Pull your socks up and stop being such a baby

It has been a while and I’ve missed out on noting several big landmarks. Sylvia can now walk, at 14 months she finally got off her large arse and started waddling around. Now quite efficient and good at scampering up the stairs. Also a keen climber and likes pressing buttons. She went ggrrrrrrspppllt like a boiling kettle today when I wouldn’t let her press all the buttons on the dryer. Easily distracted though, went off with the buggy. I love the way she picks up the dolly by its hair and bashes it down in the buggy. I don’t think it’s something she’s seen me do, is it?

I have a split on the skin by my thumbnail and I got a paper cut actually in the split (was my p60, getting ready to do my tax return at 11.59pm on 31 Jan). I have a Peppa Pig plaster on it as it was bleeding surprisingly much.

Rose is getting used to her new nursery and proudly shouts to me that she hasn’t wet herself when I pick her up. Thanks to some new flowery loo roll at home she is weeing on the sofa a bit less. Bedtimes have been a bit rocky this week and tonight I went totally zero sum on her and promised to turn off her light if she didn’t go to sleep. There was a bit of a scuffle and I shouted threats up the stairs, then she went to sleep.

I have given up trying to find out what is behind it – bad dreams probably. Yesterday I was holding her by the lapels shouting ‘What’s the matter? What are you WORRIED ABOUT Rose?’. Not the best way to bring out someone’s inner emotions. It’s amazing how much a 3 year old can annoy you (if she’s in the mood). I don’t think it’s innate knowledge, I think she just tries everything until your wig hits the ceiling.

Various illnesses, Sylvia is on antibiotics again with a growly chest. EVeryone in the house has had alternating chest infections, sickness and general malaise (mainly Jason). I’m feeling great, me – this means I’m like an evil Florence Nightingale going round the place taking away people’s lamps (Rose) and shouting at the sick “Just STOP IT!”


Spent the day trying to catch green snot streamers with tissue, kitchen roll, towels, anything to hand. In fact Rose was sick yesterday morning which may well be due to the virus. She came in at 5.30am saying ‘I’ve got a really, really bad headache’ which translates as tummy ache. This is one of those Rose-isms I must record – one that springs to mind is ‘radigator’ which is nice, and they do have a bite when they are hot so there is some logic in the alligator association. Also there is ‘barbecube’ and all those past tenses like ‘I doned it’ and ‘I felled over’. V cute.

She was quite pale and wan in the morning but by the afternoon the colour was back in her cheeks and the situation indoors was becoming serious, so I took her outside for a little fresh air. I’m never running around on the communal grass in the close again, my trainers were literally coated with dog shit and it took about 2 hours walking in the park today, scraping my foot through gravel, puddles and mud like some strange medieval penitent, before they were clean. After a play in turd central we walked up to our local Tesco metro and window shopped which must have seemed very strange to the security guy. He sees us in there a lot so maybe the idea of bringing in a pre-schooler just to have a serious discussion about the range of jelly sweets, then leave, doesn’t seem so odd to him.

For the first six years living in this area I knew about 6 people, but since having children I can’t go out of the house without bumping into other mums. On Friday I met up with a mum from Rose’s old nursery, bumped into another friend I know through Jason, then on the way home I saw a friend of another friend picking up her daughter from school and on the bus home met a friend of my neighbours. Today at the park we found Rose’s best girl friend, Alannah with her granny who is an interesting woman. There is nearly always someone to talk to in the park, and I’ve met some strange and some wonderful types of people. This parenting lark pushes you up the sociability scale and no mistake.

When we were coming in from the park this afternoon, a local lad was giving his dogs a run round the poo-zone in the close and they rushed down our garden path to sniff Rose. When I shouted at him he said they were just puppies. No hint that he was sorry for not being able to control them. Naturally I am now fearful we’re going to get some burning dog excrement through the letter box in revenge for bossy middle class telling off. Unlikely though as would require him to actually pick up his dog’s leavings. Sorry about this, bit of a pathological obsession of mine which I’m probably passing to my children.

This morning digestion was all restored and me and Rose made pancakes together, she really did help with stirring and even flipping. She ate two which made my heart proud and Sylvia chucked hers on the floor. Over the course of the day Rose also helped Jason make a Christmas pudding and then me make dinner. She’s actually starting to be a net benefit to the cooking process, until she gets bored and walks off that is.

Sylvia had a lovely time at the park today too – she spent about an hour in the sand pit and waved at all the babies she could see. She is getting to be a good climber- if she paddles out of the room and goes quiet you will usually find her clambering up a set of steps. Today she wanted to play the piano so she climbed up a stool and then onto the piano stool. Strange that she can climb but not walk. Maybe she concentrates on the things that interest her, not the boring stuff she’s expected to do. My friend said she has character – this is when she pushed a three year old boy who was getting up in her face. Ah character, that’s what we need more of in this house, people with character.

Have you eaten?

Last night the only thing on tv when I sat down with my dinner was a wildlife documentary which turned out to be about the decomposition of a massively swollen hippo corpse, and tonight I thought something called ‘Food hospital’ sounded a safe bet for watching with a plate on your lap, but it was about a flaky skin complaint and a condition that gives you continual projectile vomiting. I was forced to watch a re-run of Bargain hunt, as the least stomach-churning programme available.

Speaking of skin complaints, Sylvia has a strange circular red rash in her armpit – will take her to the docs tomorrow, looks fungal to me.

Last night I dreamed I was being attacked, but it was my pillow which was trying to smother me. The office heated up to 26 degrees c this afternoon and I nearly passed out. I am quite hating my office – job’s ok but I’ve got this tiny desk squashed in among four people each two feet away, and the air conditioning is totally crap – alternately freezing and stuffy and airless. On the plus side the drive home from the nursery went ok and Rose sat in her seat very nicely with the bribe of some music on the cd. Then at home she insisted on more music and we had dancing after dinner. Rather good.

bringing home the bacon

Work – did some stuff.
Nursery pick up- Rose escaped from seat belt on the way home, my was there shouting.
Icecream – Sylvia had her first milk pop. She couldn’t get the hand of holding the stick so I had to hold it for her as if she was royalty.
Bathtime – quick.
Bedtime – highly prolonged due to Rose appearing in the doorway just when we were sitting down to eat and demanding someone to watch her do one of her lengthy poos. Jason went, lucky me, I got to watch a bit of celebrity antiques road trip.
Floor cleaning – yes at 10pm. Better never than late I say.

No ham please, I’m Jewish

Rose got hold of a couple of strawberry ‘Roses’ chocolates last night – she was so delighted when she bit into it and found the pink goo inside – “It’s Calpol mummy!”. I wonder if there is a market for children’s sweets that are in medicine flavours, toothpaste flavour biscuits, worming-mixture toffee and the like.

My new mum-friend at work told me her little girl who is the same age as Rose is not allowed to eat ham at nursery, because she’s Jewish. A little boy who’s her friend now goes around saying ‘I’m Jewish’ in public places, which embarrasses his mother somewhat as she has been taking him to church for two years in an effort to get him into a church school.

This evening our neighbour locked herself out, so she brought her little girl and baby round to shelter til her husband got home. It was quite nice actually, the girls entertained each other and had some tea together. Rose was too busy to wee on the sofa so that was a result. I’m considering asking if we could set up a regular after nursery club to keep Rose happy before bed. I should say it’s been quite a few days since she wet herself at nursery, it’s just something she saves up to do at home. Must remember she will be 20 soon and going to university, all this will be a forgotten memory.


At bedtime I asked Rose if her dolly had a name. She said Sylvia. Then she thought a bit and said the dolly had to go in the wardrobe because it was naughty. She closed the door on it saying ‘She’s going in the cupboard and she’s going to be lost forever’. I persuaded her to release poor old Sylvia who got a severe telling off and is spending the night on a bare table.

Fifteen or sixteen uses for the extra hour

Today we went to visit my parents. Mum took Rose swimming, then we all stuffed ourselves with a delicious bagel feast, went to the park and came home. What a lovely day, rosettes being metaphorically pinned to grandparental chests right now. The girls woke up at a surprisingly civilised hour this morning. By dinner time Sylvia was holding her head up with one hand and Rose could barely walk up the stairs. So that was good, everyone asleep instantly.

I am studying Sylvia’s word-sounds. I think I have identified cat (‘dat’ – which is how Rose used to say it), Also she says ‘Ayah’ as a greeting – it’s a bit like ‘hiya’, humour me. Still not sure she says mum, or if she does it sounds like ‘yum yum yum’ and happens when she sees me carrying food, but she does say dadda when she hears Jason come in the front door. Apparently she doesn’t try saying Rose yet but I’m sure when she does it will be something terribly cute, it usually is when parents say oh, little Horatio used to call his big sister ‘snot’ because he couldn’t say ‘Ophelia’. She is practicing her steps, quite a few goes at walking two or three today. Plus she climbed up AND down the stairs several times. I taught her how to go down backwards so she can do it safely by herself, in theory.

And so to bed.