Big shoes, big shorts, big hat... big boy

Today Mr5 started school. My baby has morphed into a Big Boy. Big shoes, big shorts, big hat.

He has not talked about it much over the holidays. No desire to try on the school uniform. A 'not happy Jan' face when we bought the school shoes. No particular interest to identify an A from a B from a C. (His favourite letter is still L. I suspect it always will be.)

This morning I went to wake him for his Big Boy breakfast. He rolled over, warm and sleepy. "Do you know what day it is, Mum?" What day? "It's my first day at school Mum," he said, leaping out of bed. Ready to go.

Later, as he endured the 1500th coaxing to 'look at the camera, smile for Mummy, don't scrunch your nose', weighed down by the tortoise shell of his enormous backpack, jumping up and down to test his shoes, I wondered if I was ready to let him go.

At school, The Builder and I helped him put his bag away. We found his table where, to his delight, he is seated with four friends and a 'new guy'. And then he turned to us: "You can go now." A kiss and it was all over.

I picked him up this afternoon, almost unable to pick him from the line-up of little boys. One thing a uniform does is make a person blend in, right? When he spotted me, waiting to collect him, he beamed. Suddenly he stood out like a beacon.

Big shoes, big shorts, big hat, big smile. My little Big Boy.

Sigh.

The dress-up box

With Mr5 out of the house for a few hours today, I decided that the last day of the holidays was the perfect time for an assault on his room. And I do mean assault.

It is impossible to remove any item from Mr5's room while he is on the premises. He shows a marked tendency toward the Family Hoarding gene, and clings like a barnacle to anything - and I do mean anything - that I might decide is surplus to needs. He LOVES those chocolate wrappers and is "collecting them to make Mr8 an Invisibility cloak". He NEEDS that wooden train set, despite not having looked at it for three years.

So I must sneak through under my own Invisibility cloak while he is otherwise engaged.

I really wanted to do it today. I wanted to clear his shelves, air the cobwebs, remove the old, and give him a clear, uncluttered space in which to begin his schooling life (on Tuesday). So I put aside the aforementioned train, the fake food and fake picnic set, several books, outgrown clothes, any variation of Wiggles puzzles (or, in fact, anything Wiggles, him being 'too big for them now Mum')... all ready to go to a young friend of ours who will love them too.

And then I got to the dress-up box.

Our dress-up box is like a perfect time capsule of the boys' interests over the years. The doctor's kit and cool little white coat. The fireman suit with reflective strips. The fireman helmet that makes a whiney, siren noise. The Spiderman suits, the Superman suit (with attached cape), the cracking Ninja Turtles suit (complete with shell). Harry Potter robes, wands, glasses (all bent).

But it's the additional stuff that I love. The baby wraps that can be capes, or togas, or ghost outfits. The five different gloves that serve as Super Whatevers, or Ninja whatevers, or medical protection. The lanyards from various conferences. The scarves that can be utility belts, or Ninja wraps, or Knightly garb. The swords of assorted length, colour and degradation. And the hats - so many hats! Hard hats, police hats, beanies, helmets.

My boys love dressing up and there is nothing they like better than ferreting about and creating the perfect outfit. An outfit that may make no sense to outside eyes, but to them, turns them into The Masked Avenger, or Sir Whosiwhatsit.

The dress-up box I left alone. There'll be time enough to sort through that. But for now, it's feeding their imaginations. It pays its way.

Do your kids have a dress-up box? What story does it tell about them? And what do you think are the essentials for a great dress-up box?

Fibro Q&A: On becoming a cookbook writer (blog to book)

Sandra Reynolds won the equivalent of the publishing lottery when she received a phone call, out of the blue, from Penguin about turning her blog, The $120 Food Challenge, into a fully fledged cookbook. Seriously, who does that happen to? Even more remarkable is the fact that Sandra began her blog after she walked out on her job after a terrible day and ended up trying to feed her family on the two $60 food vouchers that the Salvation Army had give her for assistance.

I've always wondered how cookbooks are written. Do they make allowances for the fact that the amateur cook might leave half her tablespoon of butter stuck to the spoon? Why do I always end up with 16 muffins when I'm supposed to have 20, and 25 biscuits when I'm supposed to have 18? The big questions.

With Sandra, I also wondered about the process of going from daily blog writer to 'enormous project' book writer. You know me. When I wonder, I do my best to drag that person into the Fibro to ask them. Fortunately, Sandra was happy to be dragged and she stayed for a cup of tea and a chat. A long chat. About cooking, writing, blogging, social media and the all-important Dubbo Test. So get your own cuppa before you begin...

Yours is the quintessential blog fairytale - publisher spots blog, offers book contract. Is that actually how it happened?
Sandra Reynolds: "Yes and no. Not once did I ever think strategically about this. I was responding to whatever each day brought me. I started the blog after a conversation on the Mamamia website. I was complaining about how I was doing that week [feeding my family with food vouchers], and someone said, 'You could start a blog about this'. I was so clueless I actually Googled 'how to start a blog' and then followed the links. My daughter had to show me how to upload a photo. I spent the rest of the day emptying the contents of my head, thinking it would be nice if I could get 1000 hits on my blog in the first month. I got 8000 in the first fortnight.

"I settled into a daily pattern of writing and photographing the evening meal. That, and job-seeking was my daily routine, and I was content with that. I've never advertised on my blog and, over the two years, have done only a handful of sponsored posts. All my blog traffic is by word of mouth. At the same time the blog was hitting its straps, my personal life was taking a battering when my father died after a long illness. The day after his funeral, just three months after starting the blog, I got an email from Channel 7's Today Tonight, requesting an interview.

"I postponed, due to bereavement, which also gave me time to think about my answer. I was terrified of being portrayed poorly. It was the first time I began to think of myself as a brand, or in terms of public image, and it crystallised my thoughts about it. After talking with everyone I could think of who might be able to offer me professional advice (surrounding yourself with mentors is one business strategy I stumbled across), I said yes.

"The story went to air on a Monday night, and I watched it through my fingers, breathing a deep sigh of relief that it was a good representation of me and my story, and I had come across as a sensible person instead of someone with a gimmick. I got 125,000 hits on the blog in the next 36 hours.

"The next morning, the phone rang. It was Julie Gibbs, the managing editor of Penguin books, who told me that she was impressed not just by what I was doing, but by who I was - my brand. She offered me a deal right there. All before my second cup of tea that morning.

"I didn't have a book outline or even know what to put in. I didn't have an agent. I don't know if the deal was a good one or not. All I knew was that my intuition was screaming at me to say yes. I've never regretted it. Penguin are simply the best in the business for cookbook writers. I have been well looked after and mentored. But I'm under no illusion that it's a business deal and I have to uphold my part in that business arrangement."

Do you spend a lot of time on social media? Do you think that's important for anyone hoping to snag a book deal?
SR: "I started a Facebook Page for The $120 Food Challenge about two months after I started the blog and it now has 5,500 followers with 20-30 people joining each week. My Twitter account started about a month after that. I have all three forums (blog, FB, Twitter) going about 10-15 hours a day, every day. I don't have a smartphone or tablet, just a lap top, so I don't tweet when I'm away from my desk.

"My Facebook page has been the best investment in garnering an audience for ideas and suggestions. I'll often begin a conversation by posing a query, or making a comment, and frequently a topic there will turn up as a 'How To' recipe on the blog. It's a very dynamic forum. Twitter, on the other hand, has been invaluable for professional networking and making friends with people you want to align your brand with. It's also brilliant for self-promotion or for recording your official response to something as a brand. My tweet stream is a chaotic mix of personal tweets to friends and promoting blog and book, with a side order of chatting with chefs and cooks around the world.

"Again, I don't think strategically about social media in terms of snagging a book deal, but that probably means I'm disingenuous. The reality is that publishers are looking for content from as many different areas as possible. It's silly to ignore the power of social media for the audience it can bring you, particularly if you are targetting people (who will read your book) who are technically savvy, and have strong social media literacy, such as 18-40 year olds. There are dozens of published authors who have built their brand and reached their target audience through just using social media, then used their writing skills to expand it into the long form of a book.

"Good writing is good writing and publishers will see that. The traffic or demographics you can bring to your book deal are invaluable."

Did you develop your own recipes for the cookbook? Do you have a background in that? How much do you make allowances for the experience or inexperience of the home cook?
SR: "I don't have any background at all as a chef or professional cook. I have always enjoyed cooking and have learnt through trial-and-error like everyone else. There are some basic cooking skills that I rely on that form the basis of every recipe. I stick to what I know and make no claims to haute cuisine - my dishes are very simple and very orientated to a mid-week family meal.

"So when I get an idea for a recipe, I write down all that I know and make an educated guess as to what flavours it could be combined with, what cooking processes it would respond to, and then I test it. Only then do I photograph and post it. Sometimes recipes are trialled several times until I get it right. All recipes have to pass the Dubbo Test, meaning ingredients are readily available in regional areas.

"I'm a teacher by training, and spent 20 years teaching adults by breaking down complex tasks into their simplest forms, which is the essence of all good recipe writing. A good recipe MUST be unambiguous, clearly set down. I intentionally write for those people who may feel less than confident about their skills, just in case. You can't assume that they will know what you mean if you use a technical term."

I know frugality is an important part of your message and the book - do you think that it gave you a point of difference that allowed you to stand out in a crowded blogging market?
SR: "The cooking and budgeting came first, by at least two decades. There is nothing new to anything that I advise. My mother and her generation all nod approvingly at the budgeting advice I give - to them, it's second nature. However, there has been a huge disconnect to that information in the last 20 years. A generation of cooks are relying on pre-processed, ready-made meals, simple heat-and-eat dinners - and they really struggle when their backs are to the wall financially. I thought everyone knew how to set a household budget and make from scratch, even if they didn't always do so. Again, disingenuous.

"With no strategy in mind, I didn't look at the crowded cookbook/celebrity chef market and spot a point of difference. I simply wrote about what I knew. As it turned out, the single best thing I ever did was simply being honest with my readers. This is who I am. These are my circumstances. This is what I know. Any good writer will tell you that every good story starts with those three pillars.

"One crucial point of different - I HATE the word frugal. I find it a measly, negative word and it taps into the feeling of helplessness that people feel. A fundamental point I make is about doing it with a little flair, some dignity, a bit of self-deprecating humour and inviting people - metaphorically - to come to the table and share. Psychologically, it makes a huge difference to people's crisis management. It gives them encouragement. It implies generosity. I love that."

How different was pulling the book together to putting out a regular blog?
SR: "I wrote every day doing the blog, but as soon as I had signed the deal, my efforts to write the book fell into a massive slump. I had writer's block for about two months. I was side-tracked by blog traffic and commentary, wasted hours and hours doing nothing.

"I solved this problem by heading to my local library every day. A simple change of setting strangely gave me focus. I would sit for four hours each morning and write a couple of recipes every day. In the end, the recipe compilation came together in about four months. The front section of the book, based around household budgeting, came together in another six weeks or so, based on setting aside time and just blocking out all the internet white noise."

The $120 Food Challenge (Penguin, $29.95) is available at leading and independent booksellers, KMart, Target, Big W, and online through Booktopia.  Visit Sandra's wonderful blog The $120 Food Challenge here, and go say hello on Facebook or Twitter.

Mr5 has a new drum kit

Mr5 has a new drum kit. It is red, and flashy, and loud. It has a bass drum with a foot pedal to make it go boom, boom, boom. There's a snare, and a tom-tom, and cymbals that crash together with a satisfying, clashing ring. Particularly when hit with the actual, timber drumsticks.

Mr5 is in raptures over his drum kit. He is giving Mr8 lessons. Thwack, boom, thwack, ting, thwack, bang, bang, bang. (Twirl drumsticks.)

Repeat.

Thank you Gran and Pops. He really is thrilled.

And thank heavens school starts next week.

12 things I learned in my second year of blogging

When the first anniversary of the Fibro blog rolled around, I was so excited I threw a party. I couldn't believe I'd made it that far. Given the 98* per cent of blogs don't survive their first year, I was thrilled with myself for staying the course. I even wrote a post about 12 Things I Learned in my First Year of Blogging, just to share my newfound knowledge. You couldn't hold me back!

Today is the second anniversary of the Fibro blog. I only know that because tonight I said to The Builder "Hmmm, it must be nearly the second anniversary of the Fibro blog... I might need to write a post about that." A quick check back to my embarrassing first post and, oh my, it's today!

To mark the occasion, I thought I'd do exactly what I did last year, only sans party. So here they are. Twelve things I've learned in my second year of blogging.

1. Blogging is like any relationship. You graduate from sexy lingerie and the ability to go all night to comfy cotton undies and the knowledge that even things you love can become a chore.

2. Writing for blogs is different from any other kind of writing. It requires an intimacy of voice that can take time to develop. But it is also one of the most natural, rewarding forms of writing. And very necessary for anyone serious about developing a writing career today. Learning how to blog smarter, not harder, is essential. 

3. Doing it less can be more work. Even regular bloggers can suffer from performance pressure.

4. If you don't understand why you're blogging, take a break. Getting confused about what you're doing can result in a whole lot of churning, when what you really want is a smooth glide across the blogosphere.

5. It's important to get off your blog if you want to build your blog. But every step you take takes time. A lot of time. Find your own rhythm with it all.

6. You will never know how a post will work until it does - or doesn't. One of my most commented-upon posts ever was a picture of my tomatoes. Really. Well, they were awesome tomatoes, it's true.

7. Instagram, hipstagram and all the other grams can make a photographer out of even the most visually inept person (aka me). One of my new Blog Year resolutions is to take more of my own pictures this year. Clearly this will start tomorrow...

8. You can blog for two years and still have no idea about SEO. Except that it's meant to be important. And clearly I'm missing out.

9. Your blog will morph and change and take on an identity all of it's own. When I started out, I hardly ever wrote about writing. Now I do it all the time. Why? Because that's what I do. Because people ask me questions and I like to answer them. Because the Friends of Fibro seem to like them. Because I spend so much of my time writing that it's hard to overlook. And because blogs are best when they're true to what's going on in the blogger's life. Which is why I haven't written about my tomatoes this year. Crop failure.

10. If you ask the blogging community a straight question, they will respond with a straight answer. So if you really DON'T want to know why a particular post was a dud, do not write a post like this one.

11. Blogging has given me the kind of record of my family, my writing and my life that I would never have achieved without it. I'm not a journal keeper. I'm not a diarist. I am, however, a blogger. And I am so very grateful for those snippets of my day-to-day life. It's amazing what you forget. (Vale Alla Hoo Hoo.)

12. Simple advice is the best advice. You do what you do. Seriously, there is no better recipe for creating a great blog.

*this stat may or may not be slightly exaggerated

[image: via pinterest]

Words no parent wants to hear: "This could be highly dangerous..."

It takes very brave* parents to buy an eight-year-old boy his own 'science experiment' kit. Complete with microscope, telescope, slidey things and chemicals marked 'poison' and 'danger' and 'do not ingest'. Brave** parents indeed to overlook the Poisons Information information in said kit and still hand it on over anyway.

Mr8 is in full experimental flow. We have made sugar crystals (coloured yellow) and salt crystals (coloured green) and all manner of Food-Colouring Potions. I like Food-Colouring Potions. They change colour. They blend together. They do not blow up.

"But they don't do anything," points out Mr8. "And they all end up murky brown."

Good point. Safety does not a scientific breakthrough make.

So he has progressed to the 'chemicals' in his set. He gloves up (complaining constantly about the smell of the 'safe for food handling' latex gloves). He puts on his safety glasses which, together with his shock of brown hair, make him look all together too much like Yahoo Serious (now whatever happened to him?) in Young Einstein.

Today he had some friends over. I was inside, doing mum stuff, and they were all on the deck, performing 'experiments'. They had poured vinegar on bicarb with spectacular, spewing, frothing results. Then there was a sudden hush. And through the window floated Mr8's voice. Earnest. Serious. With the clipped, precise tones of a BBC radio announcer, circa 1952:

"This... could be... highly... dangerous."

It would take a brave parent to ignore those words and go about her 'mum stuff', leaving boys to be boys. I am not that optimistic. I tore popped outside to find them all sitting around him as he used his tweezers to drop a small plant, roots and all, into a weak, coloured solution. They all looked at me. I looked at them.

"As you were," I said, strolling back inside.

I'm not entirely sure that science has won out over drama in Mr8. Not yet.

*brave in the sense of optimistic... 
**okay, brave in the sense of silly.