Turning three

Albert the Bear is now the ripe old age of three.  Or as he told me the day after his birthday “I’m almost four now mummy….I’m almost a grown up”.  Considering that he’s been insisting that he’s a big boy for the past four months the move to grown up shouldn’t really be surprising but I still find it hilarious coming from such a little person.

Alby managed to squeeze in three parties as part of this year’s birthday celebrations – a precedent I fear he will demand seeing repeated in the years to come.  The first party was the nursery Halloween party, held the day before Halloween for some random reason, which Alby went to dressed up as the Big Bad Wolf from the Three Little Pigs.  This is one of his favourite stories at the moment, however in typical Alby fashion he has decided to side with the bad guy and thinks the wolf chasing the little pigs and blowing their house down is hilarious.  I’m not sure where this dark side comes from but it’s there.  When sword fighting he prefers to be Captain Hook to Peter Pan, admires the Bone Cruncher in the BFG and when watching Sleeping Beauty he cheers for the dragon and gets his bottom lip out when it gets slain.  Clearly there is still much for me to teach him about good and bad.  I’ve clearly failed on such so far (one to add to the Mummy Fail list) but maybe 2015 will be my year.  I doubt it but positive thought rarely hurts.

The second party was on his actual birthday.  Cake, party hats and more fancy dress (this time a roaring lion to continue the ferocious streak) with his nursery friends during the day followed by balloons, cards and gifts when he got home in the evening. 

The finished story cake book

From the Gurffalo

And then came the actual birthday party with friends.  A supposedly low key affair which involved about two months of preparation from me cutting out shapes and making templates of forest animals for the children to do collages, buying random playdough paraphernalia for the playdough table, making a selection of lists with instructions on what still needed doing, buying and packing and then lists of the lists when my random additions and deletions made a mockery of my attempts to be organised.  And I haven’t even mentioned the cake yet.  Why why why do mothers feel the need to make their child’s cake from scratch?  I’m not arty. I never have been and whilst it’s taken me awhile to accept it, I’ve made peace with the fact that whilst I’ve reached the age where Facebook posts are filled with images of the crocheted hats, handmade cushions and children’s fancy dress costumes made by my friends fair hands they aren’t going to see the same from me.  The last cushion I bought came from Tesco and Alby’s Big Bad Wolf costume came from Ebay.  I can shop but I can’t create.

Until it comes to the blasted birthday cake where I fall hook, line and sinker for the ridiculous notion that making a birthday cake from scratch is some integral part of being a mother.  As though it’s this annual rite of passage which I must survive if I’m to go anyway in undoing the Mummy Fails of the past 12 months.

And so I visit the cake shops, I buy royal icing like it’s going out of fashion.  I google tutorials on modelling icing.  I practice.  I mean who practices baking and icing a cake?   Crazy mothers that’s who.  I stay up until midnight cutting icing with a ruler to ensure the lines are perfectly straight.  And by the end I’m not even impressed with what I’ve achieved I’m so blurry eyed with exhaustion, frustrated at the cracks and creases and numb to any feeling other than that of utter respect for professional cake makes – a career path I begin to feel has been under-represented and under appreciated for years.  In fact, so high is my admiration at this point that I start to wonder if I can campaign on their behalf to raise their profile and secure them the respect they need.

And how did Alby react to his three day birthday bonanza?  By being sick!  Oh yes, poor little Alby’s filled up with cold spent his birthday party hiding out in the kitchen with me, refusing to leave my side with a burning fever and a very sorry look on his face.  Admittedly there were some lovely moments when he came out of his shell – having his lunch with friends, chasing Joey around the room, reading stories in the book corner we’d set up.  But for the most part he stayed out of the lime light and was eager for a bit of telly and his bed. 

 

Blowing out the candles 

Story time love with his favourites 

The day itself might not go down in history as his best ever party, but being three is certainly a milestone.  At three food has graduated from being “yummy” to “delicious”, water (or any drink really) isn’t tasty but rather “drinky”.  Alby will do almost anything for a chocolate – even if it’s just one mini smartie, and his best memory of going to Greece to be Auntie Katie’s page boy was the man from the restaurant opposite the hotel who gave him sweets every time we walked past (about four times a day). 

His favourite films are Sleeping Beauty (because of the dragon), She Ra and He Man (though he hasn’t quite mastered He Man’s catchphrase, shouting out instead “By the power of Greyscone”) and the BFG with the rest of his film collection (amounting to around 20 Disney classics) all coming in a very close second.

Cars remain his number one toy (Disney Cars or Hot Wheels are both acceptable) with ball games (rugby / football / tennis) a very close second and probably playdough and puzzles on equal pegging in third place.

We’d seen a few of the Toy Story characters for sale in the supermarket the other day which made him want to watch the film again.  That evening whilst on the sofa together watching Woody, Buzz and gang end up in a rubbish truck Alby announced: “I don’t have Buzz Lightyear.  I don’t need him.  I love my cars too much.”  Never a truer word said by that boy. 

He’s an ace on his bike and is completely fearless.  “Superman” with daddy is his favourite thing at the moment and involves him hurtling towards Mark, being lifted into the air and thrown into the sofa where he giggles and then somersaults across Mark so as to repeat the process again.  The “Daddy Rocket” may be no more but Daddy flying has yet to go out of fashion.

Everyday there are a million stories to tell.  It’s one big amazing adventure filled with plenty of laughter, constant new discovery and the fair share of frustration for parent and toddler alike.  I’ve yet to find the off switch with Alby meaning that I’m faced with a ball of energy, bossiness and stubbornness on a daily basis.  And the total and utter neglect of this blog highlights how packed and non-stop life seems now (not that I’ve ever been good at time management).  But no matter what I feel I think Alby’s words are probably the most important to close this post with: “it’s hard work being three”. 

Conversations with Alby – Christmas planning

This conversation took place driving home from nursery the other day which is one of my favourite times of the week.  Alby is always super chatty and comes out with all sorts of random comments and thoughts which keep me chuckling all the way home.  And so I share with you one our recent chats so you can also have a glimpse of the randomness of Trouble Monkey’s brain….

Me: Alby we need to make a Christmas shopping list so we know who to buy gifts for

Alby: We need to buy Brooks an aeroplane.  Brooks needs a really big aeroplane and Narna needs a little one.

Me: Oh right.  Brooks wants an aeroplane does he?

Alby: Yes.  A really big one.  That goes backwards and forwards. <Silence> His aeroplane needs a remote control.  Narna’s aeroplane doesn’t because it is only very small.  She can use her fingers <holds his hand up to his face and wiggles his fingers>.  But Brooks needs a remote control for his aeroplane because it is big and has to fly.

Me: Will it do a loop the loop like Dusty?

Alby: Yes.  And it will be red.  And it will go really fast. <Silence>  Brooks is a bit bigger than me. 

Me: Yes his is.  He is both a bit bigger and a bit older.  Brooks is bigger than daddy too.

Alby: Is he?

Me: Yeah, a little bit.

Alby: Yeah.  He is a little bit bigger than daddy.  But daddy is stronger than Brooks.  Daddy can lift a big cardboard box.

Me: Wow.  A big cardboard box?  That is strong!

Alby: Yes Brooks can’t do that.  If he tried he would drop it and hurt himself and need a plaster.

Me:  Where would he hurt himself?

Alby: On his knee.  He would need a plaster on his knee.  My trousers had a hole in the knee but now they have a patch.  And when the other hole is bigger that will get a patch too… 

Alby chat

From friends from Australia visited today.  Alby did his typical thing of being shy for the first minute but once he found his voice, as Kevin said, “He’s a right little chatterbox”.  And he is.  The cliché from time immemorial (it seems) people love talking about how quickly little people grow but size is nothing really, what’s impressive is how quickly they learn new skills, how aware they become of the world around them and with all of that how brilliantly they communicate about it.

Alby has all sorts of sayings at the moment each of which give you a little insight into his personality and view of the world. I’ve been meaning to jot down the most popular ones for some time as I know that in just a few months he’ll have moved on to a whole new vocabulary and this insight to Alby at 2 years 10 months will be forgotten too quickly.

So, these days you’re most likely to hear Alby say:

“I’m really hungry mummy / daddy” (never just hungry, always REALLY hungry – as though he’s on deaths door.  If you suggest that maybe he wait a little bit for food you get told “Mummy my tummy is starting to rumble”.  Brilliant

After a meal Alby will tell you “My tummy is all filled up and my legs are all filled up”

If you get a “Hmm this is delicious” you know you’ve done when with your cooking.  However, in Alby’s mind only food can be tasty – “drink’s not tasty it’s DRINKY!”

I promise he doesn’t just talk around meal time.  The morning can start with the heart melting “I love you so much mummy” whispered into my ear.  Bless him.  Once downstairs Alby is all about making something at the moment.  Sadly he has no idea as to what he wants to make but is very happy to run around the house saying “Let’s make something mummy.”  If you don’t come up with something to do quickly then he puts on his cute face and asks very sweetly “Can I watch a little bit of telly?”.  The answer 90% of the time is “no” but still he tries.

Once he’s had his food and made something he brings up his favourite game: “Let’s fight.”  I promise I haven’t produced a toddler bully, rather Alby took great inspiration following a trip to a medieval re-enactment and has been playing Knights of the Round Table ever since.  As well as the fighting we have to “run away there’s a dragon / lion / bear coming” to which the only way to stop a very gruesome death is to jump on the sofa or bed and shout “go away nasty dragon / lion / bear”.  Actually, if he is close to the bed he’ll jump on it twenty times before demanding “Let’s go in Daddy’s tent” which then follows with “let’s hide from the dragon / lion / bear”. 

When we go on walks with Percy if we’re lagging behind he shouts out: “come on chaps!” Yesterday when we did some pasta pictures together he announced “Look at my wonderful picture”.  Adjectives also have place in his potty training and he is happy to inform us as to whether what he has produced is normal, big or enormous.  What a charmer!

And finally, as well are the random bits of conversation, there are his favourite songs.  “See Saw Marjorie Daw” and “Do you know the Muffin Man?” get shouted out constantly and randomly with his favourite place to sing currently being whilst standing on his table.  Oh and “Daisy Daisy”. On top of these “Day of the Diesels” must be played every time you get into the car: “Can I have my favourite song really loud please daddy / mummy?” And once you’ve belted out and danced through the whole song Alby asks “Again please again”.  He’ll also try and sing the song by himself whilst playing with his cars which generally involves “mumble, mumble, mumble LISTEN TO THE ROLLING THUNDER” and then back to more mumbling!

Along with all these conversations we get all the random play talk whilst racing his cars and trains, where he lines up the “best friends” and has them racing, chasing and apologising to one another after each bash “sorry, thanks”.

I love my little chatterbox.  No doubt in six months this list of Alby-isms will be completely different.  He’s just too funny a little character and too much a chatterbox to imagine anything but.  Whatever, I can’t wait to hear and giggle at what comes next. 

Alby’s new school

Mark and Alby getting ready for the Daddy race on Sports Day 

Emotions really are funny old things.  No matter how often I think about this blog and mean to update it I struggle greatly these days with managing to balance the “right time” and the “right mood” for writing.  I don’t know if I’m really in the right mood now to be honest, but having just received a text message from a friend that has really pissed me off I’ve decided to turn to my blog as a welcome distraction.  And having yet posted about Alby’s magnificent new nursery this seems the right time to lose myself in thoughts at how brilliant the place is, in the hope that the smiles it induces will help wash away my frustrations.

So Alby’s new nursery.  As I say it’s just brilliant.  The staff are warm and welcoming and friendly and you know that they are doing the job because they are passionate about it - something you would expect of all staff but sadly I've met a few in my time who I think are there more because it fits with their child's school timings rather than because they are driven by educating little ones. 

Picnic fun on Celebration Day

The ethos of the nursery suits Alby to the ground: based on the Scandinavian model it is an outdoors nursery meaning that almost everything they do, they do outside.  You may also have heard of Forest Schools which have a similar approach and basically encourage the learning to take place under the sky rather than in a stuffy building.  It isn’t as extreme as some places - I’ve heard of some Forest Schools in Europe where there are no toys at all and where children dig a hole each time they need the toilet.  I think it’s probably correct to say Alby’s nursery is a bit more British than that with top notch indoor facilities including a sleep room, canteen, toilets and allocated rooms for each of the different classes filled with books, fancy dress and the toys you expect at any nursery. The only difference being that the children really don’t use the indoor space. They take their books outside to read in the field, they paint and draw on the tarmac area which doubles up as the road for their scooters and bikes, they play with their cars and toys in the enormous sand pit (it really is huge), pots and pans are taken to the “mud kitchen” and where you’d normally see swings and slides they have tractor tyres, wooden pallets and tarpaulin which one day will be form an assault course and then a pirate ship before being transformed again into a mountain waiting to be climbed. 

Alby with his best friend Gregory 

England is experiencing a truly spectacular summer this year and whilst I thought they might move the children indoors to counter the heat instead they’ve put up a canopy over the sandpit, a large marquee at the bottom of the field for stories, art, music… turned the tarpaulin into water slides and keep the sprinklers going so the children stay chilled.  Plus sun hats and sun cream are at the ready for all day long plus trays of water to keep the little ones hydrated.  No doubt when the snow starts falling and I wrap up warm inside Alby will be outside making snowmen and snow angels and reading stories sat in snowy thrones. 

 If you ask Alby what he does each day he will just say “I played in the sandpit”.  Similarly any questions over what he had for dinner are usually met with the response “pudding”.  However from the amount of art work that he’s brought home (no small folder for us any more, it now goes into a box after all the 3D pieces including my favourite: the mole in a hole), the new songs he’s started singing and the games he’s got us playing I'm confident that the day isn’t confined to the sandbox.  That said, the amount of sand that gets sprayed across the carpets when he kicks his shoes off at home can have me scratching my head at times.

Loving the face painting by his Key Worker - my scary gruffalo

And as well as all the play and learning and general nursery fun, the staff go out of their way to ensure the whole family can take part.  I missed the “Mother’s afternoon tea” near Mother’s Day but Mark went to the Daddy’s breakfast the week before Father’s Day and in the past two weeks I’ve been to both his Sports Day and the end of term Celebration Day.  Whilst the first was a bit of a Parent Fail with me forgetting the camera and Mark stuck in traffic for Alby’s two races with his class mates, I snapped plenty of pictures from the Celebration Day which included picnic, drum workshop, face painting, sprinkler and ice lollies.  And some time in the sand pit.

Gruffalo drumming - why not? 

Being such a brilliant nursery has come at a small price.  No longer is the nursery a five minute run from my front door instead it’s a half hour drive each way meaning that the car and I are becoming best friends once again just as we were when I used to commute to work. And no longer are we enjoying fees subsidised by the army but I can’t really complain. When Alby turns 3 I'll benefit from the statutory 15 hours free childcare - how I love the Welfare State).  What's more the drive takes me past stunning views of the British countryside, Stonehenge and, my favourite, a pig farm.  And with Alby’s songs in the CD player it also offers a great chance for us to brush up on our nursery rhymes and Thomas the Tank Engine library.  

Day trip in the sunshine

England is experiencing a wonderful summer at the moment and feeling like Alby and I deserve a bit of a sunny treat we headed off to Legoland for a bit of fun.

I've never been to Legoland before and with Alby having only spent 32 months on this world he doesn't really have much of an understanding of the joy of Lego.  He has a few Duplo things and enjoys his Duplo train and making a rocket / tower but such is hardly a scratch on the surface of the Leo empire that exists today.

However, regardless of our ignorance we spent the few days prior to our visit shouting and jumping about cheering “We’re going to Legoland” and the day did not disappoint.

We chased trains and buses around the mini Lego-land, splashed in the Splash Safari and went on more rides than I knew possible with a toddler.  I kept trying to count how many we’d managed but the four and a half hours spent running around the amusement park did some sort of damage to my brain and each time I tried to work it out my brain would shortcut around the 8 mark.  A most curious complaint.  Even today I find myself being over come by a tide of exhaustion just at the memory of the day.  Suffice to say we rode trains, lots of trains, bobbed about on a boat, went round in a carousel, swung on a swing and saw the sights from the top of a wobbly Ferris wheel.  At some point we had to race fire engines and put out a fire – something which left me panting as I pumped the fire engine to get it moving and then pumped the water to get the hose going – whilst Alby stood next to me all a bit confused at what was going on and where he needed to run to next.

First ride of the day

Mummy was sent to the back of the boat whilst Big Boy Alby bobbed along the storyteller river

Amongst the blur of running and giggles and pointing and chasing and laughter and ice creams and rides and posing for the camera there were a few little moments which stand out:

Standing tall at 0.9m

To go on pretty much any ride at Legoland you need to be 0.9m high – something I hadn't really appreciated before turning up.  Thank goodness it turns out Alby is JUST 0.9m in height.  At every single ride he went on they had to measure him first – making him stand on the special platform and bumping the measure into the side of his head.  He very quickly learnt to stand tall and still with his chin up, something that took quite some concentration judging from the serious look on his face.

Saddled up and ready to go

The big green train

We saw train tracks early on but it took us about two hours (and many rides in between) before we finally found the queue for the “big green train”.  Despite there being a bit of a queue (the joy of mid-week days out) Alby wasn’t put off and soon enough we were in the front carriage and on our way.

Heading off on the Big Green Train 

As the train pulled out of the station we came up to two oriental Lego dragons adorning a large gate.  “Look Alby, dragons” I declared at which point water spouted out of their mouths and drenched my lap and Alby’s t-shirt.  For two whole seconds there was just silence and then Alby burst into laughter pulling on his t-shirt and shouting “I’m all wet.  The dragon spat on me). 

A little bit further on we were drenched again by Lego fish and then by Lego elephants.  Each drenching was followed by a cackle from Alby.  He really is such a simple boy. 

Live action Pirate show

Ever since we went to the Knight’s Tournament at Old Sarum a few weeks ago Alby has become obsessed with sword fighting.  With a stick in one hand and a pot lid in the other he will run up to anyone and everyone shouting “Let’s bite!” (Side note – Alby has got himself a in a bit of a muddle over the words biting and fighting and despite much effort from Mark and I it’s only in the last day or so that he’s finally pronouncing the “f” but he was still very much all about the biting when we were at Legoland on Wednesday).

His obsession with fighting has got to the stage where I've had to ban sticks from inside the house so tired am I with finding sticks in every single room and on every floor.  Hoping to dodge fighting for the day I’d done my best to skirt around the Pirate and Knight themed sections of the park but when we got off the Big Green Train the cries of “ahoy” were impossible to ignore.   The live action Pirate show has started.

Alby sat on my shoulders in total awe at the sight in front of him.  Five pirates fighting, jumping, running and getting thrown into the water.  The show ended with the pirates somersaulting off the lighthouse with an almighty explosion and ball of fire and smoke behind them. 

Alby talked about it the whole way back home.  I thought he might sleep the journey back but it seems the pirates proved too exciting and he was a broken record of “they were biting.  They did jumps and it went boom and we clapped <hahahahahaha>”

Shattered Albug on the Ferris Wheel at the end of the day

Next Wednesday Percy is off to the vets for surgery on his eyes.  The vets we are going to is just a 10 minute drive from Beaulieu the national car museum so it will be another outing for us – hope Alby doesn't start thinking this level of fun will happen every week.  I confess I am loving my regular mid-week work free days – and I love them even more when they get me out of the house and away from chores.  Happy days indeed.   

Story teller Alby

Following on from my last post (glossing over the fact that such was two months and one house move ago) inspired by the 100 days of Happiness challenge I’ve started keeping a little note book by my bed were I jot down the things that have made me smile today.  It’s a book of appreciation, happiness and daily highlights.  I won’t bore you with all my posts which generally rotate between online shopping, dog walk fun, Alby giggles and catching up with my husband, but this evenings key moment, shared between Alby, Mark and myself, is definitely one for sharing…

Story teller Alby

To set the scene, it was bath time for the buglet however he clearly had other ideas.  Having demanded a sandwich he strutted around his bedroom (ham roll in hand) wearing nothing but a grubby t-shirt as he lectured Mark and I on the possessions in his room: “These are my books.  And these ones are my books.  And this is the hole where my books live.”  He then told us that he was going to read us a story and pulled ‘Harry Potter and the Chamber of secrets’ off the bookshelf.  Our version has a picture of Harry and the Hogwarts Express on the front, which led Alby to tell us that the story was “Harry and the train.” 

He sat down, crossed his legs, put the book in his lap, opened it with one hand (as the other hand twirled about his ham roll) and started reading.  “Harry’s got to get the train.  He opens the door”(turns several pages) “and there is the polar bear” (more pages turned) “and there is the lion”  (flicks to the last page which is a promotion of other books) “and some books”.   He then looks up and announces “The End”. 

You are meant to take a picture along with each Happiness entry.  I’ve not been very good at this, I’m not really a fan of living my life through a camera frame, but even if I were it would have failed on this occasion.  My whole body was shaking with laughter and I had tears of joy streaming down my face with every word we spoke. 

My silly, semi-naked, funny little chap.  My daily does of happiness. 

100 days of happiness

There was a social experiment recently challenging people to record things that make them happy.  For 100 days they had to post a picture on line of their happy moment, be that a night out with friends, eating a favourite meal or just sitting on the sofa at the end of a busy day.  Those who managed to complete the survey cited a huge list of benefits most of which, obviously, focused on appreciating what they had.  Sadly the majority of people didn’t complete the challenge – these sad souls were too busy to stop for just five minutes to take a picture and post it.

I haven’t taken on the challenge but the very idea of it has been on my mind a great deal the last few days.  And the main thought I’ve had is that anybody who takes the challenge and has a toddler in their life is cheating, because if you have a toddler in your life it’s impossible for your day to pass without a moment of happiness.

Today’s heart melt occurred when we were waiting outside nursery for Alby’s friend Molly.  Molly’s baby brother was in his pushchair and Alby was whispering to him as he stroked his little face.  

The one sided conversation went like this:  “Would you like to go to the park Baby Thomas?  Would you like to go to the park Little Man?  Would you like to go to the park gorgeous boy?”

How cute?  I mean really, how cute? I always call Alby my Little Man and my gorgeous boy but I’m still so shocked that he has picked up on them and used them to refer to another baby.  Bless his cotton socks.

In typical Trouble Monkey fashion, with his ego never far away, the conversation then moved on to Alby telling me how much he is a gorgeous boy too.  He then picked up a stick for himself and a stick for Baby Thomas and told me to get marching.  

I can’t share the cute whispers with you, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a bit of Alby happiness today and so I present a little clip of Alby singing along to the Thomas the Tank Engine CD which I hope puts a smile on your face.  

A day in the life of an Al-bug

An hour ago I ended Alby’s bedtime routine by falling asleep whilst we were huggled up together.  I highlight such to show that the silliness which now sees me lying on the floor outside the bedroom, with a towel over my toes to keep them warm just so I can write a blog post is not lost on me! 

As stated in the previous post I am keen to see this blog continued.  I want to be able to say to Alby when he is older: this is the crazy, whirlwind world that you created and that I loved being a part of.  And so, when inspiration for a post does come and I’m not distracted by hundreds of other tasks, as silly as my current situation might be there is a slither of good sense about it.  Or at least that is what I’m telling my slightly aching elbows. (Yes, I could go and sit in the study and type at a desk but that would be too much like actually getting up and I want no part in that.)

So, what is life like with an almost 2 ½ year old?  I’d say on reflection it is mostly filled with the busy joy of simple things, plus a few tears and the occasional nappy change.

Today Alby woke at the too early time of 6:15am.  Thankfully I was able to persuaded him (through cuddles and otherwise ignoring him) that actually sleeping more was a good idea and we dozed until 7am when he decided he was starving and in dire need of breakfast.  In typical toddler randomness with a pinch of naughty, his first words this morning were: I tell Brooks, “get out my kitchen”.

“Get out my kitchen” is one of Alby’s favourite things to say to my Dad. He stands on the bench by the table, pointing wildly as he shouts out the words, spitting toast with every other syllable whilst my Dad shouts and gestures back at him, causing Alby to throw his head back and cackle. 

Breakfast done (delicious mix of sugary cereal) it was then time to have books read to him and to line up his cars around the rug in the play area, 10 books and 50 lined up cars later and we were now one hour into the day!  Who says time flies with children?

Despite then demanding porridge – with apple, honey and “WHISSSSSSSSSSSSKKKKEEEEEY” (one drop per year old) he didn’t touch a bite, choosing instead to alternate between bossing about his grandparents and saying “Hello Polly” to the parrots on the bird feeder.

By 9am he was over-excited.  My solution: chuck him in the pushchair and take the dog for a walk.  Neither were enthusiastic about this, but the spotting of horse poo along the path seemed to cheer them both and the fresh air and time out did us all some good – me possibly most of all having hauled them up and over hills in a way that should leave people in no doubt that I am in fact a hero mum! (haha)

Attempts to get Alby dressed were stalled by my mum and I having to wait, clothes in hand, as Alby “just do my job, I just doing my job Narna.”  The job, a very important one, involved moving stickers from the side of the bed to the bookcase. Eight stickers to be precise.

Once the job was done and we were finally both properly washed and dressed we jumped in the car (Alby climbing into his seat himself as he refuses for others to help him now) and headed to the train station. 

As a stereotypical boy Alby loves trains to the point that on several occasions we have just driven to the local train station just to watch the trains go past.  Today we actually got on one which almost proved too much for Trouble Monkey: as the train pulled into the station he ran alongside shouting “That’s Alby’s train, that’s Alby’s train….”  Once onboard he jumped up and down, threw himself onto the seats and continued jumping as he looked out the window.   

Train fun

We’d really only taken the train into town for the experience itself, but in the vicinity of shops I made the foolish decision to venture into the town for a bit of retail therapy.  As Alby would put it: silly mummy.  Retail therapy is clearly exclusively for childless-women / mothers of teenagers.  Retail and toddlers involves, for me, losing Alby amongst the rails of clothes, abandoning my wallet, bags and pushchair mid payment as I chase after him as he head’s for the doors and then finish my payment whilst dangling him upside down.  My decision to pop into a card shop and buy a card for a friend was quickly proven to be a completely idiotic idea – Alby took one step into the shop and was off, charging up and down the aisles grabbing handfuls of birthday cards and tossing them on the floor before charging towards the porcelain gift display tables.  Only the discovery of Disney-themed balloons allowed some order to resume. Madness. I did the only thing left – I headed for one of the car rides and then enticed him into being nice to me by promising another ride on the train!

Back at the station Alby insisted on sitting in the waiting room, making observations and asking questions about everyone he could see.  Including the elderly lady also sitting in the waiting room: “What’s the lady doing? Where’s the lady going?  Where’s my train?  The lady is sitting on mummy’s seat…”  Put him in a room of people and he goes completely shy.  Put him with just one or two strangers and he presents his most chatty and tactless self!

Loving Lightening McQueen

The arrival of the train prompted yet more jumping, dancing and general cheers of joy.  It is the simple things that bring the most fun and I urge commuters to remember this when packed as sardines first thing in the morning!

When we got to the car park Alby’s Disney balloon had come free from it’s stick and was bouncing alongside the cars.  I abandoned the pushchair and charged off after it with Alby running along behind laughing hysterically – clearly the sight of mummy running is comedy gold!

On the way home we popped into a shop to try and buy a cable for his car DVD player (our one has broken and I’m not sure I can face another 4 hour journey home as the only adult in the car without the help of Disney).  As the sales assistant kept me occupied Alby found his own fun chasing a little girl around and around and around the aisles. 

A long sleep in the car later, dinner of pizza, ham and yoghurt (not necessarily in that order) and it was finally time for a game of tennis.  Usually us playing tennis involves trying to hit a ball with two random toys to very ill effect however I’d just bought two bats and a ball to ensure our games retained a sense of professionalism I feel necessary.  Alby was very excited and should be praised for his love and awareness of tennis.  For ten minutes straight he announced to me and my mum who was standing nearby “I’m playing tennis.  I’m playing tennis.  I’m playing tennis.”  At one point my mum kicked the tennis ball towards him to which she was quickly reprimanded: “Not football Narna.  No kicking the ball.” We played upstairs.  We played downstairs.  Every time the ball went to Alby he would hold it in his hand, his bat in the other, put them both down, turn them, pick them up with the opposite hands and then attempt what can only be described as an underarm serve with the ball in contact with the bat throughout until the last moment when it gets randomly and dangerously launched into the air.  We all duck for cover whilst Alby cackles and shouts “I’m playing tennis!”

The day ended with a guitar lesson – I left Alby under the capable tuition of my father (moments like that make my heart melt a little bit) before a final dog walk, bath, DVD, bedtime stories and sleep.   That was Trouble Monkey’ day – all 13 hours of jumping, reading, working, laughing, bossing, eating, running and cuddling and Disney loving.

First post of the New Year

Greetings from France!  In a moment of indulgence we decided to treat ourselves to a skiing holiday and I am typing this post from our friends chalet which we have taken over for the week. 

On 31 December I frantically scribbled down a list of New Year Resolutions, conscious that time was against me to lay down my priorities for 2014.  Somewhere amongst the random points on my messy wish list was written “weekly post on Alby’s blog”.

Messy maybe but the intention was true enough.  And yet it is now March and this will be my first post of the year.  Woops.  Oh well, better late than never, even if never is 62 days late. (That said, there is no internet here so it will be even longer until I get this uploaded).

There are a huge number of reasons why I haven’t blogged as often as I mean to.  Mark being home is the main reason but I think having a toddler in the house also has its part to play.  On the one hand as toddlers are just non-stop, but also because there is just so much to report on each and every day.  Babies change constantly but slowly: teeth take a month to push through, new sounds take a week to master, walking took Alby a good two months to really crack.  I’ve got dozens of videos taken over weeks as he slowly went from two steps to four steps to waddling across the room.

Toddlers live their life on fast forward.  Every day we get new physical skills: today he did “big jumps” as he bounced off a foot stool for half an hour in the living room.  Whilst eating breakfast he hung himself off the dining room table, kicking his legs.  Later he balanced himself between two sofas making an “Alby bridge” that I was forced to crawl under a dozen times whilst channelling the ugly troll from the “Billy Goats Gruff” and shouting “Who’s that trip trapping over my bridge” as Alby threw his head back and giggled manically.

We get new language skills.  Mark has taught Alby to say “Bonjour” and “Au revoir” and Bug finds great pleasure in standing on the dining table bench and shouting “Bonjour” as loudly as he can over and over again.  Ask him to say it to the nursery staff or shopkeeper however and our outgoing Trouble Monkey goes completely shy, hides his head in my neck and will either be completely silent or whisper “Bonjour” in a quiet voice we never get to hear at home.  (Despite Mark’s constant efforts and resulting annoyance Alby has yet to understand the different between “indoor” and “outdoor” voice). 

Alby is also now in the world of repetitive speech.  He can say the same words or sentences over and over for a good twenty minutes without getting at all bored.  Mark and I meanwhile are going slightly mad.  Try as you might it is very difficult to zone out a shouting toddler.  And when our attempts to distract him are unsuccessful (which is almost all the time) our levels of happiness plummet quickly. 

Not content with just random words or phrases, Alby also loves to ask “What’s that?”  It doesn’t matter if you have answered the question.  Nor does it matter if he knows the answer, he will just carry on asking.  Every now and then I find myself becoming my father with his “unask the question”.  “I don’t know Alby, what is it, you tell me”.  This strategy doesn’t work.  He will give the answer, finishing off his sentence with “what’s that?”

Today he stepped it up a gear simply leaning across the dining room table and shouting into my face “what, what, what, what, what”.  Toddlers are a joy!

People often talk about how quickly children grow up.  They comment about how you have to enjoy every moment as before you know it your little bundle will be an adult, off about the world without you.

And it is because of this that “writing my blog” was on my list of resolutions.  When Alby is older I want to be able to look back and see what he was doing at different ages.  I know I won’t be able to capture all of his new skills but I hope that I’ll be able to capture a few of them. 

I resent the idea that I have to enjoy every moment because there are times when he is challenging, when I’m fed up with my family and I just want to hide under the covers.  And I know there are times that they feel the same out of me. 

Now Mark is home it has been hard to have the same motivation to keep the blog going.  So hard it’s been over two months since my last post.  I’ve missed Christmas, my best friend visiting, work dramas, health checks and all sorts of daily giggles.  Finding the time is a challenge.  Posts take a long time to write and after a long day of work and childcare engaging the brain is no easy thing.  So my expectations are lowered.  I will aim to only write once a week from now on.  And I will aim to capture random moments.  I can’t do everything; there is too much going on.  But if I can fill in the bigger picture behind a photo then I know I’ll have very special memories and stories that I can share with Alby when he is that grown adult, off about the world.