For the second time in a week, Hubby has forgotten our anniversary.
Today is the 9th anniversary of us moving in together for the first time. Last Thursday was the 5th anniversary of a positive pregnancy test when I was expecting Little Man.
I know. I can't believe he forgot them either.
But, being the amazing wife that I am, I have decided to forgive him.
Instead of tears and recriminations, I'll gently remind him tonight at home as we prepare our dinner. He won't say much, he's that stoic sort of man. But he'll give me a tender kiss on the cheek, and a gentle hug, and I'll hear the words he simply doesn't need to say out loud:
"Oh my darling wife, we'll get you the best help money can buy..."
Tuesday, 9 October 2012
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
Back to School - Little Lady
Little Man is not the only one with a big change of pace this week. My darling girl has started Junior Montessori! (I'd really better stop calling her my baby soon...)
We didn't tell her much about Montessori before she started, as she doesn't have the same sense of waiting and the passage of time as her older brother. They started settling her and her classmates into their new room last week, and then Monday morning was the main event.
When you're not-yet-three, you tend to take simple things like room changes within the creche in your stride. Certainly Little Lady does. So what real changes would she experience this week? Well I'm glad you asked.
1) the bringing of a lunchbox (for snacktime) to creche
2) the removal of her daily nap (it was about time anyway)
3) the introduction of more structured, learning play for a couple of hours each day
These three changes were accepted with varying degrees of success.
First, the lunchbox. Having been caught on the hop the Friday before Little Man started Junior Montessori last year, I was determined that it wouldn't happen again. I've had a blue pirate-emblazoned lunch bag sitting in the press for weeks! Before we got the kids up on Monday, I went downstairs and filled it, then presented it to the little madam for her inspection.
Mere words could not begin to express her delight at possessing this lunch bag. Positively squealing with pleasure, she immediately sat in the middle of the kitchen floor to open the bag and explore the treasures within. Little Man sat down beside her and praised and clapped along as she pulled one magical gift after another from the bag.
"Look!! A water. MY WATER! And raisins! It's raisins IN MY LUNCH! Mammy, Daddy look - it's a YOGURT!".
Christmas morning itself couldn't have brought more joy - things seemed to be going swimmingly.
If you look back at items two and three on our list, you may notice that they don't seem to sit together very well. More work, less rest time. Any chance that could cause a problem? Nah. We'd been reducing her naps anyway, and she doesn't nap at weekends, so I wasn't all that worried about this. On a related note, I am a blithering idiot.
On Monday evening, Little Lady was very, very tired coming home from creche. On Tuesday morning she was just narky. As well as being tired she was ravenous. Seriously ravenous. When I opened my own lunch bag to give her a snack in the car, she ate three cashews without even tasting them. How do I know she didn't taste them? Because she tasted the fourth. And panicked. There may still be cashew nut fragments in the back of my hair, I don't really want to know.
And then Tuesday evening... I knew things were bad as soon as I got her into the car. I only barely got her into the house, hoisting her under one arm like a bag of potatoes. She was so far gone that she didn't even want cuddles or songs (not even Moon River!). I approached her in much the same way that I would an injured lion; speaking soft, soothing words and offering gifts of food. At least lion tamers are armed with a chair.
With all my limbs intact (just) I negotiated a ceasefire based on mutual love and understanding, and a fully-peeled stemless apple. Two bites in she smiled at me. Another two and she sat in my lap. Just one more and she was cuddled up humming sleepy noises. After some healing cuddle time and lots more food she told us excitedly about her day. Any day that involves a pirate lunch, "minding" the babies in the garden, and drawing pictures is ok by Little Lady. She and Junior Montessori are going to get along just fine.
We didn't tell her much about Montessori before she started, as she doesn't have the same sense of waiting and the passage of time as her older brother. They started settling her and her classmates into their new room last week, and then Monday morning was the main event.
When you're not-yet-three, you tend to take simple things like room changes within the creche in your stride. Certainly Little Lady does. So what real changes would she experience this week? Well I'm glad you asked.
1) the bringing of a lunchbox (for snacktime) to creche
2) the removal of her daily nap (it was about time anyway)
3) the introduction of more structured, learning play for a couple of hours each day
These three changes were accepted with varying degrees of success.
First, the lunchbox. Having been caught on the hop the Friday before Little Man started Junior Montessori last year, I was determined that it wouldn't happen again. I've had a blue pirate-emblazoned lunch bag sitting in the press for weeks! Before we got the kids up on Monday, I went downstairs and filled it, then presented it to the little madam for her inspection.
Mere words could not begin to express her delight at possessing this lunch bag. Positively squealing with pleasure, she immediately sat in the middle of the kitchen floor to open the bag and explore the treasures within. Little Man sat down beside her and praised and clapped along as she pulled one magical gift after another from the bag.
"Look!! A water. MY WATER! And raisins! It's raisins IN MY LUNCH! Mammy, Daddy look - it's a YOGURT!".
Christmas morning itself couldn't have brought more joy - things seemed to be going swimmingly.
If you look back at items two and three on our list, you may notice that they don't seem to sit together very well. More work, less rest time. Any chance that could cause a problem? Nah. We'd been reducing her naps anyway, and she doesn't nap at weekends, so I wasn't all that worried about this. On a related note, I am a blithering idiot.
On Monday evening, Little Lady was very, very tired coming home from creche. On Tuesday morning she was just narky. As well as being tired she was ravenous. Seriously ravenous. When I opened my own lunch bag to give her a snack in the car, she ate three cashews without even tasting them. How do I know she didn't taste them? Because she tasted the fourth. And panicked. There may still be cashew nut fragments in the back of my hair, I don't really want to know.
And then Tuesday evening... I knew things were bad as soon as I got her into the car. I only barely got her into the house, hoisting her under one arm like a bag of potatoes. She was so far gone that she didn't even want cuddles or songs (not even Moon River!). I approached her in much the same way that I would an injured lion; speaking soft, soothing words and offering gifts of food. At least lion tamers are armed with a chair.
With all my limbs intact (just) I negotiated a ceasefire based on mutual love and understanding, and a fully-peeled stemless apple. Two bites in she smiled at me. Another two and she sat in my lap. Just one more and she was cuddled up humming sleepy noises. After some healing cuddle time and lots more food she told us excitedly about her day. Any day that involves a pirate lunch, "minding" the babies in the garden, and drawing pictures is ok by Little Lady. She and Junior Montessori are going to get along just fine.
Tuesday, 4 September 2012
Back to school - Little Man
So, this Summer has been a fairly tough one on Little Man.
While he continued to go to creche in the same place that he attended Junior Montessori last year, some of his friends were off for the Summer. And he missed them terribly. Even worse, "school" itself had changed on him, bringing exciting things like going to an Upstairs room in which we Wear Our Shoes All Day, but also bringing the crushing disappointment of Being On Summer Holidays.
Yes, you read that right. My poor boy came to me in tears, more than once, to tell me that they "don't even do work in the upstairs room!". We were at great pains to explain what Summer holidays were, and that he had lots of Montessori work to look forward to in a few short weeks. In the meantime, we got him puzzle books and spent the Summer doing spot the difference, join the dots, number recognition and even the beginnings of phonics at home in the evenings.
Little Man is one of those kids who loves to work hard, he knows he's smart and really enjoys showing off what he's learned. He's very competitive, and while that brings a work ethic that will stand him in good stead, I know there are hard times coming down the line when he first learns that actually he can't possibly be the best at everything. Still, for the moment we had our bouncy, happy boy back. He skipped through the Summer holidays, pointing out letters and numbers on every sign we passed, drawing triangles and aliens with 10 eyes and four arms. Happiness reigned.
Yesterday, finally, was the first day back at Montessori. We'd been counting down the remaining sleeps for about a week. With great ceremony we woke Little Man for his first day back. Photos were taken of he and Little Lady with their lunch bags, and off we went to embrace a brand-new day of learning.
When I collected them, I learned that this week is a "settling in week". Which makes sense. Of course it does. Some of the kids have never been to the creche before, some are skipping Junior Montessori and going straight to Senior Montessori from the creche's Toddler Room. Any Mammy worth her salt would have realised that these kids need to be acclimatised before they start any lessons. This Mammy did not. So, I collected my broken-hearted Little Man and his gorgeous sister, and we spent the evening cutting out triangles with brand-new safety scissors.
Tonight, perhaps we'll start Latin... amo, amas, amat, amamus...
While he continued to go to creche in the same place that he attended Junior Montessori last year, some of his friends were off for the Summer. And he missed them terribly. Even worse, "school" itself had changed on him, bringing exciting things like going to an Upstairs room in which we Wear Our Shoes All Day, but also bringing the crushing disappointment of Being On Summer Holidays.
Yes, you read that right. My poor boy came to me in tears, more than once, to tell me that they "don't even do work in the upstairs room!". We were at great pains to explain what Summer holidays were, and that he had lots of Montessori work to look forward to in a few short weeks. In the meantime, we got him puzzle books and spent the Summer doing spot the difference, join the dots, number recognition and even the beginnings of phonics at home in the evenings.
Little Man is one of those kids who loves to work hard, he knows he's smart and really enjoys showing off what he's learned. He's very competitive, and while that brings a work ethic that will stand him in good stead, I know there are hard times coming down the line when he first learns that actually he can't possibly be the best at everything. Still, for the moment we had our bouncy, happy boy back. He skipped through the Summer holidays, pointing out letters and numbers on every sign we passed, drawing triangles and aliens with 10 eyes and four arms. Happiness reigned.
Yesterday, finally, was the first day back at Montessori. We'd been counting down the remaining sleeps for about a week. With great ceremony we woke Little Man for his first day back. Photos were taken of he and Little Lady with their lunch bags, and off we went to embrace a brand-new day of learning.
When I collected them, I learned that this week is a "settling in week". Which makes sense. Of course it does. Some of the kids have never been to the creche before, some are skipping Junior Montessori and going straight to Senior Montessori from the creche's Toddler Room. Any Mammy worth her salt would have realised that these kids need to be acclimatised before they start any lessons. This Mammy did not. So, I collected my broken-hearted Little Man and his gorgeous sister, and we spent the evening cutting out triangles with brand-new safety scissors.
Tonight, perhaps we'll start Latin... amo, amas, amat, amamus...
Thursday, 23 August 2012
Learning the important things
Mostly, through mixing with other kids in crèche, you can see that my kids have benefitted.
They try to keep up with other kids, bigger kids, and so they stretch and grow their own abilities. It's actually both helpful to them, and fascinating to watch!
On occasion though, those influences can be negative, generally the influences from kids who have older and more worldly siblings at home.
Take today for example: Little Man came home singing the following song.
'Scooby Dooby doo,
Where are you?
Shaggy done a poo now!'
Naturally I was horrified at my 4 year old singing this song. I've sat him down, and we've had a Very Serious Talk. I mean really, what if he were to sing it in public?? The potential for embarrassment is huge.
I'm happy to say that my very well-behaved young man is now cheerily singing a new song.
'Scooby Dooby doo,
Where are you?
Shaggy DID a poo now!'
I'd best start clearing a shelf for those parenting awards... ;)
They try to keep up with other kids, bigger kids, and so they stretch and grow their own abilities. It's actually both helpful to them, and fascinating to watch!
On occasion though, those influences can be negative, generally the influences from kids who have older and more worldly siblings at home.
Take today for example: Little Man came home singing the following song.
'Scooby Dooby doo,
Where are you?
Shaggy done a poo now!'
Naturally I was horrified at my 4 year old singing this song. I've sat him down, and we've had a Very Serious Talk. I mean really, what if he were to sing it in public?? The potential for embarrassment is huge.
I'm happy to say that my very well-behaved young man is now cheerily singing a new song.
'Scooby Dooby doo,
Where are you?
Shaggy DID a poo now!'
I'd best start clearing a shelf for those parenting awards... ;)
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
The real issues
We live about a mile from the local crèche. Because I travel to work by car, we also travel home from crèche by car.
It's a short journey, but it still allows us plenty of time to discuss the real issues affecting small children today.
Today, for example, Little Man and I discussed and evaluated the various merits of the following topics:
1. Why leaves fall off trees
2. Photosynthesis
3. How snakes use their tongue to smell
4. What snakes eat
5. What mice eat
6. How fish use their gills to breathe
7. Why slippy snots are easier to wipe with tissue than hard snots
I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's journey of discovery!
It's a short journey, but it still allows us plenty of time to discuss the real issues affecting small children today.
Today, for example, Little Man and I discussed and evaluated the various merits of the following topics:
1. Why leaves fall off trees
2. Photosynthesis
3. How snakes use their tongue to smell
4. What snakes eat
5. What mice eat
6. How fish use their gills to breathe
7. Why slippy snots are easier to wipe with tissue than hard snots
I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's journey of discovery!
Friday, 29 June 2012
When parenting is childsplay
I am a modern parent.
My children are not colour-coded in blue and pink. I take great pains to make sure that everyone does dancing, everyone does roughplay and everyone reads a lot of books.
Even better, when Little Man proudly displayed his red-painted toenails and silver-painted fingernails to family and friends, no one batted an eyelid.
So, when Little Lady adopted (stole) a new Spiderman toy from her big brother I was secretly delighted. It's a small little figurine, with the added feature of a spiderweb-emblazoned backpack with a working grappling hook.*
She played with that toy the whole way to creche that day, then picked him up and played with him again the whole way home. Listening to her pooting the "bad guys" and shouting "pow pow!" every bit as loud as her brother did my heart good. Clearly, I rock at gender-neutral parenting. I should give classes or something. Perhaps there's even a medal...
And then we got home. Having divested herself of her coat and wellies, Little Lady resumed her play, for a few minutes. Suddenly, a shocked voice could be heard declaring "Spiderman! Why are you still wearing your coat? We are INSIDE now and you have to take it off THIS MINUTE!". After she'd taken his coat (backpack) off, she sat him down for some tea and toast.
While I struggled not to laugh within earshot, I realised that actually this was the success that I've been hoping for. A little girl who's not afraid to run, and shout, and save the day, but also a little girl who's not ashamed of the fact that sometimes, she just wants to play at being a Mammy.
*Incidentally, I have no idea why Spiderman needs a grappling hook. Tobey Maguire had already made Spiderman my least favourite superhero, but he's really fallen in my estimation now...
My children are not colour-coded in blue and pink. I take great pains to make sure that everyone does dancing, everyone does roughplay and everyone reads a lot of books.
Even better, when Little Man proudly displayed his red-painted toenails and silver-painted fingernails to family and friends, no one batted an eyelid.
So, when Little Lady adopted (stole) a new Spiderman toy from her big brother I was secretly delighted. It's a small little figurine, with the added feature of a spiderweb-emblazoned backpack with a working grappling hook.*
She played with that toy the whole way to creche that day, then picked him up and played with him again the whole way home. Listening to her pooting the "bad guys" and shouting "pow pow!" every bit as loud as her brother did my heart good. Clearly, I rock at gender-neutral parenting. I should give classes or something. Perhaps there's even a medal...
And then we got home. Having divested herself of her coat and wellies, Little Lady resumed her play, for a few minutes. Suddenly, a shocked voice could be heard declaring "Spiderman! Why are you still wearing your coat? We are INSIDE now and you have to take it off THIS MINUTE!". After she'd taken his coat (backpack) off, she sat him down for some tea and toast.
While I struggled not to laugh within earshot, I realised that actually this was the success that I've been hoping for. A little girl who's not afraid to run, and shout, and save the day, but also a little girl who's not ashamed of the fact that sometimes, she just wants to play at being a Mammy.
*Incidentally, I have no idea why Spiderman needs a grappling hook. Tobey Maguire had already made Spiderman my least favourite superhero, but he's really fallen in my estimation now...
Wednesday, 9 May 2012
From baby steps to giant steps
Being a parent is a tough job. Some days, I think you'd have to be crazy to sign up for it.
I'm not complaining about the sleepless nights, the terrible twos, the fevers and worries. Oh no. TV, books, stand-up comedians - the whole world prepares us for that. But really, the difficulty in parenting is that even when you do it right, when everything goes according to plan, it's bloody heartbreaking.
When you have a baby, the first few weeks are a sweet-smelling haze of unusual hours, nappies, feeds, cuddles and secret smiles shared with your partner about the magical being you have created. About six weeks in, you get your first 'First'. That smile. The one you're certain wasn't wind. Baby has reached a milestone, and you bask in the pride of the moment.
Soon, you're excitedly waiting for signs of a first tooth. With Little Man, we waited ten and a half months for a tooth! The eventual arrival was greeted with celebrations of the highest order. Once again, our clever boy had achieved a wondrous thing, a step towards being a proper person.
There are first sounds, first words, first tentative steps. Each one a moment that you look forward to, that you cherish.
And then it hits you. Those perfect pearly teeth mean no more gummy smiles. When they're older, the changes are bigger and faster than you expect. Dressing themselves, using the toilet, saying 'please' and 'thank you' without being prompted. Each of these is a sign that you have done your job well. As a parent, you have created and nurtured a person who can survive in the big wide world, a person who will be liked and accepted in that world. A person who each day is growing further away from you.
Pride and heartbreak have a strange symbiotic relationship for a mother. Our job is to make our children independent of us. We shoulder this burden, we know it from the moment we feel the first flutters in the womb, those are the first strainings towards autonomy. We just know that the journey is what we've got to look forward to. That all of those firsts, and seconds, along the way are ours to enjoy and encourage.
But sometimes, a step towards the future feels too big, too sudden, too unexpected. My Little Lady had her first haircut at the weekend. She has a layered bob now, with a side fringe. She looks gorgeous - like a proper Little Lady indeed. Somehow, it makes me want to cry. Those blonde-tinged curls, that unruly mess of hair, that was the hair of my baby. She's two-and-a-half now. Of course, I knew she wasn't really a baby anymore. In fact, she loves nothing more than to mind babies herself! Little Mammy would probably be a better name for her. But those curls, they made her mine, my tiny baby who needs me more than anything in the world. And now, they are discarded on the barber's floor. And my Little Lady is a little girl. Not even really a toddler anymore.
So, I'm feeling slightly in shock. Amazed at where the last two-and-a-half years have gone - where the last four years have gone since her big brother was still nestled safely inside me. But with the tears sparkling in my eyes, I'm still smiling. Because they have been the best four years ever. Because that serious Little Man and kind-hearted Little Lady are just as I would like them to be. Funny, charming and strong, alternating between fierce independence and a desperate need for affection. I know that if we continue to do our job right as parents, our children won't need us around anymore, but if we do it really, really right, they'll still want us around. For now, I'm going to keep enjoying the journey, and for every secret tear I shed when I feel them moving from my reach, there are a hundred kisses, a thousand smiles and a million memories that make it all worthwhile.
I'm not complaining about the sleepless nights, the terrible twos, the fevers and worries. Oh no. TV, books, stand-up comedians - the whole world prepares us for that. But really, the difficulty in parenting is that even when you do it right, when everything goes according to plan, it's bloody heartbreaking.
When you have a baby, the first few weeks are a sweet-smelling haze of unusual hours, nappies, feeds, cuddles and secret smiles shared with your partner about the magical being you have created. About six weeks in, you get your first 'First'. That smile. The one you're certain wasn't wind. Baby has reached a milestone, and you bask in the pride of the moment.
Soon, you're excitedly waiting for signs of a first tooth. With Little Man, we waited ten and a half months for a tooth! The eventual arrival was greeted with celebrations of the highest order. Once again, our clever boy had achieved a wondrous thing, a step towards being a proper person.
There are first sounds, first words, first tentative steps. Each one a moment that you look forward to, that you cherish.
And then it hits you. Those perfect pearly teeth mean no more gummy smiles. When they're older, the changes are bigger and faster than you expect. Dressing themselves, using the toilet, saying 'please' and 'thank you' without being prompted. Each of these is a sign that you have done your job well. As a parent, you have created and nurtured a person who can survive in the big wide world, a person who will be liked and accepted in that world. A person who each day is growing further away from you.
Pride and heartbreak have a strange symbiotic relationship for a mother. Our job is to make our children independent of us. We shoulder this burden, we know it from the moment we feel the first flutters in the womb, those are the first strainings towards autonomy. We just know that the journey is what we've got to look forward to. That all of those firsts, and seconds, along the way are ours to enjoy and encourage.
But sometimes, a step towards the future feels too big, too sudden, too unexpected. My Little Lady had her first haircut at the weekend. She has a layered bob now, with a side fringe. She looks gorgeous - like a proper Little Lady indeed. Somehow, it makes me want to cry. Those blonde-tinged curls, that unruly mess of hair, that was the hair of my baby. She's two-and-a-half now. Of course, I knew she wasn't really a baby anymore. In fact, she loves nothing more than to mind babies herself! Little Mammy would probably be a better name for her. But those curls, they made her mine, my tiny baby who needs me more than anything in the world. And now, they are discarded on the barber's floor. And my Little Lady is a little girl. Not even really a toddler anymore.
So, I'm feeling slightly in shock. Amazed at where the last two-and-a-half years have gone - where the last four years have gone since her big brother was still nestled safely inside me. But with the tears sparkling in my eyes, I'm still smiling. Because they have been the best four years ever. Because that serious Little Man and kind-hearted Little Lady are just as I would like them to be. Funny, charming and strong, alternating between fierce independence and a desperate need for affection. I know that if we continue to do our job right as parents, our children won't need us around anymore, but if we do it really, really right, they'll still want us around. For now, I'm going to keep enjoying the journey, and for every secret tear I shed when I feel them moving from my reach, there are a hundred kisses, a thousand smiles and a million memories that make it all worthwhile.
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