 |
| Hanging out to dry |
Monday, 31 January 2011
Sunday, 30 January 2011
Who'd be mad enough to shop on a saturday.
Going to the supermarket was something we did as a couple. A weekend jaunt, post fry up, pre pub. We'd mooch around Waitrose filling our basket with overpriced tubs of olives, Peroni beer and chiabatta bread 'for dipping', oblivious to the crowds, time on our side. I love food. And I love to shop for food.
At least I did.
Ever since the 'incident' when Little P was a baby I now dread those automatic doors. She was screaming like a wild banshee and so with my trolley half full I whipped her outside and strapped on the Baby Bjorn hoping a bit of jigging would lull her to sleep. So loud were her screams that the manager offered to open 'the parents room' for me. My eyes lit up - I mean this is Waitrose. We found ourselves in the disabled loo, in tears, me stripping off my top whilst still wearing the Baby Bjorn so she could get to the boob.
I have tried shopping on line, but instead of 5 leeks, I ordered 5 kilos of leeks.
I have tried going in the week but finding the perfect slot takes precision planning. Both kids should be not too tired, nor too hungry. And it also means shopping alongside the geriatric crew, arriving on their VIP bus, all armed with their 'kids should be seen but not heard' glare. Seesh.
So now I leave the kids with Mr Scruff and go on Saturdays. Along with every one else. Its a race to beat the 4x4 to the one parking space available (I always loose - its my good nature and battered Ford Focus that always lets me down), a clash of the trolleys, a constant chorus of 'sorry's, and 'excuse me's, a bum fight at the meat counter, dodging the dads with their Boden clad offspring (how come their mum gets the day off), the North London middle class buying their essential hummus and dinner party Chablis. And me wheel spinning around a breakneck speed fearing the Scruff household will fall apart if I don't return post haste. It's hell on earth.
I survived yesturday's war. My pride was a bit battered when, after queuing for twenty minutes, they opened the adjoining till, but I was piped to the post by Margot Leadbeter. But the battle, that will continue to be fought, next Saturday, Waitrose, N20.
NB: my kids own Boden. I devour hummus by the bucketload. I no longer eat leeks.
At least I did.
Ever since the 'incident' when Little P was a baby I now dread those automatic doors. She was screaming like a wild banshee and so with my trolley half full I whipped her outside and strapped on the Baby Bjorn hoping a bit of jigging would lull her to sleep. So loud were her screams that the manager offered to open 'the parents room' for me. My eyes lit up - I mean this is Waitrose. We found ourselves in the disabled loo, in tears, me stripping off my top whilst still wearing the Baby Bjorn so she could get to the boob.
I have tried shopping on line, but instead of 5 leeks, I ordered 5 kilos of leeks.
I have tried going in the week but finding the perfect slot takes precision planning. Both kids should be not too tired, nor too hungry. And it also means shopping alongside the geriatric crew, arriving on their VIP bus, all armed with their 'kids should be seen but not heard' glare. Seesh.
So now I leave the kids with Mr Scruff and go on Saturdays. Along with every one else. Its a race to beat the 4x4 to the one parking space available (I always loose - its my good nature and battered Ford Focus that always lets me down), a clash of the trolleys, a constant chorus of 'sorry's, and 'excuse me's, a bum fight at the meat counter, dodging the dads with their Boden clad offspring (how come their mum gets the day off), the North London middle class buying their essential hummus and dinner party Chablis. And me wheel spinning around a breakneck speed fearing the Scruff household will fall apart if I don't return post haste. It's hell on earth.
I survived yesturday's war. My pride was a bit battered when, after queuing for twenty minutes, they opened the adjoining till, but I was piped to the post by Margot Leadbeter. But the battle, that will continue to be fought, next Saturday, Waitrose, N20.
NB: my kids own Boden. I devour hummus by the bucketload. I no longer eat leeks.
Saturday, 29 January 2011
Friday, 28 January 2011
Thursday, 27 January 2011
New friends
Little P has two new friends - Nat and Mimi.
Nat likes to hide and goes to the toilet a lot. Mimi drinks tea and likes to eat her cake off the green plate.
Little P is so caring with them and always makes sure they have everything they need. Problem is she often gets sad in their company as they tend to play together and leave her out.
She tries to read them a book but her bottom lip drops when they won't listen.
But most of the time they have a whale of a time. They stamp their feet and march round and round in circles, singing at the top of their voices. And how they love to dance.
I wish I had friends like Nat and Mimi. I wish I had Little P's imagination.
Nat likes to hide and goes to the toilet a lot. Mimi drinks tea and likes to eat her cake off the green plate.
Little P is so caring with them and always makes sure they have everything they need. Problem is she often gets sad in their company as they tend to play together and leave her out.
She tries to read them a book but her bottom lip drops when they won't listen.
But most of the time they have a whale of a time. They stamp their feet and march round and round in circles, singing at the top of their voices. And how they love to dance.
I wish I had friends like Nat and Mimi. I wish I had Little P's imagination.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Hush little baby
For two nights on the trot the baby has slept through the night.
I love my boy to bits - obsessively so, but I could do without the 2am cuddles.
It's amazing how, in a sleep induced state, my mind alters, my boundaries of reason widen. "Oh ten more minutes more won't hurt, he'll settle himself soon" I think to myself, knowing full well he won't. And the passing of the buck - I've got a first honours degree in that one as I elbow Mr Scruff and say, "You go in and comfort him. One whiff of my milk and he'll never settle." And him being a man and knowledgeable enough to never, ever question mummy, let alone a half asleep mummy, he dutifully staggers into the room next door. Inevitably I end up in the room with them, tempers fray to demonic like proportions as the baby gets passed back an forth like a game of pass the parcel. It ends as I snap open the bra, sling the breast pad to one side and plop baby onto my boob muttering to myself that I should have just done this in the first place.
As I flop back into bed, Mr Scruff tries to make a comment such as "Did he feed", which is cut short by a curt sssushh from me. Peace resumes for another hour at least.
So you see these last two mornings when the sound of his crying has woken me and the first thing I have looked at is the clock, breath held, you can understand my joy when it read 6am.
Whether it will last, who knows, probably not. But for today at least I will be just like those gloaty mums and boast to anyone within ear shot that "Yes, my baby sleeps through the night."
I love my boy to bits - obsessively so, but I could do without the 2am cuddles.
It's amazing how, in a sleep induced state, my mind alters, my boundaries of reason widen. "Oh ten more minutes more won't hurt, he'll settle himself soon" I think to myself, knowing full well he won't. And the passing of the buck - I've got a first honours degree in that one as I elbow Mr Scruff and say, "You go in and comfort him. One whiff of my milk and he'll never settle." And him being a man and knowledgeable enough to never, ever question mummy, let alone a half asleep mummy, he dutifully staggers into the room next door. Inevitably I end up in the room with them, tempers fray to demonic like proportions as the baby gets passed back an forth like a game of pass the parcel. It ends as I snap open the bra, sling the breast pad to one side and plop baby onto my boob muttering to myself that I should have just done this in the first place.
As I flop back into bed, Mr Scruff tries to make a comment such as "Did he feed", which is cut short by a curt sssushh from me. Peace resumes for another hour at least.
So you see these last two mornings when the sound of his crying has woken me and the first thing I have looked at is the clock, breath held, you can understand my joy when it read 6am.
Whether it will last, who knows, probably not. But for today at least I will be just like those gloaty mums and boast to anyone within ear shot that "Yes, my baby sleeps through the night."
Monday, 24 January 2011
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Eczema, A&E and a pair of sleepless zombies
WHAT a week.
So for the past 6 weeks the Boy has been all out of sorts. He had a cough and started waking up in the night. He seemed to get better but the night waking not only continued, it got worse. A lot worse.
I settle him at 7pm but by 10pm he is crying so we give him a bottle of expressed milk - about 8 or 9 ounces (you can not imagine how my nipples are being tortured by the Medela). By 3am he is awake crying. We have tried cuddling him, rocking him, leaving him to cry but he only thing that works is a quick snuggle up to me and my boobs. No sooner does our head hit the pillow but the duvet gets wafted off again as by 4am he wants a feed. By 5am he is awake again. And by 5.30am he has woken up his sister in the room next door, who complains to us that she can not sleep with "all this noise". By 6.30am its breakfast time.
About a week ago out of nowhere he developed eczema. My heart immediately sank - could this be a sign he has allergies, like his sister? I took him to the doctor and applied the creams prescribed over his skin but it got worse. I went back to the doctor as he was starting to weeze. Yesturday after a night of literally zero sleep, his face was swollen like a balloon. His eyes so red and puffy that he could not open them. His skin was red raw and absolutely covered in bumps. The skin behind his ears was weeping. And he was struggling, his chest weezing. he had no energy and just wanted to be held. We went straight to A&E.
Seeing my little baby Boy laying on the hospital bed, obviously in discomfort, not recognising him because of the rashes and swelling is tough to say the least. Add lack of sleep to the mix and emotional wreaks emerge.
He is now on antibiotics, special creams, piriton and antiseptic baths and he has been referred to the Children's Allergy Clinic where Little P is a patient. The chances of him having allergies and developing asthma are high but we will have to wait and see.
Today for the first time in weeks, we can see the Boy being his bonny self and his skin is definately improving. As for the sleep. Well, habits are hard to break. Yawn.
So for the past 6 weeks the Boy has been all out of sorts. He had a cough and started waking up in the night. He seemed to get better but the night waking not only continued, it got worse. A lot worse.
I settle him at 7pm but by 10pm he is crying so we give him a bottle of expressed milk - about 8 or 9 ounces (you can not imagine how my nipples are being tortured by the Medela). By 3am he is awake crying. We have tried cuddling him, rocking him, leaving him to cry but he only thing that works is a quick snuggle up to me and my boobs. No sooner does our head hit the pillow but the duvet gets wafted off again as by 4am he wants a feed. By 5am he is awake again. And by 5.30am he has woken up his sister in the room next door, who complains to us that she can not sleep with "all this noise". By 6.30am its breakfast time.
About a week ago out of nowhere he developed eczema. My heart immediately sank - could this be a sign he has allergies, like his sister? I took him to the doctor and applied the creams prescribed over his skin but it got worse. I went back to the doctor as he was starting to weeze. Yesturday after a night of literally zero sleep, his face was swollen like a balloon. His eyes so red and puffy that he could not open them. His skin was red raw and absolutely covered in bumps. The skin behind his ears was weeping. And he was struggling, his chest weezing. he had no energy and just wanted to be held. We went straight to A&E.
Seeing my little baby Boy laying on the hospital bed, obviously in discomfort, not recognising him because of the rashes and swelling is tough to say the least. Add lack of sleep to the mix and emotional wreaks emerge.
He is now on antibiotics, special creams, piriton and antiseptic baths and he has been referred to the Children's Allergy Clinic where Little P is a patient. The chances of him having allergies and developing asthma are high but we will have to wait and see.
Today for the first time in weeks, we can see the Boy being his bonny self and his skin is definately improving. As for the sleep. Well, habits are hard to break. Yawn.
Wednesday, 19 January 2011
Monday, 17 January 2011
Spring fashion!
Cue plenty of excitement, clapping, and the occasional squeal.
Feeling rather down in the dumps last week, thanks to a stress over weaning, I was cheered up by the postie delivering the new Spring/Summer Verbaudet catalogue.
It's not that I love their clothes so much (although I do always purchase a few bits and pieces every season), it's the fact that Spring is in sight. The sunlight is at the end of the tunnel! And on such a dull day and bit of a light leafing is just the pick me up I need.
Quick of the mark, I have ticked some wish list items...
Roll on.....
Alas, nothing for the baby Boy - not even a Left Bank Breton style top. Why is it assumed that all little boys want to be dressed like mini extras from Dawsons Creek? Quel Demarche.
Feeling rather down in the dumps last week, thanks to a stress over weaning, I was cheered up by the postie delivering the new Spring/Summer Verbaudet catalogue.
It's not that I love their clothes so much (although I do always purchase a few bits and pieces every season), it's the fact that Spring is in sight. The sunlight is at the end of the tunnel! And on such a dull day and bit of a light leafing is just the pick me up I need.
Quick of the mark, I have ticked some wish list items...
Roll on.....
A sombre moment
This post doesn't sing along with the usual tone of my blog, but I feel compelled to share.
I have just returned from taking Little P to the Childminders house. The traffic going was horrendous as the main road had been closed off by police, forcing me to choose an alternative route.
Upon arrival the Childminder answered the door with tears in her eyes. Whilst taking her son to the doctors earlier this morning she witnessed somebody being knocked down by a lorry. I embraced her. When I looked down at Little P she was looking up at us her eyes filled with tears, her mouth open silently sobbing.
It is something we all know, but occasionally need reminding - Life is precious.
I have just returned from taking Little P to the Childminders house. The traffic going was horrendous as the main road had been closed off by police, forcing me to choose an alternative route.
Upon arrival the Childminder answered the door with tears in her eyes. Whilst taking her son to the doctors earlier this morning she witnessed somebody being knocked down by a lorry. I embraced her. When I looked down at Little P she was looking up at us her eyes filled with tears, her mouth open silently sobbing.
It is something we all know, but occasionally need reminding - Life is precious.
Saturday, 15 January 2011
Friday, 14 January 2011
When to wean?
Okay, I'm confused.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-12180052
When to wean has always been an issue with me. I have had pressure from my mum and Mr Scruff to wean my kids at 4 months, but with Little P I waited until her 6 month birthday. I moved very quickly and within a week she was self feeding a wide selection of finger foods.
The reason I waited was because she had very bad eczema and all the health visitors, websites and do gooders told me to wait because of the risk of allergies. As you know Little P is anaphalactic. Mmmm. So much for that theory.
Now, onto the Boy. He is a big lad and I am breastfeeding him. For the last three to four weeks he has been demanding feeds every three hours - including in the night. I am shattered. Three days ago I bit the bullet and gave him some baby rice. I was told, one teaspoon to start with. Yeah right, the Boy gobbled up the whole bowl (about ten teaspoons). This weekend I plan to introduce some pureed pear and so on. When he hits 6 months (in a months time), I will move onto a selection of finger foods and adapt the baby led weaning approach.
The thing is, for a week now the Boy has come out in severe eczema. Out of nowhere. The only thing I can think of that I have given him differently is the Nelsons Teething powders. They contain lactose. Has he got allergies too?
I am now fretting that I have waited too long to give him solids and I should have started a month ago when he showed signs that he was ready. Have I compromised his health and ignored his needs?
Another parenting issue to stress about.
When did you wean, and I am right to stress or should I just take a chill pill. Your comments are welcome.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-12180052
When to wean has always been an issue with me. I have had pressure from my mum and Mr Scruff to wean my kids at 4 months, but with Little P I waited until her 6 month birthday. I moved very quickly and within a week she was self feeding a wide selection of finger foods.
The reason I waited was because she had very bad eczema and all the health visitors, websites and do gooders told me to wait because of the risk of allergies. As you know Little P is anaphalactic. Mmmm. So much for that theory.
Now, onto the Boy. He is a big lad and I am breastfeeding him. For the last three to four weeks he has been demanding feeds every three hours - including in the night. I am shattered. Three days ago I bit the bullet and gave him some baby rice. I was told, one teaspoon to start with. Yeah right, the Boy gobbled up the whole bowl (about ten teaspoons). This weekend I plan to introduce some pureed pear and so on. When he hits 6 months (in a months time), I will move onto a selection of finger foods and adapt the baby led weaning approach.
The thing is, for a week now the Boy has come out in severe eczema. Out of nowhere. The only thing I can think of that I have given him differently is the Nelsons Teething powders. They contain lactose. Has he got allergies too?
I am now fretting that I have waited too long to give him solids and I should have started a month ago when he showed signs that he was ready. Have I compromised his health and ignored his needs?
Another parenting issue to stress about.
When did you wean, and I am right to stress or should I just take a chill pill. Your comments are welcome.
Wednesday, 12 January 2011
Tuesday, 11 January 2011
Monday, 10 January 2011
Fly, little fairy
From the moment she put on her white net tutu and beautiful fairy wings on her 2nd birthday, Little P transformed into (in her own words) a fairy princess.
she looks at her feet and asks for ballet shoes.... She twirls... She rummages through my ribbons and bows and drapes them around her hair... she struts in her room to the sound of her Red Bus in a pink feather boa.... She wears her fairy wings to bed....she clasps her hands, tilts her head, bats her lashes and says pleeeeese mummy.
Her girliness has taken us by surprise. You see from day one she's been a little rufty-tufty, desperate to climb trees, not afraid to fly off the back of the sofa, play with planes, trains and cars. And this hasn't changed. She still loves to get grubby knees but she has found her feminine side and she likes it.
she looks at her feet and asks for ballet shoes.... She twirls... She rummages through my ribbons and bows and drapes them around her hair... she struts in her room to the sound of her Red Bus in a pink feather boa.... She wears her fairy wings to bed....she clasps her hands, tilts her head, bats her lashes and says pleeeeese mummy.
Her girliness has taken us by surprise. You see from day one she's been a little rufty-tufty, desperate to climb trees, not afraid to fly off the back of the sofa, play with planes, trains and cars. And this hasn't changed. She still loves to get grubby knees but she has found her feminine side and she likes it.
 |
| White net tutu and fairy wings by The White Company - thank you auntie Sarah! |
Sunday, 9 January 2011
Saturday, 8 January 2011
And another thing...a New Year stern word.
Resolutions? Pah, waste of time. What I need is a good ticking off.
"Those navy velour tracksuit bottoms. Yes, those that you are wearing right now and have worn every day for the last two years. Take them off. Comfy! Yes that's because you can fit three of your bums in them and they drag on the floor like a tramp. Juicy! Who do you think you are? Jordan?"
"Hate to break it to you, but looking at your jelly belly profile in the mirror everyday isn't going to make it suddenly shrink. Get down and give me twenty."
"Going to bed with mascara on means you are going to wake up with panda blood shot eyes. Fact."
"Waiting for Mr Scruff to decorate downstairs before you put any pictures up means a very long time with very bare walls. Get framing."
"No you will not do the ironing tonight. You will hit the sofa and not move. Do it now."
"Seven different types of gluten free flour in the cupboard. SEVEN. Stop buying the ingredients and start doing something with them."
"Having a doodle drawer is one thing. Actually doing some doodling is another."
"Ribbons in your hair, tights and a bit of blush make you feel happy. You can be bothered."
"The Boy IS getting enough one on one time. He doesn't need baby groups to make him happy. That scratch on Little P's nose will not scar. Pull yourself together woman. You are a paranoid loon"
"Nappy free time will always end up with a bucket and some cleaner. Trimming your fringe with nail scissors will always end in tears."
"Mr Scruff has needs. And so do you. Make time. End of."
"Those navy velour tracksuit bottoms. Yes, those that you are wearing right now and have worn every day for the last two years. Take them off. Comfy! Yes that's because you can fit three of your bums in them and they drag on the floor like a tramp. Juicy! Who do you think you are? Jordan?"
"Hate to break it to you, but looking at your jelly belly profile in the mirror everyday isn't going to make it suddenly shrink. Get down and give me twenty."
"Going to bed with mascara on means you are going to wake up with panda blood shot eyes. Fact."
"Waiting for Mr Scruff to decorate downstairs before you put any pictures up means a very long time with very bare walls. Get framing."
"No you will not do the ironing tonight. You will hit the sofa and not move. Do it now."
"Seven different types of gluten free flour in the cupboard. SEVEN. Stop buying the ingredients and start doing something with them."
"Having a doodle drawer is one thing. Actually doing some doodling is another."
"Ribbons in your hair, tights and a bit of blush make you feel happy. You can be bothered."
"The Boy IS getting enough one on one time. He doesn't need baby groups to make him happy. That scratch on Little P's nose will not scar. Pull yourself together woman. You are a paranoid loon"
"Nappy free time will always end up with a bucket and some cleaner. Trimming your fringe with nail scissors will always end in tears."
"Mr Scruff has needs. And so do you. Make time. End of."
Friday, 7 January 2011
Project 365: 7th January
 |
| The heels get an airing! |
what is project 365? Everyday this year I hope to take and then post up a picture from our day. Bets are off to see if I keep it up ;)
Thursday, 6 January 2011
Wednesday, 5 January 2011
Project 365: My year so far...
January 1st
January 2nd
January 3rd
January 4th
January 5th
 |
| learning to fly |
 |
| posing for the Christmas 'thank you' card |
 |
| Transfixed by Beebies |
 |
| dressing up in mummy's ribbons |
 |
| Finding his feet |
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)