Ear ear Alby

At 8:15 this morning Alby and I were both dressed, fed and in the car heading off to the hospital in Richmond (a snappy 40 minute drive away) for a hearing test.

As a newborn Alby failed his hearing test. Glue ear in the right ear ensured regular trips to the otology department where he was plugged into a range of devices so they could test how sound travelled to and from ear to brain, where the congestion was occurring and how severe it was.  I won’t pretend I hit it off with the otology bunch to begin with – the first two sessions saw me leaving the hospital near tears (firstly due to a mean lady whose incompetent testing and uncompassionate approach made baby Albert the Bear cry like he had never done before and then later simply because I wasn’t prepared to hear my Trouble Monkey was anything but perfect) but they do a good job.

Over Alby’s first year we attended around 6 different check ups.  The first were the hardest – as they requested a baby deep in sleep and I found such pretty much impossible to produce.  Inevitably the more I would try to jostle Alby to sleep the more agitated he became and the harder the sessions were.  By the time he was a year old though the testing involved toys and dancing monkeys.  Alby’s glue ear prevailed but the sessions were no longer a battle and with each test the lovely ear doctors of North Yorkshire not only learnt more but were able to reassure me that the congestion was very limited and unlikely to have any real impact.

A failure on my side of book in for one appointment caused us to be kicked off the books and, to my shame, it has taken me a year to book in a follow up appointment.  And so, on this cold and windy morning Alby and I, both still half asleep, hit the motorway for another testing session. 

Alby’s age presents a few challenges to testing, obviously.  The baby focused games would go right over his head causing him to get bored and disengage, making the testing inconclusive whereas there is a fear that the older games would be too hard. 

To start with they game him a board with pegs and he had to slot different shapes over the pegs every time he heard a sound.  Later the game changed to dropping a shape into a bucket every time the sound was played.   He was very cute with both games; he would hold the shape really close to the ear they were testing whilst he waited for the sound and only moved it from the ear when the sound appeared.  As we couldn’t hear any of the noises we had no idea if he was getting it right or not but we’d cheer and clap hoping our encouragement was promoting him the right way. They tested the right ear then the left ear and then the right ear again.  When he didn’t have ear plugs in, they were looking into his ears with a range of contraptions.  Bless him, it went on for an exhausting 45 minutes.  Half way through he announced “Hard work mummy” – poor sod.  It’s no wonder he fell asleep in the car on the way home.  He was fried.

In conclusion, there is still very minor glue ear in the right but it is so minor that it isn’t having any impact on his development or day to day hearing.  The congestion is so small that they have discharged him.  Well done Albs. 

Shatteredmummy.com

In the past twenty minutes there are about fifty things that I have thought would make a good blog post.  Top of the list is Alby’s polite but naughty nature.  It is 9:34pm as I type, Alby is playing the piano thumping down on the keys and shouting “that one’s loud mummy”.  Every so often I ask if he is tired or if he would like to go to bed.  He looks down in a slightly bashful way and says “No thank you mummy”.  Polite, yes.  Troublesome, absolutely.

The second thing I feel compelled to write about it Alby’s unlimited supply of energy.  He hasn’t had a nap today.  He has been up since 7am.  He has played with his cars, his train, his playdough and his toy groceries.  He has been on a 90 minute walk across the Moors with Percy.  Yes, he was in the backcarrier for part of it but he also ran a fair share of it in addition to chasing a few sheep, stomping on several mole hills and throwing stones into the reservoir.  He has been in the garden with Mark, walking his plastic £10 lawnmower up and down whilst he declares that he is “cutting the leaves”.  He has done all of his puzzles, played the drum, the piano and sung Christmas carols with Mark (more on that later). He has splashed about in the bath, scribbled on my Christmas cards and bashed away on the keyboard of my computer as I endeavoured to finish up a piece of work and yet he is still not tired. 

It is now 9:42pm.  Me: Alby are you tired?  Alby: No thank you.  Alby play hammer. He is now walking around the study bashing everything he comes along with my pen. 

I’ve been trying to work out over recent days why I haven’t been blogging that much recently.  It’s because every minute of every day is spent trying to exhaust my son.  And yet no matter how much caffeine I drink or how much sugar there is in my food I simply don’t have the stamina to keep up with him.

Mark went away a couple of weeks ago and I was a broken woman.  Not because of how much I missed my husband (though obviously I did, a huge amount).  It is because for the two weeks that Mark was gone Alby expected me to provide the entertainment level of not just one parent, but two.  As I say, I was a broken woman.  Mark is heading off again at 9am tomorrow morning and won’t be back until Friday.  I’m terrified! I wonder how much bribery it will take for a nurse at the local hospital to hook me up to adrenalin by drip? 

I don’t know why I’m surprised.  Yesterday he played rugby in the morning, visited the Knaresborough Christmas market and then charged around Northallerton with me for two hours and still didn’t wasn’t interested in a day time nap.  The saving grace yesterday was that he went to bed at 8pm.  Hurrah I thought, I’m more than happy to give up day time naps if it means an earlier bedtime.  Stupid me.  It’s now 10pm and the game of hammers continues…

There is more to write.  And one day it will come but for now my brain is dead, my eyes are heavy and I need to conserve my energy or I am sure to pass out where I sit whilst Alby plays hammers on my head.

Wish me luck

Mummy fail #747 parts a, b, and c

Oh yes, today has been so successful on my part that I am the proud accomplish of three mummy fails in one day.  No doubt this isn’t as remarkable as the blog may suggest but for a cheap laugh let’s reflect on the light comedy moments that have framed my day.

Part A

Most Mummy fails take place towards the end of the day, when Alby and I are both that little bit more emotional and exhausted.  Today however I surpassed myself managing to clock my first fail at just 11:16am.

Alby’s rugby first thing on a Saturday morning means that Percy doesn’t get his morning walk until a bit later than usual.  Being one of those beautiful winter days were the air is crisp and the sky bright blue I thought that instead of traipsing the same roads we walk day in, day out I’d take the boys for a change of scenery and treat them to the fun of a walk on the Yorkshire Moors. 

The minute we stepped out the car my plans for a bit of fun bonding time had gone awry.  A shoot was taking place nearby and Percy does not like loud noises.  He jumped, shied, crouched low and tried his best to actually sink his body into the concrete.  And so the walk began with Alby, who’d insisted that he walking, waddling slowly up a steep hill as I dragged, coaxed and pleaded with Percy to get his noble backside into gear.  Somehow we managed to make it up the 100+ steep steps without Percy having a heartache or Alby toppling backwards.  At this point the trail leads you along the edge of the Moors.  There is a deadly drop on the one side and, with no fencing or barrier, I thought I’d be the responsible parent and put Alby in the backcarrier.  Alby did not think this was a good idea and continued to cry and shout for the next fifteen minutes.  

If I were an optimist I would take joy from the fact that at least by now the gun shots had ended and Percy was trotting along happily beside me.  However I’m not an optimist, I’m a realist and family fun time this was not.

Thank god for the planes and gliders heading off overhead.  Not only did they bring fabulous memories back of when I sent my dad into the skies but also distracted Alby brilliantly.  Instead of crying about how unfair the world was to him and what a bully his mother is, he began a 30 minute chant of “Where’s the plane gone? Where’s the plane gone? Where’s the plane gone?...” You’ve got to admire the child’s commitment.

Part B

This is how they should advertise it, not as some small toy

This one was not all my fault. I swear Mark should take some responsibility for this one.  Yes, okay he wasn’t actually here when I bought it but he did see the product first and he thought it was cool and he knew Alby would love it and he told me to buy it. 

And he didn’t ask the about or look into the actual dimensions either.

I’m rambling I know but clearly it is important to me that I get my defence in first.

Good for cars and boats alike

 So, to start at the beginning or there about, in the build up to Alby’s birthday I looked at quite a few toys so that if anybody asked what to buy I could put them in the right direction.  Nobody did ask but my online searches had uncovered this fantastic water play toy which looked brilliant.  I showed it to Mark and he loved it too.  He really did.  And he pointed at other models which he thought would also be good.

They say "no man is an island" - I'm not so sure.

As I say, nobody did get it for Alby but I recently got some extra money for working overtime and thinking that rather than seeing it all disappear into the melting pot of groceries and bills I decided to treat my son. 

And what a treat!  Let’s be clear it is an amazing toy that he played with non stop for an hour today.  There’s dams, gate ways a slide and a water pump all of which push the little boats around.  Even Percy came over to see what the fun was all about and gave an approving sniff.  But here’s the thing…it’s huge.  Having said after his birthday party that he couldn’t have any more toys as we didn’t have the space I’ve gone and purchased a brilliant toy that is almost as big as our dining room table. 

I’m not saying that I thought the internet pictures were actual sized but I didn’t think it would be this big.  Woops.

Shattered Al-bug

Part C.

To complete the hat trick Alby and I went back to an old faithful: falling off the sofa.  Poor little chap.  Having started the day with rugby, then been dragged over the Moors, then back home for water play Alby was completely shattered when he finally passed out on the sofa at 3pm.  Making the most of his unconscious state I booked in a skype date with a favourite and left Alby to his dreams.  Almost an hour later we both heard a thud and I ran around the corner to see him on his back, arms and legs curled up, face bright red and in a silent scream.  He opened his eyes and with it came the sobs.  Poor bugger. 

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.