World book day.  Three small words that strike fear into every parent of a school age child, or at the very least a muttered 'Arse'.

Don't get me wrong, I love books.  The spawn love books.  I'm incredibly pleased that they're having jaunts to the library etc to celebrate it.  But for the love of Valium, which cretinous sadistic person thought dressing up for it would be a good idea?  For the record, if it was you, I hate you.

Generally children love dressing up.  Dressing up as Ninja Turtles, Spiderman, Elsa or Buzz 'effin Lightyear that is.  As literary characters?  Not so much. In over ten years of parenting I've never once had any of The Spawn ask to dress up as Fantastic Mr Fox or Hairy Mclary.  Never.  Never ever ever.

So it falls upon us mere parents to run about like headless chickens trying to cobble together three, yes three, costumes that will be worn for one day.  The Pinterest mums all have hard-ons over it as they give their glue-guns a quick wank yet us mere mortals however are sat gulping Gin mumbling 'Fuck it.  Bastard schools ' repeatedly until it all slurs together and sounds more like 'more Prozac please'.

Those of us that are craft-inept or shall we say creatively constipated, are weighing up the possibility of beans on toast every night for a month to free enough money to just buy some costumes.

I'll admit to lingering over the possibility of just putting paper bags over their heads as surely most characters will go shopping at some point, right? Or spraying The Spawn blue or green seeing as most books will at some point mention the sky, or grass.  Then my sensibilities travel to the gutter and I seriously contemplate sending them as Mr Grey or Ana, just to make the teachers feel grotesquely uncomfortable as punishment for inflicting this ridiculously pointless activity on us.

Here's a thought, how about in future, each class pick a book and then at school, as a class activity (in school, that bit is vitally important) they create a mask or something each for a character out of it.  Yes, I'm a genius.  You can thank me later.

For some unfathomable reason, The Spawn's school are doing World Book Day dress up on the 15th.  At this moment it's a toss up as to whether they'll all mysteriously have a 24 hour bug that day or else sending them in costumes they already have, after all, iron man is from a comic book, right?

The deplorably proud Mum

I'm afraid it's one of those Mummy posts, you know the ones, the proud Mummy ones.  Sometimes however, they're just necessary and quite frankly bloody well deserved.

I'm always proud or The Spawn.  They're good kids (apparently).  The end of the school year brought the inevitable; school reports.

All we ask is that The Spawn behave and try their best.  We neither expect nor ask or any more.

Thing Two came home with rows upon rows of A's for effort and attainment.  Her year 2 SATS were streaks ahead of where they should be and her teachers comment was positively glowing.  The icing on the cake is that her peers voted and she'll be on the School Council next year too. She is a model student, her attitude, behaviour, attainment, social skills etc are consistently unfaultable.  It's not hard to see why her teachers adore her.

Thing One brought a similarly good report home, his consisting of A's & B's and his 'levels' are consistent with those a few years ahead of him.  We're always especially astounded by his consistent achievements seeing as he is one of the youngest in his year too.  His teachers comment was lovely and the Head Teachers comment said he was a good role model for the school.  We're half convinced he has an alter personality because although we love him dearly he's incredibly hard work at home yet at school and with relatives he's fantastic, maybe he just doesn't like us?

Thing One applied to be a prefect seeing as he'll be in year 6 in September, reached the interview stage and nailed it.  For the third year running he received the science award for his year and then came the bolt out of the blue.  Not only is he a prefect but at the awards presentation evening we discovered that from all the prefects he's been chosen to be Head Boy! Yes my eyes may have leaked.  Twice.

Naturally there's a downside, lets just say some of his peers aren't very gracious about his achievements and he received several downright mean comments suggesting he's undeserving of the title, somehow though I think I'll stick with the Head teachers judgement skills as opposed to the judgement of year 5 boys.

Yet the most important thing to us is that The Spawn are happy at school everything else is icing
 on the cake.

So yes, I'm a proud Mum and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Competativeness

The school are holding a competition.  The worst kind, a crafty kind.  I send the little darlings to school to do all that messy creative stuff so that we don't have to do it at home all the time.  It only ever leads to mess and disappointment as like me The Spawn have grand ideas yet limited artistic ability.

The challenge?  To decorate a boiled egg for Easter.  Sounds frightfully simply, neh?

The Husband and Things One & Two had a failed attempt earlier in the week with childrens paint that resulted with grotesque looking drippy things akin to toddler nappy contents, you know the kind from after they've eaten all the crayons.

Fast forward to a last minute attempt last night , the night before it's due in, with some permanent markers.  In my defense I did try to dye them according to Google yet even that failed to work.

I provided them with an egg each and the pens and left them to it, afterall it is their project.  They did their best.  Although rather fond of craft, Thing Two prefers to do things spontaneously and not to order.  She likes to free think and not adhere to specifics.  Thing One is like me, poor sod, no patience and very little craft gene.  The Preschooler wanted in on the action despite the school Nursery not taking part so I helped him create his own too.

Then came this morning.  Evidently some parents have some difficulty with understanding that this is a competition for the children.  Their competitive nature took over and a glance around the playground showed some efforts worthy of Pinterest.  You look at these epic creations, picture perfect, not a single visible drip or brush stroke.  Everything is highly defined, unnaturally neat and damn near perfect.  It doesn't stop there, they have to go the whole hog and create whole islands and tanks and what have you to display them in.  Fair play you think, then you look at their child.  There is no way that snot nosed, disinterested little child went anywhere near that entry.  You see the hungry look of competitiveness in their parents eyes as they painstakingly cradle these creations that you just know, they made.  Yes, the parents. Their children have absolutely no interest in them, why should they?  They didn't make them! Cheats! Cheats! Cheats!

It's not just the lack of fairness that perturbs me, it's more so the message they're sending to their children. That it's all about the winning.  They have eradicated the taking part.  This should have been a fun activity for the children to do themselves.  Nobody was expecting anything to remotely resemble it's apparent theme, it should have been a mass of dribbly, speckled blobs that are the childrens vision, their pride and joy.  They've stolen the taking part from them.  It's become a lesson in fierce perfection rather than an expression of creativity.

Don't get me wrong,  I never for a moment expect Thing One or Thing Two to win, but it would be nice if an imperfect, genuine entry won.  Something a child did with minimal supervision and interference.  One of the lopsided ones you have to squint at to figure out what it's supposed to be.  One of the ones where you can almost picture the child, tongue firmly poking out in concentration, as a paint brush overloaded with poster paint redecorates the kitchen as well as the egg.  One made with love and determination.  One made with the notion of making something coming first and the idea of winning an afterthought.

Thing Two got a silver star the other day for randomly commenting to a teacher that she doesn't so much care about winning things, she just likes taking part and knowing she's tried.

It would appear some of the parents could do with understanding that.

I'm a firm believer that activities like this should be done in school time, among their peers under the supervision of teachers with zero interference from parents.  This has nothing at all to do with my general allergy to childrens crafts, honest.

Dealing with having a school age child.

Sending your first child to school can be a daunting experience for both parent and child as emotions tangle and twist  We seem to spend all day clock watching until they come home yet once we collect them we can be left with the feeling that we left one child at school yet they hand you an entirely different one to take home again.

• Take a snack

A whole day at school is draining on many levels, whether they realise it or not they're flaming knackered.  Tiredness can have a direct link to behaviour as can hunger.  Take a healthy high energy snack such as a banana or even some home-made flapjack to prevent their behaviour from plummeting.

•  Hold fire

It's natural to want to know everything about their day, you've missed them and their voice.  So they've come out of school and you want to know what they did, what they ate, what they played, who they played with and you're met with 'Can't remember' ... 'can't remember' .... 'don't know'.  How can they not know? They've been there all day?  It's frustrating and they appear sulky and enthused which in turn makes us worry that maybe they hate it, maybe they had a rubbish time, maybe they're angry at us for sending them.  Worse, maybe they didn't miss us.  Our chirpy, cheerful, adorable best friend doesn't appear to want to talk to us.  It's okay.  It's really not about you.  They're tired, possibly overwhelmed and they're still processing their day themselves.  Let them adjust to the transition of school to home.  Give them a hug, tell them you missed them and ask them if they had a good day at school, and accept the yes/no answer for now.  If you feel uncomfortable in their silence pick something different to chat about, relay your day to them or discuss things you see on the way home.

•  Hulk syndrome

Don't be alarmed if your little angel turns into Hulk when you get home.  They're argumentative, volatile and bloody hard work. Oh my god, what has school done to them?!  School is a big change for them.  It's hard work having to do as you're told all day, learning new boundaries and new skills.  The teachers assure you they're wonderful at school, everything you hoped they'd be yet they come home and they're horrid.  Don't laugh but this is actually a compliment to your parenting.  The fact that they let go when they let home is testament to how secure they feel at home and how secure they are in your love for them that they feel able to let go the pent up energy and frustrations of having to be good all day at school.  If you're like this at school, there's dire consequences, people and teachers may not like you, you may be seen as a failure or labelled and you may be excluded, not just in the traditional school sense but socially too.   Never underestimate the concentration and effort it takes to be a school child.  At home they can lash out safe in the knoweldge that you will love them anyway.  How often have you had a bloody awful day and inadvertently taken it out on your spouse?  We're often most awful to those we love most because we trust that they will take it, absorb it and then help us calm.  It's natural and normal. They're adjusting.

•  Choose your questions carefully

Sometimes simply asking a huge open ended question like 'How was your day at school?' although giving them the most scope and room to answer it is actually more likely to get the shorted answer.  I usually allow Things One and Two an hour or so at home to aclimatise then ask specific questions over time such as:

* What was your favourate thing about school today?
* Was there anything you didn't like about school today?
* Who made you smile/laugh the most today?
* Did anyone make you sad or angry today?
*What did you eat for dinner/who did you have your dinner with?
* What did you do at playtime?

Through being specific it aids their reflection and recollection and gives opportunity for you to gain an insight into how their day went as well as giving you early warning signs to any potential problems.

•  After school activities

Don't go wild with planning extra curricular activities.  Sometimes kids can gain just as much from being allowed to chill at home.  Sometimes they need to touch base at home, absorb family time and alone time.  To not have to do anything.

• Time chores

Let them know what to expect, if they need to tidy their room or put their ashing away let them know they they have to do x and it needs doing by a certain time.  Don't leave it until the end of the day when they're overtired and likely to cause arguments.

•  Reconnect

Take time out to reconnect with your child after a busy day.  Physical re-connection is just as vital as verbal, whether you're snuggling up on the sofa with them watching tv or reading a story together or even playing a game, a hug or a squeeze speaks loudly to the soul and the words it speaks are 'I love you.  You're home.'  Forget the pots of the washing and the tidy your rooms for a bit, if only for twenty minutes and just 'be' together.

Aint Got No Soul

I shall not tell a lie, i'm flummoxed by Thing One and school shoes.  This pair have been worn for six weeks.  On the left the inner has worn away and you can see the hard structure of the shoe through the white and on the right, there is a hole through the heel that only just stops short of coming through the outer sole.  These are shoes from George at Asda.  Last year exactly the same thing happened to several pairs of Clarks shoes too.

Bare in mind he doesn't store a mouse in them nor does he possess a tool kit.  This is just from sheer old bog standard....walking.

After just six weeks.

I'm coming to the conclusion that nothing is made to last anymore, we're such a disposable race.  Brands simply assume we're fickle enough to not want to outwear anything anymore and that it's financially feasible to replace whenever the fancy takes us.  Oh if only.

Mobile phones back in the 90's would outlive the majority of your family.  Even if you through it in a fit, it survived most of the time.  These days you pay ten times more, sneeze at it and the screens crack and should you dare to be unfashionable enough to still want it after a year, well good luck with that.  The batteries appear programmed to self destruct.

Generations before us would use the same pram or pushchair yet more often than not (yes, I'm aware this doesn't always happen) these days fabric tears, bits snap off, holes appear, mechanisms break down, wheels fall off as if they're merely designed to be used once a week around a supermarket and then live in the boot.  Not all of us drive, some of us walk...everywhere.  Buggies and prams get used a lot, just for walking.  We're not talking cross country treks or stunts, we're talking miles on pavement.  They shouldn't need replacing.

Yet back to shoes.  I fear I know not where to go from here.  This is the first time we've ever bought none fitted school shoes seeing as they were half the price of Clarks and previous lining of Clarks pockets with what little brass we possess had the same result....holes in the heels (Don't even get me started on how Childrens shoes can possibly cost nearly as much as adults yet use a fraction of the leather...)  I don't relish the thought of having to buy a new pair of school shoes every six weeks, it's simply not acceptable.

Perhaps i'll turn full hippy and send him bare footed.....good for the soul if not the soles and all that.

The Spawn

Following on from the seasons song Thing Two composed and performed for me whilst I attempted to pee in peace, she sang it to the whole of her year at school, on her own.  Sometimes her confidence astounds me, it's all situation dependant.  She'll perform like a diva at home, stand in front of 60 children at school and recite her own song yet take her to a restaurant she's never been in before and she turns into some morose limpet.  Her teacher suggested she write a song for Harvest, in typical Thing Two style, she wrote two.  She sang both today to her class and they're going to use one of them in their upcoming class assembly.  She never ceases to amaze me.

Thing One appears to have been undertaking a series of tests at school this past week to which he has no idea as to why they're all doing them or even if let alone when they'll find out the results.  I was initially rather worried that he had a female teacher this year as he tends to respond better to strong male figures yet his new teacher is absolutely adorable and is terribly enthusiastic.  Her niche is literature and she is positively aglow with the fact Thing One is a book worm and is writing fantasy stories and he finds her enthusiasm encouraging.  He;s coming home smiling, with stickers and tales of excitment.

The Toddler generally entertains himself in independent play during the day.  Just watching him mesmerises me.  His games are so in depth and engrossing for him.  He has a million worlds in his head.   He possibly has the strongest imagination in the family.  Today however he decided go involve us and this morning consisted of 10 books, four jigsaws, Peppa Pig, cutting out catalogue pictures to form a Christmas list and yet he still found time to insult me with his insults du jour being 'plank', 'moron' and 'smarty pants'  I'm not quite sure as to whether I should be impressed or insulted.  I'll admit to being greatly proud when whilst reading about potatoes being treated for disease (yes, really) upon the word disease he immediately breaks into an Anthrax rendition of 'Disease! Disease! Spreading the disease!'

I should be asleep, I'm bone tired and soul tired yet insomnia is paying yet another visit.  So i'll leave you with a toddlerism from tonight and one of Thing Two's jokes....

Me: 'Go to sleep!'
The Toddler: 'Do you want to see the mountain on my foot?'
[The Toddler takes his sock of and points to his ankle. He then makes me put the sock back on]
Me: 'Wow, that's a super cool mountain.  Go to sleep now'
The Toddler: 'Do you want to see the mountain on my other foot?'
[rinse, repeat]

Argh!

Thing Two:  There were two brothers called Stupid and Manners.  They were climbing at tree when stupid fell out so he went to the Dr.  The Dr asked him his name he said 'stupid!.' The Doctor said 'don't be rude, where's your manners?'  so Stupid said 'still in the tree'

See what I have to work with?

Why we don't 'do' homework.

I'm all for supporting children's education at home yet I find homework, in infants and primary school for the most part unnecessary beyond reading and the odd spellings or project.  It's bad enough that our children are swallowed into the system of full time formal education at such a tender age in comparison to many other places in the EU where the average starting age is 6-7 years of age.  Once in school they're usually there for around 6+ hours.  After school should be family time.  Time to reconcile the day with their family, to play, to chat and to relax.  Six and a half hours a day is plenty of time for children to be academic and adhere to structured learning.  I want my children to enjoy learning not to resent it.  When not being academic at home, a child is still learning emotionally, mentally and socially from their family which is just as important as academia if not more so at times.

So no, we don't make Things One and Two do homework.  We don't even make them do the schools mandatory home reading.  Why?  Because quite simply we don't have to.  Things One and Two have learned to adore reading through not being pushed and thus eagerly read because they want to, as opposed to having to, curiously as a result they're both high level readers. This is a far healthier attitude to reading and learning than being mandated to do something.  Likewise, as we never enforce homework, we find that often they take it upon themselves to do it anyway, because they want to.  They enjoy choosing to learn.  As they're not forced to do homework they structure their own learning at home, often found squirrelling away in their rooms independently writing their own stories or creating their own sums.  They're still practising what they've learned but in a far more constructive way as once again they're choosing what they do and how they do it.  Simply asking them about their day allows them to reflect on what they've learned and through talking about it they're re-enforcing their lessons.  Through trying to teach you what they've done, they also teach themselves.

Homework has no place in a young child's life.  They don't need extra academia they need to be a child. They need security, laughter, tickles, bed time stories, adventures, fresh air and conversation. To create, to perform, to indulge. Childhood is already far too short and too precious to be wasted.  The spawn gain far more from playing outside on the trampoline, creating their own songs and dances, playing cards or going conker hunting than they do from extra sums.  Giggling and silliness is far more nourishing to a child's well being than frustration and resentment.

Yet Thing One has managed to get to year 5 and Thing Two year two without us ever having a confrontation with their teachers or even so much as a conversation regarding the lack of homework they do.  Rather the teachers praise their thirst for learning, their uncannily good general knowledge, their problem solving skills, their attitude to working and the fact that both children are significantly and consistently over achieving.  They go to school to learn, and they love doing it and I'm positive that the distinction between home and school boosts this.  They're ready for school at the start of the day because of their break from it.  Because they've had their own time.

They're curious little souls and every conversation is riddled with their natural hunger for knowledge, they seem to naturally connect what they have learned to experiences outside of school, applying them to home life too.  They constantly ask questions and love to answer them too.

Science, nature, mathematics and literature are all around us, in nearly everything we do.  If you don't push them, they will find it there.  They will want to find it and enjoy doing so.

If they need reassurance or guidance on something they wish to know or to improve on, we work with them.  If they want to show us what they've been doing, they do.

Too much academics can exhaust and deplete their natural lust to learn.  School is for structured learning, home is for unstructured learning and support.

Granted if you have a child who is struggling at school, homework in small amounts may be beneficial in some eyes, yet what if taking home what they've spent all day trying to do creates a negative association with it?  they're already mentally exhausted from working hard all day and they're getting no time to recover.  No escape from it.  It becomes daunting, frustrating and puts them under an unfair level of pressure.

We as adults know ourselves how negatively consistently bringing work home with us can effect us and our mental health.  It can raise stress levels, effect our sleep, prevent us from finding enjoyment in things and make us short tempered.

So let the infants and junior children clock off at the end of their school day.  No overtime. Let them breath.  Let them rest.  Let them be.

& they will thrive.

It's a Vikings life

Dei galne har mange morosame stunder som den vettige ikkje har(The maniacs have many funny hours that the sane guy does not have).

Thing One has forgotton his p.e kit.  Again .  After mithering for weeks about how utterly and absolutely important it was to have it it took us telling him five times to pack it and a further several days of reminding him to take it he's still, you guessed it, not taken it.

Until yesterday that is, which was rather unfortunate for the authenticity of his costume, I'm rather certain Vikings, Romans and Celts didn't support Manchester United.  Still it did ensure that this little viking could participate in netball club upon his return.

Yesterday Thing One's class visited Martin Mere to experience a day in the life of a Roman/Viking/Saxon.  However, it wasn't so simple as just waving them off with butties in a carrier bag and the vague hope that if they puke on the coach, it won't be over their uniform.  Oh no, after the three page letter positively gloated that we only had to pay £9 towards it (bare in mind the school is in a socially and economically deprived area) they then went on to inform us that they must be in authentic costume. Oh and they must have an authentic lunch as they dictated to us what kind of bread, fillings and fruit they were allowed (apples were fine, bananas weren't. ) and even going so far as insisting it should be wrapped in brown paper and string or a teatowel.  All this for the bargain price of £9 (+ cost of costume + cost of wellies + cost of dinner + time taken to source and make costume) Terrific. Spiffing.  I was literally exuding excitement.  Did you feel it?

Predictably most parents went down the bedsheet toga route of an upper class Roman, or a peasant draped in the emergency picnic blanket borrowed from the boot of the car.  I say most as there were a few anomalies such as Thing One's friend who looked like some homosexual Mexican bandit on a tremendous drug high crossed with George Michael complete with bright turquoise blanket poncho style and a disturbing beard made from mascara (not pubic hair, it just looked like it)  Poor kid.

As most of you know I'm terminally uncrafty.  I have no craft gene.  None.  I sent The Husband on a mission to Abakhan only to get a phone call saying there was nothing at all like I'd asked for and it was all terribly expensive.  Turns out the silly bugger had gone to bloody HobbyCraft, yet apparently I'm the ditzy one in the relationship.  Still a few snips and rips later and we had a fur-ish tabbard and arm doodahs.  Phew.

I was feeling somewhat pleased until a friend remarked how cool the young Jedi looked.  Arse.

Still, I guess it was all worth it seeing as Thing One didn't pause for breath once during the walk home.  They went foraging, played with wooden weapons, ate around a fire, made stew and oatcakes and he even made me a darling little woolen bracelet.

What he doesn't realise is that we're going to make him dress as a Viking every weekend for a year, you know.....just to get our money's worth and all.  Oh and because we're horrifically mean parents.

Parents evening

Or should I say Parents Conferences as they've finally had the long overdue genius idea of doing them during the day too now.

Things One & Two have further confirmed that they are indeed utter aliens.

Thing One has been jumping up sub levels as if he were in springs and has apparently been awfully well behaved, so it's just us then that he obviously despises.  Thought as much. Spiffing. Super. He is one of the youngest in his year (year 4) yet is level 4C and 4B which are apparently consistent with the end of the year above, clever little bugger.  I'll have to take their word for it as unfortunately the part of my brain that deals with scores and figures came out with the placenta.  All in all his teacher is terribly impressed with his achievements  enthusiasm and his randomly large if not at times questionable vocabulary, much preferential to a large arse which is unfortunately all I've been lumbered with.

Thing Two (age 6 and in year 1) apparently has the reading age of an 11+ yr old and is moving on to year three maths work very soon.  Our beautiful strangeling is apparently well known to the head teacher, for all the right reasons and remains her charming little self ever questioning the validity of her peers actions and emotions (they said they 'love' me? what's that about?) and remaining somewhat bewildered by their antics whilst as ever pondering the meaning of life.

Can't ask for much better really, superb behaviour and attitudes, am obviously doing something right then, somehow.

Catch Up

As usual the passage of time has been all too fast with all too little of significance baring testament to it's passing or indeed existence.

The hole The Dog left is still immense, the grief is a docile creature that rests within us now, awakening every now and then with a quick nip that makes the eyes water.  It's the little things really, like having nobody to hoover up when The Toddler tries to feed his lunch to the floor and being able to enter the house without him rushing to see us.  I miss him in so many ways that they each have their own jagged shape that have yet to find a place to nest into without discomfort.

Spring is upon us and yet outside it's snowing.  Yes, snowing.  I do rather hope The Easter Bunny has thermals and bollocks of steel.

It's day one of The Easter Holidays and already i'm dreaming of gin o'clock as my befuddled mind tries to remember whether it's the gin or the children that constitute the old adage of Mothers Ruin.

Typically Things One & Two have bloody gone and grown, how very dare they.  This of course means that the few pennies we could have used whilst they're off school are now all being utilised in the bloody boring task of buying new school uniform, I do rather resent having to fork out for the ghastly things.

No sooner do we get the trampoline up, we get another pseudo-monsoon followed by a house full of ill.  Poor poor spawn.

It's still snowing, yet it's that terribly useless snow that doesn't actually do anything.  Where are the bountiful mounds of white fluffy goodness to play in?

My nights are still filled with The Toddler night feeds and the mental torture that is the Candy crush Saga and that insipid resolution of starting a diet, tomorrow.  The regaining of weight that depresses one towards the direction of cadbury's cream eggs to commiserate continues and I still haven't succeeded in absolutely destroying my hair, small mercies people.

Seeing as it's the school holidays, The Mothership and Father dearest have typically fucked off to Spain, nothing if not predictable, so The Spawn are bloody well lumbered with us  for the duration.  Poor sods.

Don't jump!

The first week, or perhaps in the name of accuracy I should say the partial week, back at school has seen  Things One and Two firmly ensconced back into the daily woe that is school life. Early mornings and early nights. Thing One as ever was remarkably unperturbed, as always with regards to embarking upon a new school year, unfortunately Thing Two, the one that actually likes school had a wibble on the first morning, complete with quiet devastating tears. In public she's a stoic little mite so its always especially moving to see her let her guard down outside. I suspect it was the somewhat overwhelming nature of being utterly surrounded by people large and small, she's not especially enamoured with busy places. So I walked her to her line and her dear teacher wordlessly clasped her hand and kept her side. The tears had stopped yet Thing Two was still heartbreakingly consumed by melancholy and I had to in against all mothering instinct and leave her with someone else whilst knowing she was upset despite the knowledge that she would indeed be fine once she was in situ inside.

The hospital was awfully murky about Thing One and his ankle with regards to school versus rest and The Husband in typical husband style didn't actually seek the important clarification as to wether the resting for several weeks would pertain to no school or not. Thing One is hamming up his limp quite spectacularly and needless to say anything he is asked to do at home would surely exacerbate it whereas running, jumping, swinging and kicking balls is seemingly okay.

The Toddler appears to be enjoying having the house back to himself during the day and I have nearly forgiven him for shitting on my bed at the weekend, the fluffy toy sheep however that had the unfortunate experience of being in the wrong place at the wrong time may be less forgiving despite a rather successful jaunt in the washing machine. Am trying dreadfully hard to behave and not call him scatty, the sheep that is.

I am irrevocably saddened by fact I dislike tea yet as always have a cupboard full of It yet am rather partial to gin and have none. Woe is most definately me. Oh well, at least there's Zoloft.

Unfortunately I may have to share the happy pills with a kitten in a neighbouring flat that was attempting to jump from a second story window today whilst I flounced in sleep deprived induced delirium around my garden imploring it to not jump, that life is allegedly worthwhile and to think of all the fish he's yet to eat!  Either I'm an exceedingly good Samaritan or else it thought it best to get away from the disturbing Purple haired woman, either way it buggered off back inside.

Tomorrow Thing Two turns six, Yes six!

The Husband and I are having a bake off, each making her a cake to which she will be the judge. I am a bit nervous that The Husband may burn the house down so am going to go check/laugh at his nocturnal baking attempt...

The spoil sport is refusing to grant me access into the kitchen. If his cake is better then mine I shall never let him have my virginity.

Spuds & Tantrums

Wednesday night was what one can only describe as abysmal.  The Toddler was feeding hourly due to pesky teeth so as a result I was dreadfully tired.  The Husband was kind enough to let me retire to bed in the morning yet I must confess, rather then sleep I read.  Still, it was nice to be alone and not be mauled and pawed for a while.  The Toddler appeared to be on a poo mission yesterday and rather then nap, he poo'd, several times in fact. Neither The Husband nor myself were particularly impressed to say the least.  Subsequently I then had to spend the rest of the day ensuring he didn't fall asleep and make bedtime even longer then it already is.  Hence The Toddler walking up the tree tunnel home from the shops, he looked rather too much like he was dozing off on my back in the sling so I evicted the wee fellow, mean mummy that I am.  However tantrums were rife when towards home The Husband handed him over to me as only daddy's hand will do, apparently.  I don't really cater to tantrums.  I figure he has a right to feel whatever emotion it is he feels, however it doesn't mean his way of dealing with it will change anything.  So I let him get on with his little tantrum, yes the full lie on the path and cry type, watching over with him until he was ready to accept that yes although he doesn't have to like it, that's absolutely his prerogative but he must hold my hand regardless should he wish to get home any time soon. 

Unfortunately The Toddler isn't the only tantrummer.  Thing One spent his pocket money on a plastic spud gun (I know I know, we point blank banned gun toys when he was younger much to his  utter dismay however, now he's old enough to fully understand what a gun is and what it represents...c'est la vie.  I played with a gun and I'm not quite a homicidal psychopath, well not all the time at least. He was given one rule with regards to playing with it, do not aim at anyone or hit anyone with the spud ammo.  Within five minutes I felt one on me.  He could have aimed at the floor, to the sides, behind him but no, he aimed at me and he was smirking.  Cue a huge tantrum when The Husband confiscated the offending item as Thing One simply refuses to accept responsibility for his actions with a complete inability to hold his hands up and say 'i'm sorry, I shouldn't have done it' First he blamed the maker of the gun, then he blamed Thing Two and finally blamed....the weather.  Needless to say the discourse only served to infuriate The Husband even more into a state of complete exasperation.  Then there was tea time last night, The Toddler did another impromptu poo, this time during tea, whilst we sorted him out I clearly heard Thing Two shout 'NO' at Thing One before the familiar stampede of Their feet to the stairs blathering and arguing as Thing Two accused Thing One of stealing her chicken and Thing One clearly denied it till he was blue in the face (or red actually) However I had a trick up my sleeve, I knew all he had left to eat was sweetcorn which he was dutifully eating when I went upstairs so I asked him to open his mouth.  What did i see on his tongue? The remnant of a mouthful of chicken.  His story then changed to 'She gave it to me!' to which I rationalised to him that if she gave it to him that suggests she wanted him to have it so why would she then shout no, burst into tears and grass him up?  Once again, half an hour later he admitted she was right.
 

The mystery of the missing book bag has been solved.  The Husband had phoned the taxi rank and the shops they went in and no book bag had been handed in.  However, yesterday Thing One jubilantly skipped out of school with his book bag in hand.  Apparently one of the school's dinner ladies has a friend, who had evidently used the same taxi that The Husband and Thing One had, found the book bag and gave it to her Friend to take into work who then in turn found Connor and handed it back to him.  It's the small things that restore an element of faith in humanity.

The Toddler remarkably went to sleep incredibly easily last night with the usual 3-4 wakings as opposed to the recent 10+.  Now I know The Husband would commit the relationship faux pas of saying 'I told you that you shouldn't let him nap so he'd sleep better at night' which is all very well in theory but he does need a nap most days otherwise he gets beastly tired then manic not to mention I need the nap too.  So although I rather enjoyed the better bedtime, I'm putting it down as an anomaly as opposed to a direct result of not napping.

After a shocking nights sleep the night before I should have made the most of it and slept, however, I finished my third book in as many days instead.  Oops.

Daddy wears too

Taking advantage of the lack of rain yesterday, The Toddler and accompanied The Husband with Thing One and Thing Two on the school run today then did the two mile round trip for some shopping only to have to set out yet again to deliver Thing Two's packed lunch to school seeing as we had run out of bread pre-shopping, oops.  Although the thought of Thing Two professing that she has no lunch as 'we have no food' is amusing in a mortifying sort of way. Due to a sore shoulder resultant of contorted positions whilst feeding the toddler all night long The Husband wore The Toddler for a nice change whilst I annoyed him greatly by insisting on taking lots of pictures.






I made some sweet and salty peanut biscuits today despite the fact that none of us actually like nutty biscuits, yet the desire to bake them was there all the same despite The Husbands growing frustration at all the extra pots it creates for him to wash, I do fear he's becoming a tad exasperated in a way. However, The Grandparents were very grateful when I palmed the biscuits off on them. gifted the biscuits to them.



Thing Two had his Special Day with The Grandparents yesterday and I received a phone call from The Mother o'mine to ask if he could possibly have anything else to eat as he was awfully hungry despite having two burgers, four chicken nuggets, fries, a chocolate cake, fruit bag and a pack of Rolo's knowing that he has hollow legs and we limit what he eats as he really would eat and eat and eat.  I asked to speak to Thing One and when I gently told him he'd had more then enough (far more then I'd ever have allowed) he proceeded to burst into tears wailing down the phone line 'i'm so so hungry mum!' gulp.  I swear that child has hollow legs.  They match his sometimes vacuous brain at times, take for instance him losing his book bag (again).

Thing Two came out of school with four, yes four, stickers taped to her dress and two prizes.  Apparently she wrote two awfully good stories and even had to go into the nursery class and a year 2 class (she's in Reception) to show other teachers and have them read them out in front of their classes.

After a 6 months drought in reading which is quite extraordinary for me seeing as I usually average 80-150 books a year (yes books, I like real paper books) I finally have found my reading mojo and have read two and a half novels in as many days.  I don't know if I should be amused or ashamed that it's the notoriously popular '50 shades of grey' trilogy that has broke the literary starvation.

Crocodiles & Princess'

This week Thing Two is having her special day at The Grandparents today rather then her usual Tuesday due to The Mother having an appointment at Christies tomorrow.  I love how Thing Two always phones me when she gets there for a chat and to let me know she's arrived safely.  No doubt when I do the ritual emptying of her book bag I'll find notes and pictures to me.  She really is absurdly lovely when she wants to be.  I have a treasure trove of notelets and  things from her, it tickles my heart to know that even whilst having fun at school she still thinks about me and whilst she's at school, a mere glance at the fridge to her gifts, and it brings a smile to my lips.

I asked her over the phone what she did at school today...

Me: 'what did you do at school today?'
Thing Two: 'Played a game called princess' and crocodiles'
Me: 'Were you a princess?'
Thing Two: 'No, I was a crocodile who ate the princesses'

 

The Husband has been drafted by a rather bereft looking Thing One to play Kirby, The Toddler is licking farmers and throwing g's over the gate and me? .... should really think about feeding them all soon.  Oh to have a personal chef.