I don’t know if it’s the colder, darker days or the fact that my boys have been tag teaming me with a pre 6am wake up every fricking day of the week, but I’ve been feeling a teeny tiny bit tired lately.
Anyway I don’t like to complain so Instead I thought I would share my best practice guide to getting through the day when you are severely sleep deprived – broken down into easy manageable stages.
Actually I guess it’s more of a big long whinge but whatever here we go…
1, Shock – It’s dark, you are toasty warm in bed dreaming of being a world class gymnast when suddenly there is a small child all up in your face demanding cheerios, milk and/or a particular toy you haven’t seen for months.
‘Go back to sleep’ you say. ‘It’s the middle of the night!’ you say. But when you reach for you phone to confirm the nonsense hour you see that it is actually morning. Or at least A version of morning, just not a particularly good one…
So I went to a blog conference at the weekend, what a geek! It was put on by the very lovely Mumsnet – a site I enjoy for the sweary bitchfest that it is.
I was looking forward to it for several reasons, of course the prospect to glean considerable bloggy knowldge but mostly because of:
1, No kids
2, Free gin
3, Tim Dowling promising to fix my broken washing machine
Another nice thing about the conference was that the wonderful people at Coca-Cola offered to take me as their guest and booked me into a lovely hotel the night before – what a treat! Not really wanting to share my room with a domestic appliance, and also because lugging it around all day would have been a bit of a bind, I sadly left the washing machine behind.
Last week J and I took our biggest boy up to London for a day trip. We hadn’t done anything particularly out of the ordinary over half-term apart from douse our heads in nit lotion (twice) so it seemed like a nice idea.
We decided to hit the museums which is something I’ve been wanting to do with him for a while; with the littlest in nursery it was also the perfect opportunity to give him some undivided attention and maybe even expand his mind away from Lightning McQueen for a wee bit.
From previous trips away, particularly ones organised with effort and expense I have learnt it’s important to keep expectations low on both sides.
Firstly your own – Never make the mistake of looking forward to seeing a delighted face. It doesn’t matter how much you ‘think’ your kid will love it – in some way, shape or form they will piss all over it. In fact I would wager there is a strong correlation between the degree you expect they will enjoy it and the level of disinterest they actually show.
Second and most importantly, theirs – It’s wise to have a conversation along the lines of…
‘Just so you know… you won’t actually get to ride a rocket to the moon in the Science Museum and there is no magic time travel clock in the Natural History Museum. Ditto to ice-cream fountains, helter-skelters, talking penguins or whatever other random bullshit you conjured up in your head. It’s. Just. Boring. Museums. Ok?’
Luckily I did quite well with this resulting in F being largely nonplussed about the whole trip. So much so that he wasn’t even bothered about going #winning.
I’m not a Halloween Scrooge, far from it! I like nothing better than dressing up like a tw*t and taking my kids knocking on random people’s doors asking for free stuff in a terribly unBritish like fashion.
However there is one thing that really gets my Halloween goat. The pathetic attempt by brands to cash in on it by making absolutely zero effort to spook up their products…
Cadburys WTF is so ‘scary’ about an orange cake bar?!?
Unless i am mistaken Hartleys what is so fangtastic about your bog standard strawberry Jelly?
If you are a regular reader of my blog you will notice that I don’t do many reviews. If I was to be inundated with offers of holidays or gin then I would probably do more, in fact all you would be seeing is a stream of holidays and/or gin. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for the boys, it’s often toys that are on the table *looks at house full of plastic and sobs*.
Anyway in order to ensure they don’t get spoilt and to keep the level of crap in our house down to semi acceptable levels I have a policy of only saying yes to things that I would genuinely buy myself. So when Fisher Price offered to send me their Fire Station Playset I jumped at the chance, the kiddos are emergency vehicle crazy and I knew
it would keep them out of my face for a wee while they would love it.
What I liked most about this set was the attention to detail – the sounds and flashing lights, the water jet, the trapdoor, the wind up ladder, fire mans pole, the pulley, the stand up leg things on the fire engine, the fact that it all folds up, the opening doors and windows. There are so many different bits to play with it really did and does provide many minutes of entertainment.
We’re 6 weeks down the school starters line, 3 part time, 3 full time and we are already hurtling towards half-term. For every parent out there looking forward to spending a week with their little cherub there is another one thinking IS THAT IT?!?
I’m not saying that’s me. But it might be me.
So what are our thoughts about school so far? Well I had a few concerns, perhaps slightly amplified by the fact F only turned 4 in August. I worried that he wouldn’t be able to sit still, that he would miss me and that it might all be too much for him, I had a lot of confidence in him you see.
The reality is that I was wrong. He skips through the door happily each day, he condemns people who end up on the cloud for bad behaviour and tells me (YES ME!!) off because ‘You’re not doing good listening Mummy!’
I don’t know whether to feel proud or insulted. I don’t know whether to feel like a success as a parent or a total failure as one.
I was right about one thing however and that was that he might not be able to wipe his own bum properly – the skid marks are there to prove it. Hurrah go me! Oh hang on a minute though, that’s a sh*t one to be right about. Literally.
Another thing i’ve noticed is that he is ever so slightly more tired than usual.
Dear lovely thing,
Firstly you are not even 18 months, more like 20 but such is the plight of the second child that I find it pretty hard to keep tabs. But it’s your fault really, you seem to do all of your growing pretty fast. Please stop that.
I sometimes feel you don’t get much of a look in on here, as compared to your brother who mouths off and argues back and provides much of the fuel for this here fire. You’re the one who bumbles around like a happy little drunk and the one that can be strapped into a pushchair and carted around. As such we don’t really have much to complain about, although there is obviously still so much to say.
These are some of the things that we love about you, right here and right now.
You bypassed every baby toy we own, chucked the stacking cups aside, glared at the shape sorter and gave the musical, brightly coloured battery thingy majigs all of 30 seconds attention. You play with cars and figures, not the baby ones but the ones your brother only recently discarded and now rather conveniently wants back.
The first song you sang? Postman frickin Pat. #FML (*remember to delete this bit when reading happens).
You can say Ka-chow just like McQueen which is the one skill you big bro admires.
You adore your cat, she hates you.
At the minute I have precisely 13 items on my ‘needs doing now’ to-do list, which is on top of the 22 items on my ‘to do as soon as you can’ to-do list which doesn’t include the many, many things on the ‘will probably never happen so I don’t really know why you even exist’ to-do list.
A lot of these items are related to the kids and things they need, what with all their growing and general destruction of stuff. Their feet are always too big, toothbrush bristles too flat, socks too holey, pants too un-findable etc etc.
On Saturday I went into town with a list of stuff to buy them, leaving them at home with their dad (regular readers will understand why I don’t take my kids near retail outlets). Anyway the list was pretty dull…
I tried my best to be a chilled out mother, to be honest it’s still the perception I like to give off.
In a lot of respects I am, they can eat Maccie D’s and watch inappropriate stuff on the i-Pad. I am fairly confident i’m not a complete tw*t.
But there is one big obsticle in my way – I have spawned children that like to bolt. It was ok with one because I could run after him. I could scoop him up laughing and then slag him off, all the while secretly loving his crazy little ways.
When I was pregnant with the second I never gave a toss about the gender, just that my belly contained one that was a bit more, um, static.
It didn’t. F*cksticks.
Blogging and stats go hand in hand. I tend to try and not pay too much attention to them because in reality they don’t mean much and although it’s nice to see the number of readers increase, it’s really not the be all and end all (well that Is my public stance on it anyway).
One of the things I will never grow tired of however is looking at the search terms that generated visits to Hurrah For Gin; or for the less technically minded, what people typed into Google before clicking through to my blog. Funnily, a lot of the queries seem to be in the form of questions or problems. I guess people were hoping to find authoritative parenting advice and I guess they were sadly disappointed.