My favourite sound

Mondays and Wednesdays are Alby and mummy days.  It’s no lie to say that I really appreciate having two whole days every week with my little man and that I’m fortunate enough to be able to work part time is something that I truly don’t take for granted.

When Mark comes home from work and asks about our day it’s often a case more of what haven’t we done than what have we done.  Today we took Percy for a walk, went to music class, visited the doctor’s, topped up on groceries at the supermarket, got the car washed, headed home to watch a film together, did some chores around the house, took Percy for a walk stopping at the pharmacy, library and post office along the way, came home for dinner, puzzles, stories and finally bed. 

Along the way we sang songs, told stories, talked about racing cars (a lot) discussed our plans for the rest of the week and shared snacks.  Let’s not go pretending that the day is a breeze with Alby and I in total harmony.  There were several mummy fails and toddler fails along the way as there always are (the first one today being when I had the audacity to turn off my bedroom light whilst Alby was in the toilet.  As he was quick to inform me, with much flailing of the arms and stomping of the legs, that is his job).   But there were also cuddles, giggles, kisses, silliness and giggles too.  Alby’s laughter nourishes the soul.  It keeps me smiling and I love him for the happiness that he has and the happiness that he shares.  

Alby at 3 years and 3 months

Conscious that I don’t write anywhere near as much as I’m used to I wanted to spend a little moment summing up Alby as a three year old.  Cos he’s a great little kid really, full of character and in ten years time when I’m dealing with a stroppy teenager I hope that I can look back on this and smile at the little boy who was.  And very possibly pick up on a number of things from now that already reveal the type of person he will grow up to be.

Alby’s vocabulary continues to grow at a crazy pace and he keeps coming out with things that make me laugh.  Today after baking fairy cakes I thanked Alby for his help to which he replied “it was my pleasure”.  I’ve never heard him say that before. 

Whilst two year old Alby appreciated a “good idea” nowadays ideas are more likely to be “great” or even “brilliant”.  Things are no longer big but rather “huge” or even “enormous”. 

Alby has a bit of an obsession over height.  He talks a lot about when he will be taller and how tall he will be.  In response I’ve become the clichéd adult begging him to enjoy being small and a child for as long as possible and not being so concerned about growing up already.  But despite my comments, being tall is still the ultimate prize.  And so from sticks to cutlery to pens to books we get the constant question “which one’s taller”?  Or, more frequently, the statement “my spoons bigger compared to yours” or “my sticks bigger compared to yours” (keeping the gender stereotypes alive and well here).  To Mark’s constant amusement Alby can’t actually say the word “compared” however and instead it comes out as “bedared to” and so our house is filled with chatter like “I’m taller bedared to little Milly” or “King’s bigger bedared to Lightening McQueen”. 

And when I say the house is filled with chatter I’m not joking.  Alby keeps a running commentary going during car and train races, dragon fighting, duplo construction and playdough squishing.  Or even when just walking around the house.  Mark’s giggled a good few times having asked Alby what he’s talking about Alby replies “I’m just talking to myself daddy.”  For this I am no doubt completely responsible.  Before Alby could talk car journeys were generally spent with me just talking at him – more than to myself than anybody else – and it’s only now that he asks “what are you talking about mummy” that I’ve started shutting up.

As well as stumbling over the word “compared” Alby’s also yet to get his tongue around “pretend” and instead tells us frequently that “I’m just tending mummy / daddy”.  And we do a lot of “tending” each day.  We “tend fight”, we “tend to fly” (when we’re tending to be Superman), we “tend” to cook our playdough and sometimes we even “tend to eat” it too.

Superman has somehow flown into our lives and we’ve no idea how or why but he’s proving quite fun.  Alby’s superman t-shirt and cape that he got for Christmas stayed on for 3 whole days (I had to stay up late and wash it in the night to prevent my child from being too disgusting come Boxing Day).  Being Superman can be hard work and Alby finds himself having to do a lot of rescuing and flying around.  Thankfully he has his friends to help him: Spiderman aka Daddy and Batman aka mummy (having recently been promoted from the position of “other Superman”).  Sometimes Superdog Percy also gets to join in the fun.  Don’t think for a moment that this is just a fun little game.  Alby takes it very seriously.  I’ve been told off on numerous occasions for calling Alby by his name: “I’m not Alby, I’m Superman”.  Similarly, referring to Mark as Daddy rather than Spiderman has had me equally chastised and there have been times when Alby will only play with Mark if he’s taken on his superhero persona.   We are big fans of the Shirley Hughes Alfie stories but, to make them more special, we change Alfie to Alby when reading.  Recently Alby decided to take this a step further and insisted Mark read Alfie as Superman in every story instead.  No doubt a way to keep him on his toes.

Alby is fascinated by feelings and any books relating to emotions that we’ve taken out of the library are always incredibly popular.  When I pick him up from nursery he enjoys telling me how bossy Indah has been or how bossy another child has been, though he appears quite blind to his own bossy tendencies.  Something which makes Mark and I laugh, especially when he tells us off for being a “bossy boots”.  We get bossed about for everything.  If we do a running races we get told where the starting line is, who is going to win (always Alby), and who is going to do the countdown (always Alby).  Failure to follow his instructions or even preventing him from going through all instructions can result in a meltdown.  We get bossed about what spoon he is going to eat with, which cup he is going to drink from, what colour counter we can be when we play his new (and only) boardgame: Orchard Toys, the three little pigs.  Even putting him into the bath (bottom first, always) requires direct and repeated instruction.

He loves riding his bike, climbing, bouncing on the bed and throwing himself off things (bed, stairs, sofas) into your arms.  He often finds he runs low on energy when out riding his bike.  Usually this can be fixed with a quick pit stop (parking his bike on the curb for a moment) though sometimes only going on shoulders is the only solution).

He loves a sword fight, Peter Pan, Captain Hook, pirates generally alongside knights and dragons.  You can fight normally but every now and then, for a bit of fun, he demands “crab fighting” which basically involves taking more of a jousting stance rather than straight on which Alby has yet to realise makes you a more efficient fighter.  He just thinks it’s funny as you look like a scuttling crab.  

Sword fights can also be interrupted by the need for a quick Swashbuckle salute (CBeebies you have a lot to answer for): “Hand on your heart.  Okay, eye patch, eye patch, pirate hat, pirate hat, Swashbuckle cheer, Arrrgggghhhhh”.

He is pretty good eating vegetables provided they are carrots, broccoli, beans, peas or sweetcorn.  Often finds that his tummy “isn’t filled up yet”.  Would happily eat six pots of yoghurt a day if only he got the change.  Loves the idea of cake but doesn’t actually eat it, believing that licking off the icing is all that he needs to do.  That said, he’s recently come to identify that some foods are sweet and others aren’t and spends a great deal of his time demanding “something sweet to fill up my tummy”.  Only occasionally will he accept that apples and carrots are sweet foods.

He loves hiding under the duvet in our bedroom aka Daddy’s tent and we’re currently getting dragged into daily games of hide and seek.  He’s not bad at it – he actually properly hides rather than just sitting in the middle of the dining room floor as he did six months ago and waits for you to find him rather than jumping out the minute you walk into the room.  However, he enjoys hiding so much that he giggles like crazy and the duvet / cushion or curtain that he’s hiding behind shakes like mad the closer you get and the more you pretend to struggle to find him.

Alby has a big heart.  He’s good at huggles and when tired often leaves his toys to come and see me and request a huggle.  It makes my heart melt.  He tells us often that he loves us “to the moon and back”.  Again, another heart melting moment.  Over Christmas I told Alby to kiss Mark on his honker, meaning his nose and Alby thought I said “tonker” so now we get daily kisses on the tonker as Alby’s special treat for his hard working parents.  Mark can’t leave the house for work without three kisses, three huggles and three high fives and at bedtime I have to give him a kiss for every room of the house as well as doing a circle of kisses around his face before he takes my hand and falls asleep.

He’s a ball of energy and whilst I’ve refrained from talk of tantrums I assure you that we are no stranger to them.  Sleep is still broken fairly frequently and he’s as particular about things as Percy.  His hair won’t lie flat, he takes pride in how good he’s become at getting dressed by himself (mostly just pants and trousers but still a big improvement on a few months back) and he loves telling me all about the world.  He sings like nobody can hear him (we all can), dances like nobody’s watching (we are and we’re laughing) and smiles often.  He’s a joy, a Trouble Monkey, a Cheeky Monkey and one of our most favourite people in the world. 

A flamily venture

My super boys

 Today we turned our back on the pile of clothes waiting to be ironed, the living room floor in desperate need of a hoover and Alby’s latest unfinished art project and headed off for a family walk on Salisbury Plain.

Adventure bullhound

We started the walk under a grey cloudy sky being buffeted by strong, oh so cold winds and… it was glorious.  Too often we fail to give enough time to actually spend time together as a family. Weekends can pass in a blur of chores, dog walks and grocery shopping.  Whilst we do whatever we can together, working alongside each other (Alby is becoming a dab hand at dusting, cooking, loading the dishwasher and woe betide the fool who tries to feed Percy without allowing Alby to help out) we collapse into bed on a Sunday evening wondered where the weekend went.  Or at least I do.

Not today though.  Today we went out together, we worked our way across the undulating landscape left from the Stone Age, claimed a hill, listened to Mark’s stories of training nights out in the area during Sandhurst days, map read, found sticks to tackle thorns with and even tickled Highland cattle (well Mark did).

Fluffy friends found on the way

In Alby speak, it was a great Flamily Venture.  I don’t know when the next one will come. No doubt as the new year gets further underway work craziness will come knocking at our door once more which is to say nothing of the fact that in around 15 weeks we’ll be dealing with the brilliant, challenging ridiculousness that is life with a new born.  And to be honest I don’t really care when the next one comes.  Today we took a break from living alongside each other to being together and it was lovely. 

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.