Big, yellow and apparently offensive

I’m going to let you all in on the banana debacle that we have within the confines of our home. Now this is definitely not going to be my only post regarding this humble fruit because they feature quite heavily in our family’s day to day life. This particular blog doesn’t even contain a recipe, it is purely to let you all in on this part of our lives which will form the basis of a few posts I’m sure. 12096501_1922064821351402_8551976456074249376_n-Copy

There is a banana divide in the Tonkin residence; on one side sits my rugby playing, chainsaw wealding, bearded, 6 ft 2 husband who literally cannot walk down the fruit aisle in Sainsbury’s for fear of encountering a banana… I’m pretty sure he is convinced that they’d grow legs, run at him and smear their fleshy parts all over his face. Then there’s my son, who literally cannot get enough of them and happily smears them wherever seems feasible.

If you were to ask Kobe the best and worst part of being a parent, I am 99% sure that the worst thing would be the fact that Boden dares to consume bananas on a regular basis, or perhaps the fact that I even buy them in the first place.

I’m not going to lie, I secretly enjoy this situation. I have never in my life seen anyone take a banana so seriously, and he’s probably going to implode when he reads this but I think it’s totally worth it.

Therefore, I’ve taken it upon myself to see how many different things I can do with leftover, slightly speckled bananas that have seen better days… because you can’t waste opportunities like that in my house, and to throw away such a delicious, nutritious and versatile staple is quite frankly criminal!

So watch this space for banana related activity…


Sitting on bricks…

So I’m writing this as I watch my beautiful, blonde haired champ stand on the spot trying to push out a turd, or as my dear Dad would say ‘hoy humpty’. Best not to ask, this is the same parent who let me think the nursery rhyme was 3 blind rats, enough said there. So it got me thinking that I should maybe share my love of prunes in a parental capacity with anyone else who has a baby/toddler who desperately needs to go.

When I think of prunes I think of my Nanna and my Dad who for as long as I can remember have banged on about prunes being the ultimate instigator in bowel movements.

When we moved onto weaning, bowels and poo became even more prevalent – if it’s actually possible when you’ve spent the last 6 months literally elbow deep in shit. However, any parent will tell you that when the food starts, the poo takes on a whole new entity. It becomes very ‘human’.

So I thought I would share my recipe for the bunged up babe:

1 apple, 1 carrot, 1 parsnip and about 5 prunes. Peel and chop the first 3 and boil them up until soft, chuck in the prunes and whizz up. Portion it up and pop it in the freezer once it’s cool. My little boy loved this combo and it saved us from a world of pain!

NB. This concoction mixed with a very foolish week day hangover whilst on maternity nearly left me in a very difficult predicament on one particular occasion, so as a tip… do not feed this to your child if you intend to consume alcohol in the next 12 hours. It helps them out but the nappy will be your demise.

He now just eats plain prunes, I think it’s madness and literally can’t stomach the things but there we go. Win.

Boden James

So I thought I would start with introducing you to my inspiration, Boden.

Bodes 1st blogHe is chunky thighed, messy, incredibly loud at times and currently a bit on the grabby side. He loves his food and it would seem that eating is his happy place, that and a bit of row, row your boat.

The realisation that I was potentially pregnant hit me on a Friday night down the nappy aisle in Morrison’s after work.  We had not long bought our first house which was currently a building site and our kitchen consisted of a small electric hob, balanced on a couple of bricks and a washing up bucket on the floor which we filled up with a kettle and the outside hose pipe. This meant that we had to get our shit together pretty quickly. If ever you need motivation to get things done, there’s no need for a hot poker. Throw a baby in the mix.

Pregnancy was not my finest hour (9 months and 5 days) and I definitely ate for two, sometimes three on a bad day. Hot cross buns, pears and peanut butter on toast were pretty much my staple and being 9 months pregnant in one of the hottest summers ever was less than a pleasant experience. So by the time he arrived, I was more than thrilled to make his acquaintance – minus the obvious labour part.

Since then he has been my little buddy, we have had some dark times… motherhood is not all cuddles, and kisses and coffee with perfectly manicured nails but it’s been an unexpected win for me and a perfectly timed surprise.

So that’s how he came about, and that’s where this installment of life began…