tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41506976575665118302024-03-13T14:24:08.672-07:00The Naughty StepMy life with a 6 year old and a baby and how I don't really cope!dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-42887559313093694912010-11-14T10:29:00.001-08:002010-11-14T10:47:21.174-08:00Busy Bees or 'No Rest for the Wicked'So we're halfway through our temporary abandonment by my husband. He's been having a whale of a time - meals out, drinking in bars, swimming in the pool, seeing the sights, LIE INs! - whilst I've been dealing with challenging behaviour from eldest and a teething baby who's been up most nights.<br /><br />Now deep down I know that he's keeping busy so that he's not sat in a hotel room missing us but that doesn't help when you're telling a 6 year old that no, he can't speak to daddy today as daddy's gone out and won't be back till eldest is (supposedly) asleep.<br /><br />So we're trying to keep busy too:<br /><br />Mon:<br />School run, baby & toddler group, phone call from Oz?, emergency supermarket trip, school run, sibling photos at school, swimming lesson, dinner, bed. Not sure when baby is going to nap.<br /><br />Tues:<br />Coffee with the school mum's, buy bits eldest needs for first Beaver Scout sleepover - including uniform, cake baking, finishing off craft fair stuff for Sat, eldest at friends for tea but that will make a difficult bedtime. Last call from Oz?<br /><br />Wed:<br />Friend coming over (so will have to clean Tues night) after morning school run, soft play (hell) after school, trying not to panic about OH flying and waiting for text at stopover.<br /><br />Thurs:<br />Husband hopefully lands before morning school run but not sure when he will drive home. To minimise the chance of eldest spontaneously combusting with the anticipation of his dad's arrival were going to see Disney on Ice with grandparents - whilst trying to hide the fact that daddy will probably be at home before we even leave to pick eldest up from school and go.<br /><br />Fri:<br />Catching up with my husband then out in the evening preparing hall for Saturday's craft fair. Also need to prepare eldest's Beaver sleepover kit<br /><br />Sat:<br />Scheduled to be at craft fair venue (with baby) for 7:30am - should be home for 3:30 in time to take eldest to Beaver Sleepover that starts at 4!<br /><br />Sun:<br />Husband back at work so no time to relax. Pick up eldest at 4.<br /><br />But hey, that's life- who'd change it?dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-48954544024013519992010-11-08T17:35:00.001-08:002010-11-08T17:35:59.682-08:00Lonely Without YouIt's been 34 hours since I became (temporarily) a single parent. My husband is currently on a flight to Sydney to attend his sister's wedding. I would be with him - if funds allowed - but children weren't invited, my eldest is in a SATs year and who would want to fly with an 8 month old for 26 hours?<br /><br />I estimate that my husband has just finished a stopover at Singapore - 2 flights this week have run into trouble when leaving Singapore bound for Sydney. <br /><br />As he had to be at an airport 4 hours drive away first thing this morning he actually left us yesterday afternoon. This resulted in my eldest not letting me out of his sight until he finally sobbed himself to sleep an hour and a half after he should have been catching zeds. This evening was similar - except that I had 10 people on my living room trying to have a committee meeting!<br /><br />It's really hit my eldest how far away daddy actually is - I had to explain that we couldn't ring him as he was on the plane and he couldn't switch his phone on. <br /><br />I think it's been more difficult than any of us thought that it would be. I definitely don't want to be single with 2 kids permanently. <br /><br /><br />-- Post From My iPhone<br />dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-51461457912342345702010-10-29T08:26:00.001-07:002010-10-29T08:26:24.523-07:00What do they put in the water?As I predicted eldest settled right down when he went back to school! He's really enjoying being in year 2 and has been soaking information up like a sponge. We've had a fantastic parent's evening and his behaviour improved at home too.<br /><br />That was until the half term holidays! What on Earth do they put in the water at school?<br /><br />-- Post From My iPhone<br />dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-37005814616698634442010-09-03T12:31:00.000-07:002010-09-03T12:46:38.455-07:00Holiday! Celebrate?Well 4 months have flown by and we've just about survived the school holidays, just.<br /><br />Baby is now sitting up and making his presence felt. Eldest is a live wire who finds it impossible to sit still or be quiet. As a result I have exhausted all funds in an attempt to keep him busy and entertained - soft play, bowling, walks in the park, trips to the seaside. These exciting trips haven't stopped the tantrums though - after the second game of crazy golf at the seaside we declined to play a third and received a tantrum of monstrous proportions - stomping, shrieking, crying and thumping - we never do anything for him only the baby and we don't love him and he doesn't want us as parents any more!<br /><br />Almost as difficult as these episodes are the apologies later when he is filled with remorse and hits himself for being 'so stupid'. It pulls on the heart strings but you can't help wondering if it is all a ploy to get a bit softer treatment next time the red mist rears it's ugly head.<br /><br />I'm looking forward to school starting next week to try and get some routine back into our lives. When people see me with a baby they invariably ask me if he sleeps well - yes, like a log, would go for 12 hours if it wasn't for his elder brother. For most of the holidays we've been woken at 3, 4, 5am by our eldest who just can't wait for the next day to begin - and then he's full on for the rest of the day. Every time the baby drifts of to sleep during the day he's woken by over enthusiastic hugging and kissing or impromptu singing sessions - this of course backfires as the time I could devote to him whilst baby is asleep is lost but he doesn't seem to learn from this.<br /><br />So whilst many of my friends are mourning the end of the Summer - I can't wait for September and the school run to start!dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-37779419921445058942010-04-21T05:05:00.001-07:002010-04-21T05:05:33.328-07:00Emerging from the fogMy baby boy is almost 2 months old now - and is now in 3-6 months clothes as he's a very hungry boy. I'd forgotten how delightful they can be at this age - smiling at you and making you feel like you are the most important person in the world, starting to try to communicate with coos and laughs, and developing a character all of their own. I could quite happily closet myself up with him all day but the school run must be done. His older brother is getting better but we're still prone to extreme tantrums over something minor with no warning. On Sunday my parents came over for dinner - youngest was asleep, eldest playing with Lego and I was cooking when eldest suddenly threw what he was building across the room, stomped upstairs and slamed his bedroom door! 'that', my dad said 'is what you call karma'. I'm sorry Dad for every temper tantrum I put you through ... Now tell me the secret of coping with them!<br /><br /><br />-- Post From My iPhone<br />dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-47330262999800634842010-03-27T16:33:00.001-07:002010-04-08T09:04:56.798-07:00Holidays again?Last time I looked it was February half term, I was heavily pregnant and couldn't face a week with my 5 year old demanding entertainment. Suddenly the holidays are here and I have a month old baby to throw into the mix. Unfortunately there was miscommunication on the relative front as our school broke up this Friday whereas the schools where my mother lives don't break up until next week. So my son has next week attending various drs appointments and baby clinics with me with the promise of a few days after Easter with grandma - if we survive next week that is.<br /><br />I knew that life with two children was going to be harder than with one. Unfortunately I had to go into hospital to be monitored and eventually the baby was induced and my eldest hasn't quite recovered from seeing mummy hooked up to monitors and drips. He is very proud of his little brother though and wants to hold and cuddle him all the time. We thought with the almost 6 year age gap that he'd understand more and take on board that we'd have slightly less time for him in the first weeks. We forgot that he's only 5 and used to having us all to himself. We had some awful behaviour - towards us rather than his new brother - but it seems to be subsiding and our lovely big boy is back (fingers crossed).<br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-79125863572497852472010-02-23T04:48:00.000-08:002010-02-23T05:29:36.665-08:00Waiting is different this timeSo I officially started my maternity leave 12 days ago and my due date is in 2 days time - we've just had a week of 1/2 term with both my husband and my son at home - so today is only the second day I've been 'alone' with nothing to do. Goodness I'm bored.<br /><br />When I was on maternity leave I had (what seems now) a wonderful relaxing time. I finished work 4 weeks before my due date and my son was 10 days late. I caught up with movies that I'd always wanted to see, napped during the day, met up with my antenatal classmates, went to aqua-natal classes and antenatal appointments.<br /><br />This time there's none of that. Where I live now there is little provision of antenatal classes - especially for second time around mums, my friends are all busy with work or children. I have a stinking cold so can't go to aqua-natal. My midwife is off this week - though 'someone' will be here on my due date. None of my maternity clothes still fit - well some do but it is too cold to wear them in this freezing weather, not only my ankles but my legs are all swollen and my hip is quite painful which makes it difficult to walk. The cold I have makes it difficult to breathe so sleep at night - and napping in the afternoon - is difficult. I can only just - with a struggle - get the car seat belt around me and it is difficult to drive with that painful hip. Oh and all I ever seem to do is moan!<br /><br />But come 3pm my first born will be out of school and will catapult me back into normality again and bring me out of the dumps. Let's just hope there's not much waiting left.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-89349300568517229042010-02-16T06:18:00.000-08:002010-02-16T06:36:34.853-08:00Due date and failing testsWell I'm 9 days away from my due date with baby number 2. There's no sign of anything happening yet and my first was induced and arrived 10 days after his due date so I'm sure I'm here for a while yet. Unfortunately that is depressing! If the baby had remained breech - as it was a few weeks ago - I would have had a c-section this morning and be holding my baby now. But I am glad that I didn't have to have an operation.<br /><br />I've managed to sail through this pregnancy passing every test that they've thrown at me - I'm 'overweight' so I should by the medical professions predictions be a 'special case' - but so far my blood pressure, my glucose levels, my weight gain and my urine samples have all been fine. Until last week when my urine sample was ever so slightly out - expected in pregnancy I was told. I did another test and dropped it off for the pathology lab at the hospital. Today, a week later, I get a call to provide another sample at the doctor's surgery. I get there and whisper to the receptionist why I'm there. 'A URINE SAMPLE?' she shouts just in case the people at the back of the packed waiting room couldn't hear. She gives me a test tube and a plastic bag and tells me to go home and come back with it when it's done. Having struggled to get my huge bump behind the steering wheel of the car I can't face making a return journey so I ask if I can do the necessary there - she pulls a face but agrees that she could put it in the fridge to be collected (nice!).<br /><br />Now if you've ever been 9 months pregnant or known anyone who is 9 months pregnant you will know that we can't be far from a loo for long but when we get there you kind of wonder what all the fuss was about - the baby pressing on the bladder means that any amount of liquid - no matter how small - has to be expelled immediately. I had drunk a pint of water in preparation so hoped that this wouldn't be a problem. No the problem was that the 'test tube' sized vessel is too small when 1. you can't see what you are doing because of the bump and 2. you're a woman and you can't aim! Added to that you are advised to take the sample 'mid flow' and you can understand why I failed before I started. Never mind I put in the bag, wrapped it up so that the receptionist couldn't comment on the paltry amount and I'm now hoping that the baby arrives before the results are proved inconclusive again.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-6856689784799034902009-10-13T02:18:00.000-07:002009-10-13T02:18:00.306-07:00So what are you here for?Last week I was particularly down - why? Because I'd been on the NHS side! Whilst I agree that our NHS is a wonderful thing anyone who has spent anytime in hospital knows that they operate to different rules and time zones to those of us who have things to do, people to see, kids to get to and from school, etc., etc.<br /><br /><br /><br />I'd had a standard letter from the hospital to turn up for a consultant's appointment at 9am. Along with the letter was a sheet with several notes saying that I would be seeing the consultant until my 'condition' was resolved. I'm not ill - I'm pregnant. As I usually do I got worried - I'd not had to see a consultant with my son, I'd been told all my tests so far were fine - what was wrong. A chat with my midwife didn't put me at ease - she pointed to a colposcopy I'd had in 2002 and streptococcal infections I'd had in 1997 and 2007 - but these were conditions I'd had before my son's birth in 2004 and hadn't rung alarm bells then.<br /><br /><br /><br />In order to get a parking space we arrived at the hospital at 8.30am - unfortunately not early enough for a parking space near the maternity entrance (in fact I saw a woman, clearly in labour, making the 10 min walk from the 'overspill' car park). We stood in a corridor until the receptionist finally deigned to open her blind (after chatting loudly with a colleague, ordering tea, ringing her mum, etc.) at 8.55am. It then took her 10 mins to boot her computer up and get us booked in. Ten minutes later I was called in to see a nurse who told me what was going to happen at the appointment with the consultant and told me that because of my BMI they were going to have to keep a close eye on my weight gain and my bump size - not done with my son, granted I am a couple of stone heavier than I was before I had him and I am overweight but I did feel like great sirens had gone off when I walked through the door.<br /><br /><br /><br />Back to the waiting room and I was eventually called in to see the consultant at 9.45am who sat down and asked me why I was there! 'erm I got a letter telling me to come to an appointment'. He then SAT AND READ MY NOTES, disappeared out of the door - a nurse came in and spoke to the student doctor who was observing (I wasn't asked if that was ok) and I discovered he'd gone to speak to another doctor, then came back with a purpose - to put the FEAR OF GOD into me.<br /><br /><br /><br />As a result I now have to have a glucose tolerance test as I may be diabetic (if I had £10 for every diabetes test I've had done over the last 10 years ...). This involves no food from 10pm and only being able to drink water, a blood test at 8.30am followed by a horrible glucose drink - and still no food - and a 2 hour wait before another blood test to check how well I tolerated it.<br /><br />I also have to have extra scans at 32 and 36 weeks to check the size of the baby as I'm at risk of having a bigger baby - especially IF I'm diabetic (I must point out that after all those tests I've had in the past I'm not even borderline, or close to borderline, diabetic). I know because of the streptococcus I will have to have a hospital birth rather than a home birth but I was saddened by how medicalized it will probably be - after being induced and unable to get out of bed with my first I wanted it to be different.<br /><br /><br /><br />The most frustrating bit was that he asked me to book a scan for 32 weeks (New Years eve as it happens) and then book another appointment to see him immediately afterwards. This should have been straightforward except that the appointments clerk on the ultrasound unit had other ideas 'Oh you don't need this - they keep sending people up here to book 32 week scans but you've got one at 20 weeks and you wont need another'. It was only after both my OH and I had explained slowly that the consultant had told us that we did, and another at 36 weeks, and that we had to go back down to make another appointment with him which we couldn't do without the date and time of the ultrasound - she realised that we weren't leaving her office without one that she grudgingly printed off an appointment - still adamant that we'd have to cancel as we 'wouldn't need it'. I made a complaint with the consultant's receptionist - who also said 'oh we keep getting people saying that - I don't know what's up with her'.<br /><br /><br /><br />I also went to the local MSLC (Maternity Services Liaison Committee) meeting that afternoon and told them all about it too. Felt slightly better but still more anxious about this pregnancy than I was a few weeks ago.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-20258104200977192982009-09-16T03:51:00.000-07:002009-09-16T04:36:05.649-07:00There may be trouble aheadWell Summer is well and truly over and Christmas is fast approaching.<br /><br />My son has now just about settled back into school - year one is so much more tiring than Foundation apparently. But he's worried ...<br /><br />At first he was really excited by the news that he will be getting a baby brother or sister in February - 'yay! All my friends have got one' - but now he's getting a bit worried.<br /><br />Initially he asked if he could name the baby - we've sidestepped that by suggesting that everyone picks a name and we'll decided which suits the baby best when it is here (and my husband has secretly told him that mummy has the final say!).<br /><br />I've had to consciously stop myself from saying '... because of the baby' but it hasn't helped that I had morning sickness and then a scare which led to him staying at grandma's for a weekend whilst I rested. So understandably he is worried about me.<br /><br />Then there's the question of the cuddles - 'will the baby get more cuddles than me?' - I've told him that he needs to loudly remind his grandma's that he needs cuddles too - I hope that doesn't come back to bite me ...dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-36725503769971323592009-06-08T10:49:00.000-07:002009-06-14T10:52:15.086-07:00Let them eat cake ...<div>I'm not quite sure why but I decided that cake baking would be an after school activity today. I was already shattered from helping out at our local parent and toddler music group this morning (as I was unencumbered by a child I got there early, set up, panicked that half the stuff was missing, located the stuff, prepared the snack, served the snack and tea and coffee and then cleared it all up again) as I've had a cold for a month now.</div><br /><br /><div>I think it was because we have lots of eggs - which were purchased with a promise of a baking frenzy which didn't happen as any spare moment I've had has been wrapped up in bed cuddling a paracetamol based hot cold remedy.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>The topic of some baking was discussed in the car on the way home from school - mainly because of the sulk that had ensued from having to walk an extra 500 yards to the car as I couldn't get a space closer. In theory we could - and should - walk to and from school within about 35 minutes, however this involves walking past a parade of shops which would cost me a fortune in bribes to get him there/home.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>Don't get me wrong I have baked with my son before - but it usually ends in disaster with us both losing our temper. However, I've mellowed of late. At half term I even suggested some alfresco painting in the sunshine and watched calmly whilst he spread paint everywhere! My OH's rant of 'what's THAT all over the drive' was met with a smile rather than my usual explanation of everything our son had done wrong that day. (It was later deduced that I had a fever.)<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>He does sometimes bake with his dad and quite often bakes with his grandma - without incident. </div><br /><div>We just annoy each other.</div><br /><div>As soon as I laid out the ingredients there was trouble.</div><br /><br /><div>S: Can I squish it like crumble?</div><br /><br /><div>Me: no, it's a cake.</div><br /><br /><div>S: (wails) but I want to squish it and then lick my fingers WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH</div><br /><br /><div>Me: okay how about you try breaking the eggs?</div><br /><br /><div>S: WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH ... can I lick the bowl?</div><br /><br /><div>Me: not while we're mixing the cake.</div><br /><br /><div>S: can I lick the spoon?</div><br /><br /><div>Me: no we need that to mix the cake.</div><br /><br /><div>S: but when can I eat it? I want to eat it.</div><br /><br /><div>Me: just be patient.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>S takes a sneaky lick whilst I'm hunting for a cake tin AND bun cases - as whichever one I don't get out he will want to do. I can only find the 'new' loose bottomed cake tin (remember that - we'll return to it later).<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>S opted for BIG cake and was very happy to finally be able to lick the spoon.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>For the next 40 minutes I had to cope with 'Can I eat the cake yet?' every 30 seconds. It wears you down, believe me.</div><br /><br /><div>When the cake was finally ready I whipped it out of the oven aiming to get it on the cooling rack out of reach. I held it on the bottom - which came loose, the side ring sliding down my arm. You can imagine the expletive as I threw the cake down and rushed to the cold tap.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div>Eventually cake was cool (though my arm was still on fire!) - I did the icing as I couldn't cope with the bowl licking again - and iced. Later we all had a share.</div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347241222695679394" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7HU053lrERU/SjU3j6cZ9aI/AAAAAAAAAFc/onF0t3sAiLk/s320/june+072.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div>S: Muuuuuuum - Dad's got a purple sweet and I wanted the purple one WAHWAHWAHWAHWAH ...<br /><br /><div></div>dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-30693162057397212542009-04-11T13:48:00.000-07:002009-04-11T13:56:36.494-07:00Two's Company?It's the Easter hols!<br /><br />We're currently half way through the two week Easter holidays. I wasn't looking forward to it but at the 11th hour I ended up spending the last week looking after my 9 year old goddaughter as well as my 4 year old.<br /><br />My friends with 3 children couldn't help but laugh as I turned up at our preorganized activities late, dishevelled, and in need of a coffee. I was barely audible as I squeaked 'It's hard work getting two ready' whilst they exchanged knowing looks.<br /><br />My son loved it - someone to boss around and who wanted to play. The 9 year old got fed up of being bossed around and was starting to wane by the end of the week.<br /><br />But we survived. I've often said to my friends with 3 'You're amazing, I don't know how you do it!' - now I'll be saying to those with 2 too.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-78388108132453970662009-03-19T06:10:00.001-07:002009-03-19T06:15:51.269-07:00The Knock Knock JokeI'm about to embark on a 3 hour car journey <em>en famille</em>. To be followed tomorrow with an 8 hour car journey with the addition of my god daughter and her parents (ok she's not my 'god daughter' as it was a civil ceremony and I'm a 'significant adult' rather than god mother - but you get the picture).<br /><br />I'm not looking forward to the journey. The main reason being that my son has discovered the knock knock joke.<br /><br />It started at Christmas - who bought those blasted crackers? and has been resurrected recently with the comic relief joke book at school.<br /><br />I leave you with one of his best:<br /><br />Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it wanted to see his friends.<br />Knock Knock <em>Who's there?</em> ME!!!!dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-30677152263831681822009-01-29T15:05:00.000-08:002009-01-29T15:20:12.740-08:00The case of the missing pants ...Today was always going to be rather hectic. I'm currently without a car - we noticed on Tuesday that the back door of my car was open and it wouldn't shut. It seems that I broke the catch on our return from swimming this week (a successful trip this week as we decided to move him to a less advanced class - he's happy when he's one of the most skilled in the group) we drove to a nearby garage (with the door tied with a shoelace) where it has sat for the last few days waiting for a part.<br /><br />So my OH has been juggling his hours so that we can organise school runs and my parents have been helping out too. Today were were going to walk to school but I overslept and my son refused to dress or eat and my dad had to come to the rescue.<br /><br />Now I have been quite determined recently that my son will dress himself - which can take hours. His peers with younger siblings have been doing it for a long time now and he is capable - it's just sometimes it is quicker to help him. I am usually in the same room with him as he dresses - dressing myself or sorting washing or putting toys away or checking emails, etc., etc. and can sort out any attempts to put on items of clothing inside out, upside down or back to front. Today was no different.<br /><br />On arrival at school my son dashed ahead of me and dived down the slide outside his classroom - which was soaking wet! He was soaked to the skin all down the back of his trousers (his friends mother rather helpfully announced loudly that my son had 'wet himself' - she's also doled out advice that he should bribe people to be his friends by giving them sweets and that if anyone upsets him he should 'give 'em a whack' - I am hoping he makes new friends now he has widened his social circle). Not to worry - the school PE kit he keeps on his peg is just for this purpose. So we dashed to the front of the queue to get in, grabbed his bag and retreated to the far corner of the room where the easels stand. I quickly whipped off his shoes and his trousers only to discover HE WAS WEARING NO PANTS! <br /><br />Now I am absolutely certain that he was wearing them as some point this morning as we went through the usual ritual of putting them on his head, putting them on back to front and then putting both legs in one side. The teachers, though amused, said there was nothing to worry about as it happens often (and they keep spares) but I was horrified.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-23740853675364865792009-01-21T10:37:00.001-08:002009-01-21T10:54:05.004-08:00Happy BlogaversaryWow it's been a year since i started posting here about my trials and tribulations as a mum. And well, I haven't got any better at it. In fact this week I REALLY LOST my cool.<br /><br />Readers of this blog will see this as a recurring theme - the swimming lesson. For 3 lesson's straight my son has refused to get into the pool for his lesson. All week he talks rationally about it. Yes he likes the teacher, yes he likes swimming, yes he wants the next badge, etc. But when we get there he just wants to play in the other side of the pool and not do the lesson.<br /><br />the teacher suggested that this week I brought my stuff but didn't get changed - then as a reward for a good and attentive lesson I would change and play with him in the other side. We talked about this plan all week and yes he would 'try'.<br /><br />On the drive to the pool he decided that it was 'not a good deal'. Then in the changing rooms when he realised I wasn't going to change the tears started. As a result we finally made it poolside when he lesson was just starting.<br /><br />initially it looked good. He jumped in - then screamed and jumped out. I tried to put his goggles on - more screams.<br /><br />He then petulantly pointed at the other side of the pool and said 'ay'.<br />I calmly repeated my mantra: when you've done your lesson, mummy will get changed and we'll play on the other side'.<br />NO!<br />Well we'll go home then, is that what you want to do.<br />(screams)<br />this repeated in various formats over 20 minutes until I eventually carried him out to the changing rooms.<br />He then ran back into the pool side and we repeated the process. Eventually I gave up and told the teacher I would call her and left.<br /><br />Once he realised that he was being put back into his clothes and he wasn't going to get to play he then started screaming again - except this time 'wimmin'.<br /><br />There was absolutely no way he could be persuaded to change his mind and he wasn't backing down and I had to be so strong not to back down and stick to my guns. The other members who were in the pool and spa probably wish I'd enforced the rule a little earlier but I really couldn't believe he wasn't going to get in and do his lesson.<br /><br />I still have to ring the teacher ...<br /><br />The affected baby speech is one of the things he knows annoys me as he's always been a good speaker.<br /><br />So a year on the naughty step and we haven't cracked it yet. So you may still see me on one of those awful 'nanny' programmes ;-)dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-69288827117072875432009-01-17T09:13:00.000-08:002009-01-17T09:38:56.821-08:00Lessons from my first week as a school mumSo we've just finished our first week at the school gates - and I'm already counting down till half term.<br /><br />What have I learned so far?<br /><br />Putting your child's name on his school sweatshirt doesn't stop it going home on the back of another kid.<br /><br />Despite the letter sent home, the advice given on visits to school and the school prospectus - they change the rules!<br /><br />If you have a child that REMEMBERS EVERYTHING it may take several days to get him to accept that they have changed the rules.<br /><br />Jacket potato with baked beans and cheese will always be chosen over the other choices available (though he did have a break and had fish and potato wedges yesterday).<br /><br />A book bag doesn't necessarily contain books.<br /><br />You can watch TV on the whiteboard (it was about shapes)<br /><br />Bullying is evident in 4 year olds (there were complaints of children being called 'fat' and 'smelly' this week).<br /><br />Sponsorship forms are always available (he had his first on day 3!)<br /><br />Deciding to fetch son on foot may backfire when he refuses to do the 30 minute walk and you end up carrying/dragging him and finally accepting a lift from a friend.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-33119414897019465922009-01-10T06:22:00.000-08:002009-01-10T06:22:00.291-08:00Oh no she didn't ....Last weekend we took our son to his first ever Panto - Jack and the Beanstalk. At first he was frightened by the noise and wanted to go home but he soon go into it. Whilst still sitting on his daddy's knee he was doing what enquiring 4 year olds do - asking questions. Who's that man? Why is he wearing a dress? what are they doing now? As he was on his dad's knee he wasn't particularly loud and neither were his dad's answers - not when you consider that every 3rd or 4th seat in the theatre was taken up by an excited child.<br /><br />Suddenly the woman in front of my son's, currently empty, seat turned round and said loudly 'could you be quiet? it is very distracting you know!' - when we'd recovered from the shock it hit me how bizarre her request was! She had 2 children with her - probably between 8 and 10 - who were quiet at the time of this request but got noisier as the performance went on with one repeatedly standing up in his seat so those of us behind couldn't see.<br /><br />But pantos are for children aren't they? There were points where nothing could be heard on stage because of the excited chatter from children all around but that's part of the experience isn't it?<br /><br />My son did eventually return to his seat and was enthralled by the performance. I did have to say LOUDLY when he was jumping in his seat to the music, 'Calm down, you might kick THAT LADY in the head so please sit still'. She didn't turn around again - though I'm sure he kicked the back of her seat a couple of times - and she stayed out of sight during the interval and rushed out at the end.<br /><br />In the end I came to the following conclusions:<br /><br />1. she'd never been to a panto before - possible though her sons, parents and husband seemed to know the form and shouted in all the right places.<br />2. she'd been badly misinformed and thought she was attending a highbrow performance that required absolute silence from the audience.<br />3. or, my current favorite, she had previously been a victim of the 'why?' stage and couldn't bear it - for that I give her sympathy but she needs to work on her tolerance as he'd only been going for 5 minutes - I usually last at least an hour before I snap and utter those immortal words: 'because I say so!'<br /><br />Kids make noise, period - mine even talks in his sleep - as long as they are not using foul or abusive language or creating a nuisance they should be allowed to ask questions and experience the world. Yes he got a bit weepy and frightened at the start but witches are scary when you are 4 and think everything is real. Hopefully the woman in question will invest in better seats next year - perhaps a private box - so she doesn't have to deal with us riff-raff spoiling the performance ;-)dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-12162812908598011852009-01-07T02:50:00.000-08:002009-01-07T03:07:06.493-08:00Life Stages - Starting SchoolYesterday was my son's first morning at school. This is a life changing moment - not only for my son but for me as well.<br /><br />I spent the day before wielding a laundry marker and marking our surname on everything in sight. Then went back and put my son's first name on everything as I'm not too sure he'd recognise just his surname at the moment.<br /><br />He woke at 2am so spent the rest of the night in our bed - special dispensation as we were all a bit worried. We'd agreed to get up earlier than we had for nursery - the idea being that when the weather gets a bit warmer we will attempt the 30 minute walk so we need to get used to allowing time for that. Plus, of course, we had to have phone calls from grannies and a mini photo shoot.<br /><br />well mummy and daddy failed at the first hurdle. There we were, huddled in the cold, waiting outside of the classroom door for the teachers to let us in. In the end one brave parent banged on the window only to be told that we should have take the children to reception on this, first, day. Crowded in the reception area we were subjected to a short speech by the headmaster who thanked us for taking notice of the note that had asked us to enter the school via reception on the first day - erm, hmmm. (I've checked we never got that note, neither did we get notification that school dinners have gone up in price or that the uniform list had changed). There was a funny moment when the head ushered us through to the back of the school where the reception classes are and all the parents instinctively lined up outside the doors (along the left side of the corridor, bags on floor) - we've all been institutionalised!<br /><br />The teachers were very tolerant of the long cuddles and tears but in the end told the parents that they really had to stop crying and leave their children to it. Our son had a bit of a wobble but that was more to do with the fact that daddy was off work (so it must be a special occasion) than being upset - he was far too delighted with the fact that his best friends from nursery were there.<br /><br />Three hours later it was time to collect him again - we were the last to leave. He didn't want to go home, he wanted to play on the slide. we dragged him away kicking and screaming so that the gate could be locked.<br /><br />When I asked him about his day he eventually divulged that the best bit was that the computer had different programmes to the one from nursery. This morning when we dropped him off he quickly shed his coat and then made a dash for the computer corner. My OH and I watched in wonder as he booted up both machines and then helped his best friend by opening up the paint package for him! he then gave a distracted wave - 'bye, mummy'.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-19061613828894971602009-01-05T05:58:00.000-08:002009-01-05T06:20:48.025-08:00Happy New YearChristmas with a 4 year old is magical! We figured that we would probably be woken between 3-5am so there was no staying up late to finish wrapping the presents (last year we were still wrapping , rather drunkenly, at 3am).<br /><br />This year Santa remembered not to tidy away his glass and plate into the dishwasher after he'd finished his beer and mince pie. Unfortunately we weren't able to obtain the charity reindeer food that we had last year so I made my own with porridge oats and 100s & 1000s (must remember to sweep it up before it rains and we have 'porridge' on the doorstep).<br /><br />Our little cherub didn't stir until 7.30am! when he ran into our room to announce that he had a sack at the end of his bed with his name on. (Well actually he did have a nightmare at 2am but completely missed the sack on his journey to our room and back then.) even boring pants and socks were given an enthusiastic 'Wow!' because they had come from Santa. The in-laws had arrived in the night and I remembered just in time that he should wake them to share in the experience. I was then able to sneak downstairs and switch on the tree lights so that they cast a magical glow when he tore downstairs to see if Rudolph had eaten his carrot and if there were any presents under the tree. Unfortunately I wasn't quick enough to stop him tearing through one of my presents (I'm not sure what he thought about the new back up hard drive but i was very pleased with it).<br /><br />Looking across our living room now, with Christmas just about packed away, I am struck by how much plastic is involved in toys for boys - we have train sets and track, building sets, magnetic building sets, racing car sets, remote controlled racing cars - as well as lots of books and board games.<br /><br />One thing that echos from the day (and was captured on video) is my son being given a present and being told that it was from 'uncle x'. His reply 'I love uncle x - he has a 'tendo weee'.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-40722411981410996492008-12-13T10:03:00.000-08:002008-12-13T10:03:00.210-08:00Letter to SantaA friend shared this by email today ....<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Dear Santa, </em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Here are my Christmas wishes: </em></span><br /><ul><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy. </em></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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.</em></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span></li><li><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span></li></ul><p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>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. </em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>Yours Always, </em></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;"><em>MUM...! </em></span></p><p><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color:#ff0000;">P.S. one more thing...you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children happy, healthy and always believing.</span> </span></em></p><p>*Santa has asked that this gets passed on to all the mummies you know* </p>dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-28811377642053391912008-12-11T01:05:00.000-08:002008-12-11T01:29:27.166-08:00'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 <em>High School Musical</em>, 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.<br /><br />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).<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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...<br /><br />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 ;-)dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-78405956050895839342008-11-06T05:16:00.000-08:002008-11-06T05:47:55.256-08:00Weekend BearIt seems an age since I last posted - probably because it has been.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />'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.<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265539827116499954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_7HU053lrERU/SRL0kyHzY_I/AAAAAAAAAE0/FFzmXE_A-lY/s320/weekendbearshops.jpg" border="0" /></p><p>But I think the bear enjoyed it ...<br /></p>dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-89859021133375258372008-10-20T12:14:00.000-07:002008-10-20T12:36:47.258-07:00Future health issuesWhilst at the pool today I overheard a conversation between two women about the new <a href="http://www.cancerhelp.org.uk/help/default.asp?page=16024">HPV vaccine </a>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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-91523283075790101932008-10-15T06:07:00.000-07:002008-10-15T06:33:06.245-07:00School dinners<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7HU053lrERU/SPXwYoqyEHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/rUbBJXaREx0/s1600-h/school_dinner.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_7HU053lrERU/SPXwYoqyEHI/AAAAAAAAAEM/rUbBJXaREx0/s320/school_dinner.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257372446049308786" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">(photo from http://www.number10.gov.uk/Page8237)<br /></span></div><br />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.<br /><br />The menu was Vegatable Lasange and Garlic bread followed by Peach Crumble.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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).dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4150697657566511830.post-72572251938793626472008-10-10T05:12:00.000-07:002008-10-10T05:14:14.274-07:00Children's Story CompetitionIf 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 <a href="http://dougalfish.blogspot.com/2008/10/storytelling-competition.html">here</a>.dougalfishhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10322144426681391257noreply@blogger.com0