. So no, we haven't quite come that far. But this evening the Boys and I sat down to chicken in spicy red lentil sauce with a few steamed cauliflower florets thrown in for good measure. And to my quiet astonishment they ate the lot.

Now, I'm not ashamed to admit that this admit that this blog is mainly about the trials and frustrations of being a stay at home mum. And I'm also not ashamed to admit that I may - just occassionally - change the course of events (very slightly) to make better copy or to keep you guys interested (there's blogging, and then there's real life, right?). But what you don't generally find me writing about is the good stuff. The times when I actually feel that I might be doing something right.

For all the times when I want to tear my hair out; when I find myself under the table for the nth time that day sweeping up the debris from yet another disregarded meal; when I find myself sounding like a broken record, channelling a shrill-voiced harridan; when I'm on my hands and knees picking up after them; when the only way to get their attention is to lose my temper intentionally, there are the other times. The times when I can't imagine life without them.

Times when I think back to my life pre-children and wonder if I really was that shallow selfish individual. When they astonish me with the knowledge they've collected from I don't know where. When they astound me with their ability for love, devotion, and forgiveness of the tired, snappy parents they sometimes find themselves with. Times when they make me laugh out loud, and times when their wonder at the world around them forces me to see it through their eyes and realise just how fortunate we are to be living it. Times when I'm sitting there with one or both of them on my lap, or cuddled up with the 4 of us in bed in the morning, when I know that all the choices that have led me to this point were the right ones.

I know that when I look back, I will wish I had taken more photos, shot more video, filed away more keep-sakes, and boxed more memories for the years ahead when they have passed through this demanding but oh so rewarding phase, and are in yet another - different - oh so rewarding but demanding phase.

If I could bottle their hugs and kisses, and the feeling of their arms clasped around my neck, I would. But I can't, so every now and again I may just blog about these things.

But don't worry - normal potty 'I went out to a smart restaurant with bogeys on the back of my black dress' (and yes, that did really happen) service will remain the usual order of the day...