Never grow up?

I often envy my daughter...

When we are children we are bold and fearless. Especially young children, just starting out. We jump off high walls. We investigate draws full of sharp knifes and we run with scissors. We climb to the top of the tallest tower in the soft play centre (even if we still haven't figured out how to get down without help). There is always someone there to catch us when we fall, wipe our tears, kiss our bruised knees and tell us that it will all be alright.  The world contains endless possibilities and chances to get 'it' right. We love, we live, we learn and we have nothing to hold us back. Not even our parents can really contain us, although they will try. 

And I realise now that the only time I was ever really 'FREE' was as a child. The older you get the more life grips you. We collect people, problems, experiences - good and bad, happiness, pain and sadness that tie us up in knots and make it impossible for us to go back. The older we get the more complicated it gets and we are never really as free ever again. And I do wonder, if only we had known back then, what we know now, would we have been in such a hurry to grow up? 

"Wasn't it easier in your lunchbox days?

Always a bigger bed to crawl into

Wasn't it beautiful when you believed in everything?

And everybody believed in you?

Wasn't it easier in your firefly-catchin' days?
And everything out of reach, someone bigger brought down to you
Wasn't it beautiful runnin' wild 'til you fell asleep?
Before the monsters caught up to you?"

(Taylor Swift - Innocent)

Caution training in progress...

There are many things that we will have to master in our lives! 

We start of with the basics like, walking, talking, learning to dress ourselves or use a knife and folk when we eat so we don't end up wearing half of what we are eating. As we get bigger we move onto the harder stuff, reading, writing, making friends and riding a bike. And the older it gets the more complex it becomes, activities such as learning to drive, understanding that housework is a necessary evil unless you want to live in a squalid mess or (for some of us..ahem..not mentioning any names) with your parents till you are 28, we discover sex and relationships and all the complication that come with those. And eventually, if you grow up enough then one day you will maybe get married or have children, or both and end up having to do all these things again through someone else. And no I am not talking about your man (ha, ha...sorry fellas), I am of course talking about your children. 

I am currently in the process of potty training Emily and just the title suggests this is something that is learnt...training. Although I hadn't realised until now that it rather makes her sound like a dog.

"Is she house trained" people will ask,
"Well no not yet but we are working on it. Afterall you have to show them whose boss right?"
"Absolutely right! Can't have them peeing all over the place can we." 

Now this is a task that seem to have no set rules. Everyone talks about different methods, use a potty, don't use a potty go straight to toilet, use training pants, don't use training pants just normal knickers, they will tell you when they are ready, there are certain signals you can look for but remember every child is different. Somewhere between 18 months and 3 years they will be ready but it can be different for boys who are sometimes later bloomers but this isn't always necessarily the case. Don't push them if they are not ready but except that they should be day dry by at least the age of 3 and night dry by 4 but sometimes they will relapse due to illness, a new sibling, a change of house, a change of life-style, a change of environment. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I don't remember learning to use the toilet, obviously being too young and frustratingly even though my mother and mother in law have a total of six children between them cannot remember either. 
"I think it just kind of happened" they both tell me. So I feel like a blind woman stumbling around in a foreign place, full of people that don't know I am blind and keep bumping into me. Well something like that...you get the idea. I guess, together, Emily and I will just figure it out like everything else and you know what give me potty training anyday over the impending 'Birds and Bees' chat or worst still the inevitable 'Why doesn't he love me back?' conversation! *Sigh*

Are you smarter than a two year old?

So have you ever been in a shop, cafe, restaurant, supermarket, library or anywhere remotely public and your little angle has decided to choose that precise moment to have (the dreaded 'T' word) a tantrum? Yes...well join the club. 

Emily rarely bothers with tantrums at home because she has realised how ineffective they are in the home environment. Mainly because no-one will take the blindest bit of notice and it really doesn't matter if she trashes the whole house. We are parents afterall, disposable income has become a thing of the past and we no longer have anything of any value or if we do we aren't stupid enough to leave it lying around.

However Emily has realised that when we are out and about, potentially she has all the power, she holds all the cards. She knows that mummy will not just ignore her or walk away for fear that she could bring down a whole shelf of very expensive items mid tantrum (and as we have already established money is not something we have a great deal of...or any really *sigh*). So she has started to realise that in order to get things done, to get her own way or simply because she can, she will assert herself and her new found independence when we are out of the house.

Take today for example, after visiting the park and spending an hour swinging on the swings, sliding on the slide, climbing on...well the climbing wall, we met with my mum for a coffee. Emily attempted to crawl and climb all over my mother, whilst she was trying to drink a rather full, hot cup of coffee. My mother tried firmly to tell her to sit down but she just ignored her grandmothers pleas. So it was left to me to take her firmly and place her back down in her own seat, to which her response was screaming, crying and beating her fists against the chair, whilst people looked on in dismay. Obviously thinking me the worlds worst mother...I could see the inscription on my award...I could see it in their eyes!! 

So this is really the root of the problem isn't it. Children don't generally play up at home because mostly they won't get a response or if they do it normally results in the naughty step. However they have learnt that due to social conditioning we care a great deal about what others think of us, even if we try our best not to. So they know we will want to appear like a caring, concerned mother/father/parent, the kind that does not shout, that does not raise their voice or walk away exasperated at their two year old's behaviour. That pretty damn clever of them isn't it, considering most haven't learnt to talk properly yet or even use a toilet?! It's slightly worrying that the art of manipulation is learnt before our children can even communicate fully, before they learn to control their bowls, they learn to control their parents! 


So the solution? Well try not to care too much about what other people think I guess. Beside there are three types of people. The one's that have had children and understand completely, the one's that have had children but still judge you because well they think they are better than everyone else (and yes come on admit it we all know all one of those) and the ones that have not yet had children...but they will learn! 

What toddlers say and what they really mean...

Emily's vocabulary is expanding at a fast pace these days and now includes phrases, such as I'm scared, I'm excited, is ready mummy? (normally referring to food) And my personal favourite...wake up daddy!

We are now able to have a conversation and she can understand almost everything I say or ask of her. This can be worrying when on occasion I forget myself and utter something I shouldn't. I am then disturbed to hear her repeating the word or sentence back to me. Not swear words of course, those were banned in our house about 6 months ago when all this talking malarkey started. Just adult phrases that sound alien when they are being said by a child and also make you feel just slightly uncomfortable in the realisation that you have started to sound just like your own parents. NOOOOOOOOO!

There are as always some phrases that my daughter still pronounces incorrectly and those are the ones that will make me smile or sigh as I realise that I really shouldn't have bothered banning swearing of any kind as it seems to have made absolutely no difference when so many simple words, mis-pronouced can unfortunately sound exactly like the words I was so desperately trying to avoid. And so many that I cannot recall at this time. However I may have to add them to the list as they come to me. These are some of the best ones though:



Tank you = Thank you
Cock = Clock...Kind of funny when Mummy is placed in front of it however not so funny when the first word is Daddy...*sigh*. And I thought we had got pass this word with the whole coat- cock debacle, clearly not! 
Dick = Drink
Emmy = Emily
Ya Ya = Emily or possibly me...I am unsure but it is the word Emily uses to refer to herself and as we have started to use it too, it has become something of a nick-name.
Shit = sit
Ga Ga = Grandad
Nannypaul = Nanny and Paul. My mother is starting to fear that she will forever more become known as Nanny Paul.
Pieces = Shreddies or possibly cereal (I have no idea what the connection is here).
Post Pat = Post man Pat. We have endured many a rendition of Post Pat, Post Pat, Post Pat mmmmmmmmm CAT! 

Also as they come to me...

Cudgies = Cuddles
Bobby & Mummy = Bob the bear and Molly the dolly
Nannygaga = Nanny & Granddad or sometimes just Nanna Christine
Daddy's Weaking = Daddy's working

Living it up in Ibiza...Bobby style!

So many things will inevitably change once you have children and last week I was witness to the end of yet another era and the start of a new one, the family holiday.

We had booked a week in Ibiza, sunshine, sandy beaches, relaxing by the pool. A gentle stroll into town of an evening, dinner followed by a few drinks. That was how I fondly remembered a 'holiday', however I discovered, as I have so many times over the last two years, that a lot changes once you bring a child into the mix. 

So there was some sunshine, mixed in with a little rain, just to really annoy all three of us and help in our new found loathing for Spain and it's lack of rainy day activities. Sandy beaches, check, however on being taken for a paddle in the sea my daughter's response was and I quote 'yucky' and the beach although lovely for adults, adults with the luxury of hours of child-free time to while away lying on a sun-bed soaking up the rays or reading a book, does not quite work the same when you have a toddler with the attention-span of a gold-fish. A toddler who very quickly tired of building sand castle and moved on to a much more entertaining game of moaning whilst chucking sand around, inter-spaced with spates of running off at a surprisingly fast speeds (my daughter can really shift it when the choice is hers and not me asking her to move a bit quicker because as usual we are late for the doctors, the dentist, nursery, a play date etc...). 

Relaxing by the pool...NO. Standing waist high in freezing cold water, whilst your daughter splashes you or pours water over you. Endlessly pulling her around in an inflatable dog, constantly berating her for taking other children's toys and for not sharing her toys with said other children. The constant rounds of sun-cream application, that are met everytime with utter indignation from your two year old daughter, her screaming and relentless attempts to run away from you so that you end up with one really well sun blocked arm and that's about it.

Gentle stroll into town, hmmm, well yes maybe but only after you have once again endured the 'BABY DISCO' with Spanish renditions of such classics as 'Agadoo' and 'I am the Music Man'. Once in town, you watch as your daughter goes around and around and around and around on the little fairground train actually, sadly, quite possibly the highlight of her holiday. Dinner, forget it, you have already had dinner about two hours ago in a restaurant full of other families, all kids screaming together.

Drinking...Now there is the one pleasure that I can say Gavin and I both enduldged in a little on holiday. Because eventually, come nine o'clock when it is time for madam to go to bed, confined to your room, the only options you really have are to go to sleep yourself (which trust me was actually really quite appealing to both of us) or sit on the balcony and drink a few beers and attempt to have something resembling an adult converstation. 

So all that coupled with a vomiting episode on the coach transfer and a two and half hour delay on our way home, this holiday was not quite holidaying as I so fondly remembered it. On the bright side I have a pretty good overall tan from all the moving around I did and I can honestly say that I now know all the words to the disco version of 'Head Shoulders Knees and Toes'. Hell before Ibiza I never even knew there was a disco version of Head Shoulders Knees and Toes', just goes to show you learn something new everyday!

In truth I know I paint a pretty grim picture and I think it may take Gavin and I at least another week to get over our 'family' holiday but we had our moments, we had some sunshine and quite a lot of laughter. Crazy rainy day fun with Bobby the 'Spy' Bear and the attack of the giant killer balloon, where mummy, posing as Bobby's right hand man (woman) got to beat daddy to death with a large pillow, daddy of course being the henchman of the evil giant killer balloon, ahhh what fun! Well Emily enjoyed it and that is what counts. Even if she did cry when she though mummy had actually killed daddy for real...opps! 

 

Men are from Mars and Woman are from Venus...maybe so but we all still have live on Earth together!

So having just witnessed something of a 'small' domestic between the couple ahead of me in the queue at Morrisons, I started to wonder. Why is it that men and women after 200,000 (approx.) years of inhabitance, together, on this planet, still fail to understand each other?

I have read large portions of 'Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus' (not actually having read a book in full for ohhh about 2 years) and I have to say that although John Gray makes some interesting points, I am still non the wiser when it comes to the workings of the male mind...or the female mind for that matter. And yes I know I am female and so therefore should have a better grasp on how us women think, but I can honestly say that I only really, truly, understand how my mind works. I can sympathise, empathise even with my female friends when they tell me assorted tales of relationship woes. But I can't really understand because...well...I am not them. And just as we are all individuals, so all women are different in the ways that they think, although the sub-text might appear similar at times. 

So the couple in Morrisons? Well as an outsider I could hazard a guess at the root of the problem, he was teasing her about something and had obviously chosen the wrong moment, her reaction may have appeared a little over the top but well it could be the heat, or her hormones or whatever...who knows? Anyway she slapped him on the arm and stormed off toward the car, leaving him at the self-service check-out alone, looking very confused and a little forlorn. And I just felt for the pair of them.

So what have I found to be true? And trust me I am not the expert but men generally seem to expect us women to respond to their ridicule in the way that their friends would, as harmless banter with...'no offence meant mate'. Women expect men to be as sensitive as they are, to understand when it is appropriate to tease and when it is over-stepping the line. We expect our men to become mind readers. We want them to know, instinctively, exactly how we are feeling at any given time. And well that is just unfair, because half the time we don't know how we are feeling. As it is just as unfair for men to expect us to 'take it all on the chin' as we are not 'their mates' and as so should not be treated like we are...a bit of sensitivity goes along way lads! So what is the answer? Hell I don't know, if I did I wouldn't keep getting it so wrong...


But what I have always pondered on is this:

Why is it that a woman will meet a man, fall in love with him just as he is and then spend the rest of her life (or their time together) trying to change him, mould him into something he is not.

And why is it that men work so hard in the beginining to impress us, but once they have us they become complacent, lazy and at times, damn right uninvolved in the relationship and then they wonder why their woman has left them? 

It's a mystery, that's for sure!

Mars and Venus eh? Sometimes I'm not sure we are even from the same solar system...





   

 

A week in the life of us!

So my baby girl turned two on Friday and she is not a baby anymore, although no matter how big she gets she will always be my little girl!

And wow what a week of memorable highs and terrifying lows! 

The week started out with a visit to the nurse to see if we could obtain some antibiotics to help rid Emily of a particularly vile and resilient cough, one that was keeping us all up nights. Violent coughing fits in the early hours, so terrible that they induced vomiting on a number of occasions. Wednesday saw mummy making a visit to the nurse to deal with a rather nasty case of conjunctivitis, suspected cause, removing gunk from Emily's eyes at the weekend and 'obviously' not washing my hands after...opps!!  

Thursday started out wonderfully with fun at the park but was followed by a not so fun and rather stressful treck around town, trying to collect all the last minute items required to make Emily's second birthday a memorable one. Once home, both mummy and Emily, hot, bothered, ill and miserable sat down to watch Postman Pat when mummy discovered a strange rash on Emily's neck, chest and face that 'DID NOT' disappear when a glass was placed against it. Tried to call the doctors, only to find out that they are closed Thursday afternoon (arrgghh...why?), took Emily to local Hospital, told we would have to go into the city. Got Emily back in the car, managed to track down my mother to occupancy me, and drove 40 minutes, in the blistering heat and rush hour traffic, into the city. Panicked and imagining the worst, the dreaded 'M' word rolling around inside my brain! The lovely doctor assured me that it was not Meningitis, but ruptured blood vessel from the violence of her coughing fits, gave us a prescription for some new antibiotics. Nearly got taken out by a lorry driver on the way home, ba*tard, ar*ehole man, that speeded up to stop me from getting onto the dual carriageway! I won't repeat the language I used and with my mother and Emily in the car too...once again...opps! 

Once home put Emily to bed, cooked the tea and then got a phone call from my sister telling me that all the trains from London were delayed and that she could get as far as Stafford. So got in the car at quarter to nine to drive the 20 miles to Stafford train station, picked her up, turned around and drove 20 miles home. Got back at half eleven, crawled into bed, having been up since six and with only 5 hours of disrupted sleep the night before. 

Friday was Emily's birthday and what fun. The weather was beautiful and we all went to Blackbrook zoo. The penguins, zebras and Meerkats being firm favourites among our group. We came back and I ran around like a crazy woman, preparing and cooking food whilst everyone else either slept or sloped off to Grindon with excuses of new house related issues to deal with, which I later discovered meant sitting outside the pub having a swift half. 

Birthday tea prepared and round two of the celebrations began, presents including a trike and a pop up tent, which is alot easier to put up then down! In fact you need a degree in 'festival' attendance to understand it as my sister relayed to me last night, whilst flattening and folding the thing into a circle resembling about a fifth of it's original size, in about 5 seconds!  Emily did cry, on a few occasions, but hey 'it's her party...' or maybe it was more to do with our singing, who knows?

So all in all an interesting week, maybe more lows than highs but no one ever said being a grown up was going to be easy and being a parent well that is the toughest job there is. So now my little girl is two and some days well into the terribleness but I grin and I bear it because she is still the cutest little lady I have ever known. I am hoping that next week will be slightly less stressful and a little quieter than the one I have just lived through, although based on it's events that shouldn't be too hard a request...right? 

Oh and as an afternote, Gavin woke up on Saturday morning with one red, weepy eye, see now that's couple sharing!