Happy Birthday to Little Max, my namesake. He had a wonderful weekend and a Minecraft themed birthday; this means nothing to me (“ah Vienna”) but lots to Maxon. For the first time I didn’t make the cake, because he had seen one he wanted in the supermarket. I made cookies and cupcakes instead, he has a sweet tooth just like his father. Now Lou has passed her driving test and the family have a little car, they are able to take the kids out to lovely places. Ivy and Maxon are so sweet together, like a little brother and sister. Seems impossible to think he was born five years ago (the first of the Big3) with a little crop of red hair – it is now honey blonde. He still does his cute little pixie dance.
Back to cake. I’m watching, Bake Off. I’m not being big headed, but I’d win if I entered, haha. The contestants all make such basic errors! Baking is equal parts science (temperatures, times, measures), confidence and intuition. I am always called upon to bake for events. Actually, I am laughing while writing this. Beth is doing a wonderful timetable of activities at the SEN hub for Christmas. It includes “make Christmas cookies with Mrs Santa.” Me, “who is Mrs Santa?” Beth, “you. I’ll get you an outfit.” Me, “oh God.” Beth, “I’m cracking up.” Hahaha. I actually feel slightly excited at the thought of the hub with elves and mulled wine (for the stressed mums and Mrs Santa). Xxxxx
Finally finished, Like a Prayer, by Madonna. It’s all about vibe; a really repetitive song and the original has a fade out – choirs can’t fade out! When I arrange a song, I put it together like a jigsaw and fill in random bits until every bar is complete. I started pre (my recent) Covid and just finished, post Covid. On some bits I have little voice or no air, but I got there! On the couple of days I felt under the weather, I watched, Better Things (BBC), which I just love (and not because it also has a ‘Max’ in it). Series 5, episode 7, says exactly how I feel about many things (especially mobile phones) us mums face. Our generation really were so much better off for not being glued to a screen – for being natural, analogue and writing real words on real paper. It’s bloody hard being a mother and mothering NEVER stops. We go through the teens, the tantrums, the tears; I reckon we’d live to be 200 if it wasn’t for the stresses and strains of a life spent holding things together.