A while back I was in my kitchen looking for my fridge, it took me a good five minutes to find him and when I finally did I was concerned to see he was sobbing his little heart out…
I’M A FRIDGE, LET ME BE A FRIDGE GODDAMIT!!
To cut a long story short he was fed up with being covered in bad drawings of Ninja Turtles, sunshines and stuff no one could could really make head nor tail of. He wanted at least some of his sleek shiny surface back and I had to respect that.
You see we are overrun with crappy artwork in our house, it’s EVERYWHERE and all I can do is hold my hands up and apologise to my fridge (and memo board and walls and shelves) – I’m so sorry guys!
So what to do with all this excess craft?
I had a quick Google and there are lots of options – take pictures and make them into a photo album, use them as wrapping paper, wallpaper your hallway with them, post them to your relatives (bit harsh) but whilst those ideas are lovely, you could also just do something radical like… chuck them?!
It’s funny how quickly children grow isn’t it. I mean at first when they are brand new and not doing much time seems to stand still and every week feels like it lasts forever; but before you know it three months are gone and your newborn has vanished in a puff of smoke.
They are smiling, eating, clapping, crawling, walking, talking and then wham you have a toddler, such a complicated little thing. A master at perfecting the balance of being both terribly annoying and utterly adorable all at once, for as frustrating as toddlers can be you have to admire their zest and vigour for life.
See something you like, you take it.
See someone else dong something you don’t like, whack them out of the way.
Run, see, do, explore.
Find pure wonder in a manky feather or cigarette butt.
Laugh with your whole body.
Stomp though the world like you own the whole fricking thing.
The next thing you know they are moving from toddler to pre-schooler and starting to realise that funnily enough they are not the centre of the universe; which is a good thing because you can’t go around biting people when they take something you want (unless you are a footballer). But it’s also a bit sad, because as kids begin feeling concious of the people around them and how they are perceived by them – that’s when the doubt creeps in.
How good would it be if we could all keep just a dash of that toddler magic?
We are going on holiday tomorrow, it will be our littlests first time on a plane. We have ventured out of the country before but our preferred destination is France. largely because you can get there via a car filled to the brim with stuff that makes them happy. This time around we are limited to the amount we can squeeze into our suitcases which gives me the fear because… considering packing, is it actually worth going on holiday?
The last few days have been spent in preparation mode, I’ve been sourcing kids crocs on eBay rather than hunting down the perfect shimmery sun tan cream and it got me thinking about how different pre-holiday preparations are now that we have children…
Researching the destination
- Before kids: Look up nice bars, restaurants and cultural places of interest to visit.
- After kids: That place you booked because it said it was ‘child friendly’ and had decent Wi-Fi? Now look up what country it’s actually in. Then look up the nearest A&E.
- Before kids: Download some new music and order 3 books from Amazon for relaxing by the pool.
- After kids: Charge the i-Pad to within an inch of it’s life and fill it with an abundance of irritating crap. Don’t bother with anything for yourself because your entertainment can consist purely of making sure your kids don’t drown.
- Before kids: Allocate the evening before for a beautifying session. Have a nice bath, shave legs, paint toes, apply fake tan. RELAX.
- After kids: Allocate the evening before to have a fight about who was meant to book the airport parking (not me!) before angrily clipping your toenails and butchering your legs with a manky blunt razor.
There are people who have kids that get on and look out for each other, and then there are people who have kids where the best possible scenario is that they are completely ignoring each other at separate ends of the room. We fall into the latter camp – YAY!
If I’m honest It often feels like I can’t leave the room for five seconds without a full on war breaking out. Here are a few of the things that they regularly argue about while I am trying to make tea/hang the washing up/generally get sh*t done: –
1. ‘That’s mine!’ related arguments.
Doesn’t matter what it is, some screwed up bit of an old Cbeebies magazine that was plucked out of the bin, whatever, If it was once yours and someone else is now touching it then that is grounds to go batshit crazy until you get it back.
Then when you get it back you can immediately discard it because you never REALLY wanted it in the first place. Obviously.
This also extends to feeling threatened by another person because they are LOOKING (gasps) at something you are playing with.
2. TV related arguments.
Including – ‘He’s watched two episodes of his programme and I’ve only watched one of mine’, ‘He’s standing in front of the TV and I can’t see’, ‘He turned my programme off and It wasn’t finished yet’, and ‘He is shouting and I can’t hear’ etc. etc.
Even If I find something they are both happy to watch and I’ve managed to get them to sit down sensibly on the sofa we get…
We are going through a bit of a hard time in our family right now. It came out of nowhere and knocked us for six. It all started a few days ago, a sight so terrifying we were left quaking in our bed socks…
What’s the one thing more scary that being woken up in the middle of the night by an axe wielding mad man? Yup – seeing a toddler who has learnt to climb out of his cot.
You see I’m not one of those parents who is all up for their kid hitting milestones as soon as possible. TBH I’d been hoping the cage, I mean COT, would be sticking around for a while longer. But alas it was not to be.
So with the choice taken out of our hands and a Google for Velcro bedding or cots with lids proving fruitless, we had but one choice left *cries a bit* – A BIG BOY BED.
Usually in our household, if either me or J has a hangover we are nice to the other one, fully understanding how horrible it is to be hungover whilst around noisy, bouncy children.
But if you, for example, said you were going to be back by 11ish, missed all your trains, neglected to think about the fact someone else might be waiting up worrying you were dead in a ditch, and then turned up home at lunchtime the next day, you might find that sympathy levels were a little bit thin on the ground.
I did phone at 1am! But apparently that was a bit late in the day – time just seems to go so fast in the pub doesn’t it?!
And The Trainline app with it’s ‘where are you going?’ and ‘what time are you leaving?’ interrogations is such a bloody killjoy after you’ve had a couple of drinks.
Anyway the crux of it was that I not only had a hangover to deal with but a guilt ridden hangover. The unspoken form or atonement was to assume role of chief childcare provider for the remainder of the day (ouch).
Are you finding it difficult to control a wilful child? Are you fed up with buying parenting book after parenting book and still feeling like an utter twat? Would you like to bitch slap super nanny into the middle of next week?
Then why not try…
Parenting With Biscuits promises you happy, compliant and flexible children with a simple ‘Just Add Biscuits’ (#JAB) approach.
- Won’t let you brush their hair #JAB
- Feeling too sick to go to school #JAB
- Refusing to get in the buggy/car #JAB
- Doing a wee wee dance but saying they don’t need the toilet? #JAB
- Repeatedly singing ‘Let it Go’ in an irritating American accent? #JAB
Still a little confused? Don’t worry, the world is made up of people with varying intelligence levels. We answer your stupid FAQs here:
Q: My kids whine all the time and it does my head in. What should I do?
A: Stick biscuits in their gobs.
Text from husband…
(We sometimes text using only emojis and no words because it is honestly quite funny but I realise it does sound a bit sad if you say it out loud and maybe even worse if you write it down on the internet).
Anyway turns out he means the littlest has chickenpox, tenuous at best. Never mind I am in London seeing friends. Not my problem.
Who cares i’m in LONDON still! :)
Day 3 – Subtitle: THE DAY OF NO SLEEP
Back home now and S seems mostly ok in himself. That is until bedtime when he decides to forego sleep in place of thrashing about like a wild animal.
The only thing that calms him down is Fireman Sam. How long do you think a 2 year old would be able to stay up watching Netflix?
Yes I was surprised too.
One of the things we have been talking quite a bit about lately is dying.
No one has died luckily, but new interests in fighting and attacking and baddies also bring with them questions of what happens when you get inured and don’t get better.
Personally I choose to keep a somewhat open mind about what happens when you die, I would love nothing more than to imagine a heaven where we are all reunited but on your average day that often feels a little bit far-fetched. Fingers crossed though right?
Anyway whether you are a believer or a non believer one of the most popular ways to describe what happens when you die to a small fretful child is to say something along the lines of:
‘Blady bla has gone to be a star in the sky. If you ever miss them just look up and the shiniest, sparkliest one will be blady bla watching over us all’
Which sounds bloody lovely!
Except my guy ain’t buying that. Because essentially he is now thinking about a bunch of dead people floating around with a bunch of dead rocks in the great cold, expanse of nothingness that is space.
And that is not cool. So he wants the specifics.
***Based on a TRUE story involving REAL toys***