We ♥ Turkey

Ah, maaaaaan, we had the BEST time ever on our hols and we're all feeling a little bit glum and like we're drowning under a big mound of dirty clothes and mysteriously-appearing sand (how does it find its way into so many places?)
I've just come across this photo whilst looking through my holiday pics:

and the only thing I can think is: 'how can something that so closely resembles a bowl of sheep poo be so alluring to small children just because you call it breakfast?'
And look at these two little puddings - I tell you, forget cereal that looks like animal doppings, this is what I call irresistible:

Singing 'twinkle, twinkle' on the back balcony.

I love this photo of my boys, but it also makes me feel a bit sad because they look so big and grown up and I can just see from this what they will be like when they are adults.  Am I alone in wanting to pickle my children to keep them small forever?  Are they still as cute when they're thirty (I'm absolutely certain that they won't be as cute when they're teenagers, that's for sure.  I remember what I was like when I was a teenager and the thought of the shoe being on the other foot, fills me with cold dread.)

I'm not going to bore you by going on about how amazing the food was, how friendly and kind the people were, how stunning the scenery was or how gorgeous the weather was, but suffice to say if someone came up with a viable way that I could live in Turkey and earn enough to make a living, I'd be on that plane before you could blink.  I know there are people in Turkey who read my blog and I just want to say a big 'hello' and think of me sitting in the cold and damp as you're drinking your Turkish tea in the sun.  (Sob).

Ooooh, hark at me, getting all maudlin (now there's a word).  Mr N and I have spent much of the time since we returned fantasising about buying a five-berth camper van and spending the six week summer hols driving down through Europe to Turkey (there are perks to being married to a teacher...)  We recently inherited a bit of money from Mr N's grandma and, paralysed by indecision about what to do with it, we've just left it in the bank and not really done anything with it.  My sensible head says that we should do something about our compact living arrangements with it, but my wandering heart keeps reminding me how much I love to travel, and how we always swore we'd continue travelling after we had kids, and how really there is no better time than now, while the kids are small and I've got lovely, flexible working arrangements.  Watch this space...

A little, smiley thing for you before I go: the other day, baby n and I were having a chat (crikey, that girl can talk; sometimes I feel like lying my forehead on the table and sobbing, just for a moment's peace) and she looked at me very earnestly and said 'mummy.  Cats say meaow and hippos say hip, hip, hooray' x