Musical magic

It's a kind of magic

    Often as a child I would practice my magic, not the magician type- with a white rabbit being forced out of an unlikely large hat. Real magic, Sabrina the teenage witch and Harry Potter kind of stuff. I refused to believe that I was destined to live my life as an average girl, surely my destiny was to have magic in my fingertips. Sadly not, eventually I came to terms with the fact that I could not make things appear with the sweep of my finger, or the wrinkle of my nose. However magic still exists, everywhere magic is happening all over the world.
    One of the daily magical encounters that occur is time travel. I am immediately transported to a place and time in my past at any time of the day. The way that I achieve this is through music. Music has time travel abilities. For example when I hear the voice of the righteous brothers belting out "you've lost that loving feeling," I am transported back 17 years. The smell of cigarettes sticking to the fabric of the car, its a warm day we are sat in a traffic jam my mother is in the passenger seat in the front of the old beat up Mercedes. I am sat in the middle between my brothers, my dad is driving he turns the volume up full blast, his hips are thrusting from side to side as we sit amongst the traffic. He screams "BABY, BABY I BEG YOU PLEASE" he's banging on the steering wheel, he doesn't care who hears or sees, his head banging just about in time with the music. My brothers and I laugh and giggle in the back while my mother does the air guitar. Of course 'achy beaky heart' and 'yellow polka dot bikini' bring back other memorable moments, but sadly I won't embarrass my father by sharing them.
    Music can transport us anywhere, the musicians who create it are wizards using words and sounds to spin a spell, a spell which whenever we hear it again can move us in more ways than one. The magic music holds isn't purely time travel, it also has the ability to make us cry, laugh or even feel empowered. It's so powerful that the witches/ wizards can use their words or instruments to control our feelings. I can be sat in my car having had the worst day. My life feels its getting away from me, tears prick my eyes, I change the radio station. The music kicks in I hear the initial "oh," the drumming rhythm starts my hips moving EMF sing "your unbelievable" and I smile, that's it my mood has dissolved. I am tapping my fingers, nodding my head and singing at the top of my Voice. Who said you can't dance while sitting down- I am rocking this! The song continues and I am free from problems "the things you say.... your unbelievable," and the sound pauses cutting back in making my body buzz with excitement. I am happy!
   I have so many songs that hold so many memories and create different emotions. For example James Blunts carry you home- it gives me goosebumps all over my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and it reduces me to child like sobs. The words 'as strong as you were, tender you go' get me every time. I am listening to it now as I write and my arms are pricking, my fingers tingling, shivers sweep up and down my spine and my eyes are filling... That's enough of that let me share an up beat musical memory- it was summer and we all had got a copy of Dirty Dancing soundtrack, we are up the field. I have brought my portable CD player and speakers, we put on 'hey baby' pretending to be on the notorious 'log'. We strut our stuff thinking we are the bees knees gyrating up and down shaking our booties, pretending not to notice the attention we were getting from the boys. Good times.
     The final musical memory i will share with you is a frustrating one. My husband and I got married four years ago, my husband had very little input into the wedding through his own choice. I asked him to pick 'our song', I was hoping he would pick one to make me swoon. Unfortunately he drew a blank claiming I was much better at that sort of thing. I chose Taylor Swift 'love story' as it is very similar to our own 'love story'. The wedding went well, two days later we sat in the car and my husband declared
"I liked the song you chose for us, but the one I would have picked is Goo Goo Dolls Iris it says everything I feel about you" I did swoon but two days late! Now however Iris to me is our song, every time I hear it the volume is turned up, the butterflies flutter and I gush at my husbands (all be it late) romantic gesture.

Mums ill!

Mum's ill!!!

       Something that I dread is illness, it maybe very selfish but although I hate the children suffering, seeing their little noses glow and their eyes hang with deep circles, Or my husband lying on the sofa their painful moans tug at my heart strings. However the worst person to be ill by far is me, the mother. The reason for this is not because I can't cope with the pain, or because I get it worse than anyone else. I purely can't be ill, I am not allowed. Lets do a comparison......

   One of the children has a sickness bug. My poor baby has a high temperature and all they want is a cuddle. I hold them tight and when they fall off to sleep I frantically run around the house- hoovering, washing, dusting, cleaning bathrooms and preparing tea, all the usual daily chores. When I hear a moan from the sofa I rush to my babies aid. When they feel ready to eat I prepare a healthy, light meal of their choice brought to them on the sofa, creatively cut into a smiley face. A drink of very weak squash with a sparkly straw to cheer them up is presented. When my husband gets home, tea is cooking in the oven the house is tidy so I leave him to cuddle the poorly baby on the sofa while I take the dog for a quick sprint to wear her out.

  Oh lord, the husbands ill! He's still in bed when its time for work, I try to question if he's ok and receive a grunt which my well trained ears translate to "not well" and he disappears under the covers. The morning routine begins,a frantic rush of breakfast, hair and disappearing shoes. As I am in the middle of ripping apart the cupboard looking for a little black school shoe, heavy footsteps on the stairs can be heard, a sorrowful sigh escapes with every step. I glance around to see my husband wrapped in a dressing gown he never wears, his eyes barely open and the sides of his mouth so far down they are almost dragging on the floor.
"Are you ok?" A grunt escapes signally "no!" And he moves on slowly to the sofa. Ah I found it,  the shoe, a rush to put it on my youngest daughter. Just as I think we can leave for school my husband finds his voice.
"Can I have a coffee please?" I smile a 'of course', its not as though its time for me to take the kids to school. Couldn't he have waited ten minutes before he got up? I realise I am being mean, he's ill. I bring his coffee through just as I part my lips to tell the children it's time to go, my darling husband asks "can I have a blanket, I am cold." I zoom up the stairs- tripping a little and feeling embarrassed. I hand him the blanket and shoot out the words "time to go!" before he can ask anymore of me. He looks at me sadly "oh I was going to ask for some toast,"
"I will be back in ten minutes and I will make you some ok?," that's it we are out of the door.
    I spend the day doing the usual chores, and being called upon to perform various tasks for the patient. He spends the day on the sofa, ignoring the baby and watching various action movies. He doesn't sleep and thankfully isn't sick anymore, he manages a huge lunch of egg, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast and beans. I leave to pick the children up from school. When I return the sofa is empty, the telly still on- Vin Diesel performing a car stunt. The spare duvet has been thrown to the corner, I check the bathroom, nothing. I go upstairs and see the shape of his body under our covers.
"Are you ok?" I ask
"I felt tired again thought I would have a nap," I say nothing. Convenient timing I can't help thinking. He emerges at tea time playful and very hungry. He declares he is feeling much better!

     A day later it begins, the children are asleep and a tummy ache is creeping in. I ignore it, no, I can't be ill. Throughout the night frequent visits to the bathroom confirm my worst fears, I have the sick bug. My husband asks if I am ok when my shuffling or loud toilet visit disturbs him. When morning arrives in the form of the children at 6am, the realisation dawns it is a school day. My husband is already up and getting ready for work. I drag my aching body out of bed to throw clothes on myself and the youngest two.
    My energy is minimal and my facial expression is set to frown! As I slowly make my way to the kitchen my husband asks
 "do you have a tummy ache? Are you cold? Do you feel sick?" When I confirm all of his questions he replies with "yep that's what I had, but I had it worse. Anyway I am off to work hope you feel better," and he's gone. My whole body sighs. I manage to prepare breakfast for everyone and divulge myself in some toilet time.
    When the eldest two are at school, the younger two and I get stuck into a duvet day. We watch movies and they eat a picnic of sandwiches in the living room. However mums can never have a complete duvet day, I struggle to put a load of washing on shoving it in the tumble dryer even though the sun is out. I rush the Hoover around after the picnic turns into a scattering of crumbs.
   With the children home and my husband back. Resentment has taken refuge in side my tummy, he asks "what's for tea?" Not how are you? Not even wow you hoovered! I spitefully spit "whatever you are cooking, I am off to bed!" Up I go slowly holding the banister as my temperature makes me dizzy. I peel back the covers and feel my body relax, I sleep for two hours until the kids bed time.
    I am awoken by my daughter standing over my head whispering over and over "mummy, mummy are you awake?" I grunt and open my eyes. She begins to whine
"Daddy's putting us to bed without a bath, I can't sleep without a bath! And Suzi tripped me up and he didn't tell her off, mummy will you read us a story?" I heave myself out of bed and read them a story and head straight back to bed. I sleep like a baby for the rest of the night.
    I wake up transformed, I am a new woman refreshed and ready for action. This is a good job because as I come skipping down the stairs I am faced with a dinning table still set for tea. Beans and egg splattered all over the wood. Chips strewn on the floor. I enter the kitchen pots and pans sit in the sink, everything seems to have been removed from the cupboards and placed on the work surface. The living room floor is strewn with toys, crisps and chocolate wrappers as well as coffee mugs. I decide not to thank my husband for letting me have an early night!

Bedtime stories

Reading to children.

Reading to your children, I feel is one of the most important things parents do for their children. It goes along with feeding, washing and clothing them. I am hugely passionate about books, not the e books you stare at on your iPad or kindle (though I am guilty of purchasing the odd one, for convenience). I am talking about the physical book, the one you hold and bend down the pages to mark where you are, the one that becomes worn and torn with each new read, a book is something you share. The smell of a real book is heavenly its musky light pong, unattainable. A computer screen can never compete.

I read to my children every night (except lazy Fridays, where we par- take in a family movie). We read everything from comics to classics. I am currently half way through Roald Dahl's Matilda with my girls, and one third of the way through the children's bible with the boys. We read at night after tea and bath. We curl up on their bed and read sometimes only a chapter sometimes a few chapters. It's quality time that we all enjoy after a hard day of being sat in a classroom and cleaning, cooking and general Mary Poppins behaviour.

Now for the statistics: 33% of parents read to their children everyday. Is this true? I don't expect every parent to read to their child everyday, we all do things differently after all. However I did think the percentage would be much higher. 1 in 3 children don't own a book. Don't have a book! This is ludicrous how can anyone not own a book? Each of my children own a small library, a book brand new maybe on the pricey side, especially for parents on a strict budget. However you can go to a second hand book shop or a jumble sale and pick one up for 50p. According to surveys parents reasons for not reading to their young are "they hadn't thought of doing so," perhaps if you haven't been read to and you don't read it is likely that the thought never occurred to you. Another reason is time- parents feel there isn't enough hours in the day as it is (I can vouch for that with four children an extra two hours would suffice), the thought of fitting in a story seems un achievable. I urge you leave the washing up, the bin will still be full when you come down stairs, that phone call can still be made ten minutes later, go upstairs and read- it need only be for ten minutes. Of course delegation is always a good idea. On the nights that my husband is home in time for story he will either read to them or, pick up where I left off with the evening chores. If you do it for your children, your children are more likely to do it for their children and so the written word will not be lost, a generation of new readers will be born.

Children grow up so quickly if your lucky the one on one intimate time lasts a year- maybe two. Settling down to read a book with my eight year old is quality snuggle time. We sit down close, all squidged around the open book cuddling and enjoying. I began reading to my children as early as a year old, touch and feel books are fabulous, as are animal books they very quickly pick up animal noises and other words with you pointing and repeating. Reading to your child also gives them a head start in education, it teaches them speech, language and the skill of constructing a sentence. It has been proven that children that have been read to before beginning pre-school are more likely to excel in all aspects of early education. We are not born with the knowledge of how to read a book, however reading to your child encourages them to turn a page and read text from left to right.

I can't stress how important reading to our little ones is. With computers and mobile phones taking centre stage in our lives, we are at risk of losing the beauty buried in the written word. Classics that have been around for centuries are at a threat of being left on the shelf, never being enjoyed again. A book means so much more than a movie, it stays with you all your life, clings to your heart strings. A book influences and teaches its reader, we can't bring the next generation up illiterate.