The apron strings are flapping manically like cage birds and there's a dull thud in my heart.   I'm clock watching again.  Trying to imagine that what I cannot see.   I hope you're okay.  I hope you're having fun.   I hope you're happy. Yet in that pocket of my heart that has your name upon it.... I hope you're missing me too. Not  overwhelmingly,  just a little bit. In the background.

The Preschooler is no longer a preschooler.  Last week was his first week in reception yet it was just mornings.  Today it starts for real.  Today The Dude is there all day.

I knew it was coming.  It even makes a little sense now that Moomin is here. It alleviates some of the guilt born of having a demanding newborn to attend to, knowing that you're occupied rather than sat wanting.  Wanting me. I'm not ready though.

You'd think with him being my third it would be easier yet with each child your youngest stays younger longer.

It only seems like yesterday when I'd cuddle you to sleep in my bed and you'd cuddle me awake in the morning.  Even when debilitated with this last pregnancy my little cuddle monster.... You were here. Cuddling me.

One day you won't ask for cuddles anymore.  One day you won't want them anymore.

Nothing reminds you of how powerless you are against the passing of time than having a child enter full time education.  It becomes even more obvious when you bring a new baby into your family.  You realise how far we've all come.  You realise how fast the time passed.

So I'm sat here missing you whilst cradling your newborn sister to the breast knowing that one day she'll be starting school too.  I'm determined to cherish every minute.  I don't care for houswork it can wait.   I have one last baby.  Time is ticking.  I'm filling the time with cuddles.

Thing One has started his last year of primary,  Thing Two has started her first year of primary and you my darling your first year of infants.   Where has the time gone? With Moomins birth so recent I still vividly remember you all being born.  Being newborns then toddlers then preschoolers.

Tick.

Tock.

As soon as you're born it's like someone presses fast forward.  You end up battling between the futile task of trying to freeze it or  at least slow it whilst at the same time trying to cherish it.

Under four hours now and you'll be home.

Squishy nappies have reappeared in my laundry, I can remember all three of you wearing nappies and they're now all replaced with uniforms.

You're still as much my baby as Moomin is though.  So are Things One & Two. You'll always be my babies.

Fairy are currently running an #OhSoSoft campaign encouraging us to make the most of the precious preschool years and the oh-so-soft cuddles they bring.


You're never really too old for cuddles though.  Not really.  They'll always be a time when words are unnecessary and not enough.  When only an oh-so-soft cuddle from mum will do.  Yet whilst your babies are babies and cuddles are in abundance, embrace the moments, the chaos, the mess, the noise but most of all the oh so soft cuddles.

You'd better believe it that as soon as you get home from school today, there's no escape.  This cuddle will tell you I love you,  I missed you,  I'm proud of you and that you're home.


Disclaimer: This is a sponsored post yet all words and opinions expressed are my own

When the emotions are bigger than the child.

As an adult I think we're often guilty of neglecting to acknowledge the immensity and complexity of emotions that young children experience.  For some absurd reason we seem to assume that until they reach puberty they rely heavily upon the basic instincts of emotion such as sadness, love, happiness and anger.  To an extent they do, yet the problem is that for crude basic emotions, they're actually incredibly large emotions.  A tantrumming child isn't merely being a brat, they're often struggling and lacking the capacity to contain a reactive emotion.  Sometimes an emotion simply becomes too hard and too big to manage.  It has to go somewhere so quite literally it explodes. It comes to the point where they can't control the emotion so the emotion begins to control them. They're furious, indignant and upset. Words are eaten by the flames and the ability to rationally communicate is replaced with lashing out and primal verbalisations.

Occasionally if we're lucky enough we can spot the signs of it brewing and intercept through validating it before it escalates and helping them to understand it; to reason through it with them.  Other times, we're not so lucky.  At this point reasoning is futile.  They're unable to contain the emotion, the emotion is controlling them so they have an inability to reason with it, let alone with you.  The more you try to invalidate and extinguish it, the stronger hold it takes over them and the harder they'll fight against you and reason.  It's tempting to issue sharp words yet since when does fire cancel fire?  Rather than diluting it, in our quest to extinguish it we only feed it.  Their campfire is now a bonfire

It doesn't matter how ridiculous/annoying/pointless we feel the catalyst was, to the preschooler experiencing it, it matters. At this moment in time, it's all that matters.

They're not thinking, they're feeling.  The worst part is they can't stop feeling.  The feelings are consuming them.  And growing.

Yet anger and frustration can be contagious.

Our job is to try and not catch it.

They need us to remain calm more than ever.  They're neither ready nor able to be calm right now yet they need us to be, to represent the calm after the storm.

This isn't to say we mollycoddle them and encourage their outbursts. They'll say hateful things ("I HATE you!") they may even lash out physically.  We need to remember this is the emotion not the child.

Often I'll  try to stay calm (no easy feat for me an i'm only human, I often fail) and let them know i'm here yet I'm not talking to them until they're able to listen. Sometimes, when it's got this far all you can do is let the emotion burn itself out.  Don't retaliate.  If he's screaming at me, I'll turn away.  If he's hitting, i'll block.  The idea is to dilute this.  If only one person is screaming or lashing out without a reaction or retaliation, it will eventually cancel itself out.  Starve the fire.

Eventually they will calm.  Often he'll storm away and remove himself from the situation be it hiding under his train table or sitting in the hall.  On a good day he'll even return and apologise, here is the opener, he's ready to talk.  More importantly, he's ready to listen.  Sometimes he'll just look so exhausted and scared by the enormity of his emotions that if he appears calmer i'll ask him if he'd like a cuddle to help him calm down.  This isn't a reward nor a forgiveness, this is the basic human need for contact.  For security. This is where we can dissect the emotion that triggered all this, to talk about what happened and to reiterate why things happened or decisions were made.  To explain the effect their behavior and emotions have on others.  There is no blame here, only acknowledgement.  You can still acknowledge that perhaps something you said or did caused this whilst maintaining that what you said or did was appropriate and right.  It's important we validate the emotion, it's okay not to like what they're told or asked to do, it's okay to feel angry etc whilst still enforcing that screaming/lashing out isn't okay and your initial decision isn't changing. Reiterate why you made your initial decision, the one they so disliked.  If we want them to lean to accept what we/decide, we too have to learn to accept their feelings towards it.  We can tell them what they can/can't have, where they can/can't go etc but we should never attempt to tell them what they can or can't feel about it.  You can still accept something without liking it.

They probably don't understand their reaction themselves, they'll be exhausted and a little perplexed.  This is why we need to trace it back to the emotion that triggered it.  The more we teach them it's okay to feel something, the easier it will be to then explain that it's not always okay to act on it.

Use feelings in explanations.  Tell them how being shouted at or hit made you feel.  Explain the impact their words have on you.  Ask them how they'd feel if someone they loved said they hated them, or hit them.  Use basic rudimentary emotions that they are struggling with to explain this such as sad or hurt.

I never ask for nor demand an apology.  I feel prompted apologies are meaningless and strip the child of the process of reflection and regret.  They become a get out of jail free card and meaningless. As such, he apologises in his own time.  When he feels it.  When he thinks it.  I'll often thank him for apologising and ask him what he's sorry for/about again opening up the channels for reflection and understanding.  It's important they understand why they're sorry, to do that they have to feel it.  Sometimes the sorry may come immediately other times it will take it's time yet strangely as much as you crave the 'sorry' it's often more appreciated when it's later then you expected it.  It shows they've thought about it.

Recently The Preschooler opened my eyes to another aspect of emotion that I'd somehow not considered before, their inability to combine two battling emotions.  They can feel frustration and anger, they can feel happiness and excitement yet what they can struggle to comprehend is love and anger, love and hate etc.

The Preschooler frequently screams at me lately that he hates me, to which i'll reply along the lines of how that's quite sad or a shame because I still love him.

One evening when he'd been particularly inflammatory and made me terrifically cross, I told him I loved him.  He surprised me when he replied that I can't love him because i'm angry with him.  He genuinely couldn't grasp the concept that you can be angry with someone, hate what they say/do yet still love them.  He appeared to believe that all emotions are transient and you can only occupy one at a time.  This explains the 'i hate you!' in place of 'I hate what you're saying/doing'  The emotion is a whole and the person is a whole, thus if you dislike what the person has done you must thus dislike the person along with it.

I'll admit I've never given thought to this before; the difficulty a child faces accepting multiple emotions and worse, tangled emotions.  Sometimes we have to go back to basics.

Yet it absolutely reinforces that my initial reaction to his hate speech was to state that I loved him.  This is the seed that will grow the understanding that you can love someone yet dislike them at the same time.  That some emotions are unconditional.  That you can love someone in-spite of them as well as because of them.  That he realises even when i'm horrifically cross with him, I still love him.

At times he'll try to make sense of it and when calm he'll either say 'I'm sorry for saying I hate you' or more amusingly 'I hate you a million and love you one' the latter is new.  The latter is showing the growing understanding that you can feel conflicting emotions about someone simultaneously.

I don't think we always give children enough credit for the steep learning curves they go through emotionally.  We often underestimate their level of understanding and their ability to cope with what they feel.

Not being allowed to play ball inside might be logical to us yet that doesn't mean that to them it's not the end of the world.

They must learn to understand themselves before they can understand the world around them and sometimes, maybe, just maybe we just need to remember to try and understand them too.

Fun With Water Beads

If there's one thing the local town has in abundance, it's pound shops.  They appear to be everywhere.  I'll admit to rather liking them at times, obviously some are considerably more palatable than others.  Some are a sweaty dark caverns of doom with over stacked shelves looming over you with tit and tat that you'll never need yet judging by the price you convince yourself you might need it, someday.  Yet others are simply bargain central.  I can't for the life of me remember the name of it yet there's one in particular that is light, airy, tidy and well presented.  The perfect stop for those pesky hairslides that Thing Two inevitably loses, all the time.  I refuse to fork out extortionate amounts for them when I can get 30 for £1!  Their six packs of baby flannels make excellent reusable nappy wipes and it's a little haven for cheap craft and art bits and bats for The Spawn.  It also means, after a boring shopping trip we can afford to treat The Preschooler.  He easily finds something he'd like in there every single visit and at a pound a pop, why not?

On our last visit there I was drawn to something I've been tempted to try for some time, water beads!  I'm not one for popping into florist supply shops on a whim and I never quite got round to ordering them online so this seemed almost like an omen.  I'll admit to being a trifle suspicious at what we'd get for a £1 so the skeptical side of me purchased two boxes just in case.

It's a rather simple process, you simply add the minuscule little packets of colourful doo-dahs to water.  They came with their own test tubes with the suggestion you fill it with a colour of your choice.  Sod that.  It would be akin to picking out a particular colour from cake sprinkles.  Never to do something by halves we opted instead to dump both packs into a large bowl of water.  The idea is you then observe as they grow.    I'm never quite sure who has the least spectacular attention span, myself or The Preschooler, regardless, neither of us were bored enough to stare at a bowl of water for longer than a few minutes.  Granted they did grow, yet they seemed to stop producing a deflated 'is that it?!' reaction from the both of us.  To say it was underwhelming would be an understatement.  I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt as the instructions have no indication as to how long it should take for them to expand fully.

We checked on their progress about an hour or so later and this was more liking to what I had expected, we
had a slimy bowl of multicoloured marble sized balls in water.  It's impossible to gaze upon them and not plunge your hand into them.  There is something creepy yet utterly satisfying about the slippery slime of the water and these slippery balls.  Granted the little buggers like escaping and they're an arse to pick up off the floor.





Their charm proved irresistible to Thing Two also.  She couldn't stop herself from plunging her hand into them.  In her usual effortless way she encouraged play through asking The Preschooler to find certain colours to make 'potions' as I introduced some measuring cups and the test tubes.

Seeing water slop all over the show I drained the beads so they had the shiny, glistening, oddly textured little balls of delight to play with, without the added mess of water.  This proved equally as satisfying to them and just as beguiling.  I feared they'd have a limited attraction, a mere novelty yet they audibly groaned when I told them it was time to tidy up and the first thing Thing Two requested to play with upon arriving home from school today was the water beads.






They are tempting though.  Just a mere glance of them is teasing to the senses.  I'll admit to having dunked
by hand into them on several occasions today in passing.

I think they'd look stunning over a lightbox in a dark room.  They'd also be more engaging with a longer shallower tub to hold them in.

These are sublime for sensory play and are helpful in teaching colours and the notions of absorbing and expanding. If you haven't tried them already, I highly recommend you give them a go.

'I Hate You!'

It's easy to become complacent in parenting and then one of the little sods will throw us a curveball, just to remind us they're all so delightfully different.

The Preschooler has somehow picked up the phrase 'I HATE YOU' and will throw it at us whenever he feels we have done him a disservice. This is new to us. Things One & Two have never uttered this. We've always explained things such as the true meaning of words and to mean what you say. They know that they may strongly dislike something or someone but the chances are they don't actually hate them and vice versa with the term love. So it's somewhat trifling as to where The Preschooler garnered this phrase from that he throws around so readily. It seems we're having to go around this development somewhat arse over tit insofar as to say rather then emphasising the words power and meaning we're having to simultaneously strip it of it too. Why is this parenting lark never simple?

So how do you react to a three year old declaring that he hates you, or his siblings?

Things One and Two have that instinctive response of 'I hate you too' to which we have to insist they refrain from using, because they don't...hate him, not really.  They'll readily admit this when they think about it because that's part of what we're doing, trying to make them think about what they say. To only say something if they mean it. It's like when The Preschooler states 'You're not using my crayons, EVER again!' their instinct is to respond with 'well you're not allowed to use my [whatever] then!' Which isn't terribly helpful. rather than diffuse the situation it merely ignites it. It's teaching The Preschooler that his initial declaration was the right thing to do, that this is how we operate. This is how we treat each other and that too not share out of spite is acceptable.

I'll admit I'm working blind here but I respond to the infamous 'I HATE YOU.' with something along the lines of 'well that's a shame because I love you' I feel it's important to face adversity with security. That he realises no matter what he says, I still love him and he can't make me stop that. It often diffuses the situation. Other times I may reply with 'Oh, that makes Mummy feel sad as she loves you very much' which I feel, subtly without reproach, expresses the effect his words can have on others feelings whilst still re-enforcing that he is loved regardless.  Most of all it's accepting what he's saying.  I may not like it or agree with it and hell, I don't even think he means it but it's important that he feels his thoughts and feelings are valid.  Often we reflect more upon them once they're accepted.

Nine times out of ten within ten minutes he'll either spontaneously tell me he loves me or ever start a conversation with me. With the latter I'll occasionally respond with 'oh but I thought you hated me?' A rather sincere little voice will then tell me 'I don't really' he's had time to reflect on what he's said without being made too.

His other favourite phrase mid rage is 'I'm not talking to you anymore! ' usually said when you're trying to explain something to him. My usual response is an 'okay'. It's frustrating yet I know if I rise to the bait to make him stay and discuss something it will ignite. The lack of reaction is what diffuses this ticking bomb. Predictably within five minutes he'll start a conversation, this is where I remind him of his previous actions 'Oh but I thought you weren't talking to me? ' It's subtle and silent but this is where the penny drops and he realises the ramifications of his words and offers an indignant little 'But I am now! '

Often the above scenario is accompanied by a quality sulk. Usually if I'm trying to have a conversation with him or get him to do something I've asked of him the 'I'm not talking to you! ' is accompanied by him storming off to sulk somewhere. The Little diva even slams doors en route. The huntress within me is raging and indignant. How dare he walk away when I'm talking to him? ! How dare he refuse to pick the pens up that he threw! It goads me to chase and confront. To hunt him down until he submits.

And that urge? That instinctive indignant drive is exactly what fuels his behaviour yet how on earth is he to learn to control it if I can't as an adult?  Instinct is a powerful thing and we shouldn't smother it, the learning curve is that we shouldn't always act upon it.

Practising restraint I have to use the ancient art of patience. Not something that comes naturally to me so it's no surprise that with inheriting my explosive temper they'll also inherit my lacking patience.

Now it's the waiting game. Usually he'll either return with a sincere little 'sorry' or else he will ask something un connected.

If it's the former I'll ask him to tell me why he's sorry. It's important to establish whether he's understood what's happened or whether he just feels it's something he should say. Often he'll surprise me and relay what happened.

If it's the latter I'll calmly state that I'll happily talk after he's picked the pens up. This option he dislikes. It's important that whilst I'm not conversing with him I'm also not completely ignoring him as I feel ignoring is counter productive. To close communication channels completely is sending out a harmful message which could have repercussions on how and what your child communicates to you in the future.

However, I will firmly refuse to engage meaningfully until he's addressed the issue and embarked upon its resolution.

So for now it's the 'I hate you's' and the 'I'm not talking to you's' with the door slammings and sulks. Yes, he's a diva but he's our diva. He's also just a four year old learning how to deal with strong emotions and concepts. It's inevitable that he'll have to push some boundaries in the process. It's intrinsic that he feels secure enough to be able to do this. To know that although his reactions may not always be acceptable, they are valid.

He's learning important life lessons here like people piss you off and likewise you probably piss them off too.

And that's okay.

Honest.

How to stop your preschooler hulking out at your antenatal appointments

Attending antenatal appointments with a pre-schooler in tow doesn't have to be the nightmare that you fear it will be, it just involves a few minutes of forward planning.  Thing Two came with us to most of our appointments when The Preschooler was in utero and likewise the Preschooler is now with us for the majority of Moomins antenatal appointments.

A lot of the tips may seem a little obvious and I swear i'm not at all trying to teach you to suck eggs yet quite often whilst in the waiting room we witness stressed out parents and unruly preschoolers.

Generally, they're not misbehaving they're simply bored.  When you're tired and anxious it's sometimes difficult to remember this fact.  They're not being bad.  They're likely just bored because lets face it, waiting is essentially boring.

So whilst remembering your notes, a bottle of water and your bottle of wee take five minutes to add the following:

* Snacks.  One way to distract boredom is to eat, a hungry child can turn a bored child into a hulk child.  Take more than you think you'll need because you'll never know how delayed your appointment might be.  Remember to try and avoid messy foods.  Also, pack a drink!

* Pack some crayons and some paper.  If you go into your local poundshop you can get mini colouring books with crayons that fit in the back in a variety of popular character themes.  These are small and are also perfect for travelling and eating out when waiting for meals.  Try and stick to crayons as pencils need sharpening and pens are a minature graffiti artists best friend.

* Take a book or two.  Encourage quiet activities, take a couple of their short favourate books that you can read to them and they can enjoy the familiarity.

* Stickers.  Most small people love stickers, if you can't get to a poundshop to get some reusable ones, get some standard ones but provide paper etc otherwise they'll helpfully 'decorate' the waiting room.

* If they have a small favourate toy be it a doll or a fire engine let them take it, people would much rather hear a child 'brumming' a car around the edges of a room than a tantrumming bored child who's gone beyond the edge of being brought back into quieting down.

All of the above will easily fit into your bag yet will make a huge difference to your child and thus make your appointment a lot smoother!

Whilst there try some of  the following to help keep your child from hulking out:

* Play eye-spy, if your child is still only wee do colour eye spy (I spy with my little eye something that's blue) 

* Talk to your child.  We all know how anxiety and such of waiting to be seen can tie us up in knots but distract yourself as well as your child by talking to them.  You'd be surprised how many children I see just in their buggy left to somehow entertain themselves whilst their parents zone out.

* Involve your child.  Talk to them about why you're there, about what will happen.  Tell them what the doctor/midwife is doing and why.  Point things out to them and tell them what they are, what they're for etc.

Nursery: Hooray I haven't broken my kids

You may remember a post nearly six months ago, about The Preschooler, who's not at preschool, yet.  No matter what you do or indeed choose not to do, as a parent, you will always have moments of doubt. Doubt is a natural feeling that enables us to examine our choices, proving we're not infallible and helps to balance our conscience, heart and head to make level headed choices.  For if we did not have moments of doubt how could we thus be so sure of our conviction?  It's proof we're sentient; that we're human.

Despite the confidence in my decision to delay Preschool, again there is that element of dread that tugs on ribbons of my heart as the inevitable time arrives when we decide 'It's time.'  The time arrives through a marriage of knowing the time is right and the need for an introduction to school structure before they'e thrown in at the deep end in September.  For Thing One and The Preschooler this is usually around six months before they start full time school (Thing Two went a year before due to her Birthday).

It doesn't matter how many times you've been through this before with the rest of your brood, your heart still plummets and your brain aches as you question your own parenting.  You can never quite fully convince yourself that you're doing the right thing, whatever that is.

So you take your feisty, funny, noisy, cheerful, confident little person to a taster session and they transform into a static mute limpet.  You don't blame them really, it's an alien environment.  Things One & Two had been used to spending a day a week with The Grandparents yet due to the new shinier grandchild, called 'An Apartment in Spain' we felt sending him sporadically to theirs when they're in England would defeat the object of a semi-routine and prove confusing.  You've never even left them, you have no money to go anywhere, nobody to go with and in all honesty as unhealthy as it may be, you don't want to leave them.  You see it pointless in having forces separation when you don't want it, why should you endure it just to please others? (much to relatives, doctors and The Husbands protests). Anyone who's been a long term reader will have probably realised by now that we don't 'do' groups and the like and instead focus more on attachment and socialisation through general life and ourselves.  So this, essentially, was the first time he's been in an enclosed space filled with similar sized children as well as unknown grownups who seemed insistent on being his 'friend'.  It's a lot to take in, a hoard of rampant snot monsters whizzing their tits off around him in an unfamiliar setting.

In this situation it's hard to remember that his sudden introverted state was a perfectly normal and human reaction to the situation and environment.  Yet the typical Mother's guilt kicks in as you begin to question yourself, gulping down the blame like it's Gin in the witching hour as the thought resonates and swells within your head 'I did this.  I've broken my child'  You're not even exactly sure whether it's your decision to bring them here that broke them or the fact you didn't do it sooner yet one thing you are sure of is that you've broken your child.  It's your fault.  You don't even know how to fix this, to fix them.   You find yourself nervously burbling at the staff that he does talk, honest and that he's actually a little hurricane normally.

Yet somehow, somewhere beneath it all.  You understand.  You're already, naturally supporting them.  You accept their reaction.  It's a valid reaction.  You neither attempt to coax nor throw them into the deep end so to speak.  You may not always trust yourself yet as always you're instinctively trusting your child.  You accept their hesitancy.  You remain visible and accessible, the proverbial rock in the ocean that they can navigate towards should they need you as they stare at you uncertainly whilst the well meaning teacher takes them by the hand and away from you.  You resist the urge to follow despite that tiny look of pleading in your childs eyes.  Yet you keep eye contact should they need it.  You don't follow yet nor do you move, you remain the rock so that they can get back to you.  So that they know you're still there.

You accept their return.  It's a lot to take in, both people and environment.  This is not neutral ground.  So, you tackle one at a time, you engage with your child within the new environment, helping them stain it with some familiarity.

The Teacher has forms, sign this, sign that .... your child looks stranded.  It would be easy to nudge them towards something or someone yet you know your child.  They don't need flooding with it, they need to assess and observe.  They need to now it's a can situation not a must situation.  Through accepting their uncertainty, validating it, you're helping them process it.

The little parental voices are whispering to you that you've failed, you're failing.  This is a test.  Your child isn't normal.  If you'd been a good parent they'd have made six friends already.  You've broken your child.

Yet just because the voices are there, it doesn't follow that they speak the truth.  These are the voices that tell you you're useless, fat and ugly.  These voices lie.

Fuck the voices.

These ludicrous expectations, aren't real.  How your child feels and reacts is real.  This is normal.  Your child is actually exhibiting perfectly appropriate behaviour to the situation.

The next session goes much the same way.  You're convinced you're condemning them to abject misery.

Then the first real day comes round.  The day you're supposed to leave this version of your child that seems a mere shadow of the one you know at home.

Every fibre of your being is screaming at you not to do this.  It seems unnatural to leave them in this situation they're evidently uncomfortable with in the hands of, what are really mere strangers.  You are physically fighting the urge to scoop them up and run, run to the hills, run home.

But you do fight it.

You leave them, with a kiss.

They're not clinging to you.  They're not crying.  They're not asking you to stay.

Yet they should be, afterall, all that extended breastfeeding, babywearing, co-sleeping and over attachment ruins them don't you know?  It's surprising you can walk with all those rods on your back.  They'll never function normally.  You've broken your child.

You go.  You worry.  The few hours feel like days.

Yet when you pick them up the staff assure you he's been absolutely fine.  You ask if he actually spoke, he did.

It continues.  Once again you're breaking societies expectations.  He's entitled to five sessions, yet you're only taking him for two.  For now.  For us, this isn't about child care, so thus we don't use it as such.

By the second session, you've been told he's joining in fine, he's made some friends.  He's interacting naturally because he's neither been forces to nor had any expectations impressed upon him.  This is him being in control.

He goes in excited.  He comes out excited.  He's never asked not to go.  Like his siblings he's shown zero distress.  He's happy.  Be it because of or despite of our choices.

So the truth is,  I didn't break my children.  Just like through doing things your way to suit your parenting/life didn't break yours.

 Different doesn't equal wrong.

Trust yourself, your parenting and your child.  It doesn't matter how you think they're supposed to react or be, that's not reality.  Reality is who they are and how they react.  Whatever and however that is, is okay.  Don't change yourself nor your child to try and aspire to be whatever you think normal is.  Everyone's normal is different.  Normal doesn't even exist, really.  It's just a word.  A word sent to break us.

So I didn't send my child to nursery until he was about 3yrs10m old and I haven't broken him.

That deserves celebration.  Gin in my soup it is then!

The preschooler who's not at preschool (yet)

Other than mistaking him for a girl the other major assumption Joe Public make about The Toddler is that he should be in Nursery.  Why? Simply because he's three and a half.  Just because he's now eligible for a free place, people assume he should therefore be using it.

I've never attended a mother and baby group in my entire life.  Thing One was due to start reception, full time, two weeks following his fourth birthday so we sent him to nursery for at first two mornings and later an afternoon from the February to July merely to prepare him for the setting and routine.  He's an incredibly open, friendly, confident and academically advanced child.  

I clearly remember when The Health Visitor came to do routene check on Thing Two when she was a toddler and upon asking me which nursery she attended to which I responded none, she embarked upon a pro-nursery speech.  By the time she left, she admitted that having now met us and spent time with Thing Two she could understand absolutely why we didn't feel it necessary to send her and that she was absolutely flourishing at home.  We did send her, eventually, however Thing Two has the opposite problem to Thing One.  Thing one started full time reception class in infants a mere two weeks after his fourth birthday yet Thing Two started reception a day or two before her fifth birthday.  There is a lot of difference between a four year old and a five year old physically, mentally, emotionally and socially.  She started Nursery after her fourth birthday in a similar pattern to Thing One yet within a few months she requested to go five sessions a week.  Thing two has always been frightfully articulate and despite being somewhat reserved she is incredibly popular (she must have been adopted!) with teachers and children and consistently achieves several years ahead academically.

Both of them are confident, friendly, honest, genuine, caring, articulate and have excellent manners and yet I was viewed as being in the wrong for not sending them to nursery the instant they turned three.  Apparently it would hold them back or do them some kind of harm or maybe make them weird or something. Oh, did I also mention that they both love school too?

There's a huge belief that toddlers need to be socialised.  What young children need is someone to hug them when they need hugging, to play with them when they want playing with, to help them manage and understand their feelings and bodies and how to cope with stress as well as forming particular attachment to people.  Social skills can be gained at home.

Others insist nursery will help eradicate the shyness of some children.  It won't.  Shyness isn't always what someone does it can be simply who they are.  Some people are shy.  Shyness isn't a negative thing to be.  Rather than try and beat it we should instead help them develop healthy coping strategies and most of all respect their shyness.

I have nothing against pre-schools and nurseries and know many parents depend on them. However for myself and my children, they seem unnecessary and superfluous to our needs until they're about to start school.  I feel the British education system is too harsh and starts far far too early undermining the value of home and family.  In many countries formal education doesn't start until age 6-7 yet the pupils often are equal or even surpass ours academically.  Once in school, that's it for a very long time.  Once they turn five, unless you home school, they have to attend school. The government seem intent on separating our children from us as early as possible, enrolling into the system which they then have control over.  Because that's what it's all about; control.  Miraculously society have been led to accept this, to think that this is okay.

I'm genuinely happy that many toddlers are happy at nursery and that it was the right choice for their parents.   I just wish more people would extend the same courtesy and acceptance to those who delay nursery/pre-school

So yes, The Toddler is 3.5yrs old and not at Nursery yet and we're loving it.

12 Tips to encourage your child to read

We all know how important and essential reading is in life, not just for the practical things but for fun and reading really should be fun.  Thankfully I'm blessed with three little bookworms.   Things One and Two are many years ahead with their reading, during the holidays the local library had a competition to read six full books in six weeks.....Things One and Two did it in a week.  Although not a reader yet, The Toddler loves his books, he loves looking through them, he loves pretending to read them and he loves us reading to him.  So for anyone not quite sure on how to start and encourage reading, here's some basic tips:

1. It's never too early.  You can read to your baby whilst it's in utero.  The sound of your voice will be comforting and you yourself may find it relaxing, and a way to bond with baby before they're even born.  Once baby is born, read to them, It doesn't matter if they don't appear to show any attention.  Just read.  It encourages and creates a quiet place and time to relax and just be with mum or dad.  Let them explore the books, there's some fabulously tactile books available even if they just chew that amazing board book you got them, let them.

2. Have plenty of books.  We have hundreds.  Literally.  With places like Pound shops, Home Bargains, The Book People and second hand shops there really is no excuse to not have a heap of books.

3. Make them easily accessible.  We have toy tubs filled with books so when toddlers they can rummage through, pick their own...sometimes half the fun is in the choosing or rediscovering an old favourate under a pile of new ones. Make them a natural part of everyday life, utilise bath books and buggy books.  If you babywear you can attach buggy books to your sling.

4. Toddlers often enjoy word books, insofar as to say books full of pictures of things around the home or in nature etc where they can point at an item and you can name it.  As they get older they have so much fun 'seeking' things on the page you name.  Rhyming books are also a favourate where they can often finish the last word of the sentence from memory.

5. Let them see you read.  Children like to emulate adults.

6. Use subtitles.  As Things One and Two learned to read they'd subconsciously read the subtitles on the television, something we usually leave on permanently because of the noise The Spawn make.  This way they are actually reading whilst doing something else they enjoy, watching tv, thus giving it another positive association.

7. Unless what you are doing is absolutely 100% time critical urgent, never ever say no if your child asks you to read them a book.  Put your phone down, turn off the laptop, lower the volume on the tv.  Focus that moment on being with your child and sharing the book.  Cuddle them, laugh with them....enjoy the story with them.

8. Ask questions.  Ask them about the story, about the characters and the pictures.  Let them try and guess what will happen next or let them think about why something happened before.  Ask them about their favourite part.  If a character is happy/sad ask the child why they think that is.  Point out colours and details. Involve them in the story.

9. Remember it doesn't matter what they read, reading is reading.  Forget about the books they 'should' be reading according to whoareyou et al. Whether it's road signs, magazines, the Argos catalogue or the back of a cereal box, it's all reading.  Better still, it's natural curiosity fuelled reading.  They're doing it because they can and because they want to.  Encourage it all.  Discover what they're interested in, be it cars or Moshi Monsters and feed their interest with associated literature.

10. Never treat reading as a chore.  The more you try and make someone do something, the less likely they are to ever want to do it.  The key to successful reading is to ensure it's something they want to do and better still, like doing.  Never force it.  Personally we don't believe in homework for infants, they spend enough time at school without having to bring it home.  Don't tell your child they have to read that night, ask them if they'd like to.  Tell them you enjoy doing it with them.  Ask them if you can do it together Show interest in what they're learning to read and again ask questions about it that they can answer.  Children like feeling knowledgeable, they like the novelty of teaching you something.  Respect them if they don't want to read right now.  It's really okay.

11. They're never too old to be read a story.  Why not take it in turns to read a page/chapter each to unwind after a busy day, snuggle up and enjoy the closeness it can bring whilst you discover a story together, share the anticipation for the next instalment.

12. Finally, limit technology.  Seriously.  It's unnecessary.  I'm not saying ban it, yet there is no need for young children to possess phones, consoles and the like.  Let them have limited access to your laptop or pc, to explore Google etc, it's still reading and is a fun way for them to get answers to their many questions and expand their general knowledge of the world around them.  Let them be children and use their imagination.  To understand the magic of writing and reading. Provide them with the tools, plenty of books, pens and paper. You'll soon find them devouring novels in their rooms and writing their own.  A video game or tablet is only a gift until the next upgrade is available.  Letting a child organically nurture their own imagination through books however, is a gift for life.