You really are what you eat..

As you know, the cubs and I almost always have porridge for breakfast.

This day was a bit different. The wake up and shake up had taken too long and as such, we were slightly behind schedule.

Against my better judgement, I changed our breakfast menu. I do have alternatives to porridge; 2 packets of Rice Crispies (poor stock management) and a packet of Honey Hoops. They’ve been there a while, as I’ve said, we all prefer porridge.

Ok, confession time; my poor stock management included not shopping for more porridge in time, so I was left with a portion that wouldn’t satisfy anyone.

I duly dished up 3 bowls of honey hoops which we all hurriedly ate. Very sweet, was my only real thought.

Once finished, off we all went.

Youngest cub is now at big school so there’s only one drop to do. I go to work at hit my desk 15 mins later.

I catch up with my office chum, who’s been on holiday for a bit. She’s left a small, LCD projector on my desk as she couldn’t get it to work. She asks me to check it. I do; it works. I mock her mercilessly. I start to pack the projector away.

Inexplicably, I drop the projector under her desk. I pick it up; check it still works, then pack it away.

A little while later, she’s bringing me up to speed on office matters (I’d been away for 2 days) and I take the opportunity to clean my glasses.

Clumsily, I drop them on the floor. She stops mid sentence and asks if I’m ok..

I’m gonna grab a coffee; want one?

Finishing my coffee at my desk, I stare at my dual screens. I can’t concentrate. I take my glasses off and rub the bridge of my nose.

eye grab

She notices.

“You are not right; what gives?”

God alone knows but she’s right. I feel so out of kilter I can’t explain how I’m feeling. I do know however, that working is the last thing on my mind.

“Have you not had breakfast?” she asks.

It hits me.

I had a bowl of Honey Hoops…..

“What?? you my friend are having a sugar crash!”

Nail on the head. Eureka. Epiphany. That sugary, carb nonsense that I’d substituted my normal high fibre, high protein breakfast for had turned around and bitten me in less than 2 hours of eating it.

My mind immediately went to my cubs. If a bowl had that affect on my massive frame, what the hell would it do to their tiny bodies? The effect on my coordination and concentration was huge.

Nationally (globally?) there has been an unprecedented increase of behavioural disorders in young people and children.

Just how much of it is down to the modern diet?

There are now 3 packs of serial in my bin.

Mike on Cliff light sky



From the Bible; it’s Jewish..

It’s the end of their stint with me for the school holidays. Having pulled my back yesterday (on my birthday!), we had what was primarily a down day.

Late afternoon I felt sorry for my caged cubs. We jumped in the car and went to our favourite park.

Parenting trick; take them out near their supper time. They’ll then naturally leave the park in search of their next meal.

I had a plan for supper but was pressed for time. At the stove, they glossed over the fact that my usual ‘come and get it’ was replaced with ‘well, that’ll have to do’.

She finishes eating first, and leans into my personal space to tell me something.

“Daddy; there’s this story in the bible, about a stranger who knocks on a man’s door…”

Quite familiar with the bible, I’m at a loss for this particular story.

She chimes on.

“A man opens the door and the stranger asked ‘do you have a space for me to sleep?’ but the man said no”

Definitely not familiar with this story.

“The stranger then says ‘but I can help you! I can cook you a wonderful meal!'”

I’m wondering if this a Samaritans remix or some stranger danger thing that has become clouded in her brain.

She continues and I continue to fork food into my face.

“So the man let’s the stranger in and he starts cooking a soup. But the stranger hadn’t brought any ingredients so instead, he popped in a magic toenail…”

At this precise moment, something in my mouth went crunch.

“and then he popped to the neighbours to get some broccoli…”

I’m not listening any more.

The final element of confusion flooded in and brought me back to reality when she tailed off with,

“I think it might be Jewish”

“no; Christian…”

She angles her head in thought.

I fear my appetite may never return.

person standing in front of food tray
Photo by on


It shouldn’t take this long..

The cubs are with me for this week; I’ve managed to score some time off work. Early crossed wires means that the ex and I cross paths at 60 mph in the countryside. A quick phone call and we make the switch in a near lay by

It feels a little like espionage, but we haven’t seen each other in what seems like an age, so its fine. Off we pop home, with a brief stop to get some groceries first.

I think that it’s important for the cubs to understand the shopping process, so away we go.

I never learn

First things first, back to the car for my bags for life. I pat myself on the back as I usually remember them at the checkout.

The first squabble begins; they both want to push the trolley. Last time I allowed it, one was involved in a near fatal collision with a pensioner. Unfortunately I couldn’t remember which one of them it was.

He gets first go. She wants a cuddle and to hold hands anyway. He can’t really see over the top of the cart but this does nothing to curb his enthusiasm. Or pace.

Most collisions are averted by gentle nudging and one, timely kick. He loses interest as we get to the escalator and abandons it at the bottom.


She needs a couple more tops. I acquiesce, as everything I buy seems to disappear but hey, you already know my thoughts on that one. He attempts to get me to buy him a bra, and breaks down in tears when I tell him not right now. A kind assistant places it back on the rack for me.


He’s in flight of freedom mode and stays at least half an aisle ahead. The store isn’t busy so I allow it. Now she wants to push the trolley.

Being a toddler, this immediately reignites his interest in the trolley so squabbles begin again.


Welcome to my world.

Be good or no-one will push.

“Then how will it move?”

She’ll go far that one.

person people woman hand
Photo by Public Domain Pictures on


Weariness finds me quickly. We’ve only reached the bread aisle.

Croissants or Pain au Chocolat? I ask. Not the most challenging of questions.

No answer. I ask again.

‘Can we have kippers? we haven’t had kippers in ages!’

When was that an option??

Would you like croissants or pain au chocolat???



As it transpired, he wanted one, she wanted the other, so we ended up with both. She was quick to point this out. We also got kippers.


I’m starting to forget stuff; I haven’t made a list. I end up backtracking down an aisle. As all men know, this is just wrong. We shop like snipers. This is a tell-tale sign that I’m worn..

I then accidentally turned down the crisp and biscuits aisle.. big mistake…

I tried to reverse before they noticed. I didn’t make it..

bird s eye view photography of bull surrounded with men
Photo by San Fermin Pamplona on

They’re off like locust; scattering innocent bystanders as they go.

“CAN WE HAVE THESE DADDY?” times one million

My kung fu skills kick in and I’m throwing sugar out of the trolley faster than they can put it in.

I’m done; they’re giggling like crazy and I’m trying hard not to show that I’m done. A nearby couple are chuckling. Their children are probably grown up.

I’m bent over my trolley, contemplating how lucky I am.

“What are you doing daddy?”

Contemplating life darling.

“Constipating life?”

vintage car wrecked grayscale photo
Photo by Pixabay on



So I’m into this now; a drink from my youth.

I just need to figure out what might constitute a fatal dose.


We are what we eat?

Modern diets

Can leave a lot to be desired. As a dad, it always amazed when doing a food shop that the price of processed food was much cheaper than whole foods, therefore making process foods more accessible or at least more tempting to those on a tight budget.

I’m not a fan of fast food but that doesn’t mean I won’t eat it. I tend to use it as emergency food, mostly when I’m pressed for time. For example, I exited the school-run so late that we were in what I call the ‘bedtime window’ (too much Call-of-Duty!) while we were still on the road. The bedtime window is the hour between 6 and 7, where I want the cubs to have eaten and be winding down to their bedtime routine. As we were still driving, I pulled a pit-stop at the golden arches.

Global problem

Obesity is on the up; rates of Cancer are terrifying! in my 44 years the likelihood has gone from 1 in 4 to 1 in 2! How the heck did that happen? I’ve no doubt that our reliance on fossil fuels has something to do with it but we cant ignore the diet element. This made me think about what I put in my body, and definitely what I put in on my cub’s plates.

food for thought


A while back I think I might have been banging on about what I put on my porridge in the morning. I always have porridge for breakfast. Mostly. When I do, I load it. Here’s what goes in:

  • 1 Banana
  • Blueberries
  • Smooth peanut butter
  • Powdered Ginger
  • Nutmeg
  • Cinnamon
  • Turmeric.

It’s quite a lot I know but I always do this. I may occasionally put mixed nuts in but I’m not very good at buying nuts for some reason. The bottom 4 products are out of the spice rack.

So why these?

Well the list has grown over time; It started with bananas and nuts. If memory serves, the list grew dependant on how hard I was training. The idea was that I would do my morning workout, then eat a breakfast that left me satiated until lunch. I don’t mind snacking, as long as I snack healthily.

I became more interested into foods as fuels so I bought ‘The Illustrated Food Remedies Sourcebook’ by C. Norman Shealy MD. PHD

Closer look

It’s described as an A-Z of foods that can be used as natural remedies. I love it. Click on the pic if you want to buy and make me a penny! 

Eating the right foods will benefit you. I sounds so blindingly obvious that you’d wonder why we ever strayed from this thinking.

I now structure my weekly shop around foodstuffs that will benefit the cub’s physical development.

My spices

Ginger (root,raw)

Glycemic load = 0

Helps with:

  • Nausea and upset stomach
  • Nausea from chemotherapy, travel sickness, pregnancy and menstruation
  • Immune health
  • Circulation
  • Reduces inflammation and osteoarthritic pain.


There’s no entry for nutmeg….??


Glycemic load = 1

Helps with:

  • Diabetes
  • Atherosclerosis
  • Heart disease
  • IBS.


Glycemic load = 0

Helps with:

  • IBS
  • Rheumatoid arthritis
  • Coronary artery disease
  • Atherosclerosis.



Folks; do your own due diligence. There are some pretty big claims against some of these foods and I can’t qualify them.

I do know that I feel better for eating well and less so if I let my diet slip.

I’m off to look up what Glycemic load is.


Gingerbread men; all over again.

With the memory of our last escapade behind her, my daughter and I have ventured into the kitchen again. She’s been asking since Thursday if we can bake together; a request I couldn’t refuse. We opted for gingerbread men.

It was gorgeous today. The colloquial term is an Indian Summer, meaning that we had unseasonably warm temperatures so I took us all off to the play-park where we used to live.

It elicits mixed emotions but good ones on the whole. The village itself is bucolic  perfection and the play-park is in keeping. It was full of young families who had a similar thought process to me.

On the way home we stopped off at the supermarket to pick up a few items for the bake. Then back to the corner shop for some that I’d forgotten. I really should make lists again.

Back home, the Kindle HD was fired up and ‘Gingerbread’ tapped into the search engine. Good old BBC Food came up first, so they got the honour.

My son was happy on a chair in the kitchen watching the proceedings, no doubt eagerly awaiting the end result.


Regulars (I have regulars!) will remember me saying that I needed to buy some extra bits in order to bake successfully a while back. Well I still need to buy them.

There was more than a little ‘At mum’s house we have that…’ which I duly ignored. Golden Syrup was subbed with honey and the imaginary scales that I was certain I had failed to materialise, so much was done by sight.


At this point, I realised that things weren’t going well but we pressed on…

I quickly learnt that flour doesn’t stick to a pint glass and a pint glass is a poor substitute for a rolling pin. No matter; onwards.

The cookie cutters became moulds, as this hateful mess refused to go anywhere I wanted in it’s entirety. The cubs were pretty happy though as they got the job of cleaning the utensils and mixing bowl.

In the oven they went.


Out the oven they came.

Yes. I even added some chocolate chunks for buttons and eyes, or a groin and shin judging by the previous photo. Now was the hard bit; sit and wait for 10 minutes before decorating…

Before we go any further, I realise that the cutters are cutters and not moulds but the viscosity of the mixture was such that I was on to a loser. Into the oven they went.

With the cubs waiting with baited breath, I made my move to seperate man from mould.


They crumbled and so did she. Cue tears.

15 minutes later I had managed to rouse a do-or-die spirit within her and back she came to decorate. Her brother and her sharing the stool and eating more than they decorated but hey; that’s the point isn’t it.

I really need to go shopping.



The lessons they teach us..

Today is my birthday (relax; I don’t want anything..)

We planned to visit the local Sea-Life centre but by the time I’d managed to mobilise the cubs, it was too late. I decided that we should go for a bite to eat instead.

‘McUsual dad?’ my daughter asked. ‘Nope’ I replied, wondering if I go there more often than I think. I decided to try an american diner that I drive past every day on my way home from work.

My son was asleep almost as soon as I’d shut the car door; I guess he’s growing again.

Table manners

In and seated by a very gregarious waiter who then spent an enormous amount of time and energy attempting to de-wobble our table. Fail.



Her voice was still set to outdoor but I think he was out of earshot.

Service; eventually..

The place wasn’t overly busy but there seemed to be more managers than waiters. We eventually got served but when the food arrived, my daughter’s order was wrong. I politely refused and asked for our original request.

After a few minutes he came back ‘It’ll be about 5 minutes i’m afraid’

‘That’s fine; thank you’

After another few minutes he came back again;

‘You did say beefburger right?’

‘No; cheeseburger; please’

I hadn’t managed to convince my son of the correct etiquette of the 50% rule of waiting; he had shifted the figures to 33% and was already pushing hotdog into his face hole.


Her food arrived and we all tucked in. It was absolutely average. The cubs were already planning dessert. Then came the wait.

We waited; and waited; and waited but still the table remained uncleared, let alone a dessert enquiry. The two managers were now having some food at the bar, talking to a 3rd member of staff.

The cubs decided that we’d had enough and that they’d rather just go home now. As the smiling waiter came over I asked for the bill.

Then we waited; and waited…


I eventually got up and put my coat on; the cubs duly followed. The waiter took the hint and rang everything up. He handed me the card machine at the gratuity screen. I hit the no button and entered my PIN. He looked disappointed when I handed the terminal back to him.

Before we walked out, he let the cubs take a balloon each from the static display.

We walked back to the car and drove home; I was already planning a tripadvisor roasting. As I did so, I must have muttered my discontent aloud. My daughter asked what was wrong, so I regaled everything that wasn’t right about our meal. She thought carefully and replied:

Well he was a very smiley person and seemed like he was the only one doing any work. He also apologised for messing up my food and was very nice to give us a colouring sheet and balloons; you probably shouldn’t be too hard on him because he looked like he was trying.

That 10% now sits heavily in my pocket.



Short one

After a half day fishing, the cubs and I kicked back for a lazy afternoon.

The day is nice, the sun is shining so I buy ice lollies as a treat for when we get home.

Having little patience, they’re asking for lollies before the keys are in the door. “Wait until after dinner; I’m cooking now”

They acquiesce and trundle off to the lounge.

Meanwhile, the heat of the kitchen gets to me; I think the unthinkable. “That’d be wrong wouldn’t it? Eating a lolly after telling them to wait?”

I use all my martial arts skill to silently open the freezer. Then the box of lollies. Then take one out. Then unwrap the wrapper. I pause appropriately, listening for footsteps. Nothing.

I take a delicious, cooling bite.

Dad; what are you doing?


Silently swallowing a whole (but miniature, thankfully) Magnum, blinking through brain freeze (maybe needing a CAT scan later) and cripplingly sensitive teeth.

“Nothing darling. Go wash your hands while daddy lies down.”




One week in…

And I have a head cold.

The cubs are having a great time. As I’ve mentioned before I am blessed with two, one of each, and they’re of an age where they play with each other nicely, most of the time.

You may have noticed that I haven’t blogged as much this week and that’s because I’ve discovered something new.

Single parenting can be exhausting!

It’s amazing the difference that another adult can make when it comes to chipping in, solving disputes and land grabs, prepping meals and convincing small people that whilst crisps do indeed come from vegetables, surviving on them alone is challenging.


This is probably something that I might have taken for granted previously but I’m amazingly determined. I’m also conscious not to let my frustrations and fatigue play out into a lack of tolerance with them and their behaviour. There’s a fine line between responsible parenting and being an ogre.

What happened to the groceries? 

I always like to shop with them as there are endless opportunities for learning here. Some of the most important life skills necessary for adult autonomy can be learnt in the supermarket.

We take turns pushing the trolley, but after my daughter failed to successfully navigate an elderly couple a retook control.

My son has just about outgrown the kid seat in the trolley itself so he is also a free spirit on the peripheries of my control. His contribution to the visit consists mostly of placing random items into the trolley (unopened tube of Vagisil free to a good home) slam dunking fresh fruit and veg and slowly spinning, arms outstretched at the checkout.

Getting home with a good selection of food feels like a major victory but the cupboards are full. The cubs go and do their respective thing.

I cook; they eat; they play; they snack.

Dinner usually goes something like this;

  • Have you finished?
  • Yes;
  • Can you just try a bit more veg please?
  • Ok, but I only have a little stomach and that’s quite full now;
  • Ok, but do eat what you can (don’t want to manifest eating disorders)
  • That’s it daddy; i’m full.
  • Ok. You can get down from the table.
  • Thanks dad; can we have some crisps please?


Within 36 hours, full cupboards are a fond memory..

I try to mix activities to keep them challenged

Whilst my son and I were heavily involved in painting animal shapes, I let my daughter loose with one of my cameras. Her challenge was to come up with the most interesting shot she could find.

She was pretty happy with her results.


She even zoomed in to show me it’s eyes…

The only downside

My son sneezed in my face 48 hours ago. Whatever bug he had was already tuned in to my genetic code and I’m a dribbling, snotty mess.

This is only week one.


Still last weekend..


It looks like my lazy day has turned into a lazy weekend. I’ve sat in bed; I’ve watched a couple of movies but I just had to get up.

The contents of the fridge are still there so I’ve decided to make something out what’s left. One pack of sausages, one bag of frozen veg, and some potatoes both sweet and normal. It looks like it’s going to be sausage and chips for Sunday lunch.

Time to cook these blues away.

Sunday afternoon

It looks like the cooking has come back with a vengeance, and what I thought was just going to be a boring meal turned into to something absolutely average.

For Sunday dinner it was a pretty lazy/easy cook with everything lobbed into a pan and left 45 minutes.

For some reason my phone has rotated this

I put some broccoli in for extra health, trying to wipe out the poor diet I have had over the last couple of days. Result was nice but then again I’ve always liked roasted sweet potato.

I shall call this ‘Hot Mess’. You should try it

You can tell I wasn’t convinced about this one as I took the pic after starting it. Mayonnaise is optional..

The shopping needs to get here soon though before I get scurvy.

Future goals:

  1. Copy a fellow blogger’s recipies
  2. Don’t ever upload from a mobile. Twice as long