''Tis the season...

"Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
Dr Seuss. 

Alby in the maze

I am loving this Christmas. 
Celebrations started early this year with a trip to the Longleat Festival of Lights with my boys. Cue country drive, Trouble Monkey conquering his first real maze (taking the lead from the start the boy did good considering we were warned the average time to get around is 45mins), seeing cold animals and then walking past the most incredible, magical Chinese lanterns I've ever seen. It was breathtaking. This was followed by an outdoor light display and short film, projected against the walls of the house complete with musical Christmas tree and laser light display. Yes, Little Man got tired, cold and restless at the end but being the good parents we are we stuck him in the house pushchair, told him to be patient and then ignored him. A little bit. 

After a cosy night in a pretty little cottage we set off on a very muddy walk where Albs baffled us with his eye spy genius (sh for shadows and st for stinging nettles leaving us particularly baffled and putting Daddy's P for Percy and b for bulldog to shame). Once we'd slipped and skidded in the mud and spotted the olde man made hill we hugged a few ancient randomly placed stones and headed off for some pub grub. It was brilliant. Yes, Monkey's hunger and general tiredness meant we had a few grumbly moments which required the normal child - parent negotiations, but they were short lived and in fact magically disappeared the minute the packet of chips and glass of water (with straw) got placed in front of him. 

Oohhh look what the ancients made!

Muddy country walk

The traditional Thomas and Santa!

Next of the Christmas fun came one freezing Thursday night when. Father Christmas, riding on the back of Thomas the tank engine no less, did the rounds of our neighbourhood. I cannot explain how much a double win this is to my two boys, Goblin still saying "bye bye toot toot" an hour after he'd gone. The event was organised by the local rotary club and Albs was delighted at getting a chocolate after dropping his coins in their collection bucket.the fun was repeated the following night when he came straight past our house. The boys ran out in their fleece onesie pyjamas to wave and claim a second chocolate.


This was followed by the children's Christmas party held in one of the Mess' on Sunday afternoon. Whilst a full afternoon of fun had been laid on with kids supper, children's entertainer and Santa grotto. Monkry was so tired he only just made it to get his gift from Father Christmas before heading home for a rest. Smalley didn't even manage that. He fell asleep in the back carrier five minutes after we arrived and didn't wake up until it was time to clear at the end. 

Our next day of Christmas fun kicked off last Saturday when we headed into Reading for our first family panto. It was amazing. So amazing I was still living the laughter days in and even now I can't stop smiling at the memory. Star of the show was Justin Fletcher, a superstar of CBeebies and a favourite of Smalley. In fact I wouldn't have dared take our littlest one to a panto if Mr Tumble hadn't been there as I suspect he would have squirmed like crazy. As it was he was transfixed for almost the whole show (helped also by his flashing wand - compulsory panto merchandise). The panto was of Smow a white and the Seven Dwarves, but like all good pantos it was the Dame, Dolly Mixture and her son, jingles the juggling jester who stole the show, in large part due to the fantastic rapport they had on stage especially at the times they went off script (caused by too much silliness). They were professionally unprofessional and it had me in hysterics. (One up side of sleep deprivation is that it keeps hysteria close to the surface). 

School has also kept us feeling festive with Trouble Monkeys school play oopsie Daisy angel, where he did very well with his one line, "all of the other angels did very special jobs". There was also much singer and despite looking as though he'd like to fall asleep in his seat Albs belted out all the songs ensuring we heard him from across the hall. More school silliness came on the Friday afternoon with the chaos of the Christmas fair. Cue lots of simple games, children filled up on chocolate, cake and soft drinks and Local stall holders hoping to entice last minute shoppers with their posh, pricey goods. 

Finally, today we headed out to Blenheim palace for a family outing. After a little wander in the gardens we took the miniature train over to the yew tree maze and adventure playground. If I hadn't explained properly in the Longleat section, Albug loves mazes having discovered them in his magazines last year. Since then he has made his way though a number of osbourne maze books. His delight at real mazes is something that just has to be witnessed. We were informed very quickly that he was the leader and we had to line up behind him, no overtaking. It quickly turned out that Mark and I weren't taking his leadership seriously enough and so were informed that he now went by the name of 'captain sir' and we had to seek his permission before speaking. We aren't idiots and so we obeyed. It was a great maze. And a great miniature train ride complete with trip through a fairy light adorned tunnel with Father Christmas statues! What more could a little/big person need? We had lunch in the cafe, soup for the big people, sandwich and Christmas cookie for Albug, bread roll in ketchup for Goblin, before heading back (via the train) to the car. (Yes, you read that right. The boy has a rotten cold combined with never ending teething and has gone almost completely off food. His diet for the past few days being cookies, popcorn, fruit and ice pops. Bread today was regarded by us as a cause for celebration even if it was covered in ketchup!) One Christmas TV session later shortly followed by the traditional setting up of carrots (5 from us), mince pie and whisky for Father Christmas and co and the boys are asleep. Truth be told I'm just a little bit excited for tomorrow...! 

Credit where credits due

I appreciate I am completely biased, but Alby is turning into an awesome little chap. It's so easy to get lost amongst work, chores and errands let alone dog walks and the demands placed by George that we can lose sight of what a little star we have. When busy weekends lead to afternoon meltdowns or long days result in mild daddy bullying ("No daddy, want mummy") or bouts of hyper/unhinged hysterical laughing it can be too easy to focus on how we as parents need to address issues rather than take stock of what a great five year old we have. We will say "he's really really tired" and "we've asked a lot of him today" almost as a standard precursor to our great parenting chats but we don't really probe further. We don't take stock that we've got a five year old who is just trying to do his best. A little boy who has no say in how his day is going to unfold. Who gets told what to do constantly, who gets delegated responsibility for his brother constantly ("Alby, go follow George", "Alby, can you get this for your brother"...) who is always having to either share or wait as we sort out George/ourselves/Percy. If that was me I'd spend my life stomping about in such a huff. In fact, what am I saying? I regularly stomp about the kitchen telling my learned cautious husband that I just need to be left alone.

When we say we've asked a lot of him it's a blanket statement, rarely do we really appreciate the full depth of such. A couple of weeks ago Alby was ill and had to have the day off school. I had an appointment and for the first time ever Daddy came home to look after Alby.  And for almost the whole day it was just the three of us and it was so easy! Despite having a sick little boy at home who needed a lot of attention it was just so easy. And since then I've tried to really remember and appreciate how much we put on him as well as to treat and respect him as an individual and not just as a big brother.

And what an individual I have. He's doing brilliantly with his phonics and now has a handful of words he can read. Not bad for one term of school. I'm not claiming he's a genius by any stretch, he is completely average in regards to ability but where credit is due is how eager he is to learn. He is so interested in words, he wants to practice and show his knowledge.
Almost every week - and actually three times just in the past week, he has come home having won house points for school. He's got them for being kind to a classmate who was crying, for singing nicely in their Christmas concert rehearsals, for sitting still and quietly. Proud mummy moment came the very first week of school when he came home with a certificate for settling in so well - only one of two children out of thirty to get one.

At rugby tots he engages with the activities, runs like anything and, when concentrating, is a pretty good kick too. He has started Ninja Tots which he absolutely loves and has jumped in feet first, no looking back.

At home he makes his bed, pretty much makes his own breakfast, gets dressed and tidies up every morning. He loves telly and he loves racing cars and playing ninja turtles but he also loves his arts and crafts, making stories, baking and generally being involved with whatever we do.

Credit where credit's due, Alby is a little superstar. I'm so lucky to have him in my life.

Joke time

Alby: Mummy, would you like to hear an alien joke?
Me: Yes please Alby
Alby: Blurp blurp bing bop bop blurp.

Alby makes up a lot of his own jokes. This is the first I found genius.

Bean loves his Bot.

Morning snuggles 

I’m not sure exactly what expectations Mark had for his children in regards to bulldog love.  I suspect he has always been so preoccupied with how much he loves bulldogs that he’s never really had the time to question other people’s love.  His attitude is generally one of believing the whole world adores them as much as he does which extends so far as to mean that he is genuinely baffled on those random occasions that people don’t stop him in the street to congratulate him on owning such a fine specimen of a dog.

Double bulldog love

What? Nothing to see here.  Just your average bulldog on a swing

I think it is safe to say Alby is a Percy fan.  As a baby he loved walking him and would be pretty good at giving Percy a kiss before going up to bed (you can make little ones to do anything!) but mostly, Percy is just another body in the house.  One who every now and then inconsiderately lies where Alby is racing his cars or rudely tries to lick Percy ("I do not like licks) but mostly a friendly playmate.

Walkies! 

If Alby is a Percy fan, George is a super fan.  The little chap may have my big eyes, my dad’s chin and my little ears but he has his daddy’s love for bulldogs.  Perc-bot gets cuddles, strokes, smiles, kisses, the occasional kick but plenty of love from little George-bean. George will even give Percy his treats after a walk, and by give I don't mean just randomly throw them across the kitchen floor for Percy to chase like Alby used to do, but actually put his hand right inside Percy's mouth to ensure he gets every crumb of kibble goodness.  Just this week I got shouted at for trying to take hold of Percy’s lead when we were out for a walk.  It seems George is the only one allowed to hold his bull-love. A few weeks ago the house went quiet and I thought George was getting up to trouble but found him snuggled up with Percy in his bed.  George squeals with delight when he sees him in the morning, after nursery, anytime really.  It’s no wonder all dogs get called a “dogdog”, to George all dogs are double syllabled in honour of his favourite, Percy bulldog. 

Milestones

I feel like we've just gone through a month of milestones and tomorrow we have one more, one for the photo album and memory books!

I'm ashamed I haven't written my blog in a month especially as there has been so much to report on. So many memories missed!! From filling the living room with decorations to celebrate another year of Mark and George finally cutting the teeth I've spent four weeks looking for at the start of the month to moving house in the middle, George starting a new nursery, Alby starting tae Kwan do lessons, Alby starting after school club, a family itrip to the London to see the CBeebies Prom, to present day with (drum roll please) Alby starting school tomorrow.

Although actually I don't need a drum roll. My little lad is absolutely ready to start school and I'm just excited for him. He is going to have so much fun. He is going to make so many friends and learn so much. I'm not saying it's been without emotion. Alby is really sad at having had to leave his best friend Charlie and there are nerves about having to start again, but he's visited the school, he's met the teacher, he knows where his classroom is and he's going to be just fine. If not better than fine.

And to top it all, we are totally prepared. I may indeed be guilty of some last minute sewing this evening, but the clothes are labelled, permission forms signed and book bag packed. Not that Alby has a clue. He's too busy thinking about the pizza he will get for lunch on Tuesday. And his ninja turtle cookie awaiting him after school tomorrow.

George has been setting his own milestones over the past few weeks. As well as cutting four teeth in a week (not so clever) and, most recent of all, deciding that the hours of 10pm and midnight are good for mummy cuddles (he is currently lying next to me literally just falling asleep) again not so clever, we've had some flashes of genius.
He is proving a dab hand at tennis and cricket. The boy has serious skills. He has also tripled his vocabulary. As well as cries of "mama" and "da" we now get "daddy", "mummy", "baaa", "moo", "woof woof", "neigh", "tweet", "toot toot", "ne naw, ne naw", "narna", "bobba", apple", "bubble", "ball" and, our two favourites "woah" and "Alby".
Inspired by TV favourite Mr Tumble he will cup his hand to his face and call loudly for people. Or almost, more he cups his hand over his mouth and shout through his fingers.
Following a weekend with GG he learnt "nose" which he can say and point to, albeit sometimes with very scratchy fingers. He remains a keen dancer now having aced "row row row your boat", "if you're happy and you know it" and most recently, the "shake break" (don't ask).
He loves dinner time. Especially if provided with a fork as he is a keen food shoveller. Unless it's fish. Fish he just rams into his face in large fistfuls.
As I say, genius.

It's hard for a four year old to compete with this level of genius but let's not go thinking Alby isn't developing. He has taken an interest in learning to read and in maths, although the latter seems to mostly come in the form of pop arithmetic tests for mummy. He has suddenly got colouring and has spent days on the same picture to get it just right. We've also done a good few science experiments, most recently growing a crystal tree. He is absolute ace on his bike and has done really well at rugby and his new ninja class. A bit of bribery and new goggles and he'll put his face underwater too which is a bigger step than I can fully explain in words.
Most however I would say his negotiation skills and manipulation skills have seen most improvement.
Somebody told him about pinky promises which are called upon daily to seal deals on how much TV he can watch, where we go on walks, what games we will play, what junk food he will eat each day/meal....
And finally, he has rediscovered his cars. For months they've been sitting in the toy cupboard untouched but now they are in continuous races or football games. Whether it's because George is older and not quite so destructive or because he has a new house to turn into a race track I've no idea but he loves them and that makes me happy. Last week I even saw George line up a few cars for the first time. Bless him. I don't know what he'll do without Alby in the house. They have barely spent a day apart in eight months. I suspect the house will seem very big and empty this week.

Mummy fail #1736

George chipped his tooth today. 15months of being perfect then along comes my lack of discipline and his front tooth is now incomplete. My poor little lamb. Boy did he cry but then I would if I'd been jumping/dancing in the bath, slipped (inevitably) and bashed my face against the side. We were on FaceTime with alarm when it happened so a nice call for daddy: "oh yes daddy, we're all fine, having a grand time" cue splash, very loud tears, phone dropping and me shouting to be heard over the cries (my god babies are loud) "we'll call you back."
My boys are tough - thank goodness - with mummy fails like this they have to be.cwithin five minutes George had calmed to the occasional son and our chaotic conversation with daddy resumed. We were finally able to actually say what a great day it had been (though given the face smash who knows if he believed us). But it had been amazing. A day at being five bombed by Hawks, owls and vultures at the local bird park. And I do mean dive bombed. In their safety announcement they say "you will have to duck and I don't mean a nod of the head I mean touch your shoes duck." My parents then proceeded to smile and swear in equal measure during the flying displays with Alby saying "bloomin' lek" over and over by the end! We saw a duck race, collected our stamps and hunted down golden eggs, got grizzled at by an owl called Humbug, watched two wheelchair users almost get decapitated by an eagle and watched Alby eat an ice cream whilst wearing my gillet because "it's so cold today".
There is something about Alby making my dad laugh that is just the best thing in the world to me. I'm not saying there's anything special about Alby compared to other four year olds and all he does is come out with those "kids say the best things" type of stuff so it's not the content that provides the magic. I guess it's the chemistry or something but I always know that when you put the two of them together you'll get a good three or four cases of my dad just bursting into laughter/choking on his tea because of something Alby has said. And with each instance you want to bottle it up and say "there, that's what true happiness looks like." I don't want to dismiss how lovely it is when my mum laughs with Alby, far from it, her face lights up and it has magic too but there is just something about Alby and Brooks that nestles in my heart.
As well as seeing the birds with my folks it's been a day of family - messages with my brother in the morning, gifts from GG Rita in the afternoon and s phone call from GG Jouce in the evening. Maybe they all sensed a mummy fail was on the horizon - haha. Whatever the reason it's been a good day. A good day to chip a tooth.

And as a side bar please note that even in bodily damage George is proving competitive with Alby. Alby chipped his tooth in the same bathroom albeit on the sink not the bath and the when he was three not one but still. as we get ready to move house again I appear to be feeling nostalgic - or maybe that's because it's gone midnight, but there's something nice about them being able to have these similar experiences even if they are of the mummy fail variety.

And so it begins....

One year and three months and the stick obsession is now firmly in place. What is it about sticks? Bamboo sticks, rotting sticks, sticks twice as long as themselves. The stick collection outside the front door has officially started. The instant cries when you wrestle the stick out their hands as you shepherd them into the house has officially started. 

George is a stick lover. Hilariously, having watched his ninja brother almost non stop for the past year he will even pose with his stick ninja style. I didn't catch on camera but this afternoon he snuck a stick into the hallway, lunged forward, back foot on tiptoe and arm outstretched. Goon. 

Sunny days are naked days

Following a very grey, wet and windy June summer appears to have returned. England has been blessed with beautiful blue skies, glorious sunshine and heat. And as any young boy will tell you the best way to celebrate / cope with sunshine is by being naked. 

Despite me going through the dressing process with both boys every morning by lunchtime they are completely naked, running in and out of the house and garden, normally via the paddling pool ensuring a house full of delighted squeals and muddy footprints. 

So thrilled is Alby at being naked he has come up with his own song which I know have stuck in my head. To be sung along (in the most part) to the tune of Music maker it goes: "I am the naked man, I come from down your steet and I can be naked, I can be naked..."

This little ditty is belted out at top volume as he runs around the house, high knees, whilst George stomps and twirls nearby. 

I'm afraid I won't be sharing the photos I have of this online but shall leave to your imagination and with luck you may get close to a true sense of the ridiculous revelry we're being treated to.

Competitive much, George?

George has come up with a new game.  Actually he’s come up with lots of new games recently.  Many still focus on kicking and throwing but you can see him starting to work out cause and effect whether that’s pushing cars down a ramp, hitting balls with a hammer (toy hammer, just so we’re clear) or copying others, his little brain is starting to link things up and understand that by doing this thing, I can get that result.  One such connection which I’m getting a lot of enjoyment out of is that as fun as running around and throwing stuff is, it’s even better if you preface it with “Ready, Steady, Go!”  Now I’m not claiming at all that George has got his tongue around speech yet.  Mostly when he babbles I think he’s in the wrong county as the sounds he makes seem more Scandanavian than British, but he’s definitely got the right tones and what’s more, he gets them in the right order.  And he’s pleased as punch about it.  As Alby says, it’s just hilarious.  Obviously there are alarm bells ringing.  As an overly competitive younger sister I’m not entirely sure how healthy it is for a 13 month old to be practicing his sprint starts.  The proof will come out at the upcoming nursery Sport’s Day no doubt, but this is hand’s down my favourite video at the moment.  Being such a modern young chap George is also loving this video and giggles every time he sees it.  I don’t know if he realises it’s him but he certainly seems to be thrilled that somebody else understands the importance of sprint starts.

As I’m waffling on about cause and effect I want to share a story from Mark’s parents’ house last week which we were at as I had to go into the office and they were watching the boys. It was late.  Oh so late.  George decided sleeping was for wimps and despite all of us yawning he was still carrying on.  He’d found some coasters and was handing them to Boppa and then taking them back, handing them over one by one and then grabbing both and walking away over and over again.  Then he decided to let GG have them, so over he goes and once he hands them to GG she uses them to cover her eyes and play peek-a-boo.  George takes them back and mimics.  He doesn’t get it at first; they go on the top of his head, then over his ears but when he finally slides them over his eyes there is real pride with himself and he actually squealed with delight.

My final George story comes from today on the way home from nursery.  This is the time when Alby gets to watch telly on my phone whilst George and I sing nursery rhymes together.  Mostly it’s just me singing with him joining in for one or two songs before getting frustrated at being in the car and then pulling on his straps and shouting.  Today he was on good form though and despite a long day at Farleys his brain was switched on and, first time ever, he did the actions to the Grand old Duke of York followed by “If you’re happy and you know it.”  Proof if ever it was needed that my child is a genius.  Hahaha.  I love how all parents think their child is gifted, of course he’s not but in this little moments when all you have is complete wonder and adoration for how they are growing and learning and observing and absorbing genius seems the more appropriate word. 

Alby meanwhile is still a ninja.  Yesterday he got a load of pencils and chopsticks and poked them into his pants and strutted around telling me they were his utility belt and he needed them for fighting baddies.  To save his future self I won’t post the photo I took but I will cherish it forever. As part of showing off his ninja skills he has decided to try and teach himself how to do back flips. He’s not there yet but I’m sure watching him try has aged me considerably.  I wouldn’t mind if he said “let’s try this mummy” and I could help him but no, he’ll just be jumping about and next thing he’s thrown himself backwards, time freezes, my eyes pop out my head and then we move on to another round of energetic kicks and twists as my son educates me on all things ninja. 

He’s also started singing silly songs.  Like really silly songs which seem to start with “Put your head in your belly and you head on the telly….” And then the transform into excited jibberish for five minutes (I’m not exaggerating on the timings here).  Every now and then a real sentence comes out, sometimes once that rhymes with the next but your ears have to be very keen to pick up on such.  The boys imagination is amazing.  He’s rhyming isn’t half bad either. 

Oi mister. What time do you call this?

It is just gone 11pm and George has only just crashed out for the night. They told me when I collected him from nursery that he was tired but that was six hours ago and he has barely yawned since. And not just any six hours. We took Percy for a walk, threw stones in the lake, played in the garden, had a bubble bath, jumped in the car and drove for an hour and a half (prime sleeping time wouldn't you think) and then played catch, peekaboo and various other chatty throwing games with balls and coasters with GG and Boppa.
All the grown ups wanted bed but George is a Duracell bunny.
I hope he drops one of his naps soon. These late nights are wearing thin and I'm conscious I'm no where near as consistent with George's bedtime routine as I had been with Alby's at this age. Or at least that's what my brain tells me. I don't know. I'm pretty tired.

When Alby met the Queen

Last Thursday was a big day for the family.  For the past five months Mark has been working on an event.  No, not just an event.  The Event.  Alongside two other crazy committed and dangerously dedicated soldiers he has been putting his heart, soul, mind and time into pulling off a day of celebrations to mark the 300^th anniversary of the Royal Artillery. 

21 Gun salute

He has been a stranger in the house, regularly working until midnight (in fact for the past three weeks, always working until midnight) plus weekends.  I wish I could claim that I was simply the dedicated and supported wife throughout but I’m not quite that exceptional a woman and the absence, compounded by the knowledge that three days after The Event he would be living away from home took its toll on my tolerance and understanding every now and then.  For that I apologise.

The Kings Troop

However, I digress. This isn't about me and my self-claimed guilt but about my amazing boys. 

A ride in the new car

Stepping onto the Square on Thursday morning I was overcome with pride for my husband and his team.  It was amazing.  The best tribute one could imagine pulled off brilliantly. And so it continued throughout the day. We spoke to re-enactors, at Alby’s request we asked a World War Two veteran to talk us through the medals on his chest (five from the Second World War, one from Korea plus a selection of others for service), we heard the 21 gun salute, admired the processions (Alby pointing to the soldiers dressed in their snow camo shouted “Look, it’s Darth Vader’s soldiers), loved the horses galloping past and, at the end of the day, we ate ice cream, drank Pimms, turned Trouble Monkey into a Ninja Turtle and watched him show off his ninja moves with two balloon swords on the bouncy castle.  It was just the best of days. One of those events which runs so seamlessly you fail to appreciate the endless work that went into it, it was just spectacular and I couldn’t be more pleased for Mark and his team.  Bloody good show chaps.

Guns saluting the Queen

I’ve waffled on enough already and I haven’t event mentioned the highlight of the day, the reason Mark stayed in the office until twelve instead of coming home at ten, the reason he is now sporting a handful of grey hairs (so he says, I can’t see them) is that Her Royal Highness herself was in attendance.  It’s her 90^th birthday this year and despite the actual birthday taking place a good few weeks ago now most of Britain seems to have taken the position that we shall be celebrating this milestone for the whole year.  So, despite this officially being the 300^th Anniversary of her Royal Artillery the day seemed to be regarded more as the chance for the Royal Artillery to celebrate her.  She doesn’t do many long appearances but she visited Wiltshire for three hours so this wasn’t just a big deal.  This was mega.  And amazingly, almost unbelievably but certainly in tribute to the brilliance that is Mark, we were able to be a part of the day.  Or more precisely Alby was.

Stormtroopers

Pretty much everywhere the Queen goes she gets presented with flowers and RA 300 was to be no exception.  The posey giving was discussed ages back and a throw away comment was made that Alby could do it.  Mark and I didn’t give it much thought.  Things change every six minutes in the army and no doubt they would come across a far more deserving family with a young child to do the flower giving instead.  But they didn’t.  It’s been sold as a tribute to the phenomenal effort Mark put into the event though I can’t shrug the feeling it may also be down to a bit of poor admin amongst the bigger chaos.  Whatever the true cause Alby was chosen as official flower boy on the day. 

A suit was bought.  A (dodgy) haircut took place.  New shoes were found (very last minute – thanks mum).  We practiced at home.  We practiced with others.  We witnessed a bored and underwhelmed four year old in action.  And then the day itself came.

It was a hot day.  It was a long day.  And it was a day where amongst the nerves and excitement lots of people forgot how to talk to and generally be around four year olds.  Three days of being told what an important job he was doing, three days of having to hand flowers over to an assortment of random people in very smart uniform, three days of being told to walk forward, chin up, smile and walk back, maybe shake hands, maybe not, maybe say something, maybe not, more heat, more waiting took its toll and by the time the Queen made it to the chapel Alby was fed up.  But Alby is a superstar and despite wanting nothing more than to be sitting on the sofa, watching telly in his pants, with his bottom lip almost out he told us “when it’s my turn I’m going to do it perfectly mummy.”  Many may not have believed him.  Mark and I did and we were right to.  

I have to give a special shout out to my dad here who was standing on the bank, about 50 feet away, behind the crowd of school children, waving his arms, jumping up and down and pulling funny faces.  That is what a four year old needs.  That got Alby smiling.  

My superstar

Getting over the near-teary state he was in, held his head high, walked forward nicely, handed over the flowers and paused.  I think the question mark over shaking hands or not, saying something or not threw him slightly.  And so he stood there.  I think for three seconds, maybe five but it felt like five minutes.  The Queen asked “Are these for me” and he nodded and said “yes” and then he paused for another 3 seconds, maybe four, and we called him back.  “Okay Alby, back now” Mark said kindly.

And he walked back, and held my hand, and the Queen continued forward, asking us as she went “How old?” Being a fool I replied with a simple “He’s four” whilst my cultured/sychophantic husband replied with “He’s four years old Ma’m” (Ma’m as in ham not Ma’m as in harm).  To which my beautiful, perfect little Man said, loudly and clearly, “Actually I’m four and a half.”  And everyone laughed, including the Queen and with that line the whole thing to me changed from a very stilted, staged, anonymous experience to a lovely moment,  A truly lovely moment. 

My memory is that I replied with “Sorry Alby, that half is very important” and the Queen said something along the lines of “Well yes, quite” or “Oh yes, of course”.  I don’t know.  It’s a happy blur.  Then she said her goodbyes and got into the car. 

Mark, sadly, just out of shot

As she stepped into the car Alby said “Mummy, I can see her Magic shoes.”  A reference to the day before when one of Mark’s colleagues had told Alby that the Queen had magic shoes because whenever she steps out of her helicopter gunfire goes off.  Bless him for remembering.

And then it was off for ice cream and bouncy castles and sitting in the shade as by then we were all a bit too red around the edges. And on the way home my friend texted to say “Check out the Daily Mail” and I did, and there was Alby, looking amazing.  And I swelled with happiness and pride for him.  For the wonder of my beautiful boy.  And it suddenly seemed much grander and more important than it actually had by the chapel. And I spent the rest of the day (actually the rest of the next two days) constantly referring back to the photo (and any other photo I could find) and smiling.  Not just at Alby’s picture but all of them.  Googling “Royal Artillery 300” to see which papers had written about it.  Because for my family it was the whole day that was important and my smile wasn’t reserved to my little Man but my big one too.  My heroes.  My superstars.  My loves.

The wonder of Alby

Alby is now dry at night. (He probably could have been months ago but he held out until we kicked in with some reward box bribery. He is no fool, not sure the same could be said for us.) To keep him dry we wake him around 9.30pm for a late night potty run.

Mark or I will gently rub his back and whisper to him until he rouses, just. We lift him out of bed and help him get sorted. He is barely awake at any point in the process. His eyes stay closed and he is this little, floppy sleepy bundle. 

And as he sits I watch him. I stare in wonder at how long his limbs have got, at his skinny little frame, his soft soft skin and I am amazed. Amazed this little man, this perfect, healthy, beautiful little person was made by us, grown in me and is part of my life. And I feel so blessed. 

When he was brand new I couldn't take my eyes off him. Feeds were special because I could just sit and stare at his perfect face, stroke his tiny fingers and be mesmerised by him. And I still get to do that with George now sometimes and it is still heaven.  But as they grow and get busier and busier,  even if we find an odd moment to just sit and stare the chances are they won't be sharing it with us. They will be charging around the house battling fierce baddies or tackling tangfastic challenges with forward rolls, cartwheels and spinny jumps. So we have to be more accepting. Nowadays my wonder moments are accompanied by the night sky, lullabies and Alby peeing. But the wonder of him makes it imperfectly perfect. 

My baby turned one

So we blinked.
And George has turned one.  I knew it would happen fast. I knew as the cliches all say, that the year would fly by and damn it they were so very right. Despite Alby lifting, carrying and wrestling, despite Percy licks and even the occasional bash, despite daddy working crazy hours meaning being stuck with crazy mama, George survived a whole twelve months. And if his goblin cackles are anything to go by he's as pleased as can be about it.

One year old George loves playing peek a boo, stamping his feet, clapping his hands, being tickled on the tummy and being swung in circles. He loves kicking and throwing balls, popping bubbles and knocking down stacking cups. He loves throwing his food on the floor cackling like a maniac with each item. He loves cuddles, stretching up both arms to be swept into your arms at any time. He loves his daddy, more so than his big brother did at this age. He loves his brother and his grandparents especially GG who he did some serious bonding with last week. He really loves his bulldog and will show such daily by climbing on his bed, sitting on him when he's sunbathing or climbing into his crate. George loves to walk. Tonight he walked up and down the kitchen - literally up and down, turning at each end, doing a squat and then heading off to the other side, laughing all the way, at which point the routine would be repeated over and over. He overs being in the garden and eating sand/dirt/grass. He loves being pushed on the swing at the park. He's a fan of Postman Pat. He loves gesticulating whilst shouting.

As I type he is lying flat on his back, arms raised by his head on the bed between his daddy and me. He's snoring lightly, twitching his legs, looking the picture of perfection.

He needs a hair cut and I'm starting to wonder if he will ever put his tongue in his mouth but he is my angel. My beautiful, perfect baby who touches my heart every day with the most spectacular love. We are so blessed having him in our lives.

A whole lot of reflection and some snippets from my day

I read a great article today titled "10 ways to enjoy your child today". There are thousands of articles out there, so many of them utter pants as they flip flop from tasks which require the supply cupboard (and staffing) of a large nursery to suggesting tasks so boring they make you question whether the author has actually ever met a toddler. This one however was good. The tasks were simple - trace around your hand, then trace around your child's hand inside yours and compare the sizes, tell each other 'I love you' in different animal languages, put on music and get your child to teach you some dance moves.
This list was realistic and achievable. The goal of every day. By the end I think she was searching a bit for ideas suggesting "turn off your phone for the day" - a brilliant suggestion and one Mark and I need to take up but not quite on a par with have a staring competition with them whilst you make funny faces.

I digress. The article echoed thoughts I've been having inceasingly the past few days. It is crazy easy to get caught up in "other than your child" activities when you have children. Whether it's some sort of selfishness from being at the beck and call of somebody else every minute of the day (and night) for four years or the temptations offered by having the internet and BBC Iplayer at your fingertips or tiredness preventing you from concentrating on any single task I don't know. Maybe a combination of all plus twenty other things as well.
I read an article (a different one) that said couples without children were happier than those with. My gut reaction was "what tripe". Followed quickly by the thought "if that's true there is something wrong with how we are parenting". There are many times over the past year when I've thought how much easier it is to take care of, and dare I say it, love a baby over a child. Their needs are different, they are simpler, they don't answer back, they don't make such specific demands of you nor do they reject your ideas. I'm not suggesting  you love them any differently but you expect so little from a baby and every smile is a gift whereas with toddlers there is an element of teaching in every interaction making it more dynamic and more demanding.
And expectation is probably the key word. Once babies really getting talking we all too often expect so much from them and our determination to get them to succeed can come at the cost of easy giggles and fun times. To be happy parents, to be good parents, we have to put aside our to do lists, put down the phone and follow their lead, give them the prompts and the space to be themselves. For them to be our beautiful children and for us to be their happy parents. Days when we go to bed shattered and frustrated reflect on our misplaced expectations rather than anything our children said or did.

We didn't do anything from the list today. Instead we played shop with Alby running a greengrocers followed by a stationary store. Alby meticulously scanning, weighing and adding up with his new till whilst I did my best to stop George eating the plastic money. We built block towers for George to knock down. We drew pictures together, me making the faces of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles as Alby added the weapons. I followed his lead and as I reflect back on the day I get to do so from the smug position of knowing that today was a good day. I was a good mum. And the assertion that the claim that you are happier without kids is, for me, utter tripe.

This post was just meant to be a short intro followed by the little snippets below but I appear to have gone all philosophical on everyone. Oh well, here's a few sneak peeks from life with Alby today.

Playing games
Alby: let's play the word game mummy.
Me: Okay. I don't think I know the word game. How do we play?
Alby: Sonebody thinks of a word. And you have to guess.
Me: What? Any word?
Alby: I'll go first. Mummy, trees move even when you don't touch them.
Me: (tentatively) Yes. When the wind blows on them the branches wave.
Alby: Yes! That's it. Well done. That's one point to me and one point to you.

Manners
As Georgie destroys Alby's race/building/ninja fight "no thank you Georgie. No thank you. No thank you Georgie."

Vocabulary
Alby: Did you see that mummy? It was tanfastic.
Later that same day: George is so red-ick-lee-ous.

George clapping
I have a vivid memory of driving from Yorkshire to Surrey when Alby was about a year old. He was in his car seat in the passenger seat fast asleep and I was listening to a live CD of Knopfler. At the end of the song the audience started clapping and Alby just sat upright, starting clapping and then when straight back to sleep again. Tonight as I put George to bed he was sleeping in my arms, still latched from his feed, his clunky projector music going on in the background and he started clapping. Hands up by his forehead as there was nowhere else for them to go, eyes still closed, clapping away.