Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Sucking it up and a really stroppy madam

Hello there. I'm feeling a bit better about life after a bleak yesterday. I know I have so, so much to be grateful for and am lucky to be in the position I am: my body (just about) works; I have a beautiful, funny little girl; a kind, loving husband; fantastic friends and family; a roof over my head and warm food in my stomach. I have terrible moments of despair about what my life has become, but I am responsible for these changes. If I don't like it, I'm in the fortunate position of being able to change it (where many aren't). I need to suck it up, get my head down and work harder to be where I want to be. That's the reality, isn't it? You'll have to forgive me if I dip occasionally. That's what trying to discourage a lively toddler from eating sand and licking plug sockets does to you on a daily basis.

My change of mood was partly caused by daughter telling husband that 'Mummy do a stinky farp' last night before her bedtime (I'd obviously like to point out that I didn't). I laughed for about an hour. So, today...

6.45 a.m. Husband's alarm goes off. He gets up to get in shower and I cross my fingers that daughter will give me an extra 15 minutes or so. As husband slams bathroom door daughter shouts 'Muuuummmeee!!'. Pfft. Right. I get up, stick on my dressing gown and lumber in to her. She's bouncing around like a loon, so I take her out of her bag and get her our of the cot. Kisses and tickles are had before I lie her down on the changing mat to whip off her nappy, clean her up and stick on a clean one. I distract with her clown music box, which works at first and then drives her spare because she isn't strong enough to wind it up herself *sigh*. She runs in to husband and tells him this, peppered with her own particular brand of gibberish.

7.15 a.m. Husband takes over baby wrangling and I get in the shower. I stand under the erratic shower head and let the,, hot water pour over me. I hear screaming downstairs and find a few extra knots in my hair to sort out.

8.00 a.m. I'm out of the shower and have finished brushing my teeth when husband and daughter come ricocheting up the stairs. 'Daddy do a poo poo!!'. Husband needs the toilet and so daughter is back in my care. He shuts the bathroom door and she reacts like someone's just murdered Iggle Piggle. I do my best to calm her down and distract her, but she's having none of it. Thankfully husband moves quickly (as it were) and reappears, much to daughter's delight. Husband finishes getting ready (whilst getting daughter to brush her teeth) and leaves for work. 'Daddy work a choo choo train!! BYE!!'. Leaving to go to work for the day is fine, but having 10 minutes for a poo on ones own is absolutely not it seems.

8.00 - 9.30 a.m. This part of the day is always a bit of a blur. It involves me wrestling clothes on daughter in various stages and swearing under my breath. Today she desperately wants to go downstairs for her water, so I take her down. She point blank refuses to come back up with me. I have a feeling today will involve a fair few fights, so (ding ding ding bad mother alert!!) I leave her in the lounge with the stair gate at the bottom of the stairs and the one on the kitchen door firmly locked. I dress quickly, stick on some make up and go back down to her. She's still in one piece, haring around the lounge. Phew. Regardless of the ambitions in my life, one of them is not to appear on the front pages of the Daily Mail *spit* as an errant mother (which I obviously am).

I whip off her pyjama's - 'NO Mummy!!' - and stick clean clothes on her - 'NO Mummy!!'. I manage to convince her to sit on my lap so that I can smear hydrous ointment on her legs and then stick on her tights and shoes, before she wipes the vile stuff over all the soft furnishings in the vicinity. I finally brush her hair - 'NO MUMMY!!'. I make her toast, warm up my ghostly, lumpen porridge in the microwave, and make a cup of tea. I can feel the glamour radiating off me. We both eat.

Daughter: 'Hot Mummy!! Hot!!'

Me: 'Yes, the tea is hot darling.'


She doesn't touch the cup of frigging tea. She's merely upset by the thought that it is hot. I don't actually know how to comfort her about something she hasn't done, BUT IS JUST IMAGINING. It's not even 10 a.m. and my head is done in already. I calm her down with cuddles and 'Charlie and Lola' on my phone.

10.00 a.m. I sort out her snacks, water, nappies and other such guff in my great big, un-sexy, gaudy, wipe-able bag. I stick our coats on, convince her to get in to her buggy, strap her in and then LEAVE THE HOUSE.

10.15 a.m. I stop to buy athlete's foot cream, as I STILL have it. Not only that, but I have also passed it on to husband. The family that plays together passes on communicable diseases to each other, it would seem.

10.30 a.m. We hit the park. We have half an hour to go before our little music lesson. I can't bear chasing her about the playground again, so I decide she can just lurch about the dog free area whilst I have a coffee. My lovely mummy friends and their charges turn up and we all head off to music.

11.00 a.m. It's bloody packed! It's normally relatively quiet, but today you can't move for babies, toddlers and parents / carers. I think the singing man is a bit shocked. We sing 'hello' to everybody, which takes an age and then proceed to sing about elephants, sleeping bunnies, and monsters. We also shake various bits of percussion and waft scarves about.

12.00 a.m. Class is over and it's lunchtime. I invite neighbour's husband and their daughter to come and have lunch with myself and other mummies and babies. He joins us. We all troop off to find a big enough table and enough high chairs. Without going in to too much detail, lunch is a bun fight. The kids eat each others food, run about and scream with delight. It's a success, but by the looks on the faces of the few patrons sans children, it's like a living, breathing version of 'The Last Judgement' by Hieronymus Bosch.

12.50 a.m. I get madam to say 'BYE!!' to all our friends, get our coats on and strap her back in to the buggy. I leg it home for nap time.

1.10 p.m. We arrive home. I unstrap her from the buggy, but she refuses to get out. I try to remove her, but she flips out. Fine, stay there. I abandon her to go and heat up her milk. She gets out of the buggy and I whip her coat off. I ask her to come up stairs, but she ignores me. I go upstairs on my own to sort out her cot and get a bib etc... I come back down and physically take her upstairs. She doesn't seem to mind and chats happily as I lug her up. We have a cuddle and milk. She jumps off my lap to bounce on the bed. I follow and do a nappy change on the move (the fight alone isn't worth it. It also means that she's less likely to go to sleep and I need some time on my own. What I actually mean is I need some time to clear up the pit that used to be the lounge, before the World Health Organisation declare it a humanitarian disaster.)

I say 'bye' and give her a kiss and leave.

2.00 p.m. Silence. I e-mail back a really kind / lovely author who has taken time to reply to an e-mail that I sent them about something I've written. Once I've done that I eat a banana sandwich, clean up and then write a little more.

4.00 p.m. The Kraken awakes!!! Lots of screaming. I leg it up the stairs to calm her down and get her up. She's beside herself and won't let me get her out of the cot. I manage to get her out and take her bag off. She's all over the shop and can't tell me what the matter is. She's done a mahusive poo so, after calming her down, my second most important thing to do is not get shit everywhere.

The remaining hours of the day are a blur to be fair. Daughter is in a foul mood and I have my hair pulled and am hit in the face. I tell her off straight away and make no bones about the fact that it is not acceptable, regardless of ones mood. Husband comes home at some point and I hide in the kitchen and make dinner. I let him deal with bath time. Madam and I clearly need space from one another. I give her her milk and help put her to bed. She screams her head off at 9.30 p.m. so I go back up to calm her down. She drops off quite quickly and I write for a little bit.

Today has been such a bad day that I can't even be bothered to drink. I'm off to fall face-down in a pillow and pray for a black, dreamless sleep. CHEERY BYE!!

Tuesday, 6 November 2012

No more 'Mummy'

I'm totally fed up. I'm over being a mother. Saying this sounds like sacrilege as I'm aware that there are those that would kill for what I have, but today it's true. I woke up wishing I was child free. Today I burn for all the lost possibilities, opportunities and moments - all the lost alternate realities that I feel I've given up because we had a child. Before we started trying I wasn't sure I was immediately ready, but then came to the conclusion that there would never be a time that I was truly ready. I 'made' myself ready I suppose.

Is this wishful thinking? Would I have gone on to write and create as I yearn to now, or would I have carried on slogging away in the world of television? Who knows? Sorry, this is a rather sober post as I'm feeling very small, trapped and a million miles away from where I want to be. I write in-between caring for daughter and after she's gone to bed, but it's so frustrating. There's so much I want to do, but the time just doesn't exist.

Monday, 5 November 2012

Period Pains and Jack White at Ally Pally (not at the same time)

I'm back once again like the renegade master with the ill behaviour. So! I didn't blog for a number of reasons last Thursday and Friday, the primary one being that...(drum roll please)

I got my period on Thursday night and felt wretched until Saturday, when the pain finally lessened. Before having daughter I had debilitating period pains. Seriously. I'd be up at 7 a.m. with my head in the bath vomiting, and sitting on the toilet whilst my bowels exploded. The pain was unbelievable. I thought I was being gutted with a serrated knife. After a horrible pregnancy and vile labour I was assured that one of the up sides of having given birth (other than my darling daughter obviously...) was that, on their return, my periods would be much better. Hey, I thought, they may even be fun! I would be that white-clad woman on roller skates singing my head off like Bonnie Tyler as a pack of ferocious dogs pulled me along the pavement.

Turns out it was a load of old rot. Still extremely painful (I've resorted to taking diclofenac for them FFS) and absolutely reminiscent of going in to labour. Every pissing month. Great. So I haven't felt inclined to blog as I've had a sheep shaped hot water bottle clasped to my stomach and a TENS machine stuck down my jeans whilst I've been munching diclofenac like smarties and running around after a toddler.

By Saturday I was feeling better but as it was Saturday and I was off to see Jack White at Ally Pally there was too much to do, such as:

- Pack up overnight stuff for daughter as she was off to Grandma's for a sleepover. This involves a huge amount of stuff for 'just in case'. Two sets of clothes in case of a poo-mageddon, calpol in case she's poorly, all her eczema stuff etc.... I could go on, but your eyes will glaze over and before you know it you'll be clicking on to the guardian website to read about something that actually matters.

- Buying a new outfit!! I got to go in to town ON MY OWN and buy some clothes. I can't tell you how amaaaaaazing that was. I had my sights set on certain items so I was fairly efficient. Went in to town at 12.30 p.m. as was finished by 2.30 p.m. I bought:

These Ladbroke Park boots from Clarks

This top from Mango

These skinny jeans from Gap

Yes, I know what you're thinking. Rock Goddess, obviously. The prospect of going out to see Jack White turned me in to a teenager. Totally ridiculous, but my husband indulged me my moment of madness, and whisked daughter off to Grandma's early so I could get on.

ANYWAY! Jack White. Oh. my. good. lord. A totally amazing night. Fantastic music (he played with the gloriously talented Peacocks, and The Kills supported) and a night out with fantastic friends. We eventually rolled home at 3 a.m. after hanging out in the backstage bar, leaving Liam Gallagher in the car park with his mates looking for the next party to go to. In the interests of the truth I should point out that we weren't actually hanging out with him. We just happened to be in the same room as him and glance in his direction occasionally, whispering. Also in attendance were the all very excellent Jarvis Cocker, Kate Moss, Mark Ronson, Miranda Sawyer and Miles Kane. It's enough to make you go fizzy and cross-eyed, but I behaved myself impeccably (ish). Certainly came back down to earth with a bump when daughter arrived home and I was back to picking up omelette off the floor and convincing her not to eat money. No rest for the desperately uncool it would seem.

I'll start blogging properly again tomorrow if you can bear it.

Wednesday, 31 October 2012

A Pumpkin Princess, a poorly husband and those with previous convictions...

2.40 a.m. 'Teddy!! Babbit!! Teddy Babbiiiiit!!'. I half lurch out of bed and wait for a few seconds. The screaming subsides, so I cwtch back down.

4.30 a.m. 'Teddy!! Babbit!! Teddy!! Babiiiiit!!'. This time I am on my feet by our bedroom door by the time she's settled herself again. I cannot get back to sleep and keep thinking about the house we may or may not be buying and the fact that if it does all go through we'll be living on beans for the next 20 years.

6.45 a.m. 'Mummeeeee!!'. Okay, fair do's it is, technically speaking, morning as opposed to the middle of the night. I get up, get daughter up and out of bag and cot and change her bum. She runs in to our room where husband is still snoozing. 'Hello Daddy!! Hello!!'. She climbs in next to husband giggling and wiggling pretending to be asleep. I tickle her and then suggest we go downstairs for a drink of water and some breakfast. Husband gets in shower. Daughter and I slowly descend in to the living room. We wave at a toy cat sat on the sofa halfway down the stairs. I suggest it might be quicker if we just go down and say 'hello' to it there. Daughter is a bit of a whinger this morning. She whinges for water, then demands buttered crackers and grapes as I attempt to make our porridge. I give her half a cracker and a grape and tell her breakfast is nearly ready. Judging by her reaction this is not the news she was hoping to hear. Daughter then sees a sparkly 'Hello Kitty' cup which annoys the life out of me (note to self: throw the bloody thing away tonight when she's in bed) and whinges for that. It was a stupid impulse buy and leaks water everywhere. I hate it because a) she goes NUTS for it and b) it doubles the amount of clearing up I have to do. I give it to her and then whip it back in the cupboard when she's distracted by something else. Porridge is made. Tea is made. I cool daughter's porridge down. Husband arrives in kitchen, so I hand over the breakfast duties.

7.00 a.m. I get in to shower with my cup of tea. There is screaming, laughing and a few massive bangs emanating from downstairs. I don't care as it's not on my watch.

7.40 a.m. Out of shower and brushing teeth. In to bedroom to start sticking on moisturiser and clothes etc... Daughter and husband make an appearance. Daughter regales me with unintelligible tales from the breakfast table. Husband goes to brush teeth, so predictably 'Teeth!! Teeth Daddy!! Toofbush!!'. He helps daughter brush her teeth and then heads off to work. We play monsters and tickling and I get dressed. Daughter hands me my bra:

Her: 'Boo boos Mummy!! Boo boos!!'.

Me: 'Yes, darling. It's for Mummy's boobs. To keep them warm (which is true. I am so flat-chested that I don't need the support)'

Once I'm dressed we play 'Horsey horsey' until I notice she's done a big poo, which puts me off somewhat. I bargain with her by saying that we can continue playing 'Horsey horsey' if she let's me change her nappy. This, remarkably, works. Every now and again a bit of bargaining like this goes on and she's beginning to get the hang of it (she recently tried the same tactic with a little friend of hers who wouldn't let go of her beloved doll's buggy. Her: Bike? Friend: No!!). So, we change and then go back to doing 'Horsey horsey' for a bit.

8.30 a.m. We head downstairs and I smear hydrous ointment and a bit of hydro-cortisone on her (she's picked a hole in her arm and I need it to heal quickly before she gets an infection), and then wrestle clothes on.

Me: 'Stand up. Stand up darling. I need to pull your trousers up'

Her: 'Charley Bear!! Charley Bear!! Cat book!!'

I heat up my porridge, make her some toast and a snack box for the day whilst she opens (oh yes) and loads the washing machine with all her dirty clothes. Seriously. I call my Mum and Dad who congratulate us on our pumpkin carving (I e-mailed them. Look at me! Look at me!). I tell them that we're waiting to hear back about our increased offer.

10.00 a.m. I finish the call, wrestle her coat on, put mine on and then we head off to do a few chores before going to our little music class.

10.15 a.m. We arrive at the Doctors to pick up a repeat prescription for her hydrous ointment. Daughter goes all shy when the lovely receptionist says 'hello'. Daughter waves goodbye to the whole of the waiting room - 'Bye bye!!'.

10.20 a.m. We go to the nearest pharmacy to get our prescription filled. I give the lady at the counter the prescription and then we wait. And then we wait some more. A couple of rough looking blokes (I'm not one to judge on looks - god knows I look like a bag of shit at the best of times - but, to me, having a tattoo on your face definitely indicates that you're both hard and rough. The fact that one of them has no teeth confirms this in my mind.) come in asking about the flu jab. Through their conversation it transpires they've just got out of prison. Needless to say my middle class antennae is twitching at this. Even though I know it shouldn't be. One of the blokes  turns to talk to daughter.

Him: 'Hello blue eyes!'

Her: 'Hello!!'

Me: 'Ah, you said 'hello' to the man. That's nice darling!'

We wait some bloody more, as I try to keep my twitchiness on the low down  It's ten to eleven by the time the hydrous ointment turns up. All she had to do was get it from a shelf. I could even see it from where I was standing. When we finally get it, I thank the lady at the counter and then leg it as inconspicuously as I can, whilst checking the whereabouts of my wallet at the same time. I feel awful and ashamed for doing this; for thinking like this. Was I wrong? Or was I right to be cagey and just keep an eye on everything? I'd be interested in hearing what other people think.

11.00 a.m. We've just made it in time for our music class after a 10 minute sprint down the street. I am red-faced and sweaty and daughter is nonplussed. So for an hour we sing songs about elephants that have wrinkles, sleeping bunnies, big ponies, chase bubbles, hide behind scarves and other toddler delights. She has a whale of a time running about and joining in, and I catch up a bit with two lovely Mums that I've got to know through class. Daughter puts everything in her mouth today. Urgh. I tell her not to, aware that there's a fair few bugs flying about and I don't want to have to cancel Jack White at Ally Pally for anything. Even if the four horsemen of the apocalypse came galloping over the hill for an orgy of famine, pestilence, war and death I'd say 'NO! I think you'll find you'll have to do this TOMORROW gentlemen' in my best stern mummy voice. And they would. The singing man gives daughter a Halloween chocolate which she spits out on to the floor.

12.00 a.m. We pay the singing man five pounds and then go and have lunch with our friends. The toddlers have pasta and we have coffee. Lots of pasta is slung about, water cups are exchanged, as are snacks. We have a lovely time.

12.50 a.m. We say farewell to our chums and I push daughter home for milk and a nap.

1.20 p.m. We hit home. I unstrap her from the buggy, warm up her milk and coax her promises of Rabbit and Teddy. She jumps up on my lap. We have a cuddle. She finishes her milk and legs it in to our room to bounce on the bed. As she's bouncing I take off her shoes, socks, trousers and whip off her nappy (only wee, so I do a quick wipe over) and stick a clean one on. I carry her to her room, bag her up, put her in her cot and we say our goodbyes. I go downstairs.

2.00 p.m. Silence. I drink coffee, clear up the lounge and kitchen and write.

3.30 p.m. Husband calls to say he isn't feeling too well so it coming home. Hooray! I like it when he comes home early - feels like a treat. What can I say? I'm a soppy old bugger. And I also like sharing the load.

4.30 p.m. Husband arrives and I give wifely sympathy. He asks if I can go to the shops to get him some ibuprofen and lemsips. I say 'yes' and ask if he can get daughter up whilst I'm out. He asks if he has to and I say yes, unless someone's invented a time machine which is capable of letting me be in two places at once. I go off and buy aforementioned cold and flu products.

5.00 p.m. Home again to find a happy, cuddly daughter with her Daddy. She gives me a great big and a bone crushing smacker right on my lips. Which is bliss. We stick on Cbeebies to occupy daughter and start to get dinner on. Husband is a bit out of it and peels half a potato before turning his hand to three carrots. He settles for sticking salmon in the oven whilst I do (and re-do) the veg. I tell him to go and sit down. Whilst dinner is cooking I make start on an apple crumble which he's been threatening to do tonight. I'd rather get the majority of it done than let him peel half an apple and walk off looking confused at 9 p.m.

5.30 p.m. Dinner is ready. I plate up, serve and cool daughter's down. We leave the telly on as we eat (bad parents), but she does eat it all. I know, I know.

6.00 p.m. I put daughter in to a little pumpkin dress, ready to harass the neighbours a.k.a. 'Trick or Treating'.

6.15 p.m. Lovely neighbour's husband calls for us and we begin to trick or treat. She enjoys it until one of the Dads does a scary scream and she's petrified poor love. I calm her down until she's happy to join the others. After a couple more doors she heads for home saying 'My house!! My house!!'. She has had enough. We get to our house, she has a cuddle with Daddy and all her little chums come in and pick up their sweets. She leaves again with the other children, so it seems she's happy to continue. We do one more house, take a photo of all the little witches and wizards (and pumpkins) and then go home. Husband has finished the apple crumble - lovely man!

7.00 p.m. 'Bubble bubble!!'. It's bath time, so husband runs a bath for her. We clamber up the stairs. I whip off her clothes. She asks to do a wee on the toilet (!). Nothing happens, but she's getting the idea. Husband pops her in the bath and I swill her over. We get her out, dry her off, play monsters, smear hydrous ointment and hydro-cortisone on her, stick a vest and pjs on her, and it's milk time.

8.00 p.m. We have a cuddle and some milk. 'Sit dere Daddy!! Sit dere!!'. Daddy's presence is a must these days. It's rather nice, the three of us cuddling up for a bit. Daughter finishes milk and runs in to our room. I let her do 'Horsey horsey' one more time before putting her down for the night. I bag her up and put more hydrous ointment on her feet. I sing 'Lion Sleeps Tonight' and lecture Teddy and Rabbit about staying in the cot. Note to self: make sure they're in the bloody cot before I go to sleep tonight. Lots of kisses and shouted goodbyes.

8.30 p.m. Husband has done clearing up - lovely man - so we eat crumble and ice cream whilst I Skype my beloved sister in New Zealand.

9.00 p.m. Silence from upstairs. A bit later dropping off because she could hear me wittering on.

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Poos and the playground

6.45 a.m. A fancy mobile phone alarm noise wakes us. Hang on... Where's the baby?! Still asleep! Brilliant. Husband slips in to shower whilst I have 40 winks. He gets out and I stumble in. Still no life from daughter. I have an undisturbed shower. I think I've fallen through a hole in the space/time continuum as this can't be my life.

7.50 a.m. I get out of the shower and our little darling stirs. Husband gets her up and sorts out her bottom whilst I brush my teeth. I leave the bathroom as she's having breakfast downstairs. She doesn't miss a trick because as soon as I leave she bellows 'Hello Mummy!!' up the stairs. We have a shouted conversation about eating and breakfast as I try to stick moisturiser and my clothes on before she comes hurtling up the stairs. I'm just about finished as she makes an appearance. 'Teeth Daddy!! Teeth Mummy!!'. Husband brushes his teeth and oversees daughter 'brushing' hers and generally mucking about with water.

8.20 a.m. Husband finishes and shoots off. 'Bye bye Daddy!! Ting-a-ling Bike!!'. I explain Daddy's going to work on the train today, not his bike. 'Bye bye Daddy!! Daddy choo choo!!'. Yes, that's right. She does the first of many poos and I clean her up. We do tickles and monsters - 'Raa Mummy!! Raa Mummy!!' - and go downstairs to get her dressed (all her clothes are clean, dry and in a pile on the table in the lounge. They should be upstairs, but they're not. To be honest she cracks through them at such a rate, there really is no point in putting them away. Lazy muvva.). Clothes are wrestled on and hydrous ointment is smeared on the floor, sofa and, eventually, her feet and backs of legs.

9.00 a.m. I make my breakfast and do some toast for her which she eats as she hurtles around the lounge telling me some sort of an unintelligible story.

Her: 'A ba da eating a boo dee daddy doggy fankyou mummy fankyou sowwy babbit teddy nanny papa'.

Me: 'Really?! Well, that sounds very exciting. What did he say next?'

And so on. I make a snack box for her, and wrestle her in to her coat.

Me: We have to put your coat on to go to the park.

Her: (whilst evading her coat being put on) PARK!! PARK!! PAYGROUND!!

I get her coat on, strap her into the buggy, get my coat on and WE'RE OUT.

9.45 a.m. We hit the playground. We are one of the first here. To summarise we: Roll in the sand, run precariously around a tree house with great big gaping holes in, climb through a wet tunnel, sit at the top of a slide refusing to come down, climb a muddy hill, bounce on a trampoline thing, eat sandy cheese and rice cakes et cetera et cetera...

11.15 a.m. I am bloody freezing and can't feel my feet any more, so I decide it's time to go home. Daughter isn't convinced that this is a good idea so I pretend to be a monster and chase her to the buggy where I strap her in before the ruse is up. She eats all the grapes in her snack box and drops the blueberries all over the floor on the way. She is most upset by this, but I assure her that it's okay and that these things happen.

11.45 a.m. HOME. I make scrambled eggs on toast with daughter whirling about the place. Eggs done, plated and served. We sit down to eat which lasts about oh 30 seconds. She's off, so I ram in spoonfuls of scrambled egg and she watches a video of herself (her very most favourite thing to do. I presume she's analysing her performance in order to make the next day even more interesting for us.).

12.15 a.m. She visibly does a poo (she sort of crouches and strains)

Me: 'Have you done a poo darling?'

Her: 'Ha ha ha!! No. Poo poo'

I heat up her milk, take her upstairs and change her nappy. The poo is khaki which would indicate all the broccoli she ate last night for dinner. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for eating broccoli with other food. Just not as the sole ingredient of the meal. She runs off to bounce on the bed and we do 'Horsey Horsey' for a few times, before it's definitely milk time.

12.30 p.m. Milk time. We have a cuddle with Rabbit, Teddy, and Doggy and drink our milk. The bottle is drained and she's off again to do bouncing. I retrieve her, bag her up and pop her in her cot. We say 'Bye bye!! Night night!! Min a minute!! Ciao Bella!!' and then I head downstairs to the strains of 'Ciao Bella!! CIAO BELLA!!'.

1.00 p.m. I have a coffee, clean up the crapola downstairs and write.

2.00 p.m. She's still awake. I go up to check all is okay. Rabbit and Teddy are stuffed respectively in the window and down the side of the cot and, why yes, I can smell another poo. I get her up, change her and put her back down. I make to go and she is not impressed at all. I explain that I am indeed going to go downstairs and that she needs a nap. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth, but she gives in eventually.

2.30 p.m. Silence. Finally.

5.00 p.m. Daughter squawks, so I head upstairs. It is now pitch black, so very confusing for her. I switch on the light, which makes her squawk even more. I chat gently to her so the awakening isn't too rude. I get her up and out of her bag and cot. Change a dry nappy. Hardly surprising given the amount of effluent she's expelled today. We go downstairs veeeery slowly - up again and then down again. I give daughter a drink of water, blueberries and a cracker and wrestle on her socks and trousers. We read some lovely books - 'Big and Busy Animals', 'Stop That Egg!', 'The Snail and The Whale' - and then it's time to put on the dinner. Leftovers from last night's shepherd's pie with broccoli and peas. As I'm steaming and re-heating I rush in and out of the kitchen playing 'Boo!'.

6.00 p.m. Daughter and I eat dinner as husband will be a little late. She does well and then demands a cuddle, which is another way of getting down from the table. Naturally I oblige. She picks at the rest of her dinner as she whizzes about.

6.30 p.m. Husband is home and daughter is delighted. He eats as I offload a brain full of chat and irrelevant facts. Husband calls his Aunt and daughter does her wonderful burble-y chat down the phone to her, which amuses Aunt greatly.

7.00 p.m. 'Bubble bubble!!'. It's bath time, so we all head upstairs, accompanied by dolly and a sippy cup of water. We whip off her clothes and pop her in the bath and swill her over. Eczema is looking slightly worse, so we leave her to soak in the greasy Oilatum soup for a bit longer. We  get her out, dried, smeared in hydrous ointment and into pyjamas. We play 'Horsey horsey', 'Monsters', 'Night night' (which involves her getting in to our bed shouting 'NIGHT NIGHT!!' and then we have to turn out the lights whilst she wiggles and laughs) and then go for a cuddle and some milk.

8.00 p.m. Husband goes to supermarket to stock up on food as we have literally hairy lentils and a three month old tin of tuna looking forlornly out at us from the cupboards. I put madam down, lecture Teddy and Rabbit, and we shout our adieus at each other as I head down the stairs.

8.45 p.m. Silence. Head downstairs to clear up, carve a pumpkin, unload shopping and watch 'Cuckoo' (which is brilliant).

Monday, 29 October 2012

Weekend Away

Cor, we're back from our jollies with a bump. We only went away for a weekend, but I'm on my second load of washing, trying to write this blog and make a bloody Shepherd's Pie at the same time. I'm not trying to sound like some smug supermum, more to point out what a silly bitch I am as something's bound to go tits up - probably the Shepherd's Pie as I can hear hissing and crackling as I type. SO, to sum up the weekend...

1. 6 hour drive there and 6 hour drive back. We were crawling along at some points. It was truly awful. It should be a 4 hour drive tops. Daughter was as good as gold, mainly due to a car DVD player thing that we bought to stop her self-harming on long journeys (I do not jest about this. She used to hit her head against the back of her car seat , bite the restraints and go a worrying shade of purple. It was distressing for all of us.). By the time we hit the M25 last night daughter was screaming at me to turn the DVD player off. Iggle Piggle had done all our heads in by that point. She got to bed at 9.30p.m. which was actually 10.30p.m. old time. Suffice to say we're having moments of being entirely unreasonable today.

2. Due to the above, we saw a lot of service stations. Daughter was delighted at this. We could have told her it was Disney Land and she would have bought it. I'm about 5 quid down from all the Peppa Pig cars she's gone on.

3. A lovely time was had by all. Daughter had a whale of a time with her cousins. Suffice to say there were pyjama discos at 7 in the morning, dressing up as fairy princesses, witches and pumpkins. It was lovely to catch up with husband's brother and wife. Lovely food and we got a lie-in when bro-in-law looked after the kids. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.

4. Halloween Disco. We took a pumpkin princess, a witch and batgirl to the local Halloween disco. It was rammed and VERY loud. We took daughter home after about an hour as our ears were ringing. God knows what hers were doing. Also, slightly inappropriate music choices e.g. 'Sexy and I Know It' by LMFAO. I love the song, but definitely not the right thing for your 2 year old to be chasing around a werewolf to.

5. We visited the local horses and got very muddy, which was LOTS of fun.

6. Before heading off on Friday morning, we put offers in on two houses, just to see where we stand. Both got turned down. However, the one we really want hinted at the fact they might say 'yes' for 5 grand more. Which is a lot of money for us. Basically a new bathroom, which it desperately needs. We're thinking about it.

I'm not going to list today, suffice to say daughter's nuts due to tiredness, poor love. I'll leave it to your rich and vivid imaginations to paint that picture. Until tomorrow amigos...

Thursday, 25 October 2012

Me me meeee!

5.15 a.m. 'Teddy!! Babbiiiit!!'. Daughter wakes up screaming for Teddy and Rabbit. I go in to her and discover she's whipped the curtains open. I retrieve Teddy and Rabbit from the side of the cot and calm her down by stroking her head. I tell her it's still night time and Mummy's going back to bed. There is a slight protest, but she settles back down again thankfully.

7.00 a.m. 'Muuummmeee!!'. Time to get up proper. I get her up with tickles and kisses and put her down on the change mat to carefully removed her poo-laden nappy. Daughter chats to 'Rosie' doll as I clean her up. About to let her run about with a bare bum, when she demands a nappy be put on. I stick one on her and she's very happy she has a Dora and Diego one. She's never seen 'Dora The Explorer' in her life, but she's very chuffed by the presence of her on her bum.

Today Daughter is going to Mother-in-laws for the day so that I can get on with some writing, so the morning plan is that I sort her and husband out and then have a shower etc... after they have left. The prospect of having a shower and getting ready ON MY OWN is marvellous!!

I make banana porridge for breakfast, give daughter a cup of water and make tea for husband and I. I put together back of nappies, spare clothes, sleeping bag, Teddy and Rabbit (because God forbid that she doesn't have them for nap time), food, snacks and milk, as husband smears hydrous ointment on daughter's legs and feet and wrestles her in to clothes. By the time husband loads the car with everything, it looks like we're moving in.

8.00 a.m. Kiss goodbye to husband and daughter. I'm meeting husband tonight to look at houses AGAIN, whilst Mother-in-law's husband tends to daughter. We're really very lucky to have such a kind, supportive family here. I miss my Mum and Dad terribly and wish I could see them regularly, but that's how the dice have fallen.

8.05 a.m. Woo hoooooooooo!

That's the end of the blog for today. No toddler ergo no blog. We're off to visit husband's brother and his family tomorrow for the weekend, so I'll summarise when we're back.