Slow down lil britches

Helping out with my jobs

George celebrated his first Christmas by taking his first solo step.  Two months ago at my aunt’s house in America he started pulling himself up, eight weeks on and he’ll walk around the house quite happily just holding onto a few fingers of your hand.  Admittedly he doesn’t walk for very long before going back to a crawl, but it seems like there is no stopping the little guy. 

As Baloo says in the Jungle Book (or at least Disney’s version of it).  “Slow down…if you act like that bee acts uh uh.  You’re working to hard.”

I don’t know about working but the boy loves walking.  And he lover his walker.  A lot. We first got it out after the America trip but after him spending a day crying as he kept pulling it back onto himself but we started him on it again at the beginning of the Christmas holidays and he will now happily bash his way around the house.  Steering is a skill he’s yet to master but regardless of whether he’s charging down the straight or repeatedly bashing into the bookshelf Goblin can be found grinning from ear to ear.

Shutting himself into the bathroom - such fun!

He also loves going up the stairs.  Thank you dearest Father-in-law for encouraging that little trick over the Christmas holidays ensuring that now, every time I turn my back to, I don’t know, prepare / cook / clear up from a meal (which with a pre-schooler and a weaning baby I feel as though I’m doing twenty times a day) George hightails it up the stairs. How we haven’t already had an accident I’ve no idea.  I keep catching him half way up, pleased as punch with himself, clapping away before he turns to go up the final climb.  And heaven forbid you close the stair gate when he’s finally at the top.  The little chap has no idea how to get down stairs yet but the Lemming instinct is strong in this one as we know from his repeated attempts to dive out of our arms to stop us from closing the gate.

Alby obviously finds all of this “hilarious” a word he says with a slight accent adding an extra level of comedy to an already ridiculous situation. 

In true baby fashion we’ve yet to see the first solo step repeated but that’s no wonder with all the other distractions that have sprung up over the past week. As well as fighting his first cold and settling into nursery, judging from the cries last night he’s also about to cut another tooth.  But honestly, the little fella has only just turned nine months. He’s a superstar.  

It's interesting, it's interesting

The gas man is here doing a safety check and Alby is amazed. He couldn't sit still at the table he was so excited about the gas man in the kitchen so we left him go watch. Cue hundreds of questions, naming of tools and intermittent and incessant shouting of "it's so interesting" or "ohh that's interesting" or "interesting part". Followed by much jumping and flapping about.

During the chat, where we learned the gas man is called Alan, that it's his last job of the night and that he will order us a new boiler (Alan is my hero of 2016), it was suggested Alby could be a gas man when older. He took the idea of being CORGI Certifird with enthusiasm but then suggested "or I could be a formula one driver like Lewison Hsmilton or a darts player that you can go how-woo too [referencing Wolfie Adams]. Or a goodie pirate."

So it's good to know the boy is giving himself options.

George meanwhile was climbing the stairs stealing my electric toothbrush from the charger and bashing it whilst shouting for joy.

It's just another manic Monday

Manic Monday buddy

I have a confession. Unloading the trolley of children and shopping this afternoon I took a moment to stand there in the rain and wonder "why do people have two children?" Really the question should have just been one of "why do people have children?"

The boys had done nothing wrong. They'd actually been on brilliant form all day. The question wasn't based any obvious parenting gripe - sick/snot on the shoulder, tantruming child, whining child... As I say the boys were on top form. But my body ached from carrying George whilst pushing round a full trolley complete with helpful 4 year old. Standing there with 2pm feeling like midnight and my mind completely focused on the most effective way to reach my caffeinated beverage of choice whilst also ensuring both children were safely strapped in their seats I asked the guilty question of "why do we do this."

The answer is of course totally obvious. It's because we love it. Even the ones that do involve sick/snot on the shoulder and tantrums. It's all bloody brilliant but boy do I know how to make things hard for myself at times. Mondays being the best example. Here's how today went (and please note I feel the following should be sung along to some jaunty tune as if being narrated in a particularly peppy children's TV show):

Helping with the tidying (or not)

Got myself and both boys dressed, fed and watered
Fed the dog
Walked the dog
Got out the house by 8.45am
Made it to Albug's music class only two minutes late
Paid a cheque in at the bank
Purchased first caffeinated beverage so as not to get into trouble for pre-schooler toilet dash in high street coffee place
Went to soft play for an hour
Made it to George's music class - bonus points for being on time
Supermarket number one (whilst feeding and then carrying a sleeping George)
Got new keys cut
Went around supermarket number two
Filled up the car with diesel (less than £1 a litre, I couldn't believe it)
Unpacked the car, set Alby up in front of a film, fed and got George to sleep
Cooked soup (for tomorrow's dinner), kedgeree (for tonight's dinner) and pasta for Alby (because he asked)

And so to bed...

Walked the dog
Ate with family whilst reading the end of George's Marvellous Medicine
Got Alby to bed
Got George to sleep
Chatted with husband
Resettled George
Admired a bulldog
Made packed lunches for tomorrow
Packed nursery bags for tomorrow.

I am not claiming to be superwoman. I have friends with three children and I've even heard of some mad couples with five or six, heaven forbid. Nor am I making claim as owner of the busiest day. Hubbie set off to work at 6.30 this morning and didn't return for another 12 hours. Im just sharing my guilty secret, that if you see me staring into the distance on a manic Monday it is most likely to be a result of me asking "why?"

Cuteness

I should be asleep right now. It's late and we've had a really crazy few days. But I also had to post. Today we moved around a load of furniture in recognition of the fact that as idyllic as it sounds having the two little ones sharing a room, the reality would mean a house of broken sleep and groggy individuals. So now George's cot is in our room. The little, bedside one has gone and his big cot is over by the window, just over an arms length away from me. And he is fast asleep. Breathing deeply. Squirming every now and then. My angel.

People are always being told to slow down. Enjoy the moment. And it might be impossible to believe that I can truly do that whilst also typing away but I'm happiness personified at the moment. I glance up after every sentence and feel blessed. I should be sleeping but I'm in danger of just watching him all night.

My precious, sleeping angel.