Puppy love: Climbing Monkey

I recently moved Percy’s bed so that he is in a more central and sociable spot.  I’ve been conscious for some time that he spends much of his time tucked away in the corner and as I’m worried that he suffers from lack of love anyway with Mark not being here, anything that makes his presence more strongly felt is a good thing.

I had in mind that the bed move would be a way of me having more cuddles with the Perc-hound and didn’t really think much beyond that.  Which means I failed to notice two consequences, one of which is very cute and one of which is very naughty.

King of the castle...well, coffee table

Naughty:  Alby quickly learnt that Percy’s bed now offers him a wonderful step up onto the sofa.  And so the living room has become an even more impressive obstacle course than before.  Alby will climb onto the sofa, grab the remote controls off the window ledge and throw them to the floor (presumably they are in the way...? or causing offence...?) before make his way across the sofa (negotiating the cushions with great skill), scramble over the arm of the sofa onto the coffee table, stamp his feet on the coffee table and then slid down it on his belly. 

When his brain is switched on he will do about five circuits of the sofa – coffee table run.  When it’s switched off he does one full circuit then stands beside Percy’s bed thumping the sofa covers and whining until you can give him a leg up! 

I did try and take photos of Alby making his way up and across but sadly they are all simply a blurred bottom so we have to make do with the coffee table champion. 

Cute: Not only does Percy get more cuddles from me but he gets more cuddles from Alby too.  For the past few nights as I’ve prepped bottle and sippy cup for the new bedtime routine, Alby and Percy have sat together to watch In the Night Garden.  Sadly I didn’t get a photo when Alby was actually on Percy’s bed but the picture I captured this evening still goes a long way in highlighting the cuteness of my two boys. 

Out of sync

For some bizarre reason it still takes me a while to realise how big an impact small little changes can have.  As I’ve already gone on and on about, Alby is not sleeping at all well at the moment.  The change to his bedtime routine is obviously having an impact but even before I started messing about with his feed the past week has been one of constant night wakings. 

Whilst I quickly see the link between that an increase in general tiredness, I have always been useless at seeing how such fits in with the bigger picture.  Normally Alby will fall asleep around 8pm and not wake until midnight.  In that time I’ve managed to chill out for an hour before doing an hour of errands and then heading to bed.  The hourly waking means my chill out time is disrupted, as are my chores and within a day or two everything seems to have fallen out of sync.  If you had seen me on Saturday morning you would have met with a lady who had no idea which way to turn. 

Whilst it all sounds like a dire and dramatic state to be in, I actually need these lows every now and then.  Don’t get me wrong they are a horrible state to be in when you experience them but they rarely last longer than 24hours and the aftermath is like a fresh breath.  You see they force me to pause, to step back and review and to work out how to proceed.  Above all, they force me to chill out. 

This evening Alby has fallen asleep in his pushchair.  Was that part of my plan?  Absolutely not.  And I have no idea how he is going to respond to bedtime when he eventually wakes up.  But rather than freaking out, I’m actually grateful for yet another disruption in our usual routine.  He’s been asleep in his pushchair now for an hour and a half – had I settled him in his cot he would likely have already woken once.  In the meantime I’ve managed to do a load of laundry, change the sheets on the beds, clear some emails and write my blog posts for the evening.  And whilst a rested baby is a happy baby, a mama who is able to do a few errands undisturbed is happy mama.  Eventually we will get back into some sort of rhythm, but for the moment the focus is just on getting the basics right – a clean, well-fed and well-rested baby.  And as I’ve got all that plus a few giggles I end today with a smile on my face. 

Toddler Calm

On Sunday I attended a workshop looking at coping with toddler tantrums which had been organised by a friend of mine.  The workshop was lead by a company called Toddler Calm which runs a range of courses all aimed at helping parents cope with the challenges that can come with having a toddler in the house.  Truth be told I wasn’t really that sure about the concept but I wanted to support my friend and it’s always nice to share experiences with other mums.

And so, displaying more organisation than I’m usually capable of on a weekend morning, Alby and I rocked up at my mate’s house at 9:30am ready to be educated.

Sadly, overall I think my initial reservations were correct.  The session was meant to provide parents with the tools to cope in trying situations in a way that is respectful to our little angels (even when they appear more like little devils).  However, poor time keeping and the facilitator not keeping to the core topics meant we were all left feeling ill-prepared for when the inevitable arm-flaying, leg-kicking, screaming supermarket fit. That isn’t to say that I didn’t learn anything though and what I found most useful about the day is that it offered the chance to get back to basics. 

A large amount of the discussion focused on thinking about where our children are developmentally, what their brains are and aren’t able to cope with, what their brains are and aren’t able to comprehend.  About putting ourselves in their shoes and trying to see the world through their eyes.  As they transform from babies into proper little people it is easy to think that because they are dressed like mini-adults, they perceive the world in the same way.  They really don’t. 

The core theme to Toddler Calm is CRUCIAL:

Control

Rhythm

Understanding

Communication

Individual

Avoidance

Love

It makes me smile to see the type of language or style you usually associate with the corporate world being applied to parenting and makes me wonder what other cultures would make of people doing parenting workshops.  (By the by, CRUCIAL has been trademarked so no stealing now!)

Putting aside the bizarre corporate take on parenting, the key principle is about making your child a starring role in the story of your life and not just some extra in the background which is something I think we can all agree with.  It’s about making sure they know that the love with have for them is unconditional as whilst we know that from the actions we choose and decisions we make it may not always be obvious to them. And it’s about recognising that our little ones really are a work in progress and they rely on us to give them support and guidance as they work themselves out. 

For those looking for substance over jargon I’d seriously recommend “What Every Parent Needs to Know” by Margot Sunderland.   Her chapter on tantrums will be photocopied and sent to Mark before the week is out!

Just a tad tired

Whilst last night started with tears followed by a very chilled out Alby who was happy enough falling asleep but just didn’t want to leave my embrace, this evening was quite a different story.

Alby was quick to accept that the mummy milk was gone without much incident and we moved on to reading a number of bedtime themed books I’d taken out of the library earlier today.  We then put on his new projector which plays annoying mechanical lullabies to moving images projected against the ceiling (I’m going to take it to the jewellers / clock place in Thirsk and see if they can disconnect the music without damaging the light or projector as the light show is brilliant and Alby loved it).  An hour and a half later having read every book ten times, played with the projector, drunk his bottle and squirmed constantly the tears came on. 

By now it was 9:30pm, we were both totally shattered and after five minutes of crying I thought the only way this is going to end if I don’t feed him is with him crying himself to sleep.  Stopping the bedtime feed was never intended as a cover for controlled crying and so, lying side by side, accompanied by kisses and strokes Alby fell asleep feeding.

I’ve never been good at moderation.  Once I commit to something I see anything that waivers from the course as a failing; set backs aren’t minor blips but rather a cause to right everything off.  This evening I’m having to work hard to remind myself that this was never going to be a smooth path.  As Alby and I both learn a new bedtime routine there will be trial and error.  We need to negotiate with each other and be open and responsive to how the other is feeling and adapt and change.  I need to be realistic with my expectations; it took three months to establish the old bedtime routine, this was never going to be a fait accompli in one night.  As I said yesterday, the proof will be a month down the road and even then it will likely still be a work in progress.

As for now, I’m bloomin’ exhausted and my bed beckons.

A spot of fresh air

To lighten the load slightly from my previous blog post, here are a couple of pictures snapped up in the garden yesterday.  
 

Almost every day Alby, Percy and I follow the same post-nursery routine.  Instead of walking in the front door Alby and I head straight to the back garden.  

We call Percy from his slumber to join us and for the next twenty minutes Percy plays football whilst Alby walks up and down and up and down and up and down the path.  

 

We don’t have any official garden toys, but to help keep him distracted the walker and pull-toy-sausage-dog have recently come out to play.  

The other day when Alby was having a strop by the back door as I cleaned the kitchen I actually let him and Percy out together whilst I stayed inside.  For twenty minutes they happily babysat each other.   

Turns out Percy is happy to play football solo just so long as there is somebody else in the garden, even if that somebody is a baby with seriously under developed ball skills. 

Humbled by Alby

This evening it has taken two hours to put Alby down for the night.  I’m not complaining.  I’m actually very proud of my little man as this evening I presented him with a huge challenge and he actually rose to it exceptionally well.

From day one Alby’s bedtime routine has consisted of bath followed by a bedtime story read whilst he feeds.  He has always fallen asleep on the feed and then been gently placed in his cot.  Even now this often requires two attempts as the first leads to him waking and crying and me having to repeat the process.

For the past three nights Alby has not slept at all well.  Putting him to bed has been a fairly easy process but last night he woke again an hour later, and an hour after that, and an hour after that, and an hour after that at which point I brought him into bed with me.  At 3am my squirming woke him up and he once again latched on to return to the land of nod.  I was frustrated, angry, sore and feeling altogether fed up with being used as a human dummy. 

When I woke this morning I had two questions burning in my head – is Alby feeding so much because my supply no longer matches his demand and he’s simply, desperately trying to get milk I don’t have?  Or, is he going through some random insecurity for which he needs to be close to me? 

Now I don’t have a problem with either but if he is getting a broken night because of hunger then that can be fixed.  So I committed to replacing the bedtime feed with a bottle to ensure he was going down on a full stomach. 

I haven’t quite worked out if Alby likes the taste of cow’s milk so I defrosted some of my milk from the freezer added a couple spoonfuls of baby rice to thicken it and we went through the normal bedtime routine. 

I got him into his pyjamas, curled him up in my lap, told him that mummy’s milk was all gone, offered the bottle and the crying began.  I’ve never known tears like it.  For ten whole minutes Alby was a complete mess, his body doing that hiccupping thing that only comes when you’ve exhausted yourself with tears, twice he retched.  We sat in the chair, we lay in the cot together, we looked at the pictures in his room.  And through all the tears fell thickly.   

The only thing that kept me going as I watched the minutes tick by was a determination that this distress not be in vain.  I didn’t want to have told Alby something and allowed him to get so upset only for me to then offer a feed. 

Eventually, I put the bottle down, he squirmed around so he was sitting on my lap and he relaxed.  I whispered into his ear, we rocked and, within another ten minutes, he had fallen asleep. 

Trying to get him from lap to cot was a challenge to much and he woke again – crying but not distressed.  I got into the cot with him and he sat on my lap in the cot, and we went through the process again.  After that I lay beside him and then twice more we sat in the rocking chair together, him curled up in my arms.  At one point he drank his entire bottle but he did so with his eyes open and looking at me. Finally, after five attempts at cuddles at whispers and kisses, spread out over a two hour period, I’ve managed to put him down and walk away.

I think Alby has shown strength and trust this evening.  I’m totally humbled by my little man.  Yes it took an hour and a half longer than had I breastfed but only ten of that was spent crying and in the grand scheme of things I think that’s totally acceptable.

As we went through it all tonight two questions went round and round in my head:

1. Given this evening do I think I should have done this a long time ago?  No – firstly, let’s not go fooling ourselves into claiming one evening’s success as a long-standing fait accompli.  The real test will be how things stand in a month.

Secondly, the path that bought us to tonight has been a long one taking in Alby’s growing development, awareness and understanding and my response to that.  My frustrations at being a human dummy are because I know that now he can understand other forms of comfort – I don’t think either of us were there a month or two ago.  I like to think that I work to his pace and in this case I’m actually following his lead from nursery.

2. Does this mean an end to breastfeeding?  I don’t think so.  There’s a bit of me that wants to see if I can replicate this pattern through the night now, but to be totally honest until I have Mark here to lighten the load during the day I’m far too out of it during the night to do anything proactive.  Honestly, mornings are usually spent with me having no idea when Alby appeared in my room.

This will likely make me a bit more relaxed / accepting of the afternoon feed.  We’ll see.  For some totally illogical reason I have it in my head that I’ll continue feeding Alby until 18 months and unless he says otherwise that’s what we’ll work towards. One feed at a time.

The apple of my eye

I can’t quite remember when or how this started but a couple of weeks ago Alby found himself with one of my walking boots on his foot.  Since then, whenever we get ready for a walk (which, with Percy, is every morning and evening) he has tried to put on one of my shoes.  Always there to give him a helping hand, yesterday with camera in hand, I made sure his dog walking outfit was complete including not only my shoes but my hat too.

My little dude!

See crazy French lady - he doesn't wear hats

In a nod to Mirew: this was a weird flashback to the days of Camden shoe swapping!

Sadly, I didn’t manage to get a photo of Alby when I picked him up from nursery yesterday: he was wearing a bright green mullet wig and looked quite simply, hilarious.  It’s been half-term in England this past week and the nursery found itself with very few children to care for.  As such they merged some of the rooms together and, come Friday, Alby was hanging out in the Caterpillars room.  There he had raided the fancy dress box, grabbed the wig, and spent the afternoon putting it on himself and each of the nursery workers.  He is a cool little dude Al-bug. Sadly, I didn’t get a photo of my 80’s son but fret not, my fancy dress collection will be coming out soon to ensure fun and giggles for all.

Alberistics: the squatty sit

Once again I am clueless as to the origin of this character quirk of Alby’s but one of his favourite things to do when out for a walk or really anywhere is to have a nice little squat down. 

It might be when walking around the block…

Or when snacking in the living room...

It doesn’t matter really, for as long as he has been able to walk he has been an active supporter of the squat. Regardless of how many layers of clothing he is wearing, or not as the case may be, Alby’s life is somehow made more complete by a bit of daily exercise for the thighs.  Odd?  Definitely.  Cute? As always.

Emotional wreck

Fifteen months on and I still can’t watch an episode of “One Born Every Minute” or “Call the Midwife” without crying.  It transpires that any emotional strength I once claimed having has been shattered with the arrival of Alby. Anything to do with a new life entering the world and I’ve got tears in my eyes.  

More the fool me I suppose for having “Call the Midwife” on as background entertainment as I do this evenings errands.  One storyline of a baby who died just a day old due to under developed lungs sees me doing the ironing through tear stained eyes.  The next story involving two reclusive sisters, one of whom goes through a horrific labour bring on yet more tears to accompany my stove cleaning, and now my typing is accompanied by an incredibly powerful story of a couple learning to love their baby despite him being born with spina bifida.  (Those not familiar with the show may want to note that it is set in the post-war years where today’s challenges and prejudices really don’t compare.)

When I was pregnant people loved sharing their labour stories with me and I confess I didn’t have the slightest bit of interest in them.  And even now if the story can’t be summed up in five sentences my mind wanders.  When I was pregnant people warned me about sleepless nights, constant feeding and nappy changing and rocking to sleep.  They told me to watch out for hormonal changes, emotional roller coasters and a love that really is unconditional.  Yeah, all that is true but the message I will give my friends as they prepare for motherhood is that it turns you to emotional mush – and not just in the early days.  It doesn’t matter how much your baby grows and becomes a rufty tufty, any story line about motherhood and the start of new life and you will be instantly sent back to the delivery room and the feelings surrounding you the moment your baby is first placed in your hands. 

The cutest thing – brotherly love

This evening when I was doing the washing up I realised that Alby was being particularly quiet.  Normally this is a sure sign that he is getting up to serious trouble and so I started looking for him – heading initially to the normal naughty places such as the downstairs toilet and behind the bar.  As it was my suspicions were totally unfounded as he wasn’t being naughty at all, rather he was sitting with Percy.  Percy was all curled up on his bed, paws tucked in and just relaxing.  Alby was perched on the edge of the bed, arm flung over Percy’s neck, watching In the Night Garden together.  They stayed that way for almost ten minutes – breaking apart just as I appeared with the camera!

Whilst on that occasion Alby was being cuteness personified, earlier today his love for Percy wasn’t quite so innocent.  As I was faffing with dinner I heard a crash and the sound of pebbles being scattered across the floor only it wasn’t pebbles, it was Percy’s dog biscuits.  Alby had managed to open the storage box, lift out the scoop and then drop it.  Well done Alby!

I’m hoping that I simply hadn’t closed the box properly as the other alternative is that Alby has worked out the clasp and I don’t think I can cope with him acquiring that skill yet.  

Somehow, despite the mess luck was on my side in that Percy remained resolutely under the dining table throughout the commotion.  Again I’m guessing, but I think that with dinner on its way he was under the impression that were he to move at all before Alby started eating he may end up missing out on highchair drops.  Foolish bulldog.  There is no way I’d have been able to keep both Alby’s grabby mitts and Percy’s bashing face out of the way had I needed to. 

Mummy fail #476

I shouted at Alby the other day.  Properly shouted.  I’ve tried to wipe it as best as I can from my memory but essentially I was trying to cook dinner, I’d put down a range of saucepans and spoons for Alby to play with but on this particular day it wasn’t enough.  He forced his way into the cupboard just beside where I was working and pulled out two saucepans which fell straight onto my foot.  For just a split second I forgot that he wasn’t a dog, that with babies you aren’t supposed to give a loud pitch noise of pain, clear instruction and then turn your back.  I gave an involuntary “ow”, then reinforced it and then knelt down to Alby’s eye level, grabbed his arm and said in a voice so louder I can’t pretend it was just projecting “No Alby, you do not do that”.

And then I remembered he is a baby.  For all his walking and babbling and climbing and giggling he is still a baby.  He doesn’t understand consequences.  He doesn’t understand right and wrong.  And my stomach turned, my soul plummeted and shrank as I filled with guilt. 

Alby cried.  I had to take ten deep breaths and, thankfully, because my son is a much better person than I am, we got over it.

I’m not naïve enough to think that I won’t ever shout at him again.  I know that I’m a highly fallible individual and I will make mistakes in this testing role I play as mama to my amazing little man.  I hope that I will have the courage and wisdom to learn from each episode and to grow as a parent each time but oh my goodness whilst I would say I’ve had my fair share of guilt in my lifetime, nothing prepared me for how horrible that was.

Random Ramblings: moving on from Mama

I made a decision the other day that I want to start taking the steps to fully wean Alby. 

Up until now I’ve worked completely to Alby’s pace.  As he grows and takes in more and more food at mealtimes feeds have randomly been dropped until a couple of months ago we moved to a position where he only fed at bedtime and in the night.

His recent bout of sickness led to four days where he didn’t eat at all returning instead to feeds only. I was happy to be there to nurse him – there’s something very precious about it.  With the return to nursery came the return of lunch and for the past two days he has happily chomped away at breakfast too. However, dinner is still of absolute no interest to him.  Cooking him a meal, offering it to him and having his cry in my face and tug on my jumper wanting a feed over what used to be his favourite meal has proven seriously emotionally challenging for me.

In a nut shell it makes me feel like he has taken a step backwards in his development and that by allowing him to feed I’m aiding and abetting this regression.  Now obviously that is total piffle – he went through a really nasty illness, it takes time to recover and feeding not only gives him the nutrients he wants but also comfort, reassurance and all those other happy chemicals.  But you try telling me that when I’m watching him completely diss the meal he would have been reaching out for just a week before.  This evening saw him in floods of tears and me tense, angry and close to crying myself during the stand off as I tried to get him to take anything rather than me - food, sippy cup, bottle.  Whilst the whole saga can’t have lasted more than ten minutes it felt like hours and just reinforced a feeling I’ve been having recently that I think it’s right for me to come up with other ways by which he can get comfort and love and nourishment.

Whilst breastfeeding is known to create an amazing bond between mother and baby it also puts a bias towards to mother.  I simply don’t see how you can have equal parenting if the baby is exclusively breastfed.  (Yes I know daddy’s can do their bit too but whilst you can’t read an article on breastfeeding without the word “bond” appearing every five words I’ve yet to read anything which puts nappy changing and bonding together and I’ve read a lot.)  And when Mark gets back I want him to be an equal parent.  I want him to be able to comfort Alby, to be able to put him to bed and to be accepted as a principle and equal carer.  And I want all that to apply not only when I’m out of sight but when I’m in room too. 

And so, I’m going to start taking very small tentative steps towards getting Alby fully weaned.  For the next two weeks I’m going to go completely with the flow.  I’ll have a bottle of warm milk around in the afternoons but as Alby is still getting over a nasty bug I’m going to follow him. 

Come the beginning of March, I want the afternoon feed dropped and Alby having a bit of warm milk from a bottle each day. This is where time, creative thinking and tough love will all be needed.

From the middle of March I want to move onto a bottle at bedtime and I’ll work on that until Mark gets home.

And then with Mark back and here to send me to bed early, encourage me during the night feeds and help lessen the load during the days, we’ll try moving the night time feeds to bottle feeds too. 

Where we are after that we will work out then.  I’ve got a slight bee in my bonnet over the fact that the NHS recommend you continue feeding until two years, but we will see what Alby makes of it all.  I'm also conscious that we're ultimately wanting him on a sippy cup rather than a bottle, but I think moving from me to cup will be too much of a jump, so let's allow my baby (and me) to take baby steps. 

Blowing away the cobwebs

Having started the week in the slightly chaotic world that is nursing a sick child, I was keen to get some fresh air and a change of scenery this weekend.  Having blown my weekly budget at the beginning of the week on clothes (I had set out to buy a pair of jeans and returned home with a sweater, a jumper, a summer top and a dress) finding somewhere cheap and cheerful was a priority – and what’s more cheerful than the British seaside? 

I made a deal with myself in the morning: if I could complete ten of the chores on my list by 10:30am then we I was allowed my day trip.  As it is I missed the deadline by half an hour but I still gave myself the reward and at 12:30 we arrived in Scarborough. 

Making footsteps in the sand

I’ve never been to Scarborough before and with the exception of knowing that it used to hold a fair where one could buy parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme (in pretty, harmony) my expectations were fairly non-existent.  As it is, it’s basically the same as all other British sea fronts: long stretch of lovely sandy beaches already heavily populated with people eating ice cream (well, the sun was shining) with casinos, arcades and chippies along the main road.  The view looking back from the beach was of the castle on the top of the hill, the obligatory lighthouse and picturesque town houses and bach huts which instantly transport you back to the Victorian era.  Sadly, closer inspection showed that a new coat of paint was the very least that these houses needed and following a stroll along the beach we hit a high street rich in quantity of shops but poor in terms of quality.  When the Body Shop, Next and H M Samuel are the “smart” shops on the high street you see how much places suffer from being holiday hot spots rather than places of real investment.

Simply adorable

Not to worry, it was exactly what I was after.  The sun was bright, the wind light and refreshing, the beach dry (mostly) and we all benefited from doing something and being somewhere a little bit different.  Percy enjoyed being admired by one and all and became particularly enamoured with a Great Dane he met on the beach.  Alby was thrilled with the half hour he spent out of the buggy stomping and running in the sand.

Taking in the view

I wanted to buy Mark a cheesy postcard at the end of our trip but trying to negotiate narrow shop fronts with our tank of a buggy and Percy was too much for me.  Instead we stopped at a Farm Shop on the way home where I bought apples (for me), a sausage (for the boys) and ginger cookies which I’ll send off to my hero tomorrow. 

Walking a dog on a beach?  Such fun!

What love looks like

It doesn’t take much to see that I am a gobby person and so you’ll likely be surprised to hear that I was rendered totally gobsmacked yesterday when I came home from nursery to find a bouquet of flowers had been left for me.

Alongside my stunning bouquet is the card Alby made for me at nursery.  Yes indeed, both my boys did good this year.  They both did very good.  Brilliantly in fact.

For all the rubbish I may spout about Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day and all other holidays being nothing more than opportunities for Clinton Cards to boost their sales I love fresh flowers, I love a card, I love a glass of bubbles and a silly little gift – it may just be a token of sentimental commercial sap, but it’s my token and as Mark and I can be useless at just stopping and being a couple, I treasure these moments which force us to just take a breath and say I love you.

Taking action

It has taken me 15 and a half month to finally pluck up the (the what? courage? confidence? skill?)…the whatever to go into the nursery and organise a babysitter for some upcoming events we have. 

This isn’t to say that Alby hasn’t been left with anybody else before – I’ve been to a few Hen parties, weddings and work events in the past year which have required babysitters but I’ve always run to my parents, Mark’s parents or my best friend for help.  And whilst they have always been amazingly accommodating let’s not go pretending that we live in the same area at the moment.  Such occasions have always required a significant amount of train / road time for at least one person and I'm still conscious of how truly indebted I am to my family (which includes in laws and close friends) for their help. 

15 months and 16 days.  I appreciate that this is a Friday and I should be keeping things light but the question remains – what is this neurosis all about?  And possibly more importantly, how come it has taken me until today to really identify it?

I absolutely hate putting other people out.  I think I can be so rubbish and I feel so uncomfortable about saying “no” to things that I assume that everybody else goes through the same emotional tumult in the same way.  When I presented Shannon with my list of dates I opened the conversation with “I know some of these are really big asks so please don’t feel obliged with any of them, I have other people I can ask too”.  That was my opening sales pitch to somebody who has a/ said that they were happy to babysit on weekends and evening and b/ will be getting paid a decent salary for the pleasure. 

Even when the dates were agreed I responded with “are you totally sure because I know that one is a really long day so if you don't want to do it that's fine".  I ask again, what is wrong with me?

The story repeats itself later that same day when I went into town to pick up some travel brochures but I’m honestly not even going to go into that little trip or I’ll have the men in white coats at my door quicker than I can say “phobic avoidance”. 

Anyway, not wishing to leave my post on a totally freakish note I am happy to report that I have managed to secure childcare for my upcoming meeting in Liverpool, for the concert we are attending in May and for the Summer Ball (go me!) .  Plus I booked out a random Monday evening when Mark gets back for us to go out for dinner together.  I’ve got a date in Harrogate still to fill but I’m still counting today as a success.  What’s more, I’ve found a range of holiday options – so Happy Friday it be (albeit a slightly unhinged one). 

My little helper

A little cheese taste test

As Alby grows and learns more and more he has started to become quite helpful around the house.  The other day as I cleaned up the toys before bedtime I realised one of his stacking cups had rolled over to the far side of the living room.  I was feeling far too lazy to go and get it so politely asked Alby if he would.  And he did!  Off he waddled to pick it up and bring it back to me – what a result. 

For the last two nights after his bath, he has picked up his nappy, laid it on the floor and sat on it.  Considering that Alby and I have had many a set-to over nappy changes this is nothing short of amazing in my eyes.  Yes okay he has the nappy the wrong way round and when he sits down only half of him is actually on it but let’s focus on the big picture people.

Health and Safety 101

This is the way we wash the chair...

 

Alby is also proving his worth in the kitchen.  Today he leaned over to stir up his dinner on the stove top.  Admittedly I was making an omelette and we ended up with scrambled eggs, there was sufficient cheese to keep it relatively formed.  After dinner was done (and extra love for the little man as he actually ate some of it this evening) he once again showed off his usefulness by assisting with the washing up.  As I washed the dishes Alby ensured that the chair got a good clean and was also tested for strength and durability.

Pausing with nature - frozen webs

Today Yorkshire was once again covered in a blanket of white following five hours of constant snow.  To be honest I’m amazed any of it settled as the view from my window suggested that it was being pushed completely horizontally rather than actually falling, but the picture outside tells of another story.

Whilst Alby was less than impressed at being pricked in the face by fast falling snowflakes, Percy was once again in his element.  Charging and chomping his way across the golf course had the reverse effect I was after – instead of wearing him out it brought on a new lease of life and I had to forgo my warm living room for an extra twenty minutes as we played snow-foot-ball in the back garden. 

I can honestly say I had never given much thought to the effect of rolling a wet football through snow but for those fascinated by science, yes, it does indeed turn into a giant snowball as the snow sticks thickly to the leather.  Percy didn’t know whether to chase the ball or simply eat the snow off it, resulting in a rather stop-start-game complete with a very snowy chinnegan. 

Whilst nature today was more vicious than beautiful, today’s snow gives me the perfect excuse to post some photos I took about a month ago.  I’ve seen many dew covered spider’s webs in my life I’m not sure I’ve ever really seen frozen ones and I found these quite spellbinding.

A bit of fresh air (plus mud and puddles)

Alby is finally back to his old self – well almost.  For the first time in a little while we’ve managed a whole day without drugs or sickness.  Whilst I’ve had to miss out on hours and hours of cuddles I’ve been compensated with plenty of giggles and smiles which are just as good.

Whilst Alby is now full of beans I’m completely shattered.  (This evening he decided that, having slept for the better part of the last few days, he was fine to stay up until 9pm. I meanwhile decided to have a complete sense of humour failure about this decision and came close to having a strop and putting myself to bed instead).

I digress.  As s a cheerful chappy once more I did what I could to keep the little Trouble Monkey engaged as we spent another day at home together.  Once again Alby was keen to get outside for some tree climbing, swinging and to play football with Percy.  I think this may now be his most favourite past time as he squats with laughter, hand clasped over his mouth whenever Percy chases after a ball he has kicked himself.  Pure comedy genius.

Before being struck down with his current illness Alby was becoming quite the little dude marching around the base.  Last week he walked all the way from nursery to the Regimental Headquarters – stopping only to reprimand Percy or to stomp in a puddle. (Oh boy, does he love puddles.  Three times I turned around to find he had abandoned Percy on one side of the road in order to cross over and do a little dance or a squat in a puddle.)

And they're off

One of the few times Percy has lead on a walk

The following day he made it all the way home by himself.  A task he accomplished in impressively quick time.  Despite keeping a good pace he made what trouble he could, namely falling straight down into a particularly muddy puddle within ten metres of the nursery front door.  With his muddy knees and grubby cuffs he finally had an outfit to match his cheeky chappie grin.  

Boys will be boys

Poorly bug

Once again I find myself mother to a poorly little bub.  A sickness bug has been going around the nursery and whether it is that or teething I’m not totally sure (may well be a combination of both) but either way Alby has been struck down with a selection of nasty bugs.  Starting on Saturday evening the nights have been a mixture of sleepy spells broken by sickness and fever. Over a 36 hour period Alby had only managed to eat two small rice cakes – all other food was firmly rejected.  Even milk and water have proven a bit of a struggle. 

Thankfully Nurofen has helped provide some respite and even bring on a few smiles but mostly we’ve been having cuddles, cuddles and yet more cuddles. 

All snuggled up

I’ve felt like a real mum today, more so than I’ve even felt before.  I think it is something to do with Alby choosing to snuggle up with me. Alongside walking he has definitely become increasingly his own little person and own little personality.  He decides where he wants to go and so when he decides that he wants to be in my arms, there’s something very touching about it.  

Back in his baby bed

It reminds me of whenever I was poorly as a little girl (and not so little girl) and all I wanted was to be wrapped up in my mama’s arms.  It’s both weird, lovely and oddly nostalgic to think of Alby seeing me in the way that I see my mum and it has me feel particularly and peculiarly grown up. 

Taking his sleeping very seriously

There was some comedy in today.  After spending a few hours in town this afternoon (Alby hating shopping as much as I predicted) we came home and chilled in front of the telly.  As I reclined against a beanbag, Alby lay on my chest and within five minutes was fast asleep, bless him.  Percy, also wanting to have some of the love, was lying in between my legs with his chin resting on Alby’s bottom.  A little line of love.