Sunday, 23 October 2011
Saturday, 22 October 2011
in which G loses a hat and the goodness of the human condition is put to the test
The other morning I decided to take a walk into town with Miss G. The weather has changed a little bit for the wintery variety, so it was cold (about 8 degrees celcius - Fahrenheit readers work that out for yourself) but at the same time it was gloriously sunny. So I bundled G up, found the muff thingy for the buggy and, at the last minute, placed a beanie on her head (she is currently not blessed with a insulating head of hair). It was her first attempt as a cognitive being at both the beenie and in the muff. She was vaguely amused by the hat, less amused by the muff, and immediately starting whinging as she search in vain for her feet...
Off we trotted. 10 minutes in I noticed that said hat was no longer on said child's head. Parents of 13 month olds everywhere will currently be saying: Tres suprise! What were you thinking woman? A hat on a 13 month old is like a broke shopaholic in the sales - doomed from the start. I looked behind me to see if I could see it to pick it up, but it was not in sight. At this point I pondered retracing my steps to go and find it. And then I made a decision that suprised me. I just walked on. The reason I did this? I assumed some one who walked past would pick it up and put it somewhere to be seen, and that it would still be there when we came back an hour and a half later. Well that and I was on a tight time schedule and it only cost 99p from Sainsbury's 2 years ago, and it wasn't as cold as I thought it was anyway...
So was I being stupid or naive? We are conditioned to think that if we lose our possessions someone will help themselves to them as fast as possible - well we were in the times and places I grew up. Something dropped not picked up immediately is lost forever. But in the last 6 months: K lost her camera at an adventure park and it was handed in at the office; G left her beloved Ikea mouse (known throughout the village as Ratton) at the local corner shop, where he sat proudly on the till waiting to be collected the next time I came in; G also dropped the dreaded blanket bear, who was picked up by someone who knew it was hers and placed on my car roof. I don't know if its the town we live in specifically, because we live in the country or if its the UK in general. More optimistically, is it just because people are a kind and good-natured on the whole? That the selfish image we have of humans as greedy stealing unkind people isn't really true, that people are innately good and kind? I'm a good person, I'd pick it up if I found it. I wouldn't think: Score - a hat that might fit G. No-one else I know would either. So why do we assume the worst in everyone?
Was it there when I came back? Of course it was. Not only that, but it had been found by someone with a sense of humour :) People are good. Hurrah!
Off we trotted. 10 minutes in I noticed that said hat was no longer on said child's head. Parents of 13 month olds everywhere will currently be saying: Tres suprise! What were you thinking woman? A hat on a 13 month old is like a broke shopaholic in the sales - doomed from the start. I looked behind me to see if I could see it to pick it up, but it was not in sight. At this point I pondered retracing my steps to go and find it. And then I made a decision that suprised me. I just walked on. The reason I did this? I assumed some one who walked past would pick it up and put it somewhere to be seen, and that it would still be there when we came back an hour and a half later. Well that and I was on a tight time schedule and it only cost 99p from Sainsbury's 2 years ago, and it wasn't as cold as I thought it was anyway...
So was I being stupid or naive? We are conditioned to think that if we lose our possessions someone will help themselves to them as fast as possible - well we were in the times and places I grew up. Something dropped not picked up immediately is lost forever. But in the last 6 months: K lost her camera at an adventure park and it was handed in at the office; G left her beloved Ikea mouse (known throughout the village as Ratton) at the local corner shop, where he sat proudly on the till waiting to be collected the next time I came in; G also dropped the dreaded blanket bear, who was picked up by someone who knew it was hers and placed on my car roof. I don't know if its the town we live in specifically, because we live in the country or if its the UK in general. More optimistically, is it just because people are a kind and good-natured on the whole? That the selfish image we have of humans as greedy stealing unkind people isn't really true, that people are innately good and kind? I'm a good person, I'd pick it up if I found it. I wouldn't think: Score - a hat that might fit G. No-one else I know would either. So why do we assume the worst in everyone?
Was it there when I came back? Of course it was. Not only that, but it had been found by someone with a sense of humour :) People are good. Hurrah!
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
House rules (actual wordless wednesday - almost)
I need one of these - these ARE my house rules. That and no shoes and drinks upstairs...
BTW - I've given the blog - which is taking on a life of its own - its own Face Book page. Like it - it makes witty/pithy/sarcastic/desperate status updates...
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Powder-puffing my kids part 1
Check out Miss K rocking out her gymnastics - isn't she great? No - of course that isn't her. I'd never let her out in a scrunchie that co-ordinates with her leotard. Its some random girl lifted off google images and planted on some random woman's blog. Apologies to her. She is merely a prop for my introduction.
So, Elder K does gymnastics. So do several of her friends. K is a perfectly competent gymnast. She is pretty flexible, does a mean split. She points her toes at the appropriate moment. Her cartwheels are actually perpendicular to the ground. Hell, she can even actually spring on a spring board, and many a mother's who spend hours watching beginners gymnastics will know that's quite an achievement. However, competent is all she is. Unfortunately all her friends who do gymnastics with her happen to be MORE than competent gymnasts. In fact one is being fast tracked into the super-competitive group while the other two are in the advanced class. None of them are actually in her class anymore, just in the same club. The child is gutted, and claims she is rubbish at gymnastics. Now, just to be clear, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in her parental gene pool that suggests she has the potential to be anymore than a moderately watchable amateur gymnast. In fact, she is quite lucky she can use a spring board at all to be honest, I'm not sure her father can (a subtle test to see if he actually reads my blog...). I've explained to her that everyone has different talents, and it just so happens that all three of her friends are talented in this particular area. I've pointed out how talented she is at maths, what an excellent dancer she is, that she has great hair, lovely handwriting and magnificent elbows. She's not buying it. She is quite certain it is "one of the things that mum's say to make you feel better". As it turns out in this case, its not. Its actually true. She does have lovely elbows. Just not enough upper body strength to be an Olympian. Or even a Suffolkian. We've had a long chat about acceptting and loving ourselves for who we are. I've explained some of the areas I don't excel in (not everyone appreciates my elbows for example). She now says she doesn't really mind and is happy where she is (that elbow talk was powerful). She got her first badge. She can to do a handspring on the vault. She is still better than the average child on the playground at handstands and cartwheels. She is content and at peace. Apparently as long as she can show off, she's good...
So lets hope that's it. I have occasionally been accused of powder-puffing my kids in such a way that they are not prepared for the real world. They live in a world where if one gets something from the shops, they all do. They have to share the party packs out between them regardless of who actually went to the party (well actually they go in a sweetie tin, get forgotten about and get eaten by my and DH). I like fair. Fair is good. Fair makes sense. especially when you are under 11. But unfortunately the real world is not fair. Miss K seems to have had her first encounter with an unfair world which hands talents out according to its own cunning plan, and has discovered that wanting to be excellent at gymnastics is not enough. That it requires a natural level of strength and muscle tone she just does not have. It requires you to be able to do a chin up, something I have never ever managed (A scene from cool runnings is jumping to mind here). Perhaps I can find a Little Miss Suffolk Handwriting and Elbows' pageant for her to enter in order to pep her up...
Saturday, 15 October 2011
More milestones for 13 month olds
Apologies for lack of blog for a few days, there has been much going on. Mainly that my mum has been here. This means every spare second of my time has been taken up with nattering, shopping and wine. My blog-inspiration ran dry. But, alas, she is going home this morning, and surprise, here I am blogging again. To borrow from an e-mail that has been doing the rounds "Our Granny lives at the airport. When we need her we go and get her, and when we've had enough we take her back"...
So in the meantime - Miss G is now 13 months old and seems to be doing new stuff everyday. Some things are exciting - she is almost standing on her own and almost doing a normal crawl (she is a bum shuffler). However, she has also started a few less exciting things, that she is actually doing. So in the spirit of my "popular" post on modern mileSTONES for child development here are a few things you can expect your 13 month old to do, or you can tick off if yours did any:
1. Biting. I am sporting several nice brown circles on my upper arm which may have caused my fellow loons at ballet to think my husband beats me. G has bitten me 3 times in the last week. I have had to introduce the naughty step. It involves dumping her smartly on the floor and turning my back. Mercifully she is not just shuffling round to sit in front of me. Neither of the other two ever bit me. Typical of the last one to let the side down.
2. She has discovered there are two blanket bears. Fail. Blanket bear is the silly little bear sewn on a wee blanket she uses to soothe herself to sleep. I had them for the other two, but they never imprinted on them and ignored them. G on the other had loves her. Trust her to be difficult (picking up a trend here?). So I have two, so that if one is lost or in the wash I can smugly avoid a full scale melt down. However, she has discovered that there are two, and has taken to wanting BOTH of them, and not being satisfied with just the one. This can only end in tears and a house full of the gormless things.
3.Attempting to stand up in items she is supposedly secured in. High chair, chair harness, the bath, the trolley, the buggy etc. Great death-defying stunts are occurring when an eye is taken off her for even one second. Expect a blog on the joys of A and E anytime soon!
4. The discovery that clothes come on and off. Especially that socks come off, and other people's dirty nickers can be put on, as a hat. No further comment is required.
5. Throwing your toys out of your cot. Literally doing this. When put down to sleep she has taken to having a full scale thrombo before dutifully going to sleep. However during this tantrum she throws EVERYTHING out of the cot. Blanket bear and dummy go first, so that she now can't sleep. But also any other soft toys in the cot. And the actual blanket, eiderdown, her socks, her pillow and anything else she can get her hands on. I fully expect to find her asleep naked on a bare mattress in a few months...
Thank goodness for third children. How dull my life would be without this...
So in the meantime - Miss G is now 13 months old and seems to be doing new stuff everyday. Some things are exciting - she is almost standing on her own and almost doing a normal crawl (she is a bum shuffler). However, she has also started a few less exciting things, that she is actually doing. So in the spirit of my "popular" post on modern mileSTONES for child development here are a few things you can expect your 13 month old to do, or you can tick off if yours did any:
1. Biting. I am sporting several nice brown circles on my upper arm which may have caused my fellow loons at ballet to think my husband beats me. G has bitten me 3 times in the last week. I have had to introduce the naughty step. It involves dumping her smartly on the floor and turning my back. Mercifully she is not just shuffling round to sit in front of me. Neither of the other two ever bit me. Typical of the last one to let the side down.
2. She has discovered there are two blanket bears. Fail. Blanket bear is the silly little bear sewn on a wee blanket she uses to soothe herself to sleep. I had them for the other two, but they never imprinted on them and ignored them. G on the other had loves her. Trust her to be difficult (picking up a trend here?). So I have two, so that if one is lost or in the wash I can smugly avoid a full scale melt down. However, she has discovered that there are two, and has taken to wanting BOTH of them, and not being satisfied with just the one. This can only end in tears and a house full of the gormless things.
3.Attempting to stand up in items she is supposedly secured in. High chair, chair harness, the bath, the trolley, the buggy etc. Great death-defying stunts are occurring when an eye is taken off her for even one second. Expect a blog on the joys of A and E anytime soon!
4. The discovery that clothes come on and off. Especially that socks come off, and other people's dirty nickers can be put on, as a hat. No further comment is required.
5. Throwing your toys out of your cot. Literally doing this. When put down to sleep she has taken to having a full scale thrombo before dutifully going to sleep. However during this tantrum she throws EVERYTHING out of the cot. Blanket bear and dummy go first, so that she now can't sleep. But also any other soft toys in the cot. And the actual blanket, eiderdown, her socks, her pillow and anything else she can get her hands on. I fully expect to find her asleep naked on a bare mattress in a few months...
Thank goodness for third children. How dull my life would be without this...
Wednesday, 5 October 2011
Its my birthday... Wordless Wednesday
Its my birthday - I'm 36 today. I've had a fantastic day. However - bloody hell - I'm closer to 50 than 20! Am I middle aged? I'm 18 years older than an 18 year old. I could have a grown up child, if I was born in 1810 or was from Essex. Bugger that, I'm off to pretend I'm 14 again and go to my ballet lesson.
I totally didn't bake this cake by the way - its nicked from http://cakecentral.com/gallery/ , but I did make a lemon drizzle cake and a coffee and walnut cake. Huzzah. http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/4738/coffee-and-walnut-cake and http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/4942/lemon-drizzle-cake
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
5 great things about being a parent
My recent series of blogs have apparently put some of my younger followers off ever having kids. Why discussions about sleepless nights, bodily fluids and public bowel movements would do that to you I'll never know. But I thought it best I write about some of the great things about being a mum for a change. Not the warm and fuzzy ones, like new born baby toes and hugs in the morning - we can get all those from fabric softener adverts. Instead I thought I'd mention a few of the other things that are great.
1. Relieving and reflecting on childhood. Its grand - you get to watch your children doing all sorts of stuff, and remember how exciting they were when you were a child before you became all cynical - like a bouncy castle and a helter skelter. I'm also watching my children learning gymnastics and thinking - Hey, I remember that and I used to be able to do that etc. Quite good for the ego actually.
2. Holding a mirror up to yourself for the world to see. Elder K recently told someone that "Jesse J is rubbish and Coldplay are over-rated but the new Kasabian album rocks". I was so proud I nearly wept. That's my girl. And when they are complimented it reflects so well you, and you get to say - Hey, I gave the world that child. I even made her, cell by cell - go me!
3. You get to play "When I was a child I never had..." or "I always wanted..." and dress your children up like little dollies in your favourite clothes from your favourite shops. G the younger is currently sporting a jumper by a certain country clothing brand - not really sensible for a 12 month old... You may also think - I always wanted one of those Barbie dolls houses" or "a decent train set" or whatever. My child also has a wide a variety of "eco-snob" wooden toys, which I think people gave me, rather than G, for her birthday!
4. Kids are excellent humour. K and E regularly crack us all up. For example I recently had a migraine and decided to fob it off with a box of smarties. Middle E came in and said to me: Why are you eating chocolate? Me: Because I don't feel well. E: Well chocolate isn't going to help... Or K, who this very instant just said "There are believable things and magic things. Magic things are things you believe in you know aren't real but still believe in". Well I'm glad we cleared that up then...
5. Should you have the misfortune/good fortune to move away from the place you grew up, went to uni or whatever your thing is, and discover you know no-one, kids are a great way to make friends. I currently have some of the best friends I have had as an adult, and I met them all through things related to the kids - parents from the school or nursery, a mum from ballet, another from gymnastics. And the best part is - they WANT to talk about kids, potty training, stacking cups, sleeping schedules and other riveting subjects your DINKY friends just don't get.
So in conclusion - have kids because they flatter your ego, are an excuse for shopping, good humour and a great way to meet people. What more do you want!
1. Relieving and reflecting on childhood. Its grand - you get to watch your children doing all sorts of stuff, and remember how exciting they were when you were a child before you became all cynical - like a bouncy castle and a helter skelter. I'm also watching my children learning gymnastics and thinking - Hey, I remember that and I used to be able to do that etc. Quite good for the ego actually.
2. Holding a mirror up to yourself for the world to see. Elder K recently told someone that "Jesse J is rubbish and Coldplay are over-rated but the new Kasabian album rocks". I was so proud I nearly wept. That's my girl. And when they are complimented it reflects so well you, and you get to say - Hey, I gave the world that child. I even made her, cell by cell - go me!
3. You get to play "When I was a child I never had..." or "I always wanted..." and dress your children up like little dollies in your favourite clothes from your favourite shops. G the younger is currently sporting a jumper by a certain country clothing brand - not really sensible for a 12 month old... You may also think - I always wanted one of those Barbie dolls houses" or "a decent train set" or whatever. My child also has a wide a variety of "eco-snob" wooden toys, which I think people gave me, rather than G, for her birthday!
4. Kids are excellent humour. K and E regularly crack us all up. For example I recently had a migraine and decided to fob it off with a box of smarties. Middle E came in and said to me: Why are you eating chocolate? Me: Because I don't feel well. E: Well chocolate isn't going to help... Or K, who this very instant just said "There are believable things and magic things. Magic things are things you believe in you know aren't real but still believe in". Well I'm glad we cleared that up then...
5. Should you have the misfortune/good fortune to move away from the place you grew up, went to uni or whatever your thing is, and discover you know no-one, kids are a great way to make friends. I currently have some of the best friends I have had as an adult, and I met them all through things related to the kids - parents from the school or nursery, a mum from ballet, another from gymnastics. And the best part is - they WANT to talk about kids, potty training, stacking cups, sleeping schedules and other riveting subjects your DINKY friends just don't get.
So in conclusion - have kids because they flatter your ego, are an excuse for shopping, good humour and a great way to meet people. What more do you want!
Sunday, 2 October 2011
Its the simple things... (semi-silent Sunday)
Everyone in our house is absolutely exhausted today and we all agreed on a "playing a home" day. The girls then disappeared into their bedroom and within 20 minutes had set up a den, using a custom-made sheet, string, pegs and every pillow and cushion in the house. They then disappeared into it and have only emerged so far in order to have this photo taken. I love it when childhood is just childhood - not an electronic good or hello kitty item in sight - just creativity, imagination and good natured fun :)
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Polo for you?
A strange thing happened today that caused me to stop and think... K spent some time with my lovely Aunty T who is very generous. First Aunty T took her into the shop and said "What would you like to drink? You can have anything you like. Coke? Fruit juice? Powerade?" to wit K replies "I''ll have a bottle of water please". So I'm already looking like super-strict mummy, despite this actually being K's own quirk, she's always liked bottled water best. But a bit later Aunty T gave K her own roll of polo's. The child's eyes grew to be absolutely enormous, and after squeaking her gratitude K came scurrying over to me - "Mummy - look what Aunty T gave me. Can I have them? May I open them?". She then proceeded to share them out with absolutely everyone, including strangers, and then also stock piled some for her sister and cousin later on.
The reason I'm sharing this story is it made me realise that, at the great age of 7 and 3/4, K has never had her own roll of polo's, or in fact any other type of sweets. She's had those little packs of haribos and things you get in party bags, but not an actual roll or big bag of sweets. I'm fairly sure that by this age I had had rolls of sweets quite often. Have I been depriving my child? Surely the receiving a roll of sweets, on Sunday, bought with your pocket money, is an important part of childhood? Hoarding them from your siblings and trying to make them last all day. Sucking them instead of crunching them in order to drag it out as long as possible. Eating them all at once and regretting it for the rest of the day while your siblings smirk that they still have theirs and eat them really slowly in ront of you. A life skill surely?
Should this be added to my list of modern milestones for child development? I recommend introducing your children to possession of a small roll of mints at 6 and a half - see how they manage with this...
Friday, 30 September 2011
Friday night ramblings 1: The fridge
This is my families milk selection. I have skimmed milk, E has soya milk (lactose-intolerant), G has lactose-free milk (lactose and soya-intolerant) and to honest there should be full cream for K as well but it's finished and I'm a rubbish mum and didn't pick any up today. Fortunately my husband doesn't drink milk at all, because if he did he'd probably want a different variety just to be difficult. And all 4 types of milk need to be stored in the door. This means there is no room for anything else. Then there is the yoghurt, and again this is fat free, full cream, soya and lactose-free. Do you have any idea how much space this takes up? At least a full whole shelf. I only have 3! When I was a child the milk was the milk. 1 bottle, in the door. Done. I'm also fairly sure when there was only one tub of yoghurt in the fridge, which seemed to last for days, and definitely didn't get a shelf to itself. Was no one lactose-intolerant then? Where parents just less inclined to indulge their kids and themselves (the milk we have is the milk we have)? More importantly, how can I be anally retentive about the positioning of things in an over-packed fridge. Hell, I'm lucky if I can get the door shut, let alone put things in neat little piles. And don't even think of trying to fit left overs in there. Eat it dammit, there's no room. (This is also a good excuse for finished any open bottles of wine).
Anyway - thank you for reading, what is essentially a very public dig at my spouse that I want a nice double door fridge, and thank you for coming back. My blog hit 4000 tonight. I've very excited. So excited in fact I think I'll go and attempt to repack the veggie draw. Living the high-life on a Friday night...
Wednesday, 28 September 2011
Intellectual bad*sses (less-wordy Wednesday)
In my last teaching post I was a 6th form tutor. My form was all the kids doing 2 or more sciences for their AS levels, and was therefore made up of all the highest achievers in GCSEs the previous years. On about the 3rd day of school one of the less achieving boys noticed this, and said "What's going on here - I'm in the nerd form". To which another boy, who achieved 15 A*s in his GCSEs, yet was sitting there in his DMs and leather jacket, turned around and said "We are not nerds - we are intellectual bad*sses!".
I loved this expression and adopted it at once, not only for my form, but form myself. It is a perfect description of me, or at least how I want to be perceived. I'm not a nerd per say, but I certainly have nerd tendencies. Neither am I a true intellectual, or indeed a true bad*ss. But I do have aspirations to be both (as well as a proper lentil weaver, but we will save that for another post). I have always considered it a compliment to call someone a nerd, as it was what I wished I could be - clever AND achieving. But the nerds I aspire to be still have a level of cool - like Morrissey, Michael Stipe and Stephen Fry. Unfortunately, for most people, the term obviously brings with it images of national health specs and pocket protectors, so I was very pleased to get a better description.
My children are definitely intellectual badd*sses in training. They rock out to alternative music and wear more black than the average child, but they also love learning. They are very curious about the world and want to learn and understand everything. They devour non-fiction books and suitable sites on the internet. Miss K is particularly studious about her school work and always wants to be in the top group for everything. She was recently motified to discovered she is only in the second group for spelling and has spent the entire week working on it. Middle E is just straight competitive, and has to be the BEST (I see a fair amount of disappointment on the horizon here). Here they are this morning - even Miss G is attempting to do her reading (with her feet mind).
I loved this expression and adopted it at once, not only for my form, but form myself. It is a perfect description of me, or at least how I want to be perceived. I'm not a nerd per say, but I certainly have nerd tendencies. Neither am I a true intellectual, or indeed a true bad*ss. But I do have aspirations to be both (as well as a proper lentil weaver, but we will save that for another post). I have always considered it a compliment to call someone a nerd, as it was what I wished I could be - clever AND achieving. But the nerds I aspire to be still have a level of cool - like Morrissey, Michael Stipe and Stephen Fry. Unfortunately, for most people, the term obviously brings with it images of national health specs and pocket protectors, so I was very pleased to get a better description.
My children are definitely intellectual badd*sses in training. They rock out to alternative music and wear more black than the average child, but they also love learning. They are very curious about the world and want to learn and understand everything. They devour non-fiction books and suitable sites on the internet. Miss K is particularly studious about her school work and always wants to be in the top group for everything. She was recently motified to discovered she is only in the second group for spelling and has spent the entire week working on it. Middle E is just straight competitive, and has to be the BEST (I see a fair amount of disappointment on the horizon here). Here they are this morning - even Miss G is attempting to do her reading (with her feet mind).
Monday, 26 September 2011
5 skills you need to be a parent.
Short but sweet today - I'm a wee bit tired. But here are 5 skills I think you must have in order to be a good modern parent...
1. The ability to appear to be listening, intently, to an immensely elaborate story about every single detail of your child's day at school. Never let on that you are actually day dreaming about David Tennant or mentally writing this evening's blog.
2. The ability to select an outfit, put it on, do your hair, put your make up on and grab your hand bag in 7 minutes flat because if you don't you will be late for the school run...
3. De-sensitisation to mucus on your left shoulder - its always there. Accept it, move on.
4. The ability to sit gracefully through dance recitals choreographed by your children, puppet shows written by your children and songs composed by your children - don't forget to applaud rapturously when it finally finishes.
5. The skill of being able to identify your children's clothing from a hundred paces. And don't get smug and tell me you've labelled it. Firstly you never manage to label it all, you always miss something, and secondly they only lose not labelled items...
1. The ability to appear to be listening, intently, to an immensely elaborate story about every single detail of your child's day at school. Never let on that you are actually day dreaming about David Tennant or mentally writing this evening's blog.
2. The ability to select an outfit, put it on, do your hair, put your make up on and grab your hand bag in 7 minutes flat because if you don't you will be late for the school run...
3. De-sensitisation to mucus on your left shoulder - its always there. Accept it, move on.
4. The ability to sit gracefully through dance recitals choreographed by your children, puppet shows written by your children and songs composed by your children - don't forget to applaud rapturously when it finally finishes.
5. The skill of being able to identify your children's clothing from a hundred paces. And don't get smug and tell me you've labelled it. Firstly you never manage to label it all, you always miss something, and secondly they only lose not labelled items...
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Ominous silence (conveniently on Silent Sunday)
You know that feeling - you are enjoying a quiet moment. Perhaps you are having a cup of coffee and a cheeky piece of cake. Perhaps you are really getting stuck into the ironing (not likely in my case, but hey - some of you are good mothers). Perhaps you are checking your face book for the 20th time that morning just in case they decided to revert to the old news feed format... But anyway, you are busy and occupied and getting on with something you needed to get on with, when you suddenly think - where are the children and why are they so quiet? And then you get scared...
You know they are safe because you wouldn't have let them wander off anywhere untoward or do anything dangerous - that's not why you are scared. No, you are unnerved because you know they are occupied, and as a rule things that occupy them in such a manner are not the expensive wooden toys you bought them or the high brow books you are hoping they might read. No - they are investigating their world in some manner, probably one unsactioned by you. What they are up depends on their age. In older children this may mean they are trying on your expensive clothes and jewelry, digging in your underwear draw on a search for Christmas presents or, in the case of boys, or more adventurous girls, about to parachute down the stairs only using your knickers to break their fall, But for smaller children what they are up to is slightly less scary, but rather more messy. Like unpacking the compost bin or involuntarily defrosting the freezer while they scatter frozen peas around the kitchen. Here is Little Miss G last night...
You know they are safe because you wouldn't have let them wander off anywhere untoward or do anything dangerous - that's not why you are scared. No, you are unnerved because you know they are occupied, and as a rule things that occupy them in such a manner are not the expensive wooden toys you bought them or the high brow books you are hoping they might read. No - they are investigating their world in some manner, probably one unsactioned by you. What they are up depends on their age. In older children this may mean they are trying on your expensive clothes and jewelry, digging in your underwear draw on a search for Christmas presents or, in the case of boys, or more adventurous girls, about to parachute down the stairs only using your knickers to break their fall, But for smaller children what they are up to is slightly less scary, but rather more messy. Like unpacking the compost bin or involuntarily defrosting the freezer while they scatter frozen peas around the kitchen. Here is Little Miss G last night...
Saturday, 24 September 2011
You'll never **** alone...
There are plenty of things I could complain that no-one warns you about having children. Piles - no-one warns you about the piles. The lack of sleep for THE REST OF YOUR LIFE is not made clear either.The trauma of cutting your tiny weeny babies nails - no-one told me about this either (but I'm going to cut her finger tips off!). But these issues do get discussed afterwards, in hushed circles, by those in the know. Its like a secret club that you can only be in if you have had a child - "yes I got piles too. jolly good fun that was, did you try an enema of coffee? No not necessarily helpful, but it takes your mind off it darling". But there is one issue that doesn't even get discuss in these circles - the fact that you'll never have a bowel movement undisturbed again, ever.
As a species, we, as humans, at some point made a strange evolutionary sideways shift to being beings that are embarrassed about our bodily functions. Other animals just go - you never see a cow hiding behind a bush for an adventure wee or a lion seeking away from the pride to make a number two. But we as humans, for some reason or other, have decreed that these bodily functions are foul and embarrassing. We have built little private rooms to disappear into to relieve ourselves where no-one else is around. And we only elude to their use as well - I'm going to the little girls room to powder my nose; I'm going to tinkle etc. The whole thing is more than a little hush hush. Therefore - pre-children - you are used to this time being sacred and private. You probably mention it only to your partner, but even then, it is one of the few times you are alone, really alone. Private.
But not after you have had kids. Then you are never alone. My children burst in on me when I'm in the loo (see what I did there, typing in the loo is somehow less embarrassing than typing ON the loo) at least once a day. We do have more than one bathroom, so there is no excuse. Yet for some reason that is the perfect time to need to wash their face, brush their teeth, or far too often, just tell me something. It started before K could even move. Being a first child, if she was awake, she clearly could not be left alone, so I'd bring her into the bog with me in her piccolo chair. These days I have a box of toys in their for G as she will howl if I dare leave her on the wrong side of a shut door. Being able to open the toilet door is another of the modern milestones of child development. Your privacy is no loner sacred. My girls just don't get it - they will just walk in and keep talking to me. And yes, I could lock them out - but what if it was important?
This post was inspired today by K - she came into the bathroom to tell me that G had stacked her cups. "Okay, thank you for that bulletin, keep me abreast of any further developments and don't let the door hit your a**e on the way out" I say. "Huh?" she says. "Off you go" I say "and shut the door". "What shut it?" She says; "Like properly shut it? Closed and everything? Shut-shut?" Says it all doesn't it.
As a species, we, as humans, at some point made a strange evolutionary sideways shift to being beings that are embarrassed about our bodily functions. Other animals just go - you never see a cow hiding behind a bush for an adventure wee or a lion seeking away from the pride to make a number two. But we as humans, for some reason or other, have decreed that these bodily functions are foul and embarrassing. We have built little private rooms to disappear into to relieve ourselves where no-one else is around. And we only elude to their use as well - I'm going to the little girls room to powder my nose; I'm going to tinkle etc. The whole thing is more than a little hush hush. Therefore - pre-children - you are used to this time being sacred and private. You probably mention it only to your partner, but even then, it is one of the few times you are alone, really alone. Private.
But not after you have had kids. Then you are never alone. My children burst in on me when I'm in the loo (see what I did there, typing in the loo is somehow less embarrassing than typing ON the loo) at least once a day. We do have more than one bathroom, so there is no excuse. Yet for some reason that is the perfect time to need to wash their face, brush their teeth, or far too often, just tell me something. It started before K could even move. Being a first child, if she was awake, she clearly could not be left alone, so I'd bring her into the bog with me in her piccolo chair. These days I have a box of toys in their for G as she will howl if I dare leave her on the wrong side of a shut door. Being able to open the toilet door is another of the modern milestones of child development. Your privacy is no loner sacred. My girls just don't get it - they will just walk in and keep talking to me. And yes, I could lock them out - but what if it was important?
This post was inspired today by K - she came into the bathroom to tell me that G had stacked her cups. "Okay, thank you for that bulletin, keep me abreast of any further developments and don't let the door hit your a**e on the way out" I say. "Huh?" she says. "Off you go" I say "and shut the door". "What shut it?" She says; "Like properly shut it? Closed and everything? Shut-shut?" Says it all doesn't it.
Thursday, 22 September 2011
5 great mysteries of my life...
1. Why am I always so far behind with putting the washing away? I wash it, dry it and fold it no problem, but that last step seems to be impossible for me. So much so that in this case I had to fold it all again as it had been over stacked, and spontaneously unfolded itself. I am such a domestic failure. This would probably still be waiting to be put away if it wasn't on my desk...
2. Why am I ALWAYS late on the school run? There must be a hole in the space-time continuum between my front door and my car. I swear no matter what time I leave the house, when I get in the car it is 8.48, which means we are not going to arrive gracefully at school. The sight of me storming across the playground like a heifer on heat in the vicinity of a prize winning bull is quite common to those living in our village, dragging three harassed late children behind me. Well, more than quite common actually.
3. Why does my children's hair not stay in a hair band or hair clip? Other people's children remain immaculately turned out all day, looking like its just be cut and styled by a professional, whereas mine tend to look like scarecrows who last had their hair brushed last week and that I went around pulling bits of the pony tail out immediately after having tied it.
4. Why can I not longer park a car? In particular parallel park? I used to be able to do it, I must have been, I passed my driver's licence (on the first try no less). But I cannot do it anymore. I look like Austin Power's doing a three point turn - forwards, backwards, forwards backwards inching closer to the curb. The children have even said things to me like "just go round the corner Mum, there's always lots of space there" and "Daddy is good at driving, especially parking, you are good at... making cakes".
5. How is it people get their child, at the age of 4, to write Christmas cards and Thank You cards? Proper Thank you cards that say "Dear Anna - thank you so much for coming to my party and for the lovely gift of a set of Dora the Explorer felt tips. I shall treasure them for life. All my love, Marybell". It took every ounce of strength I had to get E to write her NAME in her cards last Christmas, while K wrote plenty in the first cards, less in the second and by the 10th card it was down to "Merry Christmas, love K". I suppose I should be pleased its wasn't X-mas. I stand there like a slave driver whinging and whining for them to get it done. They cry, I shout and not much gratitude winds up getting to the recipient, even less Christmas cheer is spread...
2. Why am I ALWAYS late on the school run? There must be a hole in the space-time continuum between my front door and my car. I swear no matter what time I leave the house, when I get in the car it is 8.48, which means we are not going to arrive gracefully at school. The sight of me storming across the playground like a heifer on heat in the vicinity of a prize winning bull is quite common to those living in our village, dragging three harassed late children behind me. Well, more than quite common actually.
3. Why does my children's hair not stay in a hair band or hair clip? Other people's children remain immaculately turned out all day, looking like its just be cut and styled by a professional, whereas mine tend to look like scarecrows who last had their hair brushed last week and that I went around pulling bits of the pony tail out immediately after having tied it.
4. Why can I not longer park a car? In particular parallel park? I used to be able to do it, I must have been, I passed my driver's licence (on the first try no less). But I cannot do it anymore. I look like Austin Power's doing a three point turn - forwards, backwards, forwards backwards inching closer to the curb. The children have even said things to me like "just go round the corner Mum, there's always lots of space there" and "Daddy is good at driving, especially parking, you are good at... making cakes".
5. How is it people get their child, at the age of 4, to write Christmas cards and Thank You cards? Proper Thank you cards that say "Dear Anna - thank you so much for coming to my party and for the lovely gift of a set of Dora the Explorer felt tips. I shall treasure them for life. All my love, Marybell". It took every ounce of strength I had to get E to write her NAME in her cards last Christmas, while K wrote plenty in the first cards, less in the second and by the 10th card it was down to "Merry Christmas, love K". I suppose I should be pleased its wasn't X-mas. I stand there like a slave driver whinging and whining for them to get it done. They cry, I shout and not much gratitude winds up getting to the recipient, even less Christmas cheer is spread...
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Return of the maroon goon (Semi-wordless Wednesday)
He's been gone from my life for nearly 3 years but yesterday it happened - THAT purple dinosaur and his annoying children friends re-entered my life. I am not a SAHM, I am a WFHM, and keeping G busy is sometimes challenging. I popped the maroon goon on yesterday on the off chance I might get some work done, and hey presto - Silence...
Better the devil you know I guess, and boy do I know Barney. In fact it turns out that not only do I know Barney, I still know all the words to "colours make me happy, every where I go..." and "squishy-squishy squashy, give those hands a washy", the names of the pretentious kids (I've always had a love/hate relationship with Hannah, who is presumably now a 25 year old woman) and the actions to both the clapping song and the Baby bop hop. Still, a whole generation of North American and South African kids (and countless other countries I'm sure) have been introduced to socials norms through a stern deliverance of "Barney say's Caring is Sharing" by their mother; and you can never actually go wrong with the Clean Up Song. Well, that's what I'm telling myself anyway, seeing as he's back for another year or two, best I believe he has some redeeming qualities, and I don't mean BJ and Baby bop
And, erm, no that is not face book on my lap top. Its work, really.
Better the devil you know I guess, and boy do I know Barney. In fact it turns out that not only do I know Barney, I still know all the words to "colours make me happy, every where I go..." and "squishy-squishy squashy, give those hands a washy", the names of the pretentious kids (I've always had a love/hate relationship with Hannah, who is presumably now a 25 year old woman) and the actions to both the clapping song and the Baby bop hop. Still, a whole generation of North American and South African kids (and countless other countries I'm sure) have been introduced to socials norms through a stern deliverance of "Barney say's Caring is Sharing" by their mother; and you can never actually go wrong with the Clean Up Song. Well, that's what I'm telling myself anyway, seeing as he's back for another year or two, best I believe he has some redeeming qualities, and I don't mean BJ and Baby bop
And, erm, no that is not face book on my lap top. Its work, really.
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Rock on Miss K
A funny thing happened yesterday: K discovered my blog. She was as perplexed by it as my Granddad was on Sunday. Just when I thought I'd made its role in my life perfectly clear she said "When I grow up I'm going to write a blog too". Me: "Excellent" K: "Yes - then I can embarrass my children on the internet too". Sigh, another failure then. I placated her by showing her that two of her best friends' mothers also have blogs. After digging through mine a little more, she then announced "there is lots on here about E and G, but nothing about me". "This one is about you" I say. "No", she replies "its about you and my pencil case". Well technically they are all about me, its my blog, and I have been known to talk about myself a little. However, heaven forbid she be correct, so here is a blog dedicated entirely to my big girl...
As implied yesterday Miss K listens to rock music. I know this is a product of the home she has grown up in, but still, I think she is more passionate about listening music than the average child. I love my alternative music. The radio, tuned to Absolute radio a commercial rock channel, is on almost all the time. I also tend to put the telly on MTV rocks in the background if I am ironing or cooking or the like, and K sits like a sponge absorbing it all. She can identify over 20 bands - ranging from 80s rock through to current artists - often even if she has not heard that specific song before. We play "Who is this?" all the time. She loves to try and identify the artist before the chorus comes on, and has useful rules like "singing down his nose - Green Day", "piano - Cold Play", "piano and loud guitar - Muse" "Singing then shouting then singing again - Linkin Park" etc. Middle E wants to play as well, but at the moment just tends to yell "Green Days; Kings of Leons" and "Noah in the Whale" in that order, then when the correct answer is given will say "I know who this is, its Francis Ferdinands". K is very scathing of popular music, going so far as saying to me recently "Why would anyone like Justin Bieber when they could like Brandon Flowers?" I honestly don't know my baby... She had to identify her favourite song and band for her music homework. Simple task? Wrong. It took her over 20 minutes - she made a short list of 12 artists which she eventually trimmed down to 4 (The Killers; Muse; Queen and the Red Hot Chili Peppers) and then proceeded to list her favourite song for the radio (Human by the Killers), favourite music video (Mr Brightside by the Killers) and favourite live performance (I Predict a Riot by the Kaiser Chiefs). We were late for school, tres suprise'
But its more than just me liking rock, therefore K likes rock. There is also the rock knowledge/trivia/useless information aspect. My friends will know that, even back as far as high school, I've prided myself on knowing as much as possible about just about everything to do with music. I also have a very useful talent (not) that if I hear a song more than twice I'll know most of its lyrics. K does both of these as well. She has recently announced that she "only likes Oasis when Noel is singing", "the Beatles were the best act of the 60s mummy" and that the Chili Peppers have a great back catalogue of funny videos. She knows all the words to quite a few songs, even some she shouldn't, and sings along at the top of her lungs in the car each morning! Yesterday there was a countdown of the 10 best songs by Kasabian. She was glued to the television, and correctly predicted the top 3. She makes me very proud!
We took her to her first rock concert during the Summer - we went to Hard Rock Calling to see James, The Kaiser Chiefs and The Killers. It bucketed with rain the entire time, but she loved it! It was the best day of her life, apparently. She is already making a list of bands she wants to see next Summer, and has requested we stand closer to the front next time!
Rock on big Girl!
(This photo was taken by my friends - if you like it please go look at her work http://www.facebook.com/pages/M-J-Photography/167694366629362 or check out her very popular craft blog http://www.scrapbit.com/)
As implied yesterday Miss K listens to rock music. I know this is a product of the home she has grown up in, but still, I think she is more passionate about listening music than the average child. I love my alternative music. The radio, tuned to Absolute radio a commercial rock channel, is on almost all the time. I also tend to put the telly on MTV rocks in the background if I am ironing or cooking or the like, and K sits like a sponge absorbing it all. She can identify over 20 bands - ranging from 80s rock through to current artists - often even if she has not heard that specific song before. We play "Who is this?" all the time. She loves to try and identify the artist before the chorus comes on, and has useful rules like "singing down his nose - Green Day", "piano - Cold Play", "piano and loud guitar - Muse" "Singing then shouting then singing again - Linkin Park" etc. Middle E wants to play as well, but at the moment just tends to yell "Green Days; Kings of Leons" and "Noah in the Whale" in that order, then when the correct answer is given will say "I know who this is, its Francis Ferdinands". K is very scathing of popular music, going so far as saying to me recently "Why would anyone like Justin Bieber when they could like Brandon Flowers?" I honestly don't know my baby... She had to identify her favourite song and band for her music homework. Simple task? Wrong. It took her over 20 minutes - she made a short list of 12 artists which she eventually trimmed down to 4 (The Killers; Muse; Queen and the Red Hot Chili Peppers) and then proceeded to list her favourite song for the radio (Human by the Killers), favourite music video (Mr Brightside by the Killers) and favourite live performance (I Predict a Riot by the Kaiser Chiefs). We were late for school, tres suprise'
But its more than just me liking rock, therefore K likes rock. There is also the rock knowledge/trivia/useless information aspect. My friends will know that, even back as far as high school, I've prided myself on knowing as much as possible about just about everything to do with music. I also have a very useful talent (not) that if I hear a song more than twice I'll know most of its lyrics. K does both of these as well. She has recently announced that she "only likes Oasis when Noel is singing", "the Beatles were the best act of the 60s mummy" and that the Chili Peppers have a great back catalogue of funny videos. She knows all the words to quite a few songs, even some she shouldn't, and sings along at the top of her lungs in the car each morning! Yesterday there was a countdown of the 10 best songs by Kasabian. She was glued to the television, and correctly predicted the top 3. She makes me very proud!
We took her to her first rock concert during the Summer - we went to Hard Rock Calling to see James, The Kaiser Chiefs and The Killers. It bucketed with rain the entire time, but she loved it! It was the best day of her life, apparently. She is already making a list of bands she wants to see next Summer, and has requested we stand closer to the front next time!
Rock on big Girl!
(This photo was taken by my friends - if you like it please go look at her work http://www.facebook.com/pages/M-J-Photography/167694366629362 or check out her very popular craft blog http://www.scrapbit.com/)
Monday, 19 September 2011
Dressed for success...
I sometimes have to remind myself that my children are individuals living their own lives, not tiny extensions of me. This can manifest itself in many ways. Does Eldest K really like alternative music, or just like it because it pleases me that she does? Are the girls really as passionate about dancing as I think they are, or am I living vicariously through my children? I try not to. I'm sure every parent tries not to. But one of the areas I really struggle to stay out of is their clothes and dress sense
I confess - I still completely control what clothes they get. I shop without them and chose for them as often as possible, and if I do need to take them with me when I make a purchase for them, I have absolute veto power. This is not a democracy, its a cheerocracy and I am the head cheerleader. They are not allowed to even walk into certain high street shops. The little two obviously don’t have a problem with this. I wave clothes in their general direction of E and she almost always says yes. G clearly has no say, and to be quite frank she is the best dressed kid around as she is wearing about 5 different family’s designer hand-me-downs. But Eldest K is almost 8, and is starting to rebel in this regard. She is, how dare she, starting to attempt to have her own style, and is *sob* beginning to head off into the god-awful pre-teen section where clothes for mini-teenagers live. Fortunately, being an old soul at heart, she tends to emerge out with the least fashionable item in the room. Here she is in her most treasured possession - her "Jane Bank's" coat – right out of 1908.
But here's where it really goes wrong. I let them dress themselves. This isn't a problem with K, but Middle E - oh my word. Clueless - just clueless. She clearly inherited this from her father who had no idea that you couldn't wear stripes and checks when I met him (for real) and considers all colours a variation of khaki. E puts together the most horrendous combinations - they terrify me. She has a pair of red leggings with white stars on them. I think she chose them herself – I can’t imagine I had anything to do with their purchase. But these crimes of fashion are not the end of the story – she likes to wear them with fuschia or orange. It’s terrible. She layers clothes too, so she’ll wear leggings with a skirt over them, with a long sleeved t-shirt and then a short-sleeved T-shirt on top of it. And these will be yellow, light blue, stripey and purple, or the like. She’ll probably throw in a pair of red socks, a lilac head band and her bright pink crocs. And be sooooo proud of herself.
(I apologise for the poor quality of the photo - but this outfit takes some beating)
Now around the house that is fine (well it’s not really, but I tolerate it), but I have major problems going out with her dressed like that. People will see... Its not a problem having the child dressed like a relic of the 1950s, this is vaguely trendy. I'm also not ashamed of the one in cast offs - she always gets complimented ("Where did you get that gorgeous outfit for G?" "Laura" "What - Laura Ashley?" "No - Laura standing next to you"). But I do get a bit funny about E in the layers from hell. What will the good mothers say? Their kids will be perfectly colour co-ordinated in pastels and their corresponding darker colour. They will look like they just walked out of a Pumpkin Patch catalogue. My child looks like she just walked out of an episode of Britian’s worst dressed children sponsored by Primark. But them I look closer and notice most of them don't really look that good after all. The boys are all in Ben 10 outfits, K's friends are in Justin Bieber or Hello Kitty tops and E's contemporaries are all filthy - whether they dressed themselves or their mother's dressed them. Nothing says 4 and a half like egg on your dress and tomato soup in your hair...
And then I look at what I'm wearing, which is pretty awful most of the time. Even if they aren't embarrassed by me yet, I'm sure they will be in the future (Which is your mum? The one in the Pearl Jam t-shirt and woolen poncho? Nice one), so I guess I should let E get her shots in while she can...
Sunday, 18 September 2011
Blogging with my Granddad... (Semi-silent Sunday)
I went to visit my Granddad today. He is 87 and a D-Day survivor. He is finally surrendering his independence and moving into a care home. I went there to help him get ready to move. I offered to sell some of his things on e-bay. He gave me the "in my day we never had such things and we did just fine" look. Occasionally I ponder how much the world has changed since during his life time. He was born in 1924 - George V was on the throne and toilets were very much found outside of the house. He firmly believes seat belts are more dangerous to passengers than car accidents, phones should have cords, phone numbers live in a book, music belongs on records and video games are the root of all evil. He refuses to get a "computerry-bob" and still has an electric typewriter (which he can no longer use). He insists that snail mail is better than e-mail, and goes into the foetal position if you go anywhere near him with a touch screen. So imagine how well it went when I tried to explain about my blog to him today. "So its an online diary". No Granddad because other people read it. "So its like your face book thingy". No granddad, because strangers read it. "Strangers? Why?" - well I can't help you with that one... "How many?" Well its been read over 2000 times in the last month. "Sounded like a newspaper column...". I gave up at this point, hell it sounded quite good to be honest. But given Granddad's ability to embellish a story I'll probably be writing for the Telegraph by next weekend...
I didn't take any pics today - but I did take this one of Great-Granddad with baby G a few months ago - on my phone. Granddad: "I don't know why you'd want to take a picture on your phone, I really don't. What's wrong with a camera with film I ask you?" Sure Granddad - cos I miss the days of having to send the film away for 3 days to develop, and then getting back a whole pile of over-exposed unwound on pictures of peoples feet... Wonder what little gadgets my grandchildren will be waving under my nose when I'm 87, so that I can lament about "the simple pleasures of Dong Kong" and "What's wrong with playing Angry birds on an i-pad?". There'd better be flying cars...
I didn't take any pics today - but I did take this one of Great-Granddad with baby G a few months ago - on my phone. Granddad: "I don't know why you'd want to take a picture on your phone, I really don't. What's wrong with a camera with film I ask you?" Sure Granddad - cos I miss the days of having to send the film away for 3 days to develop, and then getting back a whole pile of over-exposed unwound on pictures of peoples feet... Wonder what little gadgets my grandchildren will be waving under my nose when I'm 87, so that I can lament about "the simple pleasures of Dong Kong" and "What's wrong with playing Angry birds on an i-pad?". There'd better be flying cars...
Saturday, 17 September 2011
Bed - perchance to sleep...
I want you to close you eyes and think, really think, about when you last slept a full undisturbed night and woke up feeling well rested? When did you last have enough, good quality sleep? Last night? Last week? Last month? For me I think it was April the 7th 2003... Before we had kids we'd sleep for 8 or 9 hours on a "school" night. On the weekend we'd sleep up to 12 hours - not waking up till 10 or 11 am. And then we probably had a hangover and went back to sleep... The thing is, pre-kids, you just go to sleep and sleep (perhaps after a little activity, reading, you know). And you would remain asleep, undisturbed, until it was time to get up. Worse case scenario the cat steals the duvet or the neighbour's dog barks. Just lie down, close your eyes and sleep, perchance to dream...
Sleep started to go wrong when I was pregnant with K - only 5 or 6 weeks. I'd go to bed only to need to get up about 15 minutes later, just as I was starting to drift off, to go to the loo (again). This meant that the whole falling asleep cycle had to be restarted. Bingo - already 15 minutes less sleep a night, just like that. This continued my entire pregnancy. In fact, with my later pregnancies, I knew I was pregnant long before I wee-ed on a stick, as my sleep went to pot. As you get further into your pregnancy, the sleep just get worse. Leg cramps, back ache, bizarre dreams, a bladder the size of a small rodent and, of course, the fact that someone placed a bowling ball where my waist used to be and your breasts are the size of water melons...
Then the child is born and the tortuous sleep deprivation with a neonate starts, The loneliness of the breast feeding mother at 2 am, weeping with complete exhaustion. Hearing the child muttering and praying "please don't wake up, please don't wake up", and then lying there waiting for them to wake up. The condescending comments of "sleep while they sleep" - yeah right, and the other kids? The less said of sleeping at this stage the better - its a necessary evil, it passes. But once they "sleep through" - then what happens to your sleep?
My kids are "good sleepers" - so I'm told. They all theoretically sleep through - meaning they go to bed and sleep until the next morning without getting up and howling for long periods of time, expecting milk or to be read to at 3 in the morning. But K has night terrors occasionally. E talks and walks in her sleep,as well as having a small bladder and occasionally wanders around on the landing on her way to "make a wee". G still has her dummy and "blanket bear" and as she surfaces from her sleep cycle in the night needs these items to found and returned to their rightful place (dummy in mouth, blanket bear draped across face). No one manages to keep with bedding on for more than an hour and wake up confused and yelling due to being cold. Needless to say everyone has the occasional bad dream and needs attention. I get up to visit the kids on average 3 or 4 times a night. I do now get back to sleep pretty quickly, most of the time, but still - up, down, up, down...
And then there is the morning. Its Saturday - what time did you get up? As you all have kids or a pregnant (why else would you read a mummy blog) I bet that, no matter what time you got up, it was earlier than you wanted to. I got up at 6.22 am with G. And as soon as I got up, K appeared, full of beans. I don't let them get up before around 6.30. But the thing is I can't sleep through the sound of them floundering around in their beds "trying to get back to sleep" - I may as well get up, check my Face Book or write a blog whinging about lack of sleep.
We won't even mention the charade of working late into the night or getting up early to exercise. I'm tired, I'm always tired. I have forgotten what I look like without giant black rings under my eyes...
I remember, when K was about 6 months old, I suddenly developed a new fantasy holiday. Going away to a 5 star Hotel with my husband for a Anniversary weekend or just some time alone. Not necessarily in a game park, or a beach or near a good night out dancing or anything. Just a nice hotel, with a great big bed with too many pillows and crisp white linen with a high thread count (whatever that actually means). Because what I wanted, more than anything, much to DH's disappointment I'm sure, was to go somewhere quiet and comfy, and sleep, undisturbed, for 14 or 16 hours. It didn't happen of course - but I still dream about it sometimes. Our 10 year wedding anniversary is coming up. Maybe then? More likely a family trip to Eurodisney in a budget hotel with the whole family in one room...
Disclaimer - this is not my bed! This is lifted off the Home Decorating Co web site - but I'd like my bed to look like this. Can't you see it fitting in to my lifestyle - 3 kids, 2 cats and a messy husband - practical.
Sleep started to go wrong when I was pregnant with K - only 5 or 6 weeks. I'd go to bed only to need to get up about 15 minutes later, just as I was starting to drift off, to go to the loo (again). This meant that the whole falling asleep cycle had to be restarted. Bingo - already 15 minutes less sleep a night, just like that. This continued my entire pregnancy. In fact, with my later pregnancies, I knew I was pregnant long before I wee-ed on a stick, as my sleep went to pot. As you get further into your pregnancy, the sleep just get worse. Leg cramps, back ache, bizarre dreams, a bladder the size of a small rodent and, of course, the fact that someone placed a bowling ball where my waist used to be and your breasts are the size of water melons...
Then the child is born and the tortuous sleep deprivation with a neonate starts, The loneliness of the breast feeding mother at 2 am, weeping with complete exhaustion. Hearing the child muttering and praying "please don't wake up, please don't wake up", and then lying there waiting for them to wake up. The condescending comments of "sleep while they sleep" - yeah right, and the other kids? The less said of sleeping at this stage the better - its a necessary evil, it passes. But once they "sleep through" - then what happens to your sleep?
My kids are "good sleepers" - so I'm told. They all theoretically sleep through - meaning they go to bed and sleep until the next morning without getting up and howling for long periods of time, expecting milk or to be read to at 3 in the morning. But K has night terrors occasionally. E talks and walks in her sleep,as well as having a small bladder and occasionally wanders around on the landing on her way to "make a wee". G still has her dummy and "blanket bear" and as she surfaces from her sleep cycle in the night needs these items to found and returned to their rightful place (dummy in mouth, blanket bear draped across face). No one manages to keep with bedding on for more than an hour and wake up confused and yelling due to being cold. Needless to say everyone has the occasional bad dream and needs attention. I get up to visit the kids on average 3 or 4 times a night. I do now get back to sleep pretty quickly, most of the time, but still - up, down, up, down...
And then there is the morning. Its Saturday - what time did you get up? As you all have kids or a pregnant (why else would you read a mummy blog) I bet that, no matter what time you got up, it was earlier than you wanted to. I got up at 6.22 am with G. And as soon as I got up, K appeared, full of beans. I don't let them get up before around 6.30. But the thing is I can't sleep through the sound of them floundering around in their beds "trying to get back to sleep" - I may as well get up, check my Face Book or write a blog whinging about lack of sleep.
We won't even mention the charade of working late into the night or getting up early to exercise. I'm tired, I'm always tired. I have forgotten what I look like without giant black rings under my eyes...
I remember, when K was about 6 months old, I suddenly developed a new fantasy holiday. Going away to a 5 star Hotel with my husband for a Anniversary weekend or just some time alone. Not necessarily in a game park, or a beach or near a good night out dancing or anything. Just a nice hotel, with a great big bed with too many pillows and crisp white linen with a high thread count (whatever that actually means). Because what I wanted, more than anything, much to DH's disappointment I'm sure, was to go somewhere quiet and comfy, and sleep, undisturbed, for 14 or 16 hours. It didn't happen of course - but I still dream about it sometimes. Our 10 year wedding anniversary is coming up. Maybe then? More likely a family trip to Eurodisney in a budget hotel with the whole family in one room...
Disclaimer - this is not my bed! This is lifted off the Home Decorating Co web site - but I'd like my bed to look like this. Can't you see it fitting in to my lifestyle - 3 kids, 2 cats and a messy husband - practical.
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