Sizzling…steamy…simmering, slow and steady… I love my Slow-cooker.

It’s everything that I’m not on this dreary Monday morning.  I’m tired and I’m dosed, and I have to take a massive step back into reality after one of the most wonderful weeks of my little life.

But thanks to my Slow-cooker, I’m one step ahead of myself.

At 6.30am, I am sipping my coffee, enjoying the initial kick to the taste buds and waiting for the jump-start my body so desperately needs. By 6.40am, I am happily slicing and chopping; onions, chicken, carrots; Everything gets bunged in a casserole dish. Salt, pepper (a sneaky wee stock cube) and we’re done. As I head towards the shower, I have a smug little grin on my face.   Take that Monday morning!

I’ve only recently discovered this life saving invention.  It’s AMAZING! It allows me to come home from work to an aromatic kitchen.  It means that dinner is all but ready when we get in. It stops the horrible mind-boggle on the journey home, of having to figure out what’s in the fridge, what will be quick and handy to throw together in record time.

Most importantly, it gives me the gift of time. That extra hour of Mini-me time that I never before realized that I was missing.  Instead of frantically chopping and peeling, while trying to placate the hungry child, or being faced with the terrible temptation to fire on some Waffles just to feed the monster, I can add the gravy and serve up a stunning, satisfying and nutritional dinner to my little lovey.  And indeed, to myself.

Then, rather than it suddenly being half an hour before bedtime, there’s suddenly time: Time to read a story, time to simply sit beside her to watch another re-run of Peppa Pig, time to throw on a load (or three!) of washing, or time to let her indulge in a bubble bath – the not-rushed type!

I’m genuinely gunked as to how I’d never heard of the slow-cooker before now.  I’m slightly put out by the number of friends and family who have proven to be already practiced and experienced in the art of slow-cooking.  I’m ever impressed by the variety of exciting recipe groups and online slow-cooker groups available.  I’ve entered a whole new world and I love it!

It allows me to feel on top of things as I leave for work. It gives me that warm, fuzzy glow that you get from being organised. It allows me to put a line through one of the to-dos on my daily list.  It gives me a sense of control.  Yes, I know it’s a piece of kitchen equipment, but it really does have these magical qualities. I’m smitten.

When I lift the lid off my sizzling stew this evening, it will be simmering and steamy, it will be superb and it will be bloody satisfying! My slow-cooker –  it’s 50 shades of awesome! 🙂

I am SlowCooker-Mum xx

I step out of the shower and look at my toes.  I then apologize, out loud, to my toenails. I think I’ve probably had the same red polish on them for months.  I vaguely remember slapping a layer of “Chick Flick Cherry” on them just before Christmas, when a unexpected offer of a babysitter allowed a last minute dinner date with Husband .  There isn’t much left on them if I’m honest.  It’s more like a thin red line across them, piteously reminding me where the polish used to be!

Whatever way I describe them, they deserve the vocalized apology, which is followed by a resolution to fix them tonight…(and then a giggle as I realize that I am talking to my toenails.)

I’m reminded of the superstitious ideas that were embedded in our minds as children.  “You have to change your underwear/socks.  God forbid you were in an accident! What would the doctors/ambulance crew etc think?”  

This thought genuinely remained as a little voice in the back of my mind every morning until one day, I realized that said hypothetical doctors etc, really wouldn’t give a toss about the state of my knickers if they had to meet me.

Some of us are superstitious about everything.  We don’t walk under ladders.  We avoid black cats.  Some of us even have lucky knickers or socks!  We NEVER put new shoes on the table! (This one bothers me…how the heck are we supposed to gaze lovingly at them?!)

We don’t step on the cracks. We bless ourselves if we pass an ambulance, even if we’re not religious.  Just in case. We wave at bloody magpies, just in case…And Heaven help us if we find a bird inside the house!

Even if we’re not superstitious, we can often find our actions being subconsciously determined by old wives’ tales.

I’m not superstitious. I think that they are harmless as long as we don’t let them take over our thinking. I remember the terror on a friend’s face when I mentioned that I’d gone to a wake when I was pregnant. At the same time, I loved the endless predictions of whether it was a boy or a girl, based on the position of bump, or my wedding ring tied on a string!  It was harmless fun.

But really, what are superstitions? Is there any truth in them, or are they born from people simply trying to make sense of something unfathomable?

Is it not just coincidence that a mirror fell and smashed two days before something bad happened?

Will buying a partner a watch, really mean that your time together is short? Did they come from people trying to explain the inexplicable?

Or did they come from parents trying to get their children to do something?  “If you don’t eat your carrots, you’ll go blind”. “If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that.” Do we pass on these harmless notions to our kiddies without even realizing we do it?

I know I’m not in charge and that life is going to throw what it wants at me.  I’m armed with optimism and hope that it’ll all work out.  I hope that I’ll teach Mini-me what my Daddy taught me…”99% of the things you worry about, never happen.”

So today, on Friday the 13th, be as superstitious as you like.  Or don’t.  It really doesn’t matter. Tonight, I will put the Boss to bed, make dinner, pour a well deserved glass of vino and fix my poor, unloved toenails.

Not because I’m worried that I’ll have a horrible accident and that Dr. McDreamy will judge me on my chipped polish, but because they really are a mess! And I might even put on my lucky knickers! 🙂

Superstitious-Mum xxx