Alby is two

Train cake with fab card background

I’ve always been one for a bit of reflection, taking stock and resolution making around my birthday.  With each new year comes a dressing down and a talking up as I do a mental health check on how I feel my life I going.

Now Alby is on the scene my moment of reflection aren’t confined just to myself.  Today Trouble Monkey turned two.  Two whole years old.  And I’ve spent the past fortnight reminiscing over the past 24 months.  From vague recollections to vivid memories to Mark quizzing me on an hour by hour breakdown of our trip to and from the hospital on 30 October 2011.

Cars, cars, cars!!!

We started the celebrations last night as Mark was out of the door at 4am today and had no idea what time he would be back.  So, enjoying him being in the same country for this year’s birthday celebrations we did the candle in a cup cake, singing and present opening (for the most part) last night. 

Alby has once again been spoilt by his many admirers and this year has provided a mass of toys, books and games.  Mark is horrified by the current state of toys whilst I’m delighted – this is one of the best things about being a little one!

Skeleton suit +cars = perfect spooky birthday

Once Alby was in bed I got to making his birthday cake for nursery.  Following in my mother’s footsteps (and grateful for Alby’s love of trains) we went for the no-bake, chocolate and sweet-high swiss roll train cake.  Alby was very impressed with my fairly sub-standard efforts and had a minor birthday paddy this morning when I wouldn’t let him have it for breakfast.  When I collected the plate from nursery it was completely clean!

As a halloween babe, no Trouble Monkey birthday would be proper without a bit of fancy dress and this year Alby fashioned a great little outfit from Tesco: glowing skeleton.  Apparently the concept of a birthday is confusing enough for a little one, even with Mr Tumble helping him through the process.  Fancy dress, trick or treaters and Halloween went completely over his head and it was a very timid, snuggled up skeleton who greeted the children knocking on our door this evening.  Considering the outfits however I’m more than content with Alby managing a shy wave and no tears.  Little star.

Final dance move - the Alby squat

Dancing skeleton - why not?

His birthday may only have a few hours left but the celebrations will continue this weekend when we entertain around 20 toddlers for his party extravaganza.  I’m already exhausted by the very thought of it!  For now, I sign off with huge love for all those who have been a part of the Alby story so far.  It’s been awesome for me and I hope others have enjoyed the past two years, my little man and the person it has made me just as much as I’ve enjoyed being a mum to my little hero.

Toddlers bring happiness

I wrote this post a couple of days ago but in typical me procrastination mode it’s only going up today…

Toddlers bring happiness.  Yes they bring frustrations and exhaustion, but life with a toddler is a life with daily joy.  And I mean real joy.  Not just the faint little turning up of the lips that represents a near smile I’m talking about the stuff laugh out loud cackles are made from.

The laughter comes from the novelty and the innocence of the moment.  What is old hat to us is completely new and exciting to the little people around us.  Standing beside them as they get their tiny, developing brains around a new concept brings pure joy. 

I often find myself thinking back to when Mark was in Afghanistan and I was able to keep writing the blog every day. Nowadays Alby is changing so much I can’t keep up.  I think were he to go away again now my blog posts would be nothing but random lists of everything Alby had done that day.  And even then I would have forgotten half of it.  All to often I sit down ready to write a new post and just don’t know where to begin.  New experiences come so quickly I can rarely remember anything notable from the previous hour let along the previous day.  (With Operation Botbot still a work in progress no doubt some of this is also due to my sleep deprived brain getting overly fuddled, but let’s focus on the “Alby is just completely impressive” line of thought).

All that said, last week had two incidences which I haven’t been able to shake off and every time I think of them my eyes sparkle for my family.

The first incident was early in the morning when I was getting Alby dressed for the day.  As I took off his pyjama bottoms he looked himself up and down, pointed at his nappy and informed me to “Leave it on mummy”.  Where he had formed this sentence from I have no idea as I can’t imagine “leave it on” is an expression we say routinely.  And yet, there he was almost naked but with a clear sense of self and an edge of bossiness.  “Pardon Alby?”  His expression hardened, he pointed to his nappy once more and repeated slowly and clearly twice over (repetition is everything they say) “Leave it on mummy”. 

Truth be told I prefer to be the bossee rather than the bossed, but on this occasion I was too busy laughing to care.

From a semantic experience to a one a bit truer to his nature my next stand out moment took place later in the week when we took Percy for a walk in the evening.  The Tulip trees nearby are embracing autumn like you wouldn’t believe and in the space of two days had covered the pavement in their leaves.  The expression might be “like a child in a sweet shop” but I think “like a child amongst the leaves” would be more apt.  Alby was beside himself kicking the leaves, jumping on them, shuffling through them.  All of which was accompanied by laughter and a running commentary on all he was doing. “Alby kick leaves.”  “Alby running.”  Seriously, nothing passes thi chap by.

This evening bought extra special brilliance when Alby and I went for a evening walk to the shop.  Percy had spent a busy day running around the barracks with the soldiers and was no mood for a walk choosing instead to stubbornly engage in a very deep sleep.  However, Alby was completely over excited and we’d run out of washing up liquid so he and I got wrapped up in our winter woolies and headed off to the local convenient store.  It’s a stunning night here tonight and Alby spent a lot of time wandering around with his head tilted back shouting “Stars.  Lots and lots of stars.”  But then he saw his shadow and that was when the fun really began.  He squatted down and pointed at it.  Tried to out run it.  Tried to catch it. Tried to catch my shadow.  As we walked between the different street lights his shadow would quickly turn from being in front of him to being behind him and so every few steps we’d have to stop and find it again, with Alby somehow always managed to turn the longest way round so that when he did finally find it he had got all worked up with excitement, spotting it and squealing “There it is” before running off again.

                                                                                         

Laughter is medicine. Laughter builds relationships. With adult partnerships we often hear how it is the trying times that build bonds but with little people I think it’s the laughter which builds the family bonds more than anything else. As I have done from when Mark first went away I continue to try and ensure that every day I put aside the time to initiate giggle-filled moments with my little Trouble Monkey’s laughter.  Lucky for me, he seems just as committed to doing the same with me!

Channelling my artistic side

People often say that left-hand folk are more naturally more artistic.  Pish posh.  I am left-handed and I am not an artist.  I have never been arty.  Sure, I like the idea of it and if wishing made it so I’d be the next Monet but positive thought isn’t always enough and my attempts at art have always left a lot to be desired. 

And yet life with a toddler is meant to be all about creativity.  Thousands of incredibly intelligent people have dedicated years of their lives to convince us all that a toddler covered in paint with strips of sticky paper hanging of them whilst chewing on a felt tip pen is crucial to child-centred pedagogy.   That what appears to the naked eye as an extravagant mess of inks, paints and no doubt snot are in fact the key ingredients for cultivating strong emotional, social, physical and language skills in any child.

I’m not so sure.  To me it still looks like a mess. But if helping Trouble Monkey to make a mess will save me from the judgements of healthcare visitors, other parents and the potential undermining of his overall development then so be it.  I will roll up my sleeves, seize a paint brush, turn a blind eye to my artistically lacking ability and embrace the mess…

Sticking and gluing to promote fine motor skills!

Painting to promote self-expression!

Painting to promote cognitive reasoning!

Baking to promote fluency!

Of course I jest.  I love making a mess with Alby.  I love seeing him work with different materials and textures.  I encourage it as much as I can and even when I’m busy with other things Alby will ask for his crayons so he can draw away at his little table.  So far he’s been good at sticking to the paper (mostly) and the constant demands of “Mummy car”, “racing car” or “big car” ensure that I get to play too.  You can almost tell the difference between the blobs with wheels I call pictures!

 

When words gets meaning: what people forget to tell you

When your Sproglet first starts talking people are quick to tell you that any day now your little bundle of joy (often bouncing, bucking, bashing bundle of joy at this point) will suddenly start picking up new words quicker than you’d ever believe.  Blink and their vocabulary will have grown another ten words. You have to start watching what you say as they will parrot fashion every word that comes out of your mouth.  Whilst we are all united in wanting words like “please” and “thank you” to be repeated as much as possible, “oh bugger” isn’t something I really want Alby repeating at nursery.

And, as with all those other annoying clichés that come out of the mouths of parents, websites and books this is no lie.  To begin with every new word is a real joy. That said, I realised several weeks ago that I am no longer impressed when a new word comes out of Alby’s mouth.  Nowadays my eyebrows refuse to be raised for anything featuring less than three syllables.

For me first words do deserve great applause.  YouTube is no doubt filled with such clips posted by proud parents and so it should.  But rather than just preparing me for the excitement of hearing Alby’s babble turned into recognisable words I wish people had said more about how phenomenal it is when your child actually starts to understand the meaning behind the words.  Because that more than anything else leaves me constantly floored these days.

With understanding comes real communication.  And it is communication that the bonds of friendship are really made.

These days Alby gives me his order for breakfast.  He runs to his cupboard, selects the bowl or plate and cutlery that he wants and then stretches out his filled arms with the command “Mama up” so I’ll lift him onto the work surface where he overlooks my breakfast preparation.  He knows the names of almost all of his favourite things, undestands and follows instructions and is pulling together his own sentences.  Yes, usually these come about from him copying what I’ve said.  The other day he sat on the bottom step for what seemed an age shouting “Not today” as mimicked me, trying out the words in a variety of volumes, speeds and poses. But every now and then he not only comes out with his own instructions or sentences but they include words I’ve never heard him say before.  Driving into town the other day Alby pointed out the window and announced, out of nowhere, “Alby doctor”.  I point out every tractor, cow, sheep and lorry we pass but I’ve never pointed out our doctor’s surgery before.  Yesterday we drove to town and when we joined the motorway Alby squelled out “neeeowww racing cars, lots of racing cars”.  Not quite – just a fast road but you can’t argue with the Little Man’s reasoning.  Today a friend phoned me and Alby ran up to me pointing at the phone in my hand shouting: Narna tell-le-le-phon”.   It wasn’t Narna but double points for using a new word and triple points for it being a three syllable word, even if in Alby speech it was transformed into four syllables.

This evening Mark has been teaching Alby to shake hands with a “Hello, how do you do?”  It hasn’t taken long for Alby to grasp that you shake with your right hand and whilst Alby’s version has about four “do’s” in it, it’s perfect in my eyes.

Finally, another thing they don’t tell you – even toddlers can lose their voices.  Alby had a horrific cough last week which every so often left him with a rasping, croaky voice.  I don’t know why but I never imagined Trouble Monkey’s voice going at such a young age.  It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so pitiful.  Oh who am I kidding, it was hilarious as well as being pitiful.