Things that go bump in the night

So far, we have been quite lucky with the whole nightmares/monsters side of things with our children. Theo is still a bit young and Freyja, while she has had the odd nightmare, has so far proved quite resistant to being afraid of things that go bump in the night. She went through a phase of being afraid of monsters, but it was always done with slight theatrical air, as if she was putting it on a bit. I took a no-nonsense approach and told her that not only did Mummy and Daddy never let monsters in the house, but monsters were actually afraid of mummies and daddies.

But I distinctly remember being frightened of monsters at night when I was a child. I would go to bed and would think there was something behind me and would imagine rows of monsters standing behind my back (I still get that fear now - and I still don't like sleeping with my back facing to the door...). I'm not sure how old I was, but my memories are from when we lived in Kuwait, so I will have been between 3 and 5.

My mum dealt well with my fears. While she never agreed with me that there were monsters behind my back, she didn't outright deny it, or the fact that I was frightened, either. She told me that the feeling of having someone behind me was my guardian angel (I know now that she doesn't actually believe this at all, but it helped me). I had also been given this great big grizzly bear teddy by my Nain and Taid, and she told me that this bear would look after me at night while I slept. Both these things really helped me. Until I was quite old, I can remember putting all my soft toys in a circle around the edge of the bed to protect me if I felt frightened at night.

I hope that if and when these fears do come to Freyja and Theo that I can give them a way of coping, like my mum did for me. I suppose you can always just reject those fears, saying these things don't exist, but I'm not sure that would have made those monsters behind my back go away. Maybe it is better to give the means to deal with those fears, whatever they may be. Being told something doesn't exist won't necessarily make the fear of it go away. I am a fully fledged grown-up and I can still easily terrify myself by things that I know don't exist!

And I do still have that grizzly bear.

Why does Freyja get all the best shoes?

Twilight

Last week my friend Katie came round after the kids had gone to bed, armed with a bottle of red and a copy of Twilight.

Now, obviously I have heard of Twilight, and even Robert Pattinson (this is good for me - I am, and always have been, terribly un-hip about anything film/music/heart throb related) but 'heard of' was as far as it went.

Katie is reading the books. She's 30, but that isn't stopping her. She reckons I'll love them too, so we settled down for a night of wine, ice-cream and teenage thrills.

It was hilarious - I loved Twilight. I totally forgot that I was actually a 33 year old wife and mother of two. We're planning on watching New Moon together at the cinema when it comes out next month.

Katie is also to blame for my Gossip Girl obsession.

Lampshade

I want this from Plumo, (the green one at the bottom) for Freyja's bedroom:


It's a little bit pricey but it would look so lovely with her 'Green Daisy' Cath Kidston curtains which I've had made, after spending the best part of a year trawling ebay to find a piece of the material big enough (it's a discontinued pattern). And then bidding to the death to win it.

Maybe I can justify getting it for her birthday. But then that would be a birthday present for me, not for her. In fact, I think her entire bedroom may be for me...I still feel a little guilty that I slipped the green curtains in by promising to paint one of the walls pink - but have so far failed to do so.

Anyway. It is such a lovely lampshade...

Love In

I am pleased to report that Freyja is now a very affectionate little lady. She loves her kisses and cuddles, tells me she loves me all the time and enjoys a good snuggle up together. It hasn't always been like this. As a baby she wasn't at all physically affectionate and I would feel quite envious of my friends who had more demonstrative offspring.

Theo on the other hand is whole different kettle of fish. He loves nothing more than cuddling and kissing - great big smackers given with relish and a loud 'mwah!' over and over again. When you carry him he wraps his little arms round your neck, he puts his head on your shoulder, he pats your back gently. It really is so lovely and I never want it to stop.

These really are such precious days. In what I am sure will feel like the blink of an eye, he will be telling me kissing is for girls and will be embarrassed to be seen holding my hand in public.

My Taid

I have finally got around to getting this photo of my grandfather and his identical twin brother framed. He's on my mother's side and we used to spend every summer with him and my grandma in their town in North Wales. We called them Nain (Welsh for grandmother) and Taid (Welsh for grandfather). My Taid, Brynmor, is on the left, my (Great) Uncle Meirion on the right.



When he was born, he went to live with his auntie, just up the road from his parents and his twin brother - to make life easier for everyone, I guess.

He died when I was in my very early teens, I think. I remember my mum getting the phone call - my dad was making pancakes in the kitchen, something he used to do on Fridays and I remember my mum calling for him and my dad saying 'shit, it's your father' - I was struck at how he had said 'your' in the sentence, as if he was speaking to my mum even though she wasn't in the room. My Taid had been ill - he had skin cancer but eventually died from pneumonia. I don't know how old he was, but I don't think he was very old.

I do remember things about him and he is quite clear in my memory. He was bald and he told me various stories as to how he lost his hair, but the one that seemed most believable to me at the time was that his hat had rubbed it off when he was in the war. The same thing had obviously happened to his brother - they were identically bald.

He had a story about how when they signed up for the army his brother had an infection, or something that meant he might not pass, so my grandfather stood in for him as they wanted to be together. I don't think they got away with it, but I forget the whole story now.

He used to grow tomatoes in a greenhouse in his garden and checking those tomatoes was our 'thing' to do together. When they were ripe, he would pick me one and I would eat it sprinkled with sugar - delicious!

When we would stay with my grandparents for the summer, we would put a bunk bed in their room, right next to their bed and my brother would sleep on the top and me on the bottom. I have no idea where my sister slept! I know as we got older we all relocated to the attic. It was a proper attic, not a converted room - just a step ladder leading up to it and no windows at all. It was full of stuff and junk and stored furniture, and oppressively hot in the summer months, but over the years the 3 of us slowly made it into our little room.

Those summers were carefree and fun. My Nain would record all the children's programmes and we would be so excited to watch Timmy Mallet, Why Don't You and whatever else was on at the time. At that time, TV in Dubai was limited and didn't even begin until 4pm. There was a sweet shop we would go to - I would dream about that sweet shop all year long! We would head down to poncai (ponkey) park with our friends to eat blackberries and play in the playground, which had the most enormous slide - I would love to see that slide now, just to see how big, or otherwise, it actually is.

My Taid would go to chapel every Sunday and to get in his good books I would occasionally join him - my brother and sister rarely did. But because my name was unusual and my sister's name was Welsh, the minister would always say 'and it's lovely to see Brynmor here with his daughter Cerys and his granddaughter Angharad' and I would feel that my efforts were wasted.

When he died my sister was still quite young and a bit hazy on who was who. She says now that she clearly remembers going to chapel the summer after Taid had died and seeing him sitting there - she couldn't understand what was going on and why no one else was shocked. But of course it was his twin brother, our Uncle Meirion.

While I wish that Taid had lived longer, even long enough to have met my husband and and maybe even my children, in some ways I'm glad that he knew me only as a child and not as the young adult who was a little too fond of late nights out and boys, that my Nain knew when she died some years later...

The boy is back

We've had a terrible few days with Theo - I think it's been teething, a sore throat, tiredness and just being a bit of a pain in the neck.

I did my very best to be a caring, kind mother to him but he did try my patience to the very limit - endless crying all day long and wanting to be carried, plus waking constantly in the night. We kind of fell out. I thought he was putting it on a bit the last few days and my back really couldn't take holding him much more. I was genuinely starting to think he'd had some sort of personality transplant and was wondering when my boy would be back.

Anyway, he's back. A bit shoutier than before - we've had a few stern words today, but it's definitely him. He's smiling and doing his cute expressions again. Thank goodness for that.

Posh Chips

As a variation to our usual pasta with pesto (with a ball of frozen spinach sneaked into the pan....don't tell the kids....) I treated the kids to chicken nuggets and chips for dinner tonight. We had these posh beer battered oven chips that Adrian had bought. Freyja was looking forward to them, she loves chips. But when I presented her with the plate she was most put out to see that these were no ordinary chips - they were wide and flat and wrinkled.

Freyja: Why have you given me these big chips?

Me: Well some chips are big like that.

Freyja: I don't like big chips. I want the other chips.

Me: We don't have any other ones.

Freyja: But I don't like these big ones!

Me: They are special chips. Daddy chose them.

Freyja: (pauses to consider whether the fact that Daddy bought them will be enough to win her over. It isn't.) I don't like big chips.

Me: (stooping to a very low level of parenting) And they are cooked in beer!

Freyja: Beer. That's a bit like champagne...

Me: Yes, I suppose it is...

Freyja: Okay, I'll try one.

As it turned out she genuinely didn't like the big chips. Theo did though. He likes most things as long as it's not green or a vegetable.

Taking action...

Anyway. I haven't just been sitting around moping and complaining about my job. For the last year or so I have been actively looking into alteratives and this month I started a voluntary placement at my local hospital.

I've often wondered how I ended up in an office job and always felt I would be better suited to a more caring profession. I have no ambitions to be a manager, but I do have ambitions to be fulfilled and to make a difference, even if it is only to a very few people. And of course, for my children to be proud of me when they grow up. If I was dedicated to my current career I am sure I would achieve these things there. But I am not.

So, I am volunteering with a view to finding out if it is what I want do, and if so, to retrain sometime in the future - a full time postgraduate course in Speech & Language Therapy, which will no doubt leave me tired, stressed and even further behind on the housework...but will ultimately get me on the path to where I want to be.

In the meantime I hope that the voluntary work will give me a little sense of achievement and stop me agonising over whether I really ought to be spending this time with my kids. Having given it, oooh let's see, at least a few seconds thought, I am reducing my hours at work and not my hours at home.

When, or even if, all this will actually happen for real is anyone's guess. On my first day volunteering I was overcome with that horrible feeling of 'what the hell am I doing here! What was I even thinking that I could do this!' But I got past it and enjoyed it. If it turns out to be the right thing for me there will be big changes ahead for me and the family. And if it doesn't I guess I can always give HR another shot...

Working Mum

I work part time - three days a week. I've done this since having Freyja, with a year off while I was on maternity leave with Theo.

After Freyja, it worked very well. I was busy at work and I felt the three days gave me a good balance - I was a better mother to Freyja on my days off precisely because I wasn't with her all the time. I also knew I was going to have another baby so it made sense to go back to work so I would get maternity pay again - although that was in no way the driving force for me returning. I believed that I had a fairly decent career in HR - I hadn't set the world alight but I worked hard, earned a decent enough salary and while I hadn't gone as far as I once hoped, there was plenty of time once the kids were older etc etc.

But things haven't been so straightforward since having Theo. I just haven't enjoyed being back at work. What I do seems totally pointless. I was never a hugely ambitious person in terms of my career, and have certainly never felt defined by what I do - in fact, my role as a mother feels much more 'me' than working in a business ever has done.

I know that some stay at home mums feel that they have to justify themselves and it was really interesting to read a few views on it over at The Potty Diaries, Babyrambles and Baby Baby. Personally I admire mums who decide, for whatever reason, to stay at home and look after their children. In the last few months I have increasingly wondered if this is what I should be doing.

But I have never, ever considered not working. My mum always worked and it just feels natural to me. I like earning money. I know I am very lucky to have a job, in a very flexible, family friendly organisation. I do like the balance in my life, particularly as it is in favour of my children. I am happy that my children are comfortable being away from me for a period of time. I know some part time mums feel they do neither job properly but I haven't found that myself - while it's true that I can barely keep on top of the housework, I work hard and I feel that I am there for my children.

But right now, all this is not really working for me.

Teething Trouble

Is teething worse for some babies than it is for others? I don't remember it being a massive issue with Freyja - of course we did have the odd unsettled/grumpy night/day but nothing that would compare to Theo.

Today has been absolute hell. He has barely stopped crying all day long. Last night he woke up every couple of hours and he looks set to do the same tonight - I've already been to see him twice. I'm sure it's teething - he's had a slight temperature on and off since yesterday, is dribbling, keeps putting his fingers in his mouth, has nappy rash, won't eat. And he has 4 swollen gaps in his gums, just waiting for the teeth to cut through.

Of course everytime he feels hot I also get in a panic that actually it's swine flu. Gah. Please, please let this be over with before we go on holiday.

Update: I called it wrong! It wasn't teething but a horrible sore throat which his sister (and few days later his father) also came down with.

And then there were two

After Theo was born, I intended to do a post about how Freyja had coped with the new addition to the family. I never got round to it, but reading my friend Antonia's posts about having her second child has made me think about it again. How did Freyja cope? I can't remember exactly but I do know that the reality was no where near as bad as the waiting and wondering. I went into over-drive preparing Freyja for the new arrival - there was no doubt that we were having A Baby, we talked about it all the time, read books, she came to my antenatal appointments, I bought her little dolls to reflect the new family dynamic (yes, really...) etc etc etc.

Then she got chicken pox and my dream of introducing the two of them to each other in hospital shortly after the birth were dashed. I was then further disappointed when, having given birth at 7.30 in the morning and fully expecting to be sent home, I was told I had to stay in a night. I finally arrived home the following evening, feeling apprehensive not only about what Freyja's reaction would be, but also what my reaction would be to seeing my now big girl again. Well I was relieved that not only was I delighted to see her and she was still my Freyja but she was delighted to see me too. She eyed the bundle in Adrian's arms and, to everyone's surprise, said that she wanted to 'hold it'. Over the moon at how my months of preparation had obviously paid off, I sat down, took Theo from Adrian and unveiled him to his sister. She took one look and her little face dropped. In that moment, it was obvious that she had just not understood the concept of a baby or a brother/sister, and now she could see what it was, she was none too keen - she looked at him and declared 'no like it!'

But after that things went fine. She pretty much ignored Theo to start with, occasionally going over to pat him or tuck his blankets around him when she thought no one was looking. She would get upset initally when I was feeding him, but on the whole he just slipped smoothly into our lives and our family. I was lucky in that she's always been very into her Daddy so was happy if he ever had to take over things and really enjoyed having him around during his paternity leave.

It was further down the line, probably when Theo was coming up to 6 months, that we had the difficult patch. Perhaps it was delayed reaction or the fact that Theo was becoming mobile and able to attract interest and his own personaility was developing, but she became very emotional for a few months. Or perhaps it was nothing more than her age and a phase.

She has never been violent toward him, never tried to push or hit him though she frequently shouts at him. She hates him playing with certain toys and wants things to be done to her own rules. But they are a real little team now - they play, they bicker, they laugh, they fight and it makes me very happy to think that they have each other.

And the weirdest thing for me turned out to be how enormous Freyja suddenly looked when I changed her nappy. We started potty training soon after...

Being Pregnant

I was reading the posts at A Mother's Secrets about difficult pregnancies, which have been collected to show that being pregnant is not always about shiny hair and blooming skin (but is always worth it in the end). It got me thinking more about what my pregnancies (neither of which were particularly dramatic, I must admit) were like and how I would rate them on a scale of terrible to divine.

Well, with Freyja I was very sick for about 4 months. I cancelled my big night out when I was going to announce my pregnancy to my friends over sausage & mash because I felt too ill to do anything other than go home and collapse. I was only actually sick once or twice - the most memorable being at around 4 months pregnant when I vomited into a drain at the side of the road on my way to work. But I felt sick constantly. During those first 4 months we went on holiday to Ibiza with a group of friends (great timing, hey?), went for a long weekend to Bruges and I organised my best friend's hen night. To this day, I can't think of these events without getting a wave of nausea. The smell from the back of the pret a manger kitchens was the one thing that would guarantee I would actually vomit so I had to alter my route to work to avoid walking past it. I was also overwhelming tired - I would come home from work, crash out on the sofa, wake up for dinner then go to bed. I slept and slept and slept.

And then I was fine. The rest of my pregnancy was a breeze. I loved it! I met a friend for cream teas and Christmas shopping on Oxford Street on my due date. I trecked down to Covent Garden to buy Adrian a bottle of gin that was only sold in one shop a few days before I popped. I was going to go shopping in the Christmas sales, only I went into labour. I loved being pregnant and was even vaguely looking forward to the birth. The only time I got scared was at one of our antenatal classes at Lewisham hospital when the midwife explained about the different degree of tears you could get and sort of trailed off as she got to 3rd degree...

So I was quite looking forward to my second pregnancy. For the first month I didn't even feel pregnant. And then came the sickness and I felt like I had a hangover for the next 8 months. Again I was rarely actually sick but I felt yucky and grubby all day, every day. I was tired again, but more in an exhausted rather than a sleepy way. My hips ached and I would stiffen up whenever I sat down for a period of time so would have to hobble around until everything loosened up again. And I was plagued with feelings of guilt and concern over whether I was actually ready to have a second child. I was so worried about Freyja that I didn't enjoy being pregnant at all. And to top it all off, I looked hideous. I didn't bloom, I didn't glow - and I am sure that my legs got fat.

Brighton weekend

This weekend we went to Brighton and stayed over with our good friend Lucy and her gorgeous baby boy. Lucy's husband was away, so Adrian very kindly offered to stay in and babysit while Lucy and I had a rare night out together at the local pub.

The next morning Adrian got up with the kids, made tea and toast and generally allowed me to nurse my hangover in peace. We had bacon sandwiches, read the paper and went for a stroll on the sea front followed by a hearty pub lunch.

It was only much later that I noticed this on Lucy's fridge:

She is really starting to move on her new scooter!

More shoes

So, that shopping trip to Bromley. It's a real pain when they start getting an opinion on things isn't it?

I have recently bought Freyja the promised pair of party shoes and the pink M&S 'ugg' boots but even I know she needs something a bit more sensible to see her through autumn and winter, and that are appropriate to wear to playgroup.

We had a successful trip. I even drove there - woohoo for me! I got Freyja a pair of rather boring but practical booties from Clarks which we both liked. I then did my best to throw even more money at her by showing her various pairs of boots which I thought we could save for non-playgroup days (her shoes get trashed at playgroup). But none were suitable for Lady F. Not even the purple pair with pretty flowers creeping up the top, which I would have loved to wear if i was, oh, 30 years or so younger.

She did spy the Lelli Kellys, which may be why nothing else was right, but while I'm all for a bit of sparkle, I'm not for that much sparkle...

OMG!

I was reading some blogs and noticed that quite a few had a little UK Top 100 Parenting Blogs badge so I clicked it to have a look and I am on there! Okay, I'm right down the bottom, but I'm there! Wow!

Better think up something extra witty, funny and/or insightful for my next post...

...though it will most likely be about the shoe shopping trip to Bromley that I am about to embark upon...

Okay, Micro Scooter, you win!

Do you remember the Cosmic Flasher that 'Father Christmas' got Freyja last year? The one that Adrian had to traipse across London to track down and then haul over to Dubai to avoid upsetting our precious child....

...well the back wheel fell off it in Dulwich Park on Friday.

This may be understandable with the speed that some kids go on their scooters but Freyja walks faster than she scooters - in fact her preferred method is to just put one foot either side and walk around with it. She barely moves, but less than a year later and it's broken. Bad stuff. To be fair to the Cosmic Flasher, it's not a bad little scooter, very reasonably priced, folds up which is excellent and I think would have been fine if Freyja was a more confident or perhaps a little more experienced scooter-er. Though there is no getting past the fact that the wheel fell off...

All of her friends - and I do mean all of them; we could set up our own shop - own micro scooters. In fact, it seems every child in South London owns a micro scooter. When I was doing my extensive research into which one to buy, I kept reading that the micro scooters were the ones to buy and that I mustn't be swayed by any of the cheaper versions. But swayed I was and at half the cost the Cosmic Flasher seemed a good option to me.

Freyja often has a go on her friends' micro scooters and I admit that she can use it much better than her own. And I would feel a little bit sad when I saw her friends whizzing about on their micros and Freyja would be bumping along, foot barely leaving the floor, then asking if she could try theirs out. Even 18 month old Theo has already got the hang of the micro - he can't do a thing with Freyja's but he can already balance on the micro scooter and move about a bit. But she already had a scooter so it seemed crazy to get another one. And then that wheel fell off...

So we took the plunge. And not only have we bought them both a micro scooter but we even paid the £10 extra to get one of the new colours - yellow for Freyja and green for Theo. Freyja wanted pink but I put my foot down - we have way too much pink going on right now and as most of her friends are girls there are a lot of pink micro scooters in SE23 (ok, ok and SE6). We compromised with yellow, which is her 2nd favourite colour, and pink stickers to decorate it with.

Theo is getting his for Christmas. Freyja is getting hers to replace Father Christmas's duff present from last year. I knew there was a good reason I'd gone back to work...

Shoes

The other weekend I took the kids to Lewisham shopping centre to buy new shoes. Theo was still squeezing his feet into his first pair of size 3.5 start-rite prewalkers, and I was too embarrassed to go shoe shopping with him wearing them, so I took him out in his socks. I'm glad I did because he walked away with a pair of size 6 Clarks! I walked away feeling quite ashamed that I'd been forcing his poor little feet into those start-rites...

Freyja and I disagreed over the shoes in Clarks - she wanted sparkly trainers, I liked the brown boots. So we left and went to Next to buy the promised pair of party shoes. She was measured as a 7.5 in Clarks and some of the sparkly Next shoes looked very small so I thought a size 8 would be best. Only to find that, having absolutely promised I would get some party shoes, they did not have one pair of size 8 shoes in the entire selection of pink, silver, glittery, sequined and ribboned shoes filling the shop. We eventually settled on a pair of glittery pink ones in a size 7 - walking away empty handed was not an option at this stage. Anyway, they only need to last for the run of her friends' birthdays from now until January...

I then found myself in Lewisham shopping centre for the second time in less than a week. What luck! I allowed myself to get carried away and bought these for Freyja:


£8 from M&S. An absolute bargain. Okay, she can hardly walk in them and I'm sure other more sensible mothers roll their eyes at the sight of yet another child wearing a pair of 'trendy' uggs.

But she does look dead cute in them.