Little A turned 2 (sketch still to come….(jumbled brain = jumbled everything else)

The next morning she started nursery (not that I was in a rush…) Of course she had no idea what was going on, she ran in without a care in the world, I ran in the other direction. It felt cruel, but she was ready, she just didn’t know it.


On picking her up, two feelings, the first…well I’ve never felt more appreciated ever, slightly tinged with guilt. The second, on her part, utter relief that I’d returned.

alba1stplace 1

The next couple of mornings, she’d wised up of course and leaving was not as easy. On picking up she was ecstatic to see ‘tiny tumble’, ‘bunny’ , Oh, and Mummy. The next couple of mornings were a little better. Fifth or Sixth morning, not a whimper. My little Pro.




Move it

O loves dancing, though makes a bit of a secret of it (apart from the videos I post on my personal facebook). She behaves like she is shy, but an occasional bribe, such as the massive sum of 50 pence can usually give her the confidence she needs. Bit worried about what I’ve started..



Meanwhile little A has discovered Frozen.

Specifically several times a day..Let it Go.





Orli loves Michael Jacskon. This started when we played ‘Beat it’ in the car. After a couple of weeks of only playing that song repeatedly, we convinced her to listen to other songs and now she knows pretty much the whole discography from when he was a kid to the last song he released. She also thinks she saw him perform in Thriller Live in the West End.

Whatever the history is with MJ, Orli just innocently loves the music so much, and she can’t help but dance to it.

Recently, unlucky for  Daddy Caspi, Orli asked “Is Michael Jackson Dead?” This wasn’t something we’d broached yet, she said someone at school told her. He replied “Um ahh baaa umm I don’t think so…but if he is its ok because we’ll have his music forever”

Orli said “That makes me sad in my throat” as her eyes welled up.

I love how she doesn’t just say “Im sad” She says what it feels like to be sad. The next time she asked we told her the truth. We don’t want to upset her, somehow tarnish something she loves so much. But we should probably tell our kids the truth the best we can when they asks us questions. So  I told her,

“Yes he died, but O, he was so famous and so far away you would not have been able to be his friend…”

“When I think about it, it makes me so sad…but Mama I saw him in the show.”

“Um, yes yes you did, he died after that”

(I did say the ‘truth the best we can”) eek.





A very delayed post – still in recovery from the Easter holidays.

Easter is over, I can barely even remember it now…the only evidence it happened was the chocolate still left in my fridge (don’t worry, it will get eaten). The 2 week holiday was sprinkled with camp, day trips, wall staring, pleading, and bubbles.

The highlight for Big O was probably the Easter funfair – she dreams of them, asks frequently when shes going to one, and often after being tucked up into bed, I get called upstairs, not to be asked for a drink or a loo trip, but if she can be taken to a funfair.


We also did the obligatory Easter egg hunt. It took a while for O to understand that most hunts these days don’t consist of actual chocolate eggs (unless done yourself) but clues or tokens instead. So our Easter egg hunt consisted mostly of:

“When do I get the chocolate bunny?”

“When we’ve answered all these questions and once we’ve read all the clues’

“Can I get the chocolate now?”

“No, we’ve only just answered the first question.”

“We need to hurry or I won’t win”

“It’s not a race, everyone gets the prize”

“Can we get the prize now?”

“No we have to answer all the questions and have a nice walk”

“But I’m tired”

“Do you want to get the prize?”


“NO. When we’ve answered the questions on the trail. Let’s go.”

Of course it took much longer due to A chasing down every dog she saw along the way, in the wrong direction, and she is fast. Or preventing her from walking straight into a river to catch a duck. Even with that and “my legs are tireeeddd’ on repeat, going for a walk is still my favourite thing to do with the two girls (and Daddy Caspi, not on my own, no way).


(A side note to say thank you to Daddy B for making our little adventures, our country walks easier by being the, well, the donkey. Due to issues with my back I can’t carry Little A in the carrier, he does this. And when the whingeing from Big O about being tired of walking gets too much, his shoulders become her mode of transport.)





Seder night 2017- well it was on Monday.


“Why is this night different from all other nights?”

This is one of the questions asked at the passover Seder – the special meal shared by Jews to celebrate the escape from slavery in Egypt so many years ago.  Every year the family comes together to annoy each other  to move through the Seder ceremony with the aim of being fed generously usually by the head matriarch of the family – my mum – and minus any breaded goods.  I’m guessing that many seders are quite serious affairs in which the participants sit patiently at the table and listen quietly, perhaps even studiously, as the chosen leader, usually the patriarch – my dad – reads through the Seder ceremony. Our Seder is rather a cacophony of various noises. Firstly my Dad doing what he is supposed to be, then the various grandchildren chatting not quite discretely enough, the voices of their mothers telling them to shush, and my mum telling her own children to schtum. This is together with the the voices, coughs, sneezes of the guests – this year was 22 people in total. Add in various people from around the table correcting the leader or commenting- “no now its the washing hands”, “Oh were we not supposed to drink that cup of wine yet? “I’m not eating that”, “Don’t lick your finger!” Now there is also Big O to remind Papa he’s forgotten a crucial part, and there is Little A to come in with her “Ooooooooh wooowww wossat” every 5 seconds.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way and if you are lucky enough to have young children participate it is all the more special. This is the first year Big O has known what is going on (sort of). After telling me she would be too shy, she without hesitation accepted Papa’s invitation to stand on his chair and since the Ma Nishtana (traditionally sung by the youngest) in front of everyone solo and then all joined in. My other favourite moment was when Papa asked for the front door to be opened for the Angel Elijah. This was always my favourite bit as a child. I’d always open it then run as fast as I could back to the table. O was too nervous to open it herself  but when the door was closed and Papa declared that a miracle had occurred and the glass of wine he’d poured had been drunk  (no need to wonder where that really went) – she was amazed. “I didn’t know he was invisible!” her eyes had welled up and she was wrapped up in the magic of it just as I was.

Find the afikoman (hidden matzo) was always forgotten and inserted towards the end of the evening. To a chorus of conflicting ‘Hot, hot, cold, freezing, warm hot, no warm, no cold now’ it’s a wonder a child ever finds the treasure but when they do they get a prize. Of course Papa did not secretly tell O where some pieces may be hidden or make it incredibly obvious, and of course I’m not upset that grown ups aren’t allowed to take part and get a prize also.


Little A made me proud also. From start to finish she never grumbled – she grazed continuously on whatever food was going (though she drew the line at chopped liver pate) and made the most of any attention she received.

So Why is this night different from all other nights?

My personal answer is that there is family, food, laughter, enchantment, memories of past Seders and participants, food…other parents to share the parental duties – all in one evening.


And now I am F&$%ing exhausted (no difference there then).

It was Mothers’ Day…

Mother’s day, it is a lovely idea. I appreciate the sentiment but it never really lives up to  the hype. I’ve never yet been able to actually stay in bed or fight the urge to tidy up or find time to be pampered without interruption (that’s not to say I never to get to any of those things….there are 364 other days in the year). I suppose I’ll be able to enjoy it in that way when the kids are older, for now we celebrate as a family (and therefore, it is not a stress free day). Of course I am very much in favour of rewarding (generously) mums for the really hard job they do day in and day out, especially whilst children are still young; physically, mentally and emotionally challenging in various ways as they grow up. The result of all that energy is how rewarding your children can be. Though mine do bug me every day frequently, they also make me smile even more.lovemamaNot all still have their mums around, so all the more important for us that do to appreciate our own and spare a thought for those that can’t. My mum is a great support and hopefully I’ve learnt well from her, thank you Mum x