I am a great fan of cute little shoes, but I equally hate to see shoes on babies feet. If they are not walking ( and if they are walking but inside), then I firmly think their little toes should be free and open to the elements.
Its been so cold that when we have been out Elliot has been wearing slippers just to stop his toes from dropping off due to frost bite. However now that he has taken his first steps it was time to head into Clarks for those first shoes.
The lovely young lady measured him, and thank the lord we got a sale pair at only £14, so that made a nice change. He has tiddly feet at size 3, I am sure none of the others were walking with such tiny totsies.
The shoes look cute cute cute, but I am sure they will be:
chewed by the dogs, or at least slightly licked by them at some point.
lost while out walking, causing me to have a fit ( but hopefully they will be found again)
mysteriously disappear at the last minute when I am in a rush to leave the house
used to kick his brother and sisters
covered in mud and water after he rolls in a puddle somewhere.
filled with sand while sitting on a beach
destroyed after I attempt to wash them either in the sink or in the washing machine
You never know the poor shoes may survive, but I doubt it.
Monday, 31 December 2012
Saturday, 29 December 2012
What is home?
Ali and I were talking about our town, and it appears that he feels no ties to here at all, and would happily move if it wasn't for the disruption it would cause the kids.
I on the other hand love this place, and very much feel that this town is my home. We have been here for just over 10 years now. Originally we moved here as it was close to my work, and convenient for both sets of our parents.
However over the last 10 years we have had 4 kids here, and I have made some truly great friends. In general I know that if I have a problem I can pick up the phone and call a friend, and there will most likely be someone who will step up to the mark.
In years gone by it would have traditionally been the extended families and in particular Granny's job to help out, but I like a little space, so its really important to have friends instead.
I know the town well, have worked, run toddler groups and given birth here 4 times. We have dragged up 4 kids, all the way through baby groups, preschool settings, infant, and junior school, and are now looking at Senior school for Aidan.
I like going out and knowing that I will most likely at some stage say hello to someone ( although this has its disadvantages when I go out looking like a dirty smelly old troll). I like knowing where facilities are, and the best places to go for things. In particular I like knowing where to walk the dogs depending on the amount of time I have available.
Living by the seaside holds great appeal, but I would really struggle to leave my home, and especially my friends behind.
I on the other hand love this place, and very much feel that this town is my home. We have been here for just over 10 years now. Originally we moved here as it was close to my work, and convenient for both sets of our parents.
However over the last 10 years we have had 4 kids here, and I have made some truly great friends. In general I know that if I have a problem I can pick up the phone and call a friend, and there will most likely be someone who will step up to the mark.
In years gone by it would have traditionally been the extended families and in particular Granny's job to help out, but I like a little space, so its really important to have friends instead.
I know the town well, have worked, run toddler groups and given birth here 4 times. We have dragged up 4 kids, all the way through baby groups, preschool settings, infant, and junior school, and are now looking at Senior school for Aidan.
I like going out and knowing that I will most likely at some stage say hello to someone ( although this has its disadvantages when I go out looking like a dirty smelly old troll). I like knowing where facilities are, and the best places to go for things. In particular I like knowing where to walk the dogs depending on the amount of time I have available.
Living by the seaside holds great appeal, but I would really struggle to leave my home, and especially my friends behind.
First steps, its all moving to fast
About a week ago Elliot stood unsupported for the first time, then today he decided that he would take his first two little steps.
He clearly thought that he was a genius managing this feat of mobility, I am sure he will soon be walking everywhere, god help me.
Elliot is my last baby, and I thought that his first birthday would be really hard, knowing that I would never have a baby again. However a month later I find myself facing a toddler, and wondering where the hell the last year and a bit went.
He is so amazing and I want to slow things down a little, don't get me wrong it was great to see his cheeky smile, and to watch him take this step towards more independence. It will also be a blessing for my poor sore arm muscles, carting his big butt around has certainly become a strain on my poor arms of late.
However I know that all those other milestones and movements away from me are just waiting around the corner. My oldest is now 9, with the girls rapidly approaching their 5th and 6th birthdays over the next few weeks. I keep asking them to stop having birthdays, to stop growing, and to stay at the lovely age of about 6 or 7. The little ratbags ignore me and just keep moving forward, poor old mummy me.
I know that in the old days they once bound girls feet to keep them small and delicate looking, obviously this was hugely cruel. However I wonder if it would it be cruel to bind the children to stop them growing so fast.
He clearly thought that he was a genius managing this feat of mobility, I am sure he will soon be walking everywhere, god help me.
Elliot is my last baby, and I thought that his first birthday would be really hard, knowing that I would never have a baby again. However a month later I find myself facing a toddler, and wondering where the hell the last year and a bit went.
He is so amazing and I want to slow things down a little, don't get me wrong it was great to see his cheeky smile, and to watch him take this step towards more independence. It will also be a blessing for my poor sore arm muscles, carting his big butt around has certainly become a strain on my poor arms of late.
However I know that all those other milestones and movements away from me are just waiting around the corner. My oldest is now 9, with the girls rapidly approaching their 5th and 6th birthdays over the next few weeks. I keep asking them to stop having birthdays, to stop growing, and to stay at the lovely age of about 6 or 7. The little ratbags ignore me and just keep moving forward, poor old mummy me.
I know that in the old days they once bound girls feet to keep them small and delicate looking, obviously this was hugely cruel. However I wonder if it would it be cruel to bind the children to stop them growing so fast.
Friday, 28 December 2012
Poo part two
We have so far successfully done the potty training thing three time, and luckily now have at least a year to go before we have to even think about tackling this issue with baby Elliot.
Let me share a couple of stories with you:
Our oldest was very keen to train and was heading towards being completely free of the daytime nappy at about 22 months. I was more than happy for him to get on with it, so out came the pants and the potty. One fine day we headed into Homebase to buy some household essential. It was clearly important as I could not even guess as what we actually went in there to buy.
Anyway we were rushing in and out so had only the clothes on our backs and the shoes on our feet with us. Half way around Aidan announced that he needed a poo, so we made that insane parent beeline for the nearest loo. You know the kind where you would mow down old ladies and other small children just to get to your goal.
Just a short way from the loo fate decided to have a laugh. Not only did he poop, but it promptly escaped from his pants and shorts and dropped with a big splat into a giant dog poo stylie straight onto the floor.
You may not believe this but hid daddy actually legged it and left me and Aidan in the following position. Aidan poo smeared and a little confused about what was going on, me slightly shocked and very unsure about what the heck to do next, and between us a giant steaming pile of little boy poop.
I am sure that not many of you have ever had to stand guard over a poo in a large store, but as people don't expect to be dodging poo you actually have to stand over it to avoid anyone stepping in it.
I stood there for a long time in the vain hope that daddy would reappear with help, but sadly this was not to be. Then I got fed up, and had to make a dash for it. Poor little Aidan was ordered to stand guard over the poo while I made a mad dash to the loo to grab some toilet roll.
I did my best to clean up with the loo roll, so apologies to the poor cleaner that must have later that day had to deal with the remainder. Then I took Aidan rugby ball style to the loo to deal with him. Daddy was not in my good books for a very long time after this one.
Most of you that have been to the Eden project will have memories of pretty flowers and a gorgeous location, not us. At the time of our visit Aidan had pretty much won on the potty training thing, but we had a fold down potty always to hand in case he got caught short, these are the greatest invention ever and I highly recommend them to any parent.
In one of the domes Aidan announced that he was desperate for a wee, so having no nearby options he quickly did his business in a corner and that job was efficiently dispatched.
Turning around we found that toddler Aidan had decided that the potty would make a great necklace. This seemed a strange choice of attire, but we were not to upset by his creative. Until we realised that he must have forced the plastic seat over his head with some effort, and the only way to remove it would be to pull his ears off at the same time.
Panic stations and daddy decided to take him off to the loo to attempt to remove his head from the potty seat. I still don't know how he did it, but 15 minutes later back they came with a portable potty in one hand and a happy Aidan in the other. http://www.preciouslittleone.com/product-information/67/4302/potette-plus---greenblue/?gclid=CLTX_N2lvrQCFaTMtAodcmAAdw . This is a great product for pooping and weeing in, but not such a great one to use as a fashion assessor.
This time we were in Pets at Home looking at the fish. Aidan was in the very early stages of training, and I think the water must have triggered the need to wee. The next thing I know he has produced a nice puddle at his feet ( clearly not house trained, maybe I should have seen in they had a housetraining book in stock). Being a very bad parent I noticed that there was water already on the floor alongside wet floor signs and a general look of wetness in the fish tank area. So following my not so nice side I quickly ushered him out of the shop an left the puddle for some poor unsuspecting employee to deal with. Bad bad bad me.
Final one for tonight. Cat was probably about 3 and I had picked her up from preschool, we then headed to the school so we could wait to get her brother. She was a big fan at the time of attempting to wee in public places. I think she thinks that as her name is Cat she needs to live up to the title and behave like an actual Cat. So any opportunity she could get she would drop her pants and wee merrily on the grass, pavement, car wheel or the gutter.
She decided that she was going to wet herself if she couldn't wee, so I opted for the easy life opened the car doors and hung her over the gutter. Lets just say that she did not wee.
Nope instead she produced the biggest poo you can imagine, plop straight down into the gutter. I was a little shocked to have an unexpected visitor sitting staring at me from the gutter. However there was no way I could leave it right outside the school. The only option was to bag it up in a dog poo bag ( or two), and to then chuck the bag into the car boot until after pick up.
This was not a cold winters day, it was a swelteringly hot high Summers day, so I will let you imagine the smell that greeted us when we finally got back to the car with her brother, gross.
Let me share a couple of stories with you:
Our oldest was very keen to train and was heading towards being completely free of the daytime nappy at about 22 months. I was more than happy for him to get on with it, so out came the pants and the potty. One fine day we headed into Homebase to buy some household essential. It was clearly important as I could not even guess as what we actually went in there to buy.
Anyway we were rushing in and out so had only the clothes on our backs and the shoes on our feet with us. Half way around Aidan announced that he needed a poo, so we made that insane parent beeline for the nearest loo. You know the kind where you would mow down old ladies and other small children just to get to your goal.
Just a short way from the loo fate decided to have a laugh. Not only did he poop, but it promptly escaped from his pants and shorts and dropped with a big splat into a giant dog poo stylie straight onto the floor.
You may not believe this but hid daddy actually legged it and left me and Aidan in the following position. Aidan poo smeared and a little confused about what was going on, me slightly shocked and very unsure about what the heck to do next, and between us a giant steaming pile of little boy poop.
I am sure that not many of you have ever had to stand guard over a poo in a large store, but as people don't expect to be dodging poo you actually have to stand over it to avoid anyone stepping in it.
I stood there for a long time in the vain hope that daddy would reappear with help, but sadly this was not to be. Then I got fed up, and had to make a dash for it. Poor little Aidan was ordered to stand guard over the poo while I made a mad dash to the loo to grab some toilet roll.
I did my best to clean up with the loo roll, so apologies to the poor cleaner that must have later that day had to deal with the remainder. Then I took Aidan rugby ball style to the loo to deal with him. Daddy was not in my good books for a very long time after this one.
Most of you that have been to the Eden project will have memories of pretty flowers and a gorgeous location, not us. At the time of our visit Aidan had pretty much won on the potty training thing, but we had a fold down potty always to hand in case he got caught short, these are the greatest invention ever and I highly recommend them to any parent.
In one of the domes Aidan announced that he was desperate for a wee, so having no nearby options he quickly did his business in a corner and that job was efficiently dispatched.
Turning around we found that toddler Aidan had decided that the potty would make a great necklace. This seemed a strange choice of attire, but we were not to upset by his creative. Until we realised that he must have forced the plastic seat over his head with some effort, and the only way to remove it would be to pull his ears off at the same time.
Panic stations and daddy decided to take him off to the loo to attempt to remove his head from the potty seat. I still don't know how he did it, but 15 minutes later back they came with a portable potty in one hand and a happy Aidan in the other. http://www.preciouslittleone.com/product-information/67/4302/potette-plus---greenblue/?gclid=CLTX_N2lvrQCFaTMtAodcmAAdw . This is a great product for pooping and weeing in, but not such a great one to use as a fashion assessor.
This time we were in Pets at Home looking at the fish. Aidan was in the very early stages of training, and I think the water must have triggered the need to wee. The next thing I know he has produced a nice puddle at his feet ( clearly not house trained, maybe I should have seen in they had a housetraining book in stock). Being a very bad parent I noticed that there was water already on the floor alongside wet floor signs and a general look of wetness in the fish tank area. So following my not so nice side I quickly ushered him out of the shop an left the puddle for some poor unsuspecting employee to deal with. Bad bad bad me.
Final one for tonight. Cat was probably about 3 and I had picked her up from preschool, we then headed to the school so we could wait to get her brother. She was a big fan at the time of attempting to wee in public places. I think she thinks that as her name is Cat she needs to live up to the title and behave like an actual Cat. So any opportunity she could get she would drop her pants and wee merrily on the grass, pavement, car wheel or the gutter.
She decided that she was going to wet herself if she couldn't wee, so I opted for the easy life opened the car doors and hung her over the gutter. Lets just say that she did not wee.
Nope instead she produced the biggest poo you can imagine, plop straight down into the gutter. I was a little shocked to have an unexpected visitor sitting staring at me from the gutter. However there was no way I could leave it right outside the school. The only option was to bag it up in a dog poo bag ( or two), and to then chuck the bag into the car boot until after pick up.
This was not a cold winters day, it was a swelteringly hot high Summers day, so I will let you imagine the smell that greeted us when we finally got back to the car with her brother, gross.
Wednesday, 26 December 2012
Poo obsession ( do not look at the links while eating, you have been warned)
Being a Nurse and a little poo obsessed anyway I find it hard to work out when this stepped up, and moved into the full flung mum poo obsessio .
What is it that makes us mums suddenly become so fascinated with poo from the second our baby emerges into the world, and even before that (for those of us that were unfortunate enough to suffer with constipation in pregnancy).
Its horrible suffering with anaemia and feeling exhausted all the time, but the bunging up side effects of a high dose of iron can suck just as much. Being a big bloated elephant woman with a big baby taking up all the space inside becomes a joke when poo joins the battle over the very limited space in ones tummy.
Then we have the other extreme of the runs, which I had the pleasure of in two of my pregnancies. You can't help but worry when you are pregnant and pooping for England.
When baby arrives most of us get a warning in advance from a friendly Midwife or one of the multitude of pregnancy books, that those first few poops will look a little odd ( gross is a more appropriate word). Meconium is the name of that foul sticky and black introduction that we all get to motherhood. What an amazingly lovely welcome to the world of being a mum, as if pregnancy and birth are not bad enough, the fates have decided that adding disgusting blurgh to our lives for a few days is a great idea.
I don't know why they use a posh word like Meconium when they could cut to the point and call it tar, Its exactly the same texture and amount of stickiness, with the only difference being that the stuff that comes out of a babies butt has a stench like nothing else. Maybe they could scoop all the new born poop up and be environmentally friendly by then recycling it to tar the roads and to fill in the potholes of the world.
Learning the skill of nappy changing and not covering oneself in wee or poo while doing it is hard enough. So why add to this challenging task poo that takes an industrial power cleaner to remove. Plastering that stuff over a delicate and fragile new bum is just one step too far against us poor old mums.
Once things begin to settle you would think we would be able to stop the focus on poo, but sadly this is just the start............
http://www.babycenter.com/baby-poop-photos
http://similac.com/feeding-nutrition/diaper-decoder
What is it that makes us mums suddenly become so fascinated with poo from the second our baby emerges into the world, and even before that (for those of us that were unfortunate enough to suffer with constipation in pregnancy).
Its horrible suffering with anaemia and feeling exhausted all the time, but the bunging up side effects of a high dose of iron can suck just as much. Being a big bloated elephant woman with a big baby taking up all the space inside becomes a joke when poo joins the battle over the very limited space in ones tummy.
Then we have the other extreme of the runs, which I had the pleasure of in two of my pregnancies. You can't help but worry when you are pregnant and pooping for England.
When baby arrives most of us get a warning in advance from a friendly Midwife or one of the multitude of pregnancy books, that those first few poops will look a little odd ( gross is a more appropriate word). Meconium is the name of that foul sticky and black introduction that we all get to motherhood. What an amazingly lovely welcome to the world of being a mum, as if pregnancy and birth are not bad enough, the fates have decided that adding disgusting blurgh to our lives for a few days is a great idea.
I don't know why they use a posh word like Meconium when they could cut to the point and call it tar, Its exactly the same texture and amount of stickiness, with the only difference being that the stuff that comes out of a babies butt has a stench like nothing else. Maybe they could scoop all the new born poop up and be environmentally friendly by then recycling it to tar the roads and to fill in the potholes of the world.
Learning the skill of nappy changing and not covering oneself in wee or poo while doing it is hard enough. So why add to this challenging task poo that takes an industrial power cleaner to remove. Plastering that stuff over a delicate and fragile new bum is just one step too far against us poor old mums.
Once things begin to settle you would think we would be able to stop the focus on poo, but sadly this is just the start............
http://www.babycenter.com/baby-poop-photos
http://similac.com/feeding-nutrition/diaper-decoder
Monday, 24 December 2012
Different strokes for different folks
After a day spent with two families at the very extremes of the parenting spectrum I know which side I am on. However I do think its true that it does not matter which side of the fence you sit on, but instead all that really matters is a good mixture of consistency and love.
Kids need to know what to expect in life, and living in a stricter or more casual family is all good, as long as they have that essential consistency.
The morning was spent with my amazing three little nephews, the youngest two are nearly one and two. They spent the morning pretty much butt naked wandering around and just chilling. I love to see kids having freedom and being aloud to do exactly what they want ( within the obvious boundaries) Spending time with cheeky lads, so full of life is bound to be good for any ones soul.
Then this evening we spent with a military family, to be fair the kids are a little older, but they very much sat nicely, were perfectly behaved, and I could never even imagine them doing anything remotely naughty. This form of perfection is not for me, but I am sure it floats many parent's boats.
Consistency and love, and the freedom to parent as each of us views to be the best way, thats how the world should turn. However for me its nudity, eating food off the floor, and that little dose of cheek all the way.
Kids need to know what to expect in life, and living in a stricter or more casual family is all good, as long as they have that essential consistency.
The morning was spent with my amazing three little nephews, the youngest two are nearly one and two. They spent the morning pretty much butt naked wandering around and just chilling. I love to see kids having freedom and being aloud to do exactly what they want ( within the obvious boundaries) Spending time with cheeky lads, so full of life is bound to be good for any ones soul.
Then this evening we spent with a military family, to be fair the kids are a little older, but they very much sat nicely, were perfectly behaved, and I could never even imagine them doing anything remotely naughty. This form of perfection is not for me, but I am sure it floats many parent's boats.
Consistency and love, and the freedom to parent as each of us views to be the best way, thats how the world should turn. However for me its nudity, eating food off the floor, and that little dose of cheek all the way.
Another night of siting and worrying
Baby Elliot actually seems well at the moment, touch wood (and whatever other superstitious comments will stop him from immediately becoming ill just because I have tempted fate and said this). We have gone through three chest infections and one ear infection over the last 2 months, with three last minutes dashes to the hospital or docs because his temperature hit the ceiling.
Well for a change Alex is taking a turn to be ill, and is currently worrying me silly. You know that lovely parent guilt, when you wonder if you should have spotted something sooner. The joy of being a parent, I don't think I remember a time of feeling guilt free.
She started out a week or so ago with a sore throat and a bit of a cold. I would certainly not have described her as ill, more worn out and a bit under the weather. Today she has seemed even more funky and has really been suffering with her throat, poorly little lady.
As you can imagine we have had a very busy few days, with the usual Santa visits, family meet ups and last minute rushes to get ready for the big day. Today we spent the day with my slightly bonkers baby brother ( when I say baby he is actually well over 30 now). Then we headed home to set up Santa's snack and the reindeers fuel to keep them going on their very long journey. After helping her brother to set up some booby traps the three bigger ones settled to sleep all in their big brothers attic room.
All seemed well until 10 when we heard an awful hacking cough and Alex crying from the top of the stairs. Laying down had obviously made her breathing worse and she was really struggling to catch her breath:
Step one cuddles and sitting in the steam filled bathroom with daddy
Step two every drug and vapour rub possible
Step three take her temperature ( blimey its shot up to 39.5)
Step four have a look at the NHS Direct online guide, which suggested an ambulance. Freak out time, but I am not the type of mum to call an ambulance, so instead we phoned the on call doctor service.
Step five after an hour wait the doctor called us and without asking any questions asked us to take her straight up to be checked over.
I am not a natural panic merchant, in fact I am usually very calm and collected, but with the worry about whopping cough or pneumonia I am now sitting her blogging trying to distract myself from the worry. Her dad has headed to the hospital with the promise to call as soon as he knows anything at all.
Fingers crossed, lets just hope its a little virus that will quickly piss off and leave her alone.
Well for a change Alex is taking a turn to be ill, and is currently worrying me silly. You know that lovely parent guilt, when you wonder if you should have spotted something sooner. The joy of being a parent, I don't think I remember a time of feeling guilt free.
She started out a week or so ago with a sore throat and a bit of a cold. I would certainly not have described her as ill, more worn out and a bit under the weather. Today she has seemed even more funky and has really been suffering with her throat, poorly little lady.
As you can imagine we have had a very busy few days, with the usual Santa visits, family meet ups and last minute rushes to get ready for the big day. Today we spent the day with my slightly bonkers baby brother ( when I say baby he is actually well over 30 now). Then we headed home to set up Santa's snack and the reindeers fuel to keep them going on their very long journey. After helping her brother to set up some booby traps the three bigger ones settled to sleep all in their big brothers attic room.
All seemed well until 10 when we heard an awful hacking cough and Alex crying from the top of the stairs. Laying down had obviously made her breathing worse and she was really struggling to catch her breath:
Step one cuddles and sitting in the steam filled bathroom with daddy
Step two every drug and vapour rub possible
Step three take her temperature ( blimey its shot up to 39.5)
Step four have a look at the NHS Direct online guide, which suggested an ambulance. Freak out time, but I am not the type of mum to call an ambulance, so instead we phoned the on call doctor service.
Step five after an hour wait the doctor called us and without asking any questions asked us to take her straight up to be checked over.
I am not a natural panic merchant, in fact I am usually very calm and collected, but with the worry about whopping cough or pneumonia I am now sitting her blogging trying to distract myself from the worry. Her dad has headed to the hospital with the promise to call as soon as he knows anything at all.
Fingers crossed, lets just hope its a little virus that will quickly piss off and leave her alone.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
What a silly idea, someone kick me the next time I come up with n idea like this
As a family we have always enjoyed an evening trip out in the car all around the local estates. No, we are not odd people who like driving around aimlessly for an hour with no destination in mind. The aim of these outings is to hunt out the best local Christmas lights.
A few years ago I thought it would be fun to have a new game while we were doing this. The game is very simple, if you see some Christmas lights shout "Christmas lights" very loudly first and you get the point.
This game quickly spread to the whole month of December and every time we see Christmas lights when out in the car. The kids love the chance to shout and to compete with each other.
The problem arises when you are shattered after a long day, and the last thing you want is for 3 children to be shouting Christmas lights every two minutes at full volume directly into your ear.
Another unexpected issue is when you don't realise that you are playing the game, and a child suddenly shouts very loudly. Concentrating on driving is hard enough with a baby and 3 kids in the car, and its made next to impossible when at any stage you may have a major shock from being shouted at.
Maybe there is a lesson here to think before creating games and introducing them to the kids in the future.....
A few years ago I thought it would be fun to have a new game while we were doing this. The game is very simple, if you see some Christmas lights shout "Christmas lights" very loudly first and you get the point.
This game quickly spread to the whole month of December and every time we see Christmas lights when out in the car. The kids love the chance to shout and to compete with each other.
The problem arises when you are shattered after a long day, and the last thing you want is for 3 children to be shouting Christmas lights every two minutes at full volume directly into your ear.
Another unexpected issue is when you don't realise that you are playing the game, and a child suddenly shouts very loudly. Concentrating on driving is hard enough with a baby and 3 kids in the car, and its made next to impossible when at any stage you may have a major shock from being shouted at.
Maybe there is a lesson here to think before creating games and introducing them to the kids in the future.....
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
When will I learn
So in January its my two girls birthdays. I am saying nothing about who thought it was a good idea to have two birthdays both at the start of January. This is a pain in the butt in oh so may ways.
With my first I hit it absolutely perfect with him being a June baby, so we have plenty of time to recover after Christmas and Easter before the next onslaught of presents and partying.
However after him I clearly turned stupid with a birthday exactly one month before Christmas, one a week after and one 6 days after that. Its no wonder I am currently very tipsy and on the brink of falling into insanity.
At several points over the last few days I have actually wondered if my head might explode, but after sitting down and writing my little list, thank the lord for lists, I know feel a little more in control.
Back to the point, the girls are having a joint party, so I book the hall and the bouncy castle and put a big rush on to get the invites out before the Christmas holidays.
Me " who do you want to come to your party"
Cat " everyone I have ever met (about 40 kids)"
Alex "everyone I have ever met ( about 50 kids)"
Me "that's great but lets narrow this list down to about 15 kids each
Much discussion later we are down to about 25 names each and I get to the point where I surrender, after all out of 50 kids we are certainly absolutely 100% definitely going to a get at least 25% that can't come.
I am clearly a fool, here we are less than a week later with probably over 25 replies back, and you have guessed that natural cull that I had hoped for has failed miserably, and every single one of those invited has so far said yes. For goodness sake whatever happened to being busy and having other commitments, these kids and their families clearly need to get a life, and refuse my invite, so I can start to get the number of attendees below the 50 number.
With 3 kids and 1 baby I am not entirely convinced how we will cope with all our own kids and 50 of other peoples little darlings, all hyped up on a mixture of bouncing excitement and sugar.
Someone help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
With my first I hit it absolutely perfect with him being a June baby, so we have plenty of time to recover after Christmas and Easter before the next onslaught of presents and partying.
However after him I clearly turned stupid with a birthday exactly one month before Christmas, one a week after and one 6 days after that. Its no wonder I am currently very tipsy and on the brink of falling into insanity.
At several points over the last few days I have actually wondered if my head might explode, but after sitting down and writing my little list, thank the lord for lists, I know feel a little more in control.
Back to the point, the girls are having a joint party, so I book the hall and the bouncy castle and put a big rush on to get the invites out before the Christmas holidays.
Me " who do you want to come to your party"
Cat " everyone I have ever met (about 40 kids)"
Alex "everyone I have ever met ( about 50 kids)"
Me "that's great but lets narrow this list down to about 15 kids each
Much discussion later we are down to about 25 names each and I get to the point where I surrender, after all out of 50 kids we are certainly absolutely 100% definitely going to a get at least 25% that can't come.
I am clearly a fool, here we are less than a week later with probably over 25 replies back, and you have guessed that natural cull that I had hoped for has failed miserably, and every single one of those invited has so far said yes. For goodness sake whatever happened to being busy and having other commitments, these kids and their families clearly need to get a life, and refuse my invite, so I can start to get the number of attendees below the 50 number.
With 3 kids and 1 baby I am not entirely convinced how we will cope with all our own kids and 50 of other peoples little darlings, all hyped up on a mixture of bouncing excitement and sugar.
Someone help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Thursday, 13 December 2012
The Samaritans
A good friend of mine works for the Samaritans and is so passionate about the work they do, and from the link below you can see why.
Ali, myself and Aidan dumped the smaller ones on a babysitters this evening and headed out to a Carol concert in aid of the Samaritans. A lovely evening of mulled wine, mince pies, hearing beautiful songs from the choir and ruining songs by joining in with my tone deaf attempt to sing.
Aidan of course was hungry after the concert and absolutely had to eat a big Mcdonalds meal and a Mcflurry. This is after a breakfast of fruit toast, and two bowls of cereal, a full Christmas dinner and pudding at school, and then roast chicken, carrots, and green beans for tea. one day that boy will actually explode.
I am going far far away from my point, so dragging myself back to topic. The Samaritans are a listening ear for anyone who is struggling, you don't have to be suicidal, you just have to need or want to talk to someone. This video is very emotional, and has some callers sharing the reasons why they picked up that phone:
http://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/how-our-service-helps/personal-experiences-contacting-Samaritans
If you are ever feeling low, lonely or just a little lost then give them a call, equally if anyone you know or care about is struggling point them in that direction ( obviously they always need money, so if you have any spare then do click the donate button and send a little their way)
I love being reminded of all the reasons that the world is not an ugly and mean place, and the volunteers that man the phone lines and that make this work possible help me to remember that people are good, kind and beautiful.
Ali, myself and Aidan dumped the smaller ones on a babysitters this evening and headed out to a Carol concert in aid of the Samaritans. A lovely evening of mulled wine, mince pies, hearing beautiful songs from the choir and ruining songs by joining in with my tone deaf attempt to sing.
Aidan of course was hungry after the concert and absolutely had to eat a big Mcdonalds meal and a Mcflurry. This is after a breakfast of fruit toast, and two bowls of cereal, a full Christmas dinner and pudding at school, and then roast chicken, carrots, and green beans for tea. one day that boy will actually explode.
I am going far far away from my point, so dragging myself back to topic. The Samaritans are a listening ear for anyone who is struggling, you don't have to be suicidal, you just have to need or want to talk to someone. This video is very emotional, and has some callers sharing the reasons why they picked up that phone:
http://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/how-our-service-helps/personal-experiences-contacting-Samaritans
If you are ever feeling low, lonely or just a little lost then give them a call, equally if anyone you know or care about is struggling point them in that direction ( obviously they always need money, so if you have any spare then do click the donate button and send a little their way)
I love being reminded of all the reasons that the world is not an ugly and mean place, and the volunteers that man the phone lines and that make this work possible help me to remember that people are good, kind and beautiful.
Wednesday, 12 December 2012
Nativity season and contagious crying
I am by no means a new year R parent, in fact the is my second year in a row of having a child in Year R, and my third time so far.
However it always gets you a little when the kids trot out wearing their costumes, and packed full of a combination of excitement, nervous energy and down right fear.
Cat did us proud and made a beautiful star, although keeping her very old and now very grey vest on under the pristine white dress may have been a mistake! At least all the mums now know for sure that I don't use Daz!
The show was accompanied by the odd sob from a very proud parent. However nearing the end one brave little fella started to tremble, the lip started to shake and the tears started to roll. All credit to him, he just about managed to hold it together until the end, but I think this made several other children even more wobbly than they were before.
Luckily this happened in the final song, whereas last year one little girl broke down half way through, which set in motion a domino effect of crying, with about 8 more kids joining in the tears and exiting the stage before the end.
We are very fortunate that are school have some good sense when it comes to the photo issue. They take some lovely still pictures before the day, and give parents the chance to buy these for 50p a pop. However they also allow video and still cameras, with the only limitation being that the pictures must not be posted on the internet, fair enough.
I know for some kids ( in fact for all kids) its a lot to expect them to put on a show only a couple of months into a new life, with new teachers and new friends. However my girls have been very excited at the prospect, and I am looking forward to the older ones show on Friday, fingers crossed for no tears. Sadly the Junior school have never joined in the Christmas spirit to put on a show for the parents. I would love to see Aidan up on stage now, I am sure he would make a very cute elf, or a very convincing donkey.
He unintentionally stole the show in the infant school a few years ago. Of all the characters he got picked to be Herod, and his role was to look extremely grumpy, while singing a song about Herod being furious. After that rock rolling nativity I am now convinced that Herod should feature strongly in ever Christmas play forever more.
However it always gets you a little when the kids trot out wearing their costumes, and packed full of a combination of excitement, nervous energy and down right fear.
Cat did us proud and made a beautiful star, although keeping her very old and now very grey vest on under the pristine white dress may have been a mistake! At least all the mums now know for sure that I don't use Daz!
The show was accompanied by the odd sob from a very proud parent. However nearing the end one brave little fella started to tremble, the lip started to shake and the tears started to roll. All credit to him, he just about managed to hold it together until the end, but I think this made several other children even more wobbly than they were before.
Luckily this happened in the final song, whereas last year one little girl broke down half way through, which set in motion a domino effect of crying, with about 8 more kids joining in the tears and exiting the stage before the end.
We are very fortunate that are school have some good sense when it comes to the photo issue. They take some lovely still pictures before the day, and give parents the chance to buy these for 50p a pop. However they also allow video and still cameras, with the only limitation being that the pictures must not be posted on the internet, fair enough.
I know for some kids ( in fact for all kids) its a lot to expect them to put on a show only a couple of months into a new life, with new teachers and new friends. However my girls have been very excited at the prospect, and I am looking forward to the older ones show on Friday, fingers crossed for no tears. Sadly the Junior school have never joined in the Christmas spirit to put on a show for the parents. I would love to see Aidan up on stage now, I am sure he would make a very cute elf, or a very convincing donkey.
He unintentionally stole the show in the infant school a few years ago. Of all the characters he got picked to be Herod, and his role was to look extremely grumpy, while singing a song about Herod being furious. After that rock rolling nativity I am now convinced that Herod should feature strongly in ever Christmas play forever more.
Monday, 10 December 2012
poop poop poopy poop
What have all 3 of my bigger kids asked Santa for this, nope not a nice fairy or a lovely bedtime book. On all three of their lists was a shitting dog:
Just for those of you who don't know we have two very real life dogs that not only deposit piles of poo at every opportunity when out walking, but they also leave a plentiful supply in the back garden. So personally this would be the very last thing on my wish list, in fact if I was given it I would run over it with car.
However my kids seem very taken with it, maybe due to the ads that are on TV every two seconds, or maybe because they will have a bright career ahead of them as official poo picker uppers, or maybe its just because they are gross.
So being Santa's helper I headed off to toys r us to buy this delightful toy, with joy in my heart at the prospect of playing it endlessly over the Christmas holidays, oh how exciting I can barely contain myself.
Obviously I got to the shop and could not find the bloody game. So off I headed to customer service, where my mind went blank, I could not for the life of me remember what the toy was called. The slightly older staff member was very helpful as I bumbled around talking about dogs, poo and scoops to pick it up. The poor woman must wonder what today's generation of kids are parents are up to, being obsessed with such a ridiculous present.
She was lovely and lead me to the games aisle where we hunted for the game, sadly with no success. So I will be on the hunt yet again tomorrow for a dog that shits, while I leave my own two poop hounds at home in their crate.
However my kids seem very taken with it, maybe due to the ads that are on TV every two seconds, or maybe because they will have a bright career ahead of them as official poo picker uppers, or maybe its just because they are gross.
So being Santa's helper I headed off to toys r us to buy this delightful toy, with joy in my heart at the prospect of playing it endlessly over the Christmas holidays, oh how exciting I can barely contain myself.
Obviously I got to the shop and could not find the bloody game. So off I headed to customer service, where my mind went blank, I could not for the life of me remember what the toy was called. The slightly older staff member was very helpful as I bumbled around talking about dogs, poo and scoops to pick it up. The poor woman must wonder what today's generation of kids are parents are up to, being obsessed with such a ridiculous present.
She was lovely and lead me to the games aisle where we hunted for the game, sadly with no success. So I will be on the hunt yet again tomorrow for a dog that shits, while I leave my own two poop hounds at home in their crate.
Sunday, 9 December 2012
Even as the decorations go up I daydream about taking them down
This year I am doing a reverse Grinch. I once loved Christmas, but my old heart must be shrinking a little, just a little so don't panic.
Anyone who does not enjoy their kids excitement has got to be a little bit odd. This bit I still very much love.
However the faffing about with decorations and a manky old tree certainly no longer thrills me. I didn't even attempt to drag the boxes in from the garage until Elliot had settled for his afternoon nap. The thought of him munching on pine needles, chomping on fairy lights and finding new uses for pins was beyond me.
In fact its hard enough setting up the decorations, lights and tree out of the exploring reach of his grubby little one year old hands. As it was I has 5 helpers in the form of the two dogs mooching around, and the three bigger kids.
For the first time ever we have managed to make last years potted tree survive to do another year. When I say managed it sounds like effort actually went into this amazing feat, let me assure you that no effort at all went into this and we just seem to have acquired the toughest tree ever.
Last new years day it was dumped in the garden awaiting a trip to be recycled. It never quite made the journey and instead spent about 3 months mostly on its side in a freezing cold garden. At some point it was then hefted down to the bottom garden, partially hidden behind the shed, and left for the spring, summer, autumn and into the next winter. Even in the heat wave it was never watered, and while plants around it wilted and died it stayed strong in its little pot.
So this was a nice treat to only have to shake the dead leaves off, to dislodge a few slugs, and to then be able to drag it into the house, how much nicer than handing a dodgy bloke in a car park somewhere 40 quid for a new one.
This is when my Grinch moment started, with all that Christmas spirit all I could think was how quickly I could get rid of all the decorations and get my house back. Traditionally we clear the decorations ready for my daughters birthday early in January, however this year I would happily chuck them all back in the garage tomorrow.
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The kids loved putting them up and I will soon add a picture of the finished tree that they massacred with an excess of decorations, lights, crackers and candy canes. I was even a little excited to see Elliot's reaction to all the flashing and sparkling. Its not his first Christmas, but last year he was a slightly useless new born so it all passed him by.
My abiding thought despite all this is still "Can I take these bloody decorations down yet?"
Anyone who does not enjoy their kids excitement has got to be a little bit odd. This bit I still very much love.
However the faffing about with decorations and a manky old tree certainly no longer thrills me. I didn't even attempt to drag the boxes in from the garage until Elliot had settled for his afternoon nap. The thought of him munching on pine needles, chomping on fairy lights and finding new uses for pins was beyond me.
In fact its hard enough setting up the decorations, lights and tree out of the exploring reach of his grubby little one year old hands. As it was I has 5 helpers in the form of the two dogs mooching around, and the three bigger kids.
For the first time ever we have managed to make last years potted tree survive to do another year. When I say managed it sounds like effort actually went into this amazing feat, let me assure you that no effort at all went into this and we just seem to have acquired the toughest tree ever.
Last new years day it was dumped in the garden awaiting a trip to be recycled. It never quite made the journey and instead spent about 3 months mostly on its side in a freezing cold garden. At some point it was then hefted down to the bottom garden, partially hidden behind the shed, and left for the spring, summer, autumn and into the next winter. Even in the heat wave it was never watered, and while plants around it wilted and died it stayed strong in its little pot.
So this was a nice treat to only have to shake the dead leaves off, to dislodge a few slugs, and to then be able to drag it into the house, how much nicer than handing a dodgy bloke in a car park somewhere 40 quid for a new one.
This is when my Grinch moment started, with all that Christmas spirit all I could think was how quickly I could get rid of all the decorations and get my house back. Traditionally we clear the decorations ready for my daughters birthday early in January, however this year I would happily chuck them all back in the garage tomorrow.
.JPG)
The kids loved putting them up and I will soon add a picture of the finished tree that they massacred with an excess of decorations, lights, crackers and candy canes. I was even a little excited to see Elliot's reaction to all the flashing and sparkling. Its not his first Christmas, but last year he was a slightly useless new born so it all passed him by.
My abiding thought despite all this is still "Can I take these bloody decorations down yet?"
Friday, 7 December 2012
Pregnancy and foods to avoid - does everyone get worse with each subsequent pregnancy
Don't panic we are not expecting another baba, I simply was discussing this with another mum, so thought I may as well carry my rant over to the blog.
I am getting a little old now, so remembering 10 years ago is a bit of a challenge for my rapidly shrinking brain.
However I do remember with my first pregnancy being a disciple to the NHS what not to eat guidelines. Now imagine someone taking a list all nearly all your favourite foods, and then laughing in your face while they tell you that you will not partake in those delights for nearly a year. The gits!
It is like someone asked me what my favourite foods were, then proceeded to just delete the title and replace with the title "what not to eat in pregnancy".
Here we go:
Cheese
Don’t eat:
Cheeses like this are made with mould and can contain listeria bacteria that cause listeriosis. Go jump bloody listeria, pass the cheese please
Eggs
Don’t eat raw or undercooked eggs and avoid foods that contain them, such as homemade mayonnaise. Nothing quite like a fried egg and bacon sarnie, or for that matter French fries with mayo.
Make sure that eggs are thoroughly cooked until the whites and yolks are solid. Boring, boring boring, who wants to eat a bloody egg when the life has been cooked out of the poor little thing.
Milk
Don’t drink raw (unpasteurised) milk, I drank raw milk all through my childhood on the farm, but I am more than happy with this one, so no swearing from me here.
Pâté
Avoid all types of pâté, including vegetable pâtés, as they can contain listeria. The arse arse arse arses. How dare they, I love a bit of pate, liver or salmon pate, taking those away from me was just plain old wrong.
Meat
Cook all meat and poultry thoroughly so there’s no trace of pink or blood. Take particular care with sausages and minced meat. Good idea lets make any meat I can eat taste like shitty old leather ( I am being sarcastic just in case you missed that!)
Liver
Don’t eat liver or liver products, such as liver pâté or liver sausage, as they may contain a lot of vitamin A. Too much vitamin A can harm your baby. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I am a bit disgusting and love any odd animal parts, kidneys, liver, tongue, send it all my way
Fish
There are some types of fish you should limit, such as tuna and oily fish, and some types of fish you should avoid completely, such as shark. Also, don’t eat raw shellfish, as it can cause food poisoning. Now that's just being mean, I love the ocean, but being a committed meat eater I do kind of view its contents as an amazing huge taster board for me to get stuck into, fish fish I love fish ( sorry just had to explain to the fish in my tank that they are safe from my knife and fork).
Alcohol
You should avoid drinking alcohol if you're pregnant or trying to get pregnant. Too much exposure to alcohol can seriously affect your baby's development. I don't think I need to comment on this one, why create alcohol and then take it away from women when they need it the most.
Caffeine
You should limit caffeine during pregnancy - don’t have more than 200mg of caffeine a day. High levels of caffeine can cause babies to have a low birth weight. The bastards taking away my endless supply of tea, I am rarely seen without a cup of tea nearby or nursing a cup of tea in my hands.
Reducing the risk of toxoplasmosis
Wash fruit, vegetables and salads to remove all traces of soil, which may contain toxoplasma, a parasite that can cause toxoplasmosis. I don't mind this one, as generally I am not in the habit of eating dirt or licking cat shit ( well not often)
Sorry I went a bit off topic there. My point is with Aidan I followed those guidelines as if the world would end if I dared to even think about deviating.
With Alex I broke the rules a little, with Cat I broke them a little more. By the time I got to Elliot I was almost having a breakfast of vodka tea accompanying cheesy raw eggs covered with liver pate, and with a side order of cat poo. Okay that's an exaggeration, but I certainly bent the rules a heck of a lot more with each subsequent pregnancy.
I am getting a little old now, so remembering 10 years ago is a bit of a challenge for my rapidly shrinking brain.
However I do remember with my first pregnancy being a disciple to the NHS what not to eat guidelines. Now imagine someone taking a list all nearly all your favourite foods, and then laughing in your face while they tell you that you will not partake in those delights for nearly a year. The gits!
It is like someone asked me what my favourite foods were, then proceeded to just delete the title and replace with the title "what not to eat in pregnancy".
Here we go:
Cheese
Don’t eat:
- mould-ripened soft cheeses, such as brie, camembert and others with a similar rind such as chèvre (a type of goats’ cheese) I love a bit of soft cheese, ummmmmm, especially with a nice chutney, double ummmmmm
- soft blue-veined cheeses, such as Danish blue, gorgonzola and Roquefort I am a major stilton fan, in fact the stinkier and grosser the cheese, then the happier I am.
Cheeses like this are made with mould and can contain listeria bacteria that cause listeriosis. Go jump bloody listeria, pass the cheese please
Eggs
Don’t eat raw or undercooked eggs and avoid foods that contain them, such as homemade mayonnaise. Nothing quite like a fried egg and bacon sarnie, or for that matter French fries with mayo.
Make sure that eggs are thoroughly cooked until the whites and yolks are solid. Boring, boring boring, who wants to eat a bloody egg when the life has been cooked out of the poor little thing.
Milk
Don’t drink raw (unpasteurised) milk, I drank raw milk all through my childhood on the farm, but I am more than happy with this one, so no swearing from me here.
Pâté
Avoid all types of pâté, including vegetable pâtés, as they can contain listeria. The arse arse arse arses. How dare they, I love a bit of pate, liver or salmon pate, taking those away from me was just plain old wrong.
Meat
Cook all meat and poultry thoroughly so there’s no trace of pink or blood. Take particular care with sausages and minced meat. Good idea lets make any meat I can eat taste like shitty old leather ( I am being sarcastic just in case you missed that!)
Liver
Don’t eat liver or liver products, such as liver pâté or liver sausage, as they may contain a lot of vitamin A. Too much vitamin A can harm your baby. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
I am a bit disgusting and love any odd animal parts, kidneys, liver, tongue, send it all my way
Fish
There are some types of fish you should limit, such as tuna and oily fish, and some types of fish you should avoid completely, such as shark. Also, don’t eat raw shellfish, as it can cause food poisoning. Now that's just being mean, I love the ocean, but being a committed meat eater I do kind of view its contents as an amazing huge taster board for me to get stuck into, fish fish I love fish ( sorry just had to explain to the fish in my tank that they are safe from my knife and fork).
Alcohol
You should avoid drinking alcohol if you're pregnant or trying to get pregnant. Too much exposure to alcohol can seriously affect your baby's development. I don't think I need to comment on this one, why create alcohol and then take it away from women when they need it the most.
Caffeine
You should limit caffeine during pregnancy - don’t have more than 200mg of caffeine a day. High levels of caffeine can cause babies to have a low birth weight. The bastards taking away my endless supply of tea, I am rarely seen without a cup of tea nearby or nursing a cup of tea in my hands.
Reducing the risk of toxoplasmosis
Wash fruit, vegetables and salads to remove all traces of soil, which may contain toxoplasma, a parasite that can cause toxoplasmosis. I don't mind this one, as generally I am not in the habit of eating dirt or licking cat shit ( well not often)
Sorry I went a bit off topic there. My point is with Aidan I followed those guidelines as if the world would end if I dared to even think about deviating.
With Alex I broke the rules a little, with Cat I broke them a little more. By the time I got to Elliot I was almost having a breakfast of vodka tea accompanying cheesy raw eggs covered with liver pate, and with a side order of cat poo. Okay that's an exaggeration, but I certainly bent the rules a heck of a lot more with each subsequent pregnancy.
Thursday, 6 December 2012
What does this say about me as a mummy?
Twice a week the three older kids all have a packed lunch. Despite the school rules I think a little junk in moderation is a good thing. The lunchboxes usually contain at least 2 fruit or veg portions, alongside some protein, so I figure that if they eat the good stuff they deserve a little cake.
I don't apply this philosophy to myself by the way, I just have the junk, after 9 years of being mummy and about 5 years of broken sleep, I tend to think that I need the sugar rush to keep me on my feet.
Anyway back to topic. I sent Aidan off to school with his lunch, and that evening while emptying out the bags and washing up all the tuppaware I was surprised to find Aidan's chicken had largely been left after being picked over.
Aidan is a boy that loves his food, you know when people say a kid has wooden legs when they eat so much, while that expression was specially created to fit Aidan's piggy non stop eating stylie. Leaving food is certainly not in his nature, in fact I sometimes worry that I may wake to find that he has eaten the dogs or one of his siblings during the night
That day I had packed some of that nice deli counter chicken with the stuffing, and the girls reported back that they had very much enjoyed it. So I asked Aidan if he didn't like it, to which he responded "oh was it meant to be like that I though it was just really mouldy".
I think this says a lot about me as a mummy as he did not blink an eyelid at having excessively "mouldy" food in his bag, to the extent that he didn't even bother mentioning it, instead he carefully picked the nice looking meat off from around the mould/ stuffing. Poor kid!
I don't apply this philosophy to myself by the way, I just have the junk, after 9 years of being mummy and about 5 years of broken sleep, I tend to think that I need the sugar rush to keep me on my feet.
Anyway back to topic. I sent Aidan off to school with his lunch, and that evening while emptying out the bags and washing up all the tuppaware I was surprised to find Aidan's chicken had largely been left after being picked over.
Aidan is a boy that loves his food, you know when people say a kid has wooden legs when they eat so much, while that expression was specially created to fit Aidan's piggy non stop eating stylie. Leaving food is certainly not in his nature, in fact I sometimes worry that I may wake to find that he has eaten the dogs or one of his siblings during the night
That day I had packed some of that nice deli counter chicken with the stuffing, and the girls reported back that they had very much enjoyed it. So I asked Aidan if he didn't like it, to which he responded "oh was it meant to be like that I though it was just really mouldy".
Wednesday, 5 December 2012
Everyone forgets their kids sometimes ( don't they)
Its not an excess of wine, its not even due to sleep deprivation, in fact there is no excuse. However I do seem to keep misplacing or completely forgetting children.
Some would say that with 4 kids I can afford to lose a few, but I do love them and would miss the noise if I lost them on a permanent basis.
When Aidan was little on several occasions I walked away from the house or the car completely forgetting about him. Even more worrying on several occasions he had been in the travel system car seat, which I then merrily chucked into the car and drove off, only to realise mid journey that the seat belt was undone and he was in no way secured to the car.
Over the years I have learned to do a mental check every step of the way to ensure all children and accessories are present and correct. However I still have managed to forget Elliot. Its not really my fault as he is with the child minder ( who meets me at the school), and to be fair I get busy gossiping and dealing with 3 screaming over tired kids. So its understandable that I suddenly have those "oh shit" moments of clarity followed by a dash to get him.
Now this one is a little embarrassing. Imagine the scene a cold winters day, so alongside the PE kit, swimming kit, book bags, water bottles, lunch boxes we also had all the hats and so on. Then add to that all of Elliot's stuff for a day in child care. Then add to that my mind being on my dash to work in 10 minutes time. Then put the extra distraction of a friend coming over to talk to me.
So to be fair as I walked away from the car and said "where is Alex?". Its kind of understandable that I had managed to lock her in the car. She was not impressed oh dear.
Some would say that with 4 kids I can afford to lose a few, but I do love them and would miss the noise if I lost them on a permanent basis.
When Aidan was little on several occasions I walked away from the house or the car completely forgetting about him. Even more worrying on several occasions he had been in the travel system car seat, which I then merrily chucked into the car and drove off, only to realise mid journey that the seat belt was undone and he was in no way secured to the car.
Over the years I have learned to do a mental check every step of the way to ensure all children and accessories are present and correct. However I still have managed to forget Elliot. Its not really my fault as he is with the child minder ( who meets me at the school), and to be fair I get busy gossiping and dealing with 3 screaming over tired kids. So its understandable that I suddenly have those "oh shit" moments of clarity followed by a dash to get him.
Now this one is a little embarrassing. Imagine the scene a cold winters day, so alongside the PE kit, swimming kit, book bags, water bottles, lunch boxes we also had all the hats and so on. Then add to that all of Elliot's stuff for a day in child care. Then add to that my mind being on my dash to work in 10 minutes time. Then put the extra distraction of a friend coming over to talk to me.
So to be fair as I walked away from the car and said "where is Alex?". Its kind of understandable that I had managed to lock her in the car. She was not impressed oh dear.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
Britmums Newbie Tuesday
A big thank you to Just a normal mummy for mentioning four feral children in the Britmums Newbie Tuesday round up:
http://www.britmumsblog.com/2012/12/newbie-tuesday-pooplosion-nappy-sacks-and-gin/
I quote:
Four feral children clueless mummy – Some truly chuckle worthy reading including a post about vicks vapour rub in the eye… Jeeeez… that is up there with standing on lego. Serious respect.
Cheers, a lovely blog and thanks for the mention
http://www.britmumsblog.com/2012/12/newbie-tuesday-pooplosion-nappy-sacks-and-gin/
I quote:
Four feral children clueless mummy – Some truly chuckle worthy reading including a post about vicks vapour rub in the eye… Jeeeez… that is up there with standing on lego. Serious respect.
Cheers, a lovely blog and thanks for the mention
sleep, sleep glorious sleep!
Is it true that you can actually die from a lack of sleep? I am sure I read this somewhere, and I think I am now heading into the hallucination stage that comes before death, it was nice knowing you all!
Elliot has been poorly now for so long I wonder if he was ever actually well, I am considered renting him out to the local college, so they can scare teenagers off of having babies. I wonder how much I could charge per night.
Last night went down like this:
6 Elliot to bed
7 Cat and Alex to bed
8 Aidan to bed
8 till 10:30 attempting to work while a baby alternates screaming fits with babbling crawling around the floor
10:30 baby is asleep, and work is finished so time to unwind
Oppps now I knew it was not a good idea to buy the teachers Christmas presents in advance, when they were on offer. One tub of quality street opened and accidentally being eaten by me as I try to unwind ( and I don't even like quality streets all that much).
11 feeling chilled, but no point going to bed as the screaming will start soon
12 feeling very sleepy, but will fight it a little longer, as I am 100% certain that the screaming will start soon
12:30 ok I give up, off to bed I go
1am screaming starts with avengence, so in goes a bottle, calpol and ibuprofen
2am screaming continues
3am in goes another bottle, screaming continues
4am guess what, screaming continues
5am screaming continues accompanied now by my pitiful sobbing
6am in goes yet another bottle and yet more calpol, screaming continues
6:30am all is quiet, I am considering getting up, but will just close my eyes for a few minutes
7:30am Shit shit shit, bum bum bum and any other swear works I can think of. I have now over slept and have less than an hour to get 4 kids sorted and out of the house.
Now this had to happen on the one morning where I had forgot to get the homework done in advance. And what was the bloody homework for a 4 year old, find things that float and sink, for f~@* sake. So there I am filling the sink up with water and getting the girls to throw in any small item they can find in an attempt to record what floats or sinks.
8:30am 3 big kids loaded up with book bags, homework, water bottles, and dressed in coats and the other winter accessories. While one $%$&^^*&*(@@?~@&*&&%%£"$&* baby is still soundly asleep in his cot.
Someone is seriously taking the piss out of me at the moment, maybe this is what I get for not believing in god.
Elliot has been poorly now for so long I wonder if he was ever actually well, I am considered renting him out to the local college, so they can scare teenagers off of having babies. I wonder how much I could charge per night.
Last night went down like this:
6 Elliot to bed
7 Cat and Alex to bed
8 Aidan to bed
8 till 10:30 attempting to work while a baby alternates screaming fits with babbling crawling around the floor
10:30 baby is asleep, and work is finished so time to unwind
Oppps now I knew it was not a good idea to buy the teachers Christmas presents in advance, when they were on offer. One tub of quality street opened and accidentally being eaten by me as I try to unwind ( and I don't even like quality streets all that much).
11 feeling chilled, but no point going to bed as the screaming will start soon
12 feeling very sleepy, but will fight it a little longer, as I am 100% certain that the screaming will start soon
12:30 ok I give up, off to bed I go
1am screaming starts with avengence, so in goes a bottle, calpol and ibuprofen
2am screaming continues
3am in goes another bottle, screaming continues
4am guess what, screaming continues
5am screaming continues accompanied now by my pitiful sobbing
6am in goes yet another bottle and yet more calpol, screaming continues
6:30am all is quiet, I am considering getting up, but will just close my eyes for a few minutes
7:30am Shit shit shit, bum bum bum and any other swear works I can think of. I have now over slept and have less than an hour to get 4 kids sorted and out of the house.
Now this had to happen on the one morning where I had forgot to get the homework done in advance. And what was the bloody homework for a 4 year old, find things that float and sink, for f~@* sake. So there I am filling the sink up with water and getting the girls to throw in any small item they can find in an attempt to record what floats or sinks.
8:30am 3 big kids loaded up with book bags, homework, water bottles, and dressed in coats and the other winter accessories. While one $%$&^^*&*(@@?~@&*&&%%£"$&* baby is still soundly asleep in his cot.
Someone is seriously taking the piss out of me at the moment, maybe this is what I get for not believing in god.
Monday, 3 December 2012
Its taken a year to dye my hair
I am not going through a mid life crisis, I simply have always enjoyed dyeing my hair ( its just more essential now to cover the grey).
Anyway I don't like the idea of using hair dye when pregnant, so over the last few years there have been very few opportunities for me to crack out those lovely chemicals.
In an optimistic bid to have my own life and to be more than jut "mummy" I brought a lovely red dye as soon as Elliot was safely out in the world.
Almost a reclaiming of my body I guess after making so much effort creating 4 kids during just over an 8 year period.
So for the last year the dye has sat there taunting me, and reminding me every day of my failure to actually use it.
Last night after a very rough week the dye finally made its way to its rightful place ( on my poor old head).
Its funny how something as simple as hair dye and some nail polish can make you feel human again. Lovely London bus red varnish under black crackle varnish. It makes me look like I think I am 16 again and out on the pull, but I love it.
Thank you lovely hair dye and varnish
Anyway I don't like the idea of using hair dye when pregnant, so over the last few years there have been very few opportunities for me to crack out those lovely chemicals.
In an optimistic bid to have my own life and to be more than jut "mummy" I brought a lovely red dye as soon as Elliot was safely out in the world.
Almost a reclaiming of my body I guess after making so much effort creating 4 kids during just over an 8 year period.
So for the last year the dye has sat there taunting me, and reminding me every day of my failure to actually use it.
Last night after a very rough week the dye finally made its way to its rightful place ( on my poor old head).
Its funny how something as simple as hair dye and some nail polish can make you feel human again. Lovely London bus red varnish under black crackle varnish. It makes me look like I think I am 16 again and out on the pull, but I love it.
Thank you lovely hair dye and varnish
I must have been very bad in a previous life.
Elliot has just had his birthday, happy birthday little fella.
However I am starting to wonder if I was a mass murderer or otherwise evil person in a past life, and if all that bad karma is now coming back to bite me on the bum.
In the last month with Elliot alone we have been through 3 colds, 2 chest infections, 1 ear infection ( this is starting to sound like a very twisted version of the 12 days of Christmas).
Now we are going through a virus with an all over body rash, and impetigo, which is probably linked to the 3 courses of antibiotics in a month. This is the point where I scream very loudly.......
Today I have been trying to complete my 8 and a half hour shift while looking after a very poorly baby. I have done good with just an hour to make up tomorrow night, but we have had a lot of screaming and crying today ( and that's just from me haha).
Finally he seemed like he may settle to sleep, so I turned the light off, cuddled him and sang to him while laying him down in bed. Think of my relief as he got closer to that mattress and a few precious hours of sleep. Then think of my annoyance as I stupidly bashed his head very hard against the cot side, all I can say is "$£$^£~**@~£@E@E~"?$$@&@"" ( that's the PG rated edited version of my rant)
However I am starting to wonder if I was a mass murderer or otherwise evil person in a past life, and if all that bad karma is now coming back to bite me on the bum.
In the last month with Elliot alone we have been through 3 colds, 2 chest infections, 1 ear infection ( this is starting to sound like a very twisted version of the 12 days of Christmas).
Now we are going through a virus with an all over body rash, and impetigo, which is probably linked to the 3 courses of antibiotics in a month. This is the point where I scream very loudly.......
Today I have been trying to complete my 8 and a half hour shift while looking after a very poorly baby. I have done good with just an hour to make up tomorrow night, but we have had a lot of screaming and crying today ( and that's just from me haha).
Finally he seemed like he may settle to sleep, so I turned the light off, cuddled him and sang to him while laying him down in bed. Think of my relief as he got closer to that mattress and a few precious hours of sleep. Then think of my annoyance as I stupidly bashed his head very hard against the cot side, all I can say is "$£$^£~**@~£@E@E~"?$$@&@"" ( that's the PG rated edited version of my rant)
How did I manage to miss the age of technology
Last night Ali ( my not so better half) was laughing himself silly. What, you may think had got him into such a state of happiness and mirth.
My suffering would be the answer to that question! He looked at my computer screen and found it simple hilarious that I was googling "what is a hash tag?".
How is it that I am supposed to know this, and the many other computer related terms that I seem automatically expected to be an expert in. When I was at school computers were a giant thrill and rather scary. In fact I think in my whole time at school we spent just 6 sessions learning to use the computers, and in those days it pretty much covered the comprehensive topics of turning it on and off.
In fact at home we had a spectrum computer which spent longer loading and crashing than the time we ever actually played on it. Now those were the days, the basic table tennis game, two paddles and a ball bouncing between them is something I can just about handle.
Anyway I now find myself in a world of smart phones, twitter, and gadgets. I work on line so I know I should be able to grasp the concepts a little faster than your average 80 year old computer virgin, but sadly its all a bit of a struggle.
Will I ever be computer literate? Maybe I can just accept that I suck and continue to use Ali and the kids for all my computer needs!
My suffering would be the answer to that question! He looked at my computer screen and found it simple hilarious that I was googling "what is a hash tag?".
How is it that I am supposed to know this, and the many other computer related terms that I seem automatically expected to be an expert in. When I was at school computers were a giant thrill and rather scary. In fact I think in my whole time at school we spent just 6 sessions learning to use the computers, and in those days it pretty much covered the comprehensive topics of turning it on and off.
In fact at home we had a spectrum computer which spent longer loading and crashing than the time we ever actually played on it. Now those were the days, the basic table tennis game, two paddles and a ball bouncing between them is something I can just about handle.
Anyway I now find myself in a world of smart phones, twitter, and gadgets. I work on line so I know I should be able to grasp the concepts a little faster than your average 80 year old computer virgin, but sadly its all a bit of a struggle.
Will I ever be computer literate? Maybe I can just accept that I suck and continue to use Ali and the kids for all my computer needs!
Sunday, 2 December 2012
You what?
My oldest lad is now in year 5, and this seems to be the year that the government decide that they need to learn to swim.
So for this term Aidan and his mates have been heading for twice weekly lessons at the local pool. Aidan is a very bright boy and he quickly realised that if he pretended that he couldn't swim he would get to do fun games, rather than having to swim lengths.
I guess that's fine, the cheeky muppet, but it does make me look a little daft when the teachers look at his form and see that I have very definitely ticked the confident and able to swim box.
He came out of school a few weeks ago, and very confidently informed me that one of the girls in his class had been wrapped in cling film during the session. Now this seemed a little odd, so I delved a little deeper. Not cling film, doh!, its turns out she whacked her head very hard, and was given a foil cape to keep her warm while they got her to hospital.
I was just glad to learn that there was no new method of teaching swimming that involved excessive use of cling film.
So for this term Aidan and his mates have been heading for twice weekly lessons at the local pool. Aidan is a very bright boy and he quickly realised that if he pretended that he couldn't swim he would get to do fun games, rather than having to swim lengths.
I guess that's fine, the cheeky muppet, but it does make me look a little daft when the teachers look at his form and see that I have very definitely ticked the confident and able to swim box.
He came out of school a few weeks ago, and very confidently informed me that one of the girls in his class had been wrapped in cling film during the session. Now this seemed a little odd, so I delved a little deeper. Not cling film, doh!, its turns out she whacked her head very hard, and was given a foil cape to keep her warm while they got her to hospital.
I was just glad to learn that there was no new method of teaching swimming that involved excessive use of cling film.
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