Category Archives: Parenting

Is swearing in front of your kids ever ok?

I like a good swear – bloody, bollocking, fuckity fuck. There we go.

Sometimes it’s needed, sometimes it’s necessary. I’m not a huge fan of swearing for swearing sake i.e ‘i’m going to have beans on fucking toast‘. Not really needed or necessary but hey ho, each to their own.

What I’m less keen on is people swearing at, or in front of, their children.

I guess you could say it’s none of my business if people choose to swear in front of ‘their’ kids but when those 3 year old kids start telling my son to ‘fuck off‘ at pre-school it makes me a teeny tiny bit angry.

Now i’m not perfect, i’ve let the odd one slip out from time to time. Little F, or old eagle ears, as we like to call him, has heard and repeated me.

‘Bugger mummy – whats bugger?’

‘No um chugger – i said CHUGGER, as in Chuggington, i think it might be on cbeebies soon, choo choo – YAY!’

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The Baby Led Weaning Police

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***First off i just want to clarify that this is not a post to bash all people who BLW – just some of them ;)***

Lets cut to the chase, being the lazy mama that i am, i was dreading weaning the second time around. When baby S hit 6 months we were eager to make things as easy as possible so i looked into BLW as a means to save all the time spent chopping, blending and shoveling.

As it turned out i was far too highly strung to do pure BLW. I found myself hovering around his highchair depositing bits of food into his mouth and feeling a bit wound up by all the mess and waste.

However, back to the point in question, when i was doing research into BLW and what foods were best to give babies at what stages i found it really hard to find a decent blog article or book that didn’t start off with a massive spoon feeding bashing session.

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V is for Virus

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I’m not sure what’s worse – being ill with a crappy bug or being the only one well enough to clean up all the sick?

The last 24 hours in our household have been somewhat vomit ridden.

One minute we were having a lovely time kissing dinosaurs the next we were regurgitating lunch. There were tides of tears – it was not fun.

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Breastfeeding an 8 month old

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This is my littlest guy at just about to turn 8 months old. He’s just mastered crawling and there is no stopping him now. He is insanely interested in just about everything and is a complete PITA to breastfeed.

I never imagined that i would still be breastfeeding at this point – to be fair i didn’t imagine i would last more than a few weeks after my last experience. But we are still going, although i feel the days are drawing to a close.

My first son Little F was mainly formula fed and living in an area with high breastfeeding rates i often felt judged by other mums. I was the only one in my NCT group to formula feed. When i whipped out a bottle, instead of a boob, there were the inevitable glances of disapproval.

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Wine O’Clock

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I drink more now that i have children.

Kids in bed, feet up, glass of wine. That’s how it goes.

It’s a marker for the end of the day. A treat – a pat on the back for getting through it.

It’s not to get drunk and it’s usually only a glass – it’s the frequency that’s the problem. Well, is it a problem? I don’t know.

I do know that It’s a psychological crutch. I have the same thing with coffee in the mornings; If I’ve had a bad nights sleep i say to myself ‘it doesn’t matter, have a coffee and you’ll be ok’. In the same way if I’m having a bad day i say to myself ‘it doesn’t matter, nearly bath time, then you can relax with a glass of (insert name of alcoholic beverage)’.

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A short story – Payback

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I’m new at this game and i love it when i discover a new and exciting blog to follow. I first came across dustandlove.com when i read @adadcalledspen’s hilarious entry to his short story competition. You can read it here or enter yourself here…..although you only have a few hours left, soz.

Anyway i’m not a writer but i enjoy writing and it’s one of the reasons i started this blog. A reason to start writing regularly and competitions like this are a great way to brush up. So without further ado, here is my rather rushed and very amateurish entry…….

Payback

Her eyes flicked again to the red digits displayed on the alarm clock.

11.31am.

She should get rid of the clock. Stupid, bloody, bollocking insomnia.

She sighed ridiculously loudly but the heavy body next to her continued to sleep. How could you lie next to someone and feel so totally alone.

12.52am.

There was no point in sleeping now anyway. She’d be woken up in an hour or so by her daughter Rose. She had expected the sleep deprivation that came with being a parent but seriously this was getting ridiculous.

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Doing time at the park

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Since before Little F could walk or talk he has been obsessed with being outdoors. Every morning, before we had even had our breakfast, he would crawl up to the front door and bang on it eager to get out. He was, and still is, a nosy and determined little fella – desperate to explore life and all it has to offer.

Put him in a room full of toys and he will just seek out the door, eager to find out what is on the other side.

Sometimes i would wonder how on earth i had a son like this – wouldn’t it have been more apt for me to be paired up with a chilled out cbeebies fanatic? It seems not, TV involves sitting. Something not really in Little F’s vocab.

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The rise of anti-competitive parenting

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So like most first time mums I did the whole NCT schizzle.

It was ok, you know once you got used to the awkwardness associated with being forced together with a group of strangers with a single patch of common ground.

Like most groups of mums we did the whole discussing and comparing our babies development – sleeping, eating, moving, yada yada yada. It became apparent that the bonding process consisted largely of stealth boasting on behalf of your baby.

Prizes were awarded to babies in the following categories:-

Longest amount of uninterrupted sleep
Best at self settling
Length of time between feeds
Strongest neck
Quickest to roll
Most placid
Tallest
Most consistent routine

Anyway I was down with this, I knew the score. I didn’t actually give a rats arse but as part of the camaraderie I joined In regardless. It was mostly a load of bullshit – everyone knew everyone else was bullshitting too, but that was part of the fun.

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A typical day in our lifes…..

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Some unpredictable time between 6.00 and 7.30am – We are woken by a squawking baby and/or a way too energetic small person trying to jump on our heads
7am – Milk distribution ensures momentary calm
7.20am – We all watch postman pat SDS in bed – i question whether we should allow our children to watch such tripe and how Postman Pat is able to maintain his employment despite his persistence incompetence
7.40am – Chaos is resumed – it becomes of the utmost importance that we proceed immediately downstairs to play with cars
8am – An attempt at breakfast is made and rejected
8.10am – Breakfast is enforced
8.20am – J leaves for work, i begin the arduous task or extracting weetabix from various orifices
8.30am – The baby is placed in the jumperoo
9am – The baby sleeps and i try and make a cup of coffee but am intercepted by the boy who wants me to get down on my hands and knees to race cars with him
9.30am – A trip to the park is suggested and met with approval
9.35am – The boy is unhappy that we are not already at the park
10am – After 30 minutes of packing the various paraphernalia needed for brief trip out with a small child/baby we finally make it to the park
11am – Suggestion to leave the park met with disapproval
11.15am – Suggestion to leave the park met with disapproval
11.30am – Suggestion to leave the park met with disapproval
11.45 – Suggestion to leave the park met with disapproval
12pm – The baby and I are bored and hungry and a decision to leave the park is taken. Despite being at the park for 2 hours the boy feels incredibly hard done by and proceeds to wail all the way home and insist i carry him, and his scooter, whilst also pushing the buggy
12.15pm – Lunch – whatever i offer is not good enough unless it’s chicken nuggets. If it is chicken nuggets then the cooking time is not acceptable. The baby throws food around the kitchen and is sick. He rubs his hands in the sick and then rubs it in his hair Continue reading →

To bite or to be bitten?

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Ok what’s worse – being a mum to a kid who goes around trying to take chunks out of others kids faces or being the mum of the one who is always on the receiving end?

It seems to be happening with increasing occurrence that F is either being whacked around the head with a big stick or receiving a flying kick to the stomach. In the case of the photo (taken the day after the event!) he was pinned down and bitten hard on the face. I think you will agree he has fairly decent ‘proof marks’ (as we used to call them in my day).

Now i don’t blame the kids – in most cases they are just going through a stage (some are just a bit bitey, others not so much). I don’t usually blame the parents either, i doubt very much they want to have a bitey kid.

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