Mammy, Make Me A Spanner

When I was One Mean Little Girl, I spent my every hour at my mother’s side in a scene of domestic idyll: handing her pegs to hang the washing, cutting out scones with my fat little hands, licking cake mix from the bowl, dying from boredom in the wool shop, standing on a chair to be pricked like a voodoo doll with sewing pins, and lingering for hours in a fug of cigarette smoke and black coffee steam, repeating, “Mummy, mummy, mummy…” as I tried to get a word in edgeways between her and Mrs Harley from across the road.

She was the consummate housewife and I watched her and learned. I was fascinated by the tools of the trade: the giant weapon-like rolling pin, the mysteriously numbered knitting needles, the frankly terrifying pressure cooker hissing in the corner like a malignant kitchen goblin. The thing I wanted badly though was the stitch ripper from the sewing box. Its bright yellow plastic concealed a shiny bit which was Very Sharp And Very Dangerous. I wasn't even allowed to look at it too closely, never mind touch it. When in adulthood I bought my own, for weeks I was too scared to use it...

Now my own 3-year-old spends his days at my side, watching and learning in a scene of domestic squalor, mostly. I’m not the housewife my mother was but I’ve got a few skills and let me tell you my heart swelled with pride when he beseeched me one day, “Mammy, my NEED a spanner like Mammy’s big shiny one. Mammy, make me a boy’s spanner.”

Now, I'm sure such a thing could be bought but would I, the Mean Housewife shell out? Not likely.

And so began my career in crapmazing cardboard toy manufacture. When he is a man I will show him the things I made and how much he loved and played with them (he honestly does) and he will laugh to see how much he truly wasn’t spoiled.

"Mammy, my need a car park." (£0.00p):

"Mammy, my need a tunnel." Finish is everything; I took a fairly minimalist approach to that. He honestly said, "Ooh it's a beautiful blue one with numbers!" (£0.00p):

And the original and best, "Mammy my need a spanner." Just look at the Sellotape work on that. (£0.00p):

I think you'll agree that the quality is second to none, and there really is nothing like a handmade gift. What a lucky boy.

One Mean Housewife prices up a wooden railway tunnel JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES.

Health And Safety In The Workhouse

The problem with child labour is equipping your worker: Brillo pads are so big for little hands and decanting bleach into tiny little bottles is just tiresome. However, there is a lot you can do at home, so here is how to make a tiny wee pair of oven gloves and give your little drone a helping hand getting that roasting tin out without incident.

Bits and bobs I scrabbled together:

• The scraps of a £2 IKEA fleece blanket, leftover from other projects,
• One IKEA facecloth, leftover from the wipes project. 
• Some white thread.

How I cobbled it together:

Cut a long rectangle of fleece about 70cm by 15cm and two further rectangles the same 15cm width by about 20cm.

Lay the smaller rectangles over either end of the long strip: they will make the pockets for their tiny, calloused hands go into. Trim the corners into a curve - you know the shape. Use those end parts as templates to make duplicate pieces in the towelling material from the facecloth using the existing hemmed edge as the flat edge of the curved shape to save you having to hem it.

Align the towelling shapes onto the ends of the long strip and sew a line of stitches across the existing hem on the towelling.

Next lay the fleece shapes right on top of the towelling and stitch round the other three sides (the curved edge), keeping close to the edge.  Turn the pockets inside-out and the whole thing should look roughly like a pair of oven mitts.

Cut a thin strip of fleece, roughly 7cm by 1cm, fold it along its length and run a line of stitches along it make a little tape which form a hanging loop in the next step.

Turn the mitts over to the side with the pockets.  To make the joining strap look neat, stitch a small hem along the edges between the mitts, stitching in the tape you made to form a hanging loop.

Da-daa!  And there you have it: some sort of comeback when The Social turn up at your door wanting to know about your toddler turning up in A&E with a roast beef shaped burn.

They also make nice gifts for little people with little play kitchens.  

One Mean Housewife ponders the practicalities of knitting a miniature toilet brush...

Mother / Goose

Only the best will do for my baby's bottom.  The French Renaissance satirist Rabelais reckoned the best thing to wipe your backside on was the neck of a goose.  Decadent!  But they don't sell them in Mothercare and I can never get the damned things to lie down on the changing mat, so baby wipes it is.

Wipes, however, do not please a mean and lazy housewife.  They work out at 1p each and you go through them like, well, geese. They are also indestructible so probably not the best from a sustainability point of view.  In this house, we have gone to reusable cloth nappies and, because it's easier and cheaper, we have gone to reusable cloth wipes too.

The best known brand, Cheeky Wipes, come in at £27 for a kit to use alongside real nappies, £13 more to add the extra bits you need if you don't already have a cloth nappy set-up.  You'd save money after a few months, sooner if you are wipe-happy.

Or you could make my IKEA wipes kit for a fiver.  I used:

• GLIS box with lid, 3 pack, £1.50
• KRAMA washcloth, 10 pack, £3

How to:

• Cut washcloths into quarters.  Five washcloths should do.  Save the rest for other scrimping.
• Run a zig-zag stitch along the raw edges of each piece.  If your machine has an overcasting foot, use that for a great edge.
• Put the wipes in the box and add some plain tap water.  

You get three boxes in the pack so you can have one for each wing of your mansion and one for the nanny's room.  Or use one to store all the money you've saved.  If you want to go out and about with them, use a sandwich bag.  They are ten times better at the job of bum cleaning than slippery wet wipes too.

Finally, when you've hung your wipes up to dry after the wash, try not to squeak with pleasure as you pull them off the line like this, ready folded to the perfect size for your little box:

One Mean Housewife, with a faraway look in her eye, lovingly strokes a Swedish storage solution...