Letter to Santa

A friend shared this by email today ....

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mum all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited the doctor's office more than my doctor, sold sixty-two cases of choc bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in the next 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

• I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any colour, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the lolly aisle in the grocery store.
• I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.
• If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music; a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals; and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.
• On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mummy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools. I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the living room" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.
• If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.
• If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare tomato sauce (even McDonalds for working Mum's) a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely. It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and my son saw my feet under the laundry door. I think he wants his crayon back. Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always,

MUM...!

P.S. one more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children happy, healthy and always believing.

*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all the mummies you know*

'Tis the season to be jolly ...

A 4 year old's social life is hectic! Throughout November there has been at least one birthday party every weekend! We started December with 2 parties on the same day - the longest day of my life. This weekend we're cramming in a Christmas party, trip to see Santa, school production of High School Musical, Christmas fair and the Christingle service at my parent's local church. Then things really turn up a gear - visitors at the beginning of the week followed by the nursery nativity.

Last year my son was an angelic little angel in the nativity play - this year he's grown so much taller than the rest that I don't think he could pass it off. Like every mother of sons I was pushing for Joseph - I played the 'my son's been here since the day it opened' card but to no avail. 'We're' a shepherd - though my son insists that he is the 'leader shepherd'. As far as I know he has no lines to say - there's one 'speaking angel' but no 'speaking shepherd'. He refuses to rehearse with me as I don't know the tunes (apparently 'Whoops-a-daisy Angel' is legendary but I've not head of it - yet).

I have fears that my son will spontaneously combust before Christmas day. He's already demanding that the things we did last year (when we had more money) are tradition and need to be repeated. Each morning he's left for nursery demanding a 'Christmas surprise' when he gets back. It was nice to have help with the tree - even if he deemed it 'hard work' after only 10 minutes.

My only problem is his behaviour. I kind of thought that, for a few years at least, he'd be so scared of not getting any presents that he would behave perfectly for the whole of December (poor deluded fool that I am). The tantrums are worse than ever - take 2 stubborn people and let them wonder why their child is so stubborn. He WILL not back down. He WILL scream at the top of his voice at the slightest sign of not getting his own way. When they are 2 onlookers will smile and mutter 'terrible twos', when they are 4 (but almost as tall as a 6 year old) they're looking up social services on their mobiles speed dial. My OH and I are the ones covered in bruises as we try to reason with him on the naughty step.

Back in November I came up with an idea - perhaps Santa could write him a letter, advise him that the was currently on the naughty list and that he should try extra hard to be good to get promoted onto the good list. My mum said she'd report me for child abuse...

I did get Santa to write a little p.s. reminding him to be good over the next few weeks - and, boy, are we referring to it daily. Maybe nursery made a wise choice in not trusting him with a 'lead' role ;-)

Weekend Bear

It seems an age since I last posted - probably because it has been.

During the first weekend of half term we had a special visitor. It seems that my son had managed to behave for long enough at nursery to be bestowed with the task of looking after weekend bear.

This was no minor feat - he's been trying for 18 months. With the stuffed toy came much responsibility - there was a diary to fill out with all of weekend bear's adventures.

'Competitive parent' came out in earnest as I read the diary to see what adventures the bear had been on over previous weekends. What was funny was that my OH suffered the same affliction. He had grand ideas for taking him to museums and outings. Unfortunately it was the weekend that the clocks went back and son had a cold so we managed about 4 hours sleep and ... well ... we went to Sainsbury's.

But I think the bear enjoyed it ...

Future health issues

Whilst at the pool today I overheard a conversation between two women about the new HPV vaccine being offered to girls from 12 years old through schools. The women were discussing whether their daughters should have the vaccine because a friend had commented that 'it sends out the signal that they are promiscuous'. I got quite angry about it - though not angry enough to turn around and say anything - because in my mind it does no such thing.

My mother has a different view - she was disturbed when we lived in Scotland and my sister was called up for a Rubella vaccination, aged 10. The nurse explained that they had had a few instances of pregnancy at aged 10 or younger. She can see why some mothers would have reservations.

Maybe it's because I have a son not a daughter but I would like to think that I would ensure that my daughter had this injection because of the obvious benefits to her future health - just as I decided to go ahead with getting my son immunised when there was all that fuss about the MMR. Obviously I wouldn't be condoning teenage sex but I don't think that should be a stumbling block to protecting future health.

School dinners

(photo from http://www.number10.gov.uk/Page8237)

Well actually I had dinner at my son's nursery on Monday. I must admit I wasn't looking forward to it - the state of his clothes on the days that he stays for lunch speak to me of food fights.

The menu was Vegatable Lasange and Garlic bread followed by Peach Crumble.

I was a bit anxious about the lasagna - I'm not vegetarian, I do cook some vegetarian dishes but lasagna isn't one of them. I was pleasantly surprised - it was yummy (my son's phrase). He cleared his plate and ate 3 pieces of garlic bread, though none of the side accompaniment of broccoli (you'd have been proud of me as I forced 3 stalks down as a good example). My son likes his food but I've never seen him clear his plate like that.

When the crumble arrived it was a disappointment - the peaches had been strained of any juice there had been in the tin and the crumble was made without any hint of sugar (ditto the custard). I'd expected the type of pudding I got at school. My son, bless him, finished his and asked for more. I said that he could share mine and he promptly pushed his plate aside and grabbed mine leaving me holding my spoon mid-air.

What did impress me was the cook. My son's best friend ate hardly anything and his mother was bemoaning the fact that he didn't eat at home either. 'In fact he won't eat his breakfast, he had half a packet of Quavers for his breakfast today ...' - If you don't know already Quavers are a cheesy crisp - despite the claims of reduced fat and salt content I'm sure they are not designed as breakfast food. Whilst the other mums and I recovered from our shock and tried not to scream out 'what possessed you to give him ...' the cook sat down and shared some constructive tips on helping getting children to eat proper meals. It was really practical advice and I was reassured that she knew her stuff.

We've already seen the menu at the school my son will be attending from January - on Tuesday it's venison burgers and Wednesday it's chocolate pudding with chocolate custard (minus the chocolate I expect).

Children's Story Competition

If you're interested in writing a children's story and winning the chance to see it being recorded into a podcast AND a day trip to Lapland I've posted the details of the competition here.

Heroes and Bullies

I've just been writing in the comments part of RB's blog - but ended up deleting it because I had too much to say.

The question was in light of this news (and others in a town near you I expect) - what would you have done? Would you have walked by and then rung the police or would you have got involved, even if that risked your own life?

I would help, without thinking. I don't think that it is a conscious decision - either you are that kind of person or not. My mother is - I've always been a bit in awe of her, throughout my childhood she would stop to help women on their own get buggies/prams down stairs, rescue lost and bewildered pensioners and be able to tell instantly in a chance encounter she had with a stranger that they needed to talk and she's always strongly believed in the power of a cup of tea - and my OH is. My BiL is a policeman (and before that did a bit of security) and my SiL works with young adults and, like my OH, they seem to be able to control situations without actually doing much.

We once ended up having no contact with a branch of the family because my OH stepped in when his drunken uncle made a charge for my FiL swearing he would kill him (it's a fun family with age old grudges!) - my OH had such presence that half the people there believed his uncle's 'morning after' claim that my OH had punched him, but all he had done was calmly stand in his way.

When we were in Sydney with my sister-in-law a fight broke out on the ferry from the city to where we were staying. My SiL stepped in, calmed the couple down and enlisted the help of others to separate the two groups who had formed, dragged the crew out of where they'd been hiding and called the police who were waiting when we docked. (My OH wasn't that good that time as he was outside on the deck taking photos and didn't know anything had happened until he saw the police).

I get weekly stories of his heroic efforts at work - shoplifters often arrive armed with syringes, claiming they are HIV, yet the staff have to keep things under control so that shoppers aren't affected during their 'shopping experience'.

Oh and, of course we had our New Year's Eve experience - unfortunately the people we sheltered that night were too scared to press charges and we hadn't seen enough to be witnesses.

Granted OH there or not I would probably be the one calling the police - and at New Year's I made tea and stayed with them whilst they talked to the police while my OH went out to find their son.

I will be very proud if my son inherits that 'presence' his father has - he already stands up for the ones being bullied at nursery - but we do tell him that it is wrong to hit people, even if they've hit you or your friend and I will talk to him about gangs and gang culture - I might get him to read this as it had a lasting impression on me. Though he is only 4 so I may change my mind completely when he's in secondary school.

Where do babies come from?*

I've just posted about the sorted books project on my other blog but couldn't resist putting one here too:

* in case you were wondering you can't get pregnant from kissing - but that is what my Sunday school teacher implied when I was young and impressionable ;-)

I've survived!

Well the day has finally arrived! My parents get back from their 2 week holiday late tonight and I have just about survived.

Despite:
My OH doing a week of nights (which meant getting in from work AFTER son had gone to nursery and waking up in time for dinner but leaving for work before the BATH and BEDTIME arguments).

A trip to my BFF's for her daughter's (my god daughter's) 3rd birthday party. 5 hours trapped in a car with son with no other adult to entertain him - and no knitting to keep me same because I was driving. I experienced the fact that my son's behaviour deteriorates directly in proportion to my desire for good behaviour.

My OH finishing his night shift and GOING FISHING! - OVERNIGHT - FOR 3 DAYS. On the final day he was summoned home after I told him if he stayed away a second longer one or both of us would be missing when he got back.

My reward - son hasn't left his dad's side for 3 days. Has been displaying all his bad behaviour traits (that I was 'imagining') and added demands for cuddles at 3am.

The bad side - husband has expanded his childcare repetoire from sticking him in front of the TV to buying him a Thomas the Tank Engine PC game and sticking him in front of the computer so they still haven't left the house to let me get on with some work.

My parents don't know it yet but we'll be on their doorstep as soon as nursery finishes tomorrow.

Children Say The Funniest Things! (2)

Last weekend I attempted a 4 hour drive (each way) and a weekend stay with friends without my OH!

The 4 hr drive turned into 5 hours with 1 hour spent travelling only 6 miles of the M5 - thank goodness we'd just stopped at the services for a comfort break. However that hour was spent listening to my son shouting repeatedly 'Go mummy, go round the cars, tell them to get out of the way' (hmm road rage in the making).

We had a delightful weekend even though he tried his best to corrupt his godparents little girl by behaving atrociously (I told them it was a compliment and they didn't hesitate to put him on the naughty step). It was a weekend filled with trips to the park, a birthday party and generally causing mayhem.

At the dinner table there were two little gems:

'Mummy, they don't call you Auntie Dougalfish for nothing!' - delivered with the correct intonation and a straight face!

Then to his godparents daughter (14 months his junior)
' _______ I love you more than ice cream' (they were eating ice cream at the time and it was just too cute though her parents looked worried when I said that was tantamount to a marriage proposal!).

Emotions at Weddings

RB commented on my last post that toddlers at weddings are quite cute - I give you this:

This was before the wedding started when we'd managed to get him (almost) into the suit and he was protesting about having to put shoes on. At this point in time I'd been up and running around for 7 hours, had been trying to get black coffee down the best man's throat (the morning after the night before) and biting my tongue at my mother in law and the original sister in law who'd just turned up and decided to get ready when we needed to leave for the church. Actually you are right RB toddlers are quite cute - at least they can get away with meltdown.

p.s. the svelte lady in pink in the background isn't me ;-)

New in-law

Last Thursday we attended the wedding of my brother-in-law and the love of his life and for the first time in 11 years of marriage (and 16 of knowing the family) I felt that I was part of the family - the happy couple had asked me, as well as my sister-in-law, to do a reading as part of the service.

Because I didn't want to let them down - and as I only received the reading on the Monday night - I practiced the 5 lines at every available opportunity. The reading went without a hitch and I was able to convey meaning without my voice quavering or my cheeks flaring red. Later in the day my OH took our son to the toilet where he gave a perfect rendition of 'Love is always patient and kind, it is never jealous ...' they really do take everything in.

I asked for suggestions on Facebook and Twitter on tips to keep him busy during the service. Unfortunately he wasn't content with drawing or colouring so did a body surf up and down our pew for the majority of the service (which was a catholic one) asked for the toilet twice and embarrassed us with his declaration that he needed a 'poo poo' (he didn't). He posed for photographs and was charming to the great aunts and was really better behaved than we could have hoped for.

If anyone is organising a wedding we now have great tips for keeping kids quiet during the long wait before the meal starts and during the speeches - play dough (though only if you don't have to pay for the tablecloths to be cleaned as it gets messy) and bubbles. Instead of favours our bride and groom had special rock made with their picture on the label and their names and the date running through - apparently our son made the toasts with his stick of rock (I missed that as I was videoing the speeches).

So I now have a new sister in-law - one I hope will be a close friend and ally in the battles with the MiL (I think she will as we've already compared notes several times). I'm also hoping that she will produce another grandchild to take the pressure off us a bit - though, unfortunately I don' think she can do that by Christmas ...

Inside my head?

with thanks to Sarah I've just created a Wordle for my blog - looks like the inside of my head! I've also just done one as a wedding present for my brother in law and another for my sister in law to take back to Oz with her. Addicted me?

Children say the funniest things!

It's been a weird week chez dougalfish this week.

Monday's are always bad after the now infamous event at the swimming pool. I was dreading returning to lessons but all passed smoothly. I was feeling virtuous as I'd done a workout at the gym in the morning and then managed to swim lengths for 20 minutes whilst he finally paid attention to the swimming instructor. We then returned to the main part of the pool for 15 minutes 'playtime' before heading home. That's when it happened. I suddenly felt terribly sick. I managed to get him out of the pool and into the changing rooms before I had to make a swift exit for the loos, then had to run in again as soon as we were dressed. I'm sure all parents would agree that the one thing you don't want your kids to witness is you being ill - unfortunately halfway back on the 10 minute drive home I had to pull over.

DS: MUM what ARE you doing?

Me: I'm sorry, mummy's not feeling well, we just need to get home.

DS: That's right we'll get home, you can make me something to eat and then you can lie down and have a rest.
(hmm priorities!!!)

2 hours later OH arrives home to find me ensconced in the downstairs loo and a rather irate son on the door step.

DS: Daddy I told mummy she had to make me something to eat FIRST!
(how inconsiderate of me)

Tues am when OH rang him at grandma's house (thank goodness we moved closer to them) to arrange to pick him up.

DH: 'lo dad. Mum's dead.

He wasn't too happy when he saw me later in the day as I roused myself to take him for his pre-school injections.

On getting home and removing the cotton wool pads (that seemed to catch on his clothes every time he moved) to replace with 'magic' plasters (in our house they have pictures they have Winnie the Pooh characters on).

DS: no don't take them off, the needles will fall out.

On picking him up from nursery on Wednesday I found he had fallen asleep - which is very unusual as my son never sleeps. Because his legs were still hurting I was conned into carrying him out to the car.

DS: Mummy I was only having my beauty sleep. Bobby and Will kept making noises but I shouted at them to be quiet because I needed my beauty sleep before you fetched me.
(Bobby and Will are the ones who call him names ...)

On shopping for his friend's birthday present he demanded a £50 piece of plastic. I calmly told him for the 15th time that we didn't have the money to buy him anything.

DS: That's okay you can go to the machine in the wall, it gives you money.
(If only it was that simple :-p)

Our DVD player started making a strange noise and I commented to my OH that it had been used continuously over the last few days as neither of us had the energy to go out.

DS: yes daddy it's because it's been used consecutively ...
(we'll make an editor out of him yet).

Now we've both got our energy back and the weather is awful. thank goodness it's Bank holiday - my OH will be working full time but grandparents will be around for 3 whole days!

Another Naughty Step

Typing random things into my search engine today - like 'fed up of the school holidays' and '101 ways to torture pre-schoolers' (joke ;-0) I discover that there was a Naughty Step blog in existence long before this one. My defense is that I did seach for the name before I started out and didn't find it. I've had a quick peek and it's great! So I urge you to head over there too - but promise you'll come back and visit me :-)

Painting the Forth Bridge

Back in the late 80s my dad worked for a company that had the contract for painting the Forth bridge. The story goes that because the bridge is so large and every area has to be painted it takes four year to complete. Once it has been completed they need to start at the beginning again. So the phrase 'a bit like painting the Forth bridge' has stuck in our family. (My parents are on their 4th house since that time and even though they only stayed for 3 years in one they have all been redecorated completely decorated at least twice).

Today we have friends coming to visit - one of my BFF (I am lucky enough to have a few - though they all now live a great distance from me - the furthest in New Zealand - and don't necessarily get on with each other) and her husband and daughter (who I'm also 'supporting adult' for - the equivalent to God parent in a civil naming ceremony). Now I don't know about your friends but with mine there is always a bit of 'keeping up appearances' involved - I may have told her the whys and wherefores of why my life is currently falling apart but I still want my house to look nice.

However, with a 4 year old at home it's, well - a bit like painting the Forth bridge. As fast as I get one room clean he's trashed two. As I've said before, cleaning is not my thing and my occasional forays have proved that if I clean it will just be a mess 10 minutes later. So preparation for a 'visit' lasts at least a week. If I say I've picked up books, CDs, DVDs, cuddly toys and pants off the floor at least 10 times a day for the last week you might get the picture!

At his grandparents this aversion to a clean house is the complete opposite. There is nothing he likes better than to help grandma mop the kitchen floor or grandad to vacuum the carpet (my father never used to vacuum but there is currently a standoff about the carpet - mum doesn't like it and wants to replace it is is refusing to clean it! - it is bright red and shows up every speck of dirt, plus they have a white long-haired cat!). Perhaps the fact is that my mum's house is always clean whereas mine is always 'lived in' and he can't bear them to be different from that. When I asked him why he kept making a mess he first blamed his imaginary friends (a baby elephant and a Kangaroo) then he said 'because it makes you cross'. Sometimes parenting is 'a bit like painting the Forth bridge'.

Difficult Questions

My son has reached the stage where he's realised certain questions are embarrassing to his parents - ***warning this posts contains toilet humour and references to genitalia!**

A friend of mine is a foster carer and she once explained that they are trained that difficult questions are most often asked in the car where children don't have to make eye contact with you. This hasn't been our experience - most are asked in the bath or at the dinner table.

We started with talk of how he wanted a baby sister for his 4th birthday - as 2 of his friends had baby sisters and being the only child at nursery who is an only child he is feeling left out.

At the dinner table he announced - mummy where did you get me from? (my husband was heard chuckling as he ran from the room). I tried to be as honest as possible but I think (hoped?) that the answer was (it was so traumatic I blanked it out) something along the lines of a man and a woman being in love and wanting to share it with a child and having a special cuddle rather than the gooseberry bush flannel I was fed with. However he still seems to be under the impression that we can just go to the shop and buy one - and boy were we in trouble when one didn't appear for his birthday.

The next difficult question concerned where poo-poo came from. Again I launched into a description of how we eat food and the body uses it for energy and anything that is left over is ... well ... poo poo. I'm not sure why I can't just come out with the lines that I was fed - I seem to be unable to say anything but the truth -with the least description as possible (I know I've made a rod for my own back as he's already asked several questions about the detail which I have absolutely no clue of the answer!). I have come to regret this and I have, on at least 4 separate occasions, heard him repeat this information to others - usually complete strangers in a cafe or on a bus.

Then the part a boys body that they are always fascinated with regularly comes up in conversation. He's already quizzed his dad about it but then asked me too. His main concern was my assertion that I didn't have one.

Then his recent question - delivered for full effect just as I was leaving him at grandad's (who had a tough time coping with me breastfeeding let alone toilet questions) - if I didn't have one did the wee wee come out of my bottom? Bless him, my dad did try to explain but it got all confused so my son now has the conviction that 'mummy's telling fibs, she has one really ...'

On the plus side he used the word 'consistently' when talking about why our DVD player is giving up the ghost - which I thought was pretty good for a 4 year old, hmm, wonder if he can spell it.

Is there a Guinness World Record Entry for the Longest Tantrum?

If there isn't then my son may well make the first entry today!

I thought tantrums were the trademark of the 'terrible twos' not once a child reached four. His capacity to scream seems to outlive his ability to remember why he started in the first place.

After an afternoon with grandad he was reluctant to leave as he wanted to see grandma. So when I picked him up at 5pm he started to scream. Protestations that grandma was at work, that she'd got the day off tomorrow to spend the whole day with him and that she wouldn't be back until after bedtime went on deaf ears as he continued to howl.

The usual tactic of tickles raised a few smiles but the howling didn't stop - though a couple of times it subsided into deep heaving sobs. Eventually he was lulled by the motion of the car to sleep. However we all know a child that falls asleep before dinner is likely to wake at 2am having had a full rest and demand breakfast. Upon waking the howling started again - even before he opened his eyes. My mum rang to check he was okay after dad's report of the tantrum upon leaving their house - he was still inconsolable, couldn't hear her on the phone over his own sobs. Traumatised my mum jumped in the car for the 20 minute drive to my house. He just about calmed down to deep sobs again when she arrived and finally settled to eat his dinner. A 2 hour long tantrum (plus a sleep in the middle) has to be a record - OH has repaired to the pub, mum has gone safely home, kiddo is still running around upstairs and I've just consumed the biggest bowl of ice cream. Let's hope he doesn't make a habit of it.

Bouncy Castles Okay Again?

Today's news that Mr and Mrs Perry have won their appeal has given me a little bit of relief. One of the many joys of childhood are jumping on a bouncy castle (and I've heard adults enjoy it too).

The news that the Perry's had been found liable came just as I was considering to book a castle for my son's birthday party - I have to admit that I didn't make that booking but I have allowed my son to go on a bouncy castle over the Summer (under strict supervision of course).

The voluntary group I belong to were organising summer parties for children and parents up and down the country and were initially told that they were covered under insurance for bouncy castles (as long as all paperwork and risk assessment checks had been made) but then the insurers withdrew their insurance unless we paid an extra premium - which amounted to more than our local event actually made 2 weeks ago.

I have every sympathy with Sam Harris and his family and obviously his care needs to be paid for but is this another example of how litigious our times are and the feeling that there always has to be someone to blame?

My son, the exhibitionist

Yesterday will be noted down in our family history as 'one of those days'.

My husband has escaped for a few days sitting by a lake, drinking beer, eating beans out of a can and hoping to catch fish (only to throw them back again).

So I thought son and I could do something 'nice' together. We'd had a strained relationship over the past 24 hours after I'd picked him up from an overnight stay at his grandparents and discovered that my father was now sporting a gash on his forehead sustained when a metal bucket full of sand was flung at him in protest of leaving the park that afternoon.

So it was a hot day and we went swimming. His lessons were cancelled for the holidays but as we were there at around the same time as his usual lesson a few of his friends from classes were there too. We had a great time jumping and splashing and racing up and down the pool. Time got on and '5 minutes more' was repeated several times. I could see he was tired and could barely hold his head above the water so I finally put my foot down and carried him out of the pool. Reaction: SCREAMS.

I quickly judged that the poolside showers would be no good as he'd simply run back to the pool - we'd been there before so I headed for the lockable cubicles. I don't know where my strength came from as he's now almost 3 stone and every time I resort to carrying him I end up with a bad back for a few days.

In the cubicle shower he yelled, repeatably, 'No not that one the other one' in such a wail that I'm sure the other people in the changing room were very intrigued as to what was going on.

And then it happened. I let him out of my grasp for a second and he unlocked the door bounded down the corridor, pushed open the heavy door into the pool area (that he'd previously never been able to open, even an hour beforehand), ran into the pool area and headed down the steps into the warer - COMPLETELY NAKED!

I didn't help matters as I ran after him shouting 'noooooooooo' (in my head we were all in slow motion) though I caught him before he actually jumped in and carried him back. He ceased crying for about 10 seconds when we put our swimwear in the spinner (a ritual that he obviously will hold to even mid tantrum) to dry. Then he started the 'I want a treat' rant which continued whilst we got dressed, out to the car and in the car until he fell asleep just before we got home. I kept my cool until we were home, woke him up and then I let rip.

So somewhere along the line someone will be calling social services but now I look back the sight of my 4 year old's bare behind as he made a dash for the pool was quite hilarious and most people in the pool were laughing. I don't think I'll be able to make the trip on my own again.

If only I could just kick back and disappear for a few days - though a spa with the girls beats sitting in a thunderstorm in the hope of catching a fish (which he did, by the way, so he's very happy).

Four Birthday Parties and Five Cakes

For the few that follow me on Twitter you will be aware that I have been agonising over birthday parties for weeks. There is the added complication that my son decided to arrive 10 days late, on the day before MY birthday. Therefore we expect a lot of family involvement and toing and froing between grandparents. This year was different - my OH couldn't get out of work and when he mentioned 'helping' at the party to his mum she suddenly couldn't make the trip. Somehow we ended up with every conceivable type of party - four in all.

The first
Day of son's birthday - opened a few presents, took cake (number 1) to nursery so they had a little party. Picked him up at 11.30am (I thought to go straight out but it wasn't to be), went home because 'Auntie living in Australia' was on the phone, then spoke to Paternal Grandma, Great Auntie, Maternal Grandma, Paternal Grandad and then refused to speak to Maternal Grandad as he was too tired. Then we ended up in Toys'r'us because son refused to go to the cinema - he was then bribed with the largest Thomas toy he could find if he agreed to go to the cinema :-). We went to see Kung Fu Panda - luckily there were only 4 other people in the cinema so he wasn't too disruptive in his demands for sweets and trips to the toilet - he's quoted bits so I think he enjoyed it. Then a pizza and home to play with the expensive toy - does it surprise you that he was still awake at 10pm?

Minor catastrophe when discovered friend I was paying to do son's official party cake (number 2) couldn't finish it because her son was in hospital - so didn't cut the cake I'd made for the parties (yes 2!) the next day.

The Second
MY birthday - son was a bit put out and opened a few of my presents for me. Then he went to nursery whilst I had a short lie in and then flew around the house trying to toddler proof it for the 'yummy mummy' lunch. the phone didn't stop ringing and ended up with 9 mums and 13 children (from 8 weeks-4 years old) when I was only expecting 3 mums - I hadn't even met 2 of them before! As I opened the front door to the first car load the heavens opened so the plan to let the kids run round in the garden, quite literally, went out of the window. I ended up spending most of my time stopping the toddlers putting the educational fridge magnets in the kitchen bin, making endless cups of tea and cutting up healthy fruit. My OH had dashed out for an emergency sponge cake (cake number 3) and the friend who had been making one (a Lightning McQueen one no less) turned up with an apology and a chocolate Swiss roll. Thankfully her son is okay but he will have to have treatment for a few years so she got a hug rather than tears from me. I may have damaged my position in the yummy mummy group (or perhaps reinforced it) as when I was informed that the older children were upstairs eating toothpaste I replied 'at least their teeth will be clean'. My son has reliably informed me that it was HER daughter who started it. Needless to say I was dreading the mess but was pleasantly surprised when I finally ventured upstairs - despite toys being everywhere there were no disasters.

The Third
Had half an hour to clear away and relax before heading over to mums for MY birthday party. My Aunt and uncle, mum and dad and other aunt and her kids all had dinner together and it was a really nice evening. We were hanging around for my sister but she rang there at 8.30pm to say she'd not even left home - 190 miles away! It was nice and relaxed and mum spoilt me - even getting me a cake (number 4)!

The Fourth
The official party! At a big soft play centre, with food and a disco! I'd booked 10.30am (the 11.30am eating at 12.30pm slot had already gone). My sister hadn't arrived until 2am but she was up and came along to help - it wasn't needed (in fact mum, dad, my sister and her boyfriend sat on their comfy sofas and read the papers. In all there were 15 children and it cost me £130 - they had an hour on the equipment and then were marched around the place to go to the party room, the staff dished out the food and brought in the cake (yep number 5 - which should have been number 2) and then we went into the disco room where the staff led the games before (finally) they had another 15 minutes on the equipment before it was time to give out the party bags. They held onto the presents and even provided the party bags. (know we spent much more than that on our little party at home last year.

We then headed back to mums to open the presents and i left him there with Hannah to head off for my birthday surprise which was tadadadatadadaaa ... a night on a canal boat (floating hotel) in the centre of Sheffield. My OH had a hidden agenda as he really wants to have a canal boat holiday. I knew this so spent the whole time imagining our son careering around the boat rather than enjoying it for what it was. I also have a terrible cold and a hacking cough so every time I coughed I rocked the boat. I ended up having about 2 hours sleep and spending the rest of the time knitting in the living area. Ooh and pretending I didn't need the loo as that definitely wasn't a pleasant experience.

So another year older - and probably a stone heavier with all that cake! - and I think I'll book the soft play centre again next year, that's if 5 year olds are still into brightly coloured foam and slides ...

The holidays are coming

I spent 3 1/2 hours in a fundraising meeting yesterday morning and I'm in charge of the children's craft stalls so I'll probably try making some of Sarah's play dough - there's a link at the end of her post to her book of play recipes which might come in handy over the school holidays.

So far today I've confiscated several games and threatened to cancel his birthday on Thursday and his party on Saturday (dangerous as I can't follow through) but tonight he was asleep before 9pm (he was still awake at 11pm on Saturday - despite being put to bed at 7!).

Tomorrow I am tackling the train cake - the air might be blue!

letter to my son

This reminded me that I started something about a year ago. After hearing a great speech by Jenni Trent Hughes I decided to follow her suggestion of writing a letter to my son around his birthday each year.

A week from today my 3 year old will be 4 - where did the time go? At the moment his powers of argument and persuasion are trying at the best of times so it will be good to sit down and think positive thoughts about him and note them down. I'm currently reading this - which doesn't help.

Watch what you Say

After a day of crying for no apparent reason my son was asked 'what's wrong?'



DS: I'm worried



Me: What are you worried about?



DS: My whole life!

3 years, 11 months going on 15!

Age Branding on Children's books

(just one shelf of my son's bookcase)

If you haven't already seen the press on this Juliet Doyle gives a very good background here.

It may be very 'middle class' of me but I am against the age branding on books. I'm immersed in books 24/7 - in my 'work', reading to my 3 year old and I rarely go to sleep without dipping into a book (I sometimes have two on the go - one downstairs and one upstairs - and have been known to stay up late into the night to get to the end). My relationship with books started at an early age and it is something that I have tried to pass on to my son, cousins, god children and friends - basically if you've got a birthday coming up you are going to get a book from auntie Dougalfish!

I can see the reasons behind it - but feel the arguments against it are more valid than those for.

For a start READING age differs from actual age. Some children take longer to read than others for various reasons. A lot has already been done to ensure that children are exposed to books - at 3 my son has received 3 different book packs from BookStart, the 'library lady' is a regular at local toddler groups and nursery school make books and important part of the day. As for the 'danger' of reading books to early I was *very* popular at school when it was discovered I had a copy of Judy Blume's Forever when I was 12 - did it make me promiscuous? On the contrary I was very, very far from it.

So what are your feelings on it? - do you think that age branding will help or hinder the struggle to get children to read? do you want to be told what is suitable reading for your child? (I read a chapter of this to my son yesterday because he wanted to see what I was reading) does your child have the same reading age as his/her actual age? What does your child choose to read?

Growing up

I've been having a little weep today.

We made the decision some time ago to move our son to the biggest bedroom. There are several reasons why:

1. more space - his toys can go upstairs rather than cluttering our living area (and he's old enough to play in his room for short periods of time)

2. He's a light sleeper and wakes either when we go to bed or when my OH gets up for early shifts.

3. At nearly 4 he wants a Thomas themed room rather than the cute sheep he has at the moment.

4. He needs a proper sized single bed as he keeps falling out of his cot bed at night.

4. I get to sort through his stuff and filter out what can go to charity, what can be sold on eBay or at a nearly new sale or what can be thrown away.

There are also several down points:

1. I have to sort through all his stuff! (I'm a hoarder and not good at keeping things neat and tidy.)

2. I have to pack away all the baby toys/bedding/cot that have stayed in his room (even when we moved).

3. I have to move him into a big bed.

4. He'll be all the way down the hall.

so I had a little weep as I packed away baby cardigans knitted by his nan (too girly so he never wore them) and sleep suits and baby gros.

Then he arrived home from his day with grandma and we all rushed up to his new bedroom. He couldn't wait to go to sleep tonight in his 'big' bed and surrounded by his favourite character - I hope it lasts all night!

Now just need to turn the cute sheep into a guest room for when his nan comes to stay ...

Why do mums read blogs by other mums?

I’ve added another blog to my faves discovered via Twitter I was especially drawn by his post on why mums (or moms) read blogs by other mums (but Is your child a baby Hitler? was eye catching too).

Although most of the blogs on my bloglines account are by women, on the subject of parenting some of the 'dad' ones are my favourite (especially this).

I have to disagree with the pink theory though Joeprah but maybe that's because I'm surrounded by boys.

I just want 5 minutes alone!

How come whenever my OH leaves DS alone for 5 minutes he gets into absolutely no trouble at all? Even for longer periods. Yesterday morning I was reluctant to get out of bed after spending half the night tossing and turning dreaming about school exam results (DS's not mine, he's not even 4 yet!). DS wanted a particular toy that we'd taken out with us the day before so I instructed him that it was in the bag in the hall - he eventually came back with the toy and I thought nothing of it. However when we ventured downstairs I discovered that we actually couldn't get into the hall - at the bottom of the stairs was an almighty mess. A kitchen chair had been dragged through and used to reach my handbag from it's place on the peg by the door, my gym bag, his swimming bag and his nursery bag had all been upended and the contents mingled with that of my handbag.

Then this morning OH is out at the crack of dawn and so I have no other choice than to leave DS whilst I have a shower. I come out of the bathroom to see him proudly showing off his hand - he's climbed the furniture to retrieve my shocking pink nail polish and has painted the fingers of his left hand with it (from knuckle to tip). I don't know what worried me the most, his climbing the furniture, the chance said furniture could now be covered in fuschia pink nail polish or his desire to do it in the first place. I've not taken it off yet so my OH can see exactly why I can't leave him alone for 5 minutes!!

Breastfeeding Awareness Week

I've just done my stint on a stall in town promoting breastfeeding along with local midwives, Heath Visitors, peer supporters and in my role as an NCT volunteer. There's lots of information about it here.

I felt a bit useless really as I couldn't help those with questions about feeding - my son took to it immediately and fed for 11 months without problems until I had an allergic reaction and was rushed to hospital and only thought to ask after the huge doses of antihistamine whether it would affect feeding him. Equally when I found out that I shouldn't feed him for several days after that large dose he took to cows milk and never looked back, or asked again (sob!).

What was surprising, from an anthropological point of view (people watching is a fave habit of mine), was the number of people that pointedly avoided us. Those that hadn't been able to breastfeed felt they weren't 'allowed' to enter out draw (equally those that struggled to breastfeed in our NCT group felt they couldn't volunteer at the stand either). People rapidly steered away from our stand as soon as they saw the word 'breast' or realised what was happening in the pictures on the posters (no we didn't get them out) - straight into the path of the local Big Issue seller (he was popular today).

I should have taken some of these

that the knitting group I am involved in make to aid midwives in teaching women how to breastfeed.

You don't have to be a woman, pregnant or a mother to be aware about breastfeeding. It is proven that many of those who don't breastfeed their babies make that decision because of their fear of what people will say, that they will be asked to leave premises because someone has complained or that people will stare and make them feel uncomfortable. If everyone is aware that it is best for babies and mothers and is NATURAL and not to be frowned upon then it will be easier for new mums to get on with caring for their children.

Okay off soapbox now - normal service will resume shortly ;-0)

Sweeties

A few weeks ago I picked up my DS from his regular Thursday afternoon with grandad. He was bouncing off the walls and delightedly told me that he'd eaten a WHOLE bag of Jelly babies. It wasn't really granddad's fault as he thought he'd put them somewhere safe but DS had found them and secretly eaten them! It took several hours to get him to sleep that night for various reasons but the sugar high did contribute to it. We suggested smaller packets of sweets in future and grandma decided on an all out ban. We also tried to be a bit more careful as to what he had at home so that he didn't keep asking for sweets.

Yesterday we went for lunch with the grandparents. We were chatting away quite happily when DS got a cheeky look on his face ...

DS: 'Mummy, erm you know last night (with my son anything that happened in the past happened 'last night')?' said whilst looking sideways at his grandad.

Me: 'yes, what about last night?'

DS: 'erm' still looking sideways at grandad and grinning.

Grandad: 'Don't you tell my secret!' (in mock stern voice)

DS: giggles

Me: 'Ahh .... what did you have with grandad on Thursday?'

DS: 'erm' another look at grandad, then as if he would burst 'SWEETIES!!!'

It was only a small packet but it was funny as he'd kept quiet for 2 days - even when grandad had told me with a straight face when I'd picked him up on Thursday he'd had no sweets whatsoever, hadn't even asked. Why he'd suddenly decided to tell all at that moment I don't know! I was heartened at the thought that he couldn't keep a secret but then I already know he is capable of telling complete porkies too!

In Praise of the Babysitting Circle

Some time ago a group of local mums decided to form a babysitting circle. I joined because I thought I should be involved but the thought of leaving my son with someone filled me with dread. Not because I didn't want anyone looking after my 'precious baby' but because, quite frankly, he's a nightmare at the best of times let alone at bedtime. This evening alone it was 9.30pm before he finally slept - and the whole process started at 6.30pm!!

One of my close friends was in the circle and we just continued to look after each other's children for a few hours of an afternoon. However, she recently moved away and I've been busy with work and needed a few hours without a screaming toddler. My son has loved it! On Wednesday he went to a mother and baby group and got to play with all the baby toys (suddenly they seem more interesting when you haven't seen them for a while). Today he went to a farm - walked the dog, collected eggs from the chickens, picked some rhubarb and got a close up view of a tractor. I even got to take some rhubarb and eggs home - now that's what I call good service!

I now need to babysit a bit more to build up my tokens (hopefully I'll get the babies who nap for most of the time).

And my son's behaviour? He was a charmer to the end - when asked if he'd like to sit in the cab of the tractor he said 'No thanks - I have a real one at home'.

I want to win!

It has recently been drawn to my attention that I have become a competitive mum. I'm not proud of it, slightly embarrassed really, and I will try my hardest to shake this tendency that has recently come to the fore.

It all started with a small note pinned to the door at nursery school a couple of Monday's ago. It announced that there would be an Easter bonnet competition on Thursday. As I work Tuesdays so that left Wednesday to create something - as from the moment I read that note I WANTED MY CHILD TO WIN.

Now I am no great artist but I thought we did a pretty good job. I measured my son's head and decided we didn't have time to trail round charity shops for an old hat to decorate, so we made A TOP HAT. I patiently let my son stick on glitter and tissue flowers and pour 5 tubes of glitter glue over the paper - with a few stylistic tweaks from mum it looked perfectly like the work of a 3 year old.

There was a slight catastrophe - despite my measuring it didn't fit and he refused to wear it but after a major tantrum (mine) and a chocolate egg (for him) we were both proud and happy with the result and he wore it to nursery the next day.

Unfortunately when I collected him the judging hadn't been done and we had to leave it there. Because of the bank holiday it would be more than a week before we saw it again. I collected it this week to discover that it had been crushed and half of the decorations had been pulled off. Worse still he hadn't won 'there were all good but there could only be one winner' (rubbish they are 3 year olds and could all win). Then came my realization of my competitive mum status - I almost demanded photographic evidence that the winner's was better than my son's!

I think it has rubbed off though - my son got his 5m swimming badge today while screaming 'I want to win, I want to win!'

Another me!

Oh dear I wondered where all the questions were leading to. Today when I picked up the toddler from his afternoon with grandad I was greeted with knowing smiles and the comment that '.... says that he's going to get 'another me!' is there anything you want to tell me?'.

It all started a few days ago. That annoying Lelly Kelly shoe advert was on - you know the one with the badly dubbed little girls jumping up and down in sparkly shoes and slathering on greasy make-up.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=nCXqyg7p_ow

He's always been taken with that - I think it is the make up as a favourite activity with grandma is putting on lipgloss! Anyway he's got it now that those she's are 'for girls' so he can't have them - so he's come up with a cunning plan.

Toddler: Mummy we need to get a girl so she can have those shoes because I want them but they are 'for girls'

Me: well it doesn't quite work like that. Mummy and daddy will try but you don't always know what you are going to get.

Toddler: well you need to get a girl.

Me: well we'll try but we might get a girl or a boy or even another you!

(tickle fight ensues)

Two days ago:

Toddler: Mummy who made me?

Hubbie: snigger and raised eyebrow followed by low chuckle as he made a rapid exit.

Me: (while thinking eek what do I say? God? special cuddles? gooseberry bushes?)
Mummy and daddy (said with absolute certainty).

Toddler seemed satisfied and continued to eat his dinner.

Reported conversation with grandad today.

Toddler: grandad, mummy and daddy are getting another me.

Grandad: what a little brother or sister?

toddler: NO! Another ME - but a girl so I can have some Lelly Kelly shoes ...

Ooh dear ..

This house is full of ....

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.

Though it is slowly getting cleared because 'The in-laws are coming, the in-laws are coming, ...'

Park-gate

I'm involved in a local branch of a national parenting support group. Until recently I was very involved until one member took it upon herself to launch a one-woman smear campaign and recently I've been shoved out and left in the cold. I decided at the end of last year to not let this get to me any longer - but it's hard. It has helped me find out who my friends are and cemented some of these friendships but sometimes the hostility is so blatant!

Yesterday I found out a local park were holding an Easter egg hunt at the weekend so posted the information on our eGroup.

Me: the xxxxx park are holding an Easter egg hunt on Sat and Sun 11-2pm £2 entry - Cadbury's are donating the eggs.

New member: ooh we'd like to do that - probably on the Sunday.

Know-it-all mum: We went last year, it was a really hot day and lots of people were there. We enjoyed the trail then our son (8 year old) ran ahead to get his prize and that was the last we saw of him for nearly an hour. I was going frantic and the park staff struggled to mount a search as it was busy. Though he had sensibly gone back to the car to wait for us. I would strongly recommend people bear our experience in mind before deciding whether to attend.

Me: (trying to inject a bit of humor) yes it was very busy - 4,000 people visited that weekend. We lost my mother in law but unfortunately she found us so we're trying again this year. Don't think the weather is expected to be quite as hot this year so it shouldn't be as busy.

New Member: Oh thanks for that information xxxxxx (KIAM) we won't be going now.

AAARRRGGHH! As the majority of the people reading on the eGroup do not have children over 3 they are hardly likely to let their child 'run ahead'. Though I am sympathetic with her distress last year I can't help the feeling that if anyone else had 'mentioned' the egg hunt she wouldn't have been so quick to put a dampener on it. Hmm this could be brewing to something big.

What does whining get you?

The naughty step has become my friend over the last couple of weeks as we've been trying to reset the boundaries and undo all of daddy's spoiling tactics whilst we were away.

We've also managed to kick the last habit of babyhood - the dummy! To the delight of my friend the speech therapist - unfortunately her foreboding that children who use dummies past 6 months are sure to have speech problems was always proved wrong whenever DS opened his mouth as he spoke early, clearly and frequently. He baffles me sometimes with the things he comes out with. During the period of giving up dummy he was rewarded with various 'prizes' - for example when he now asks for it we can simply say 'but you had your Windmill for your Thomas set, do you want to take that back to the Giraffe shop?' and the whining usually stops.

Usually. Today we've had whinging and whining from the end of nursery - from the second we appeared at the door he was asking for cakes/sweets/gingerbread men. Finally my OH exploded - 'What does whining get you?' in his scariest voice - to which the reply was a angelic smile and 'food!'

Wrapped around his little finger? Of course.

Why? Why would they do that?

Had a pretty strenuous day to day with several trips to the naughty step (and to the edge of reason for me).

What we needed was a air of calm to the close of the day. A meal he was sure to eat and then a wind down to the bedtime routine.

There is one, one, sure fire dish to be eaten without complaint, eaten in full and it is requested at least daily. Macaroni cheese.

Now this is not as easy as it sounds. No restaurant version will do, neither will mummy's (or even daddy's - which is usually much better) home made version, Heinz tinned variety doesn't even make it off the shelf. No it must be a supermarket ready meal - and out of the many supermarkets only one (and it's specialist kids range) will do.

So today I wearily headed to the freezer, pulled out the familiar box - noted that the child on the front had changed, but thought nothing of it and bunged the ready meal in the oven.

40 minutes later my world was shattered! Why oh why oh why did they do it? On what planet was it deemed sensible? Who were the customer panel and why did they approve it?

Our one 'safe' dish of comforting pasta in a cheese sauce has been polluted, violated, with .... broccoli! Broccoli! Arguably every child in the country's LEAST favourite vegetable - the sort of vegetable that other supermarkets have claimed to have 'hidden' in their mash.

My son loves his macaroni cheese (or maca chease as he calls it) and probably would have still eaten it with peas or even carrots added into the sauce but broccoli met with flat refusal.

I can see their sales are going to go down quite dramatically (if only from us).

If it ain't broke don't fix it.

How was the holiday?

Despite all my fears the holiday was good from a parenting point of view. DS took long haul air travel in his stride - mainly by sleeping through it. He slept constantly through the 12 hour flight from Heathrow to Singapore - woke when we landed and for the transfer to the hotel and settled down for a full nights sleep about 3 hours later - okay cough medicine did play a small part but he DID have a bad cough. The flight from Singapore to Sydney was a bit different as it was during the day- he was excited about the flight and the new game we presented him with for his Leapster. Then as we went to take off he suddenly fell asleep for about an hour before waking up and taking advantage of the in-flight tv. As we began the decent he again fell asleep - must be to do with the air pressure. In between he was entertained with the various offerings of the Quantas staff - meal, choc ices, bananas, hot chocolate, meal and more choc ices (I'm surprised we made it off the plane!). The pattern was repeated on the return journey - on the flight from Sydney he repeatedly asked if we were on the runway and as soon as I said 'yes' he fell asleep - so four flights and he's yet to experience take off or landing! The toilets were a bit frightening but he was a very brave boy!

As for the actual trip we fell in love with Singapore - we stayed on Sentosa Island which is holiday island with many attractions. The hotel was very child friendly and they made a huge fuss of DS (he has red hair which apparently is a novelty). In Sydney he shouted out excitedly 'it's the Opera House' every time we caught a glimpse of it and he was very proud of his daddy for climbing the bridge. He took seeing Koalas and Wallabies (in the Zoo) in his stride and was even unimpressed by the Cockatoos and Parrots flying in the trees instead of the sparrows and starlings we have at home. Hong Kong was less than child friendly and he was quite constrained there as we were frowned upon for letting him show any exuberance - we found out later that there aren't many children in Hong Kong due to the high living cost. He did have a special treat - Disneyland Hong Kong - okay we really enjoyed it too. And what does he remember of the whole holiday - the 'orange monkey' (Orangutan) at Taronga Zoo!

We've had some adjusting - for 3 weeks the 3 of us have shared a room and have been 'together' with no break. Behaviourwise he got away with a lot which caused many cross words between myself and my other half! Is it wrong that I was SO glad when he went back to nursery and hubby went back to work and I got some space to myself?

Counting Chickens

What is it they say about counting chicken's before they've hatched? I've not reread my last post and it has taken me a while to post this.

The nausea hit a few days after I wrote my last post and then on our last day in Sydney - a week ago - I started to bleed. After a whole day spent at the GPs and then the local hospital the conclusion was that I am no longer pregnant and they suggested that I never was.

OH immediately went into his usual mode and can't understand why I am so upset. His theory is that if it didn't exist then why worry about it. Trouble is to me it did.

Feel much better now I am home and glad it didn't happen during our stop over in Hong Kong. We also found that no matter which country you are in a trip to A&E still takes 8 hours! Though in Sydney they didn't seem as rushed as they are at home.

The Signs

Swollen ankles, irrational mood swings, trousers getting a bit tight, jumping a bra size - normal when abroad right? or perhaps PMT? Yet add tired all the time and feeling a bit queasy, even on land and I realized I'd been here before. Eventually told my other half and we did a test - I wonder if I'm the first to do a pregnancy test at the top of the Sydney Tower? - which confirmed it - I'm pregnant again. We're not sure how many weeks but it can't be more than 7 or 8 and though it was planned it's happened a little earlier than expected.

Of course now every time the 3 year old plays up I panic as to how I'll manage with two. We took him to the Aquarium - he screamed because he wanted to go on the train, we took him on the train and then he screamed when we left (these are not even pleasant trains, more like London Underground in 30 degree heat). We're planning on taking him to see Dragon boat racing and to the Zoo - but it will be punctuated with cries for the train!

As we probably wont be having any more I am planning on enjoying this pregnancy (turn around and touch the ground and a whole block of wood that it all goes well) as I was too worried about the unknown with the first. There's still plenty to worry about - a close friend lost her first baby a week before it was due late last year and I never want to go to a funeral like that again. Plus now we have moved I gather the whole process is different to where we used to live and we have to get our own scan. Then there is when to tell people - unfortunately I can't keep secrets and I am dreading talking to my mum on the phone tonight (as I can pretty much guarantee she'll be in on Sat morning in the UK) as I know I'll just blurt it out (that's how she found out the first time). But the as the in-laws are picking us up from the airport they will find out first and I will be telling my mum as soon as we get home.

We've decided DS behaviour is a direct result of not having the routine of nursery and grandad's usual afternoons with him. My OH is too soft and I'm too tired to argue but there have been a few occasions where I've shouted at him in the street 'No you've got to carry out the threat otherwise he'll not learn'. I actually spent the whole afternoon alone with him yesterday while OH climbed the Sydney Harbour Bridge and we had a great time - he was absolutely filthy from climbing all over walls and running up and down hills BUT he came when called and didn't cry about going on the train. I do miss the naughty step though - the naughty corner isn't quite the same :-)

Grumpy, sunburn and secrecy

It's increasingly hard to write this blog as I've had very little privacy this week. I am currently in a 2 bed apartment with my OH's sis, her flatmate, his girlfriend, my OH and our DS. The upside is that we look directly out onto a Sydney beach.

SO far my worries about travelling have been unfounded. DS slept through the first flight entirely (12 hours) and didn't bat an eyelid when 4 hours later we put him back to bed at the hotel. And despite a couple of power naps on the second flight he spent most of it watching the inflight TV - even the toilets didn't scare him. I've been underestimating him obviously.

The secrecy is compounded by the fact that my laptop died 2 days before we left so I am using OH and for some reason the WiFi wont work on my log in so I'm using his.

I have something new to worry about - my DS is sunburnt - despite liberal applications of factor 40 he wouldn't keep still to put it on - the draw of the hotel pool was too much and so he has odd burn marks all over his body (so have I and my OH). In 10 years time he'll look at the photos and berate me for being so careless with his health.

Living here we've had an insight into the single life - being old and decrepid (sp?) now we can't remember the time before we got together at the tender age of 18. We've had a tour of the bars and eateries around the flat, were greeted off the plane by drunks who were then less than polite at being woken by an excited 3 year old (and his 34 year old dad). They then went out partying the next night and came home at 5am - luckily we'd had the foresight not to let DS out of the room when he first woke up at 7am but to leave it till at least 10 but as it was it took till 2pm to get any sense out of them. Grumpy, me? Well I haven't come to the other side of the world to nurse their hangovers but I think they learnt a valuable lesson 3 year olds and partying don't mix. But then again we are boring old farts ...

The funniest bit is that the shoes that we simply had to bring ended up being 2 different sizes - turns out MIL brought 2 pairs, one for her and one for her daughter and they were different sizes. When we told her she groused that we'd have to pay the postage for the missing one to be sent to Australia - till I pointed out that in that case she'd have to make a contribution to the flight of the first one and for bringing the second one back! Hmm ... went a bit quiet.

Planning a holiday

Planning a holiday is like a military operation nowadays. Because we are visiting my sis in law ALL of my OH family have rung up with 'can you take ...?' recently. They have been a bit flabergasted at my response of 'no'. They seem to think that as we are taking a 'small person' who will have the same baggage allowance as us that THERE WILL BE LOTS OF ROOM. I don't need to tell you that they either don't have children or it was a long time ago that they did :-)

Because of the stopovers we will be taking 4 flights each of around 12 hours with a gap of at least 3 days in between. Part of the journey will be with British Airways and part with Quantas - this is the start of the problem - we have more baggage allowance with BA and also more hand luggage but the rules haven't been relaxed with Quantas. So although it appears that we have more luggage allowance, we don't, unless we dump half our stuff en route.

These same relatives have been buying cute little outfits for DS to wear on his trip - we have about 30 pairs of shorts for a 21 day trip - and will expect photos! Once you factor in all the suncream, swimming equipment and nappies for bedtime and swimming in the pool I don't think there is going to be much room for carrying things too heavy to post. Not to mention that we will also be carrying the buggy.

With only 4 days to go I'm starting to worry about the flight - not just keeping a 3 year old entertained for so long (his Christmas presents of a Fisher Price FP3 player and a LeapPad Leapster should help) but I keep having nightmares about the toilets. You see after months of struggle our DS is toilet trained and can go without a nappy in the day time but airline toilets are scary for an adult - or it was for me en route to New York when the lights went out and I couldn't get out - let alone a child! The last time we flew with him he was 15 months and hated being changed in the toilets because of the noise. I'm terrified it will undo all our hard work.
We've already decided to take the dummy - the last vestige of babyhood that we've managed to confine to bedtimes but haven't quite gotten rid of yet - for the sheer sake of a quiet life (and I don't think the other passengers would appreciate the tantrums that usually occur when he is denied it).

At the moment he is really excited because he is going to see his auntie and nursery have said that he can take their mascot (a stuffed lion) on the trip (oh great another thing to worry about losing!) with us.

So my next post maybe from our first stop off proclaiming that we're never going on a plane again and are staying there for the duration!

Without Wings!

Just a follow up from my post about praise really.

At my DS' swimming lesson today - after 5 mins of cajoling and a promise that I would be really, really proud (and give him a packet of chocolate finger biscuits) - my brave little boy swam a few strokes from the side without armbands!! After a cuddle he said 'again, again, again' (and repeated the exercise about half a dozen times).

Two weeks ago I'd have said it was impossible - and yes I am very, very proud.

Time to Chill

This week I finally cashed in my Mother's Day voucher and spent a day at a health spa with my lovely mum.

It was bliss. We were well and truly pampered - pedicure, massage, 3 course lunch and time to unwind in sauna and steam rooms.

But, true to form, nothing is ever perfect. Mainly the lockers - rather than the coin and key version we are all familiar with in gyms and swimming pools we were given a card with our locker number on and instructions on how to programme them. We had to press several buttons and add our own 4 digit 'personal number' into the mix. I loaded my locker and tried to put in the code, it didn't lock so I tried again, it beeped but didn't lock so I checked the card, tried again and then it emitted a loud, high pitched tone which reminded me of the bit in films before the bomb goes off. After appealing to the assistant for help she declared she'd not seen that before and I'd have to get another locker (which she locked for me).

The blissful day was punctuated with trips to our lockers - to fetch a towel, a book, to check the mobile or to change into a swimsuit - and we usually needed assistance to either unlock or lock the lockers (sometimes both) and we weren't the only ones. You couldn't even give up and leave it unlocked as they automatically locked if it was left closed and unlocked for any length of time and you needed to get an assistant to unlock it again for you. What is wrong with the old key method?

I couldn't quite get my head around wandering round in my dressing gown in front of complete strangers. The first one I was given was a Small when I am most definitely XLarge - in the end I was given an XXXXL which must have been specially made for Geoff Capes to visit and I had to roll it up at the sleeves. After lunch we wandered into a conservatory area to have our coffee and it was littered with sleeping bodies in white gowns, which reminded me of depictions of the aftermath of Roman orgies, well didn't they invent the spa?

I had imagined having a day spent without the worries of everyday life, a little 'me time', where I could be myself rather than someones mum. To an extent that was true but as the place was full of women all of the conversations seemed to revolve around childbirth stories, potty training, tantrums and the naughty step - I could have been at a toddler group really!

A few days later and I have lost the chilled out feeling I gained at the spa, I'm back to the tension headaches and the feeling of being at the end of my tether BUT I do have beautifully painted toenails and a hole in my bank account to remember the day by.

The Power of Praise

The other day I saw the true power of praise. Of course we praise our son regularly - 'oh good boy you've eaten your dinner', 'well done for brushing your teeth', etc. etc. but I suppose these comments have lost their glamour and he barely notices them. (It still makes me laugh when he insists on accompanying me to the toilet and saying 'Well done, Good Girl, mummy!' - thankfully never 'now wash your hands' or 'wipe your bottom'! - always a laugh in M&S ladies'.)

For a few months now we've had a problem with swimming lessons. All week he talks about going swimming and builds himself up into a frenzy of excitement on the actual day. He behaves excellently for the first 10 minutes and then goes into toddler tantrum meltdown - in front of a packed pool - for the rest of the session. Often he calms down for the last 2 minutes and discovers he can actually do what everyone else is doing and then we have meltdown again when I tell him it is time to get out. Last week was a prime example and involved kicking and screaming - on his part - and crying on mine. In the end I dumped him on the side of the pool and stepped away, calmly told him it wasn't acceptable and eventually he joined in with the last 5 minutes of the lesson. For the next three days I couldn't bend my arms at the elbow, as a result of holding him at arms length for so long, and decided that this had to stop.

I resorted to bribery. I told him that there was a big tube (as opposed to a small box) of smarties for him after the lesson if he listened to the teacher and did not shout or scream (or kick). As usual he promised that he would behave - but I've heard that before. The teacher and I also had a secret plan. When he started with 'I don't want to do that' we said 'okay, mummy will do it' - at one point I was doggy paddling up the pool with a woggle under my arms with the other children - I'd got about a third of the way up the pool when he decided that actually he'd like to do that himself. He tested me a few other times but we managed to get to the end of the lesson without a screaming incident and I bundled him up in my arms and said 'I AM SO PROUD OF YOU'.

I've not been able to convey this to his grandparents and his dad well but I could physically see him glow at that remark. It was like he was suddenly filled with a warm coloured light. It's been 3 days now and he's still telling people 'my mummy's proud of me' - his behaviour in general has improved and he's almost sleeping through the night.

Now I'm not naive, I know that we will be back at the battle lines again soon enough but something special happened in that moment - he felt good and he wants more, and so do I

Just say 'no'!

Picture the scene. Been 'at my desk' for 4 hours working on an almost late project. Just broken for a quick lunch before picking DS up from nursery, taking him to get together at his friends house where I've agreed to meet a new mum to our parents group as well as 'look after' another friends' 4 year old and 1 year old before dashing off for a swimming lesson at 4! Phone rings and it's know it all mum

KIA: 'Can you do me a favor?'

ME: ' Sure'

Inner voice: Say no! for once in your life stop being a doormat!

KIA: 'Oh great, I've just done a poster for the group tomorrow but our printer's not working and it needs the new logo that I know you've got could you just print off a few copies and take them the the get together for me?'

ME: 'Erm'

IV: NO! No! NO! you've got 10 mins before you've got to pick DS up, it takes 15 mins to crank up the computer, let alone print it. SHE's got the logo too AND she's been using the printer excuse for 6 months now - remember the fundraising posters?

ME: I can't see it in my inbox and I'll have to crank up the PC to print anything and it's a bit slow and I need to pick DS up in 10 mins.

KIA: 'Oh well you know the sort of thing we need, but could you do it on A5? Thanks, Bye.

ME: Argh why didn't you just say NO!!?

Result was 10mins late to pick up DS from nursery and logo wouldn't print so had to listen to KIA tell everyone how we couldn't have the sign up at the group (which I no longer go to because DS is at nursery) because I couldn't print it - I did point out to a few that I only had 10 minutes notice!

Which reminds me I must ring the new mum and check she's okay and is planning on coming back. KIA was in full force but Super Mum was a little subdued, and I was a little distracted by a 4 year old who was sulking, a 3 year old who was HUNGRY MUMMY! and a 1 year old who can move very, very fast! - I hope we didn't put her off :-)

What's this all about?

My dougalfish blog is about my working life - which is regularly impinged on by my 'real' life as a mum. This is equally as stressful as work so I've set up a separate blog to contain my musings on being a mum.