In which babymomma and poppa take a break

Gloriously sunny Bank Holiday Monday and it feels like the first time in 3 years we've just stopped. No outings, no shopping, no housework, no working from home, no plans, no nothing. Delicious.

Instead we're chilling in the garden and the kids are being fantastic. Jasmine's big thing right now is inventing words. Right now she's playing "roly goly boly poly" some bonkers game where you sit on a ball, fall off in a heap and giggle like a mad thing. Felix the Unstoppable Baby is climbing in and out of the paddling pool, then onto the garden chairs, and onto the table, then onto the trike, then across to the sandpit where he shovels vast handfuls of the stuff into his mouth, then back down the garden steps where he stage dives back into the paddling pool. He knows no fear. He is either a prodigy, or just plain stupid.

Teeth and dancing

Felix has sprouted another couple of teeth and is up to 8 now.

I bought his first pair of shoes just before our hols (aaaaah) - a 4 and 1/2 F pair of Clarks and notably, the same size as Jambeans when she got her first shoes..

He says mamamamamamama loads - and I'm 80% sure it's out of recognition. He's also getting more 'vocal' thought conversation is largely through a series of lip smacks, clucks and most recently, blowing raspberries.

And he loves bouncing up and down to music.

just a quick rundown of events

Babymomma life currently consists of feeling quite ok alternating with somewhat subdued. I'm definitely over the weird/angry/why why why stage just after I lost my job and am moving on. A few whispy leads of potential work, but other than that the job market still has tumbleweed blowing right through it. I've settled in quite well to life at home with the kids, but still frequently yearn for more meaning in my life. I do, however, realise that life for me is a lot less stressful than when I was working. Or maybe, that it's a different, more manageable kind of stress. Am experiencing the most appalling weight crisis of my life, but somehow the biscuit tin keeps getting in the way of my diet which is just rubbish and leads to frequent bouts of self loathing because I know it's all in my control to fix.

Moving on.

Kids have been on great form. Felix has started to clap his hands, and bounce his body up and down to music, both if which he does with the most enormous grin on his face. He wakes up between 5.30am and 6am most days, and babbles and gurgles in his cot (totally divine) till one of us gives into the charm, heaves out of bed and brings him in with us for a wee scrumble. He's not walking yet, still cruising and climbing like a mad thing. Still got a great nose for trouble. This morning's particular trick was "posting crackers down the front of mummy's pajama top."

I've been fretting a lot about Jasmine's lack of physical stamina. With the exception of roly polys she can't or won't walk, run, jump, hop, climb, skip, swim or do anything vaguely resembling exercise. Bf keeps telling me over and over to deal with my negativity but I do experience enormous pangs of jealousy when I see children half her age jumping and running about all the time. That said renewed efforts to get her moving mean she's walking a lot more frequently, and for longer stretches than usual, but it's still a mammoth task of endurance to get her going and to stop whining. It does make the sense of achievement more satisfying when she does, happily, put one foot in front of the other and make tracks.

walking in ashridge

More poo

Felix and Jasmine are both being very difficult at the moment.

Felix is The Unstoppable Baby. He's started to climb - onto stools, sofas, toy chests - which inevitably means falling off too. And despite some pretty nasty tumbles he just doesn't learn what is safe and what isn't. Add to that his fondness for sticking fingers in shredders, pulling on lampstands, playing with dustbins, chewing cables, pulling out plugs, tugging the shower curtain and pulling encyclopaedias off the shelves he is basically a walking suicide mission who can't be left alone for more than a few seconds. The only safe environment for him at the moment is a padded cell.

Jasmine is being nothing short of a Royal Pain in the Arse. I know it sounds awful to speak of your own children like that, but she's just so bloody difficult. It's almost definitely illness-related. (It had better be...) It brings out the diva in her. She's just so goddam particular. Everything has to be done in a certain way. And if you can't read her mind and understand exactly what that certain way is, then all hell breaks loose. Then she changes her mind and all hell breaks loose again. And currently all hell breaks loose every 5 minutes.

For example - today's lunch saga:
Bm: (Calm and patience personified) Would you like a chicken sandwich or pasta for lunch?
J: (All utterances by J to be spoken on whiny toddler voice, permanently on the brink of a tantrum) Want chicken sandwich. Don't want toast want bread. Want bread. Want breeeaaad. NO. Just ONE slice. Want crusts off. NO. Don't want butter. NO BUTTER. No don't cut it that way. Cut it that way. NO. Don't want chicken. NO. CHICKEN. No tomato (angry and insulted) NO TOMATO. Want CHEESE. Want cheese. No. Don't want cheese. Want cheese. (now very confused - does she want cheese or not?) Want small cheese. (small cheese is Jasmine's phrase for grated cheese. I take out grater - Jasmine hits roof.) NO. Want slices. (I take out slicer - Jasmine hits roof again.) Not that one. NOT THAT ONE. NOTTT THATTT ONNNE
...and so on. She issues an instruction, and doesn't stop to notice it has been immediately obeyed but repeats it in her sub-hysterical voice over and over. By the time I have made her a sandwich to her precise specification she has rejected that too and does want a chicken sandwich with butter and tomato.

I know she's small, and innocent, and very ill at the moment, and she really doesn't mean it - but none of that makes it any easier. I have no purpose in life at the moment other than to be her punchbag, and I certainly didn't sign up to that. I find myself thinking over and over: I deserve more than no income, two ungrateful children for company, a talent left to rot and a whole lot of thwarted ambition.

You just have to be calm and patient. There's no other way of dealing with it. But because I can't take my frustration out on her, and because there's absolutely no one else around to talk to who remotely cares or understands, it's all internalised. So I find myself feeling alone, frustrated, unhappy, but most of all resentful of my children and seriously contemplating selling them on eBay. Joking aside, I fantasise about leaving them to the bf and emigrating about once an hour.

Unable to express myself to a real human being, I have no other outlet than to talk to this blog, paradoxically the vehicle I set up to express how brilliant kids are is now the only place I can talk about how much I want to be able to give them back.

the boy is back

After 5 weeks of anxiety and stress and snot and diarrhoea, Felix is definitely back.

Ignoring the deep permacrust of snot around his nose, he's back to his usual, bouncy, smily, energetic self. So, for the last few days he's been busy cruising for bricks, throwing books off the bookshelf (including dictionaries and encyclopaedias, though he's not managed to dislodge the medical reference breeze blocks quite yet) and playing 'putting things on a surface, and taking them off again, ' as well as 'coming over for a look and grab.' Wrestling matches at the changing mat are back on the agenda, but on the helpful side he's getting the hang of pushing his arms through sleeves. He's also (finally) getting into finger food, leaving me totally lost for inspiration beyond the inevitable - toast, rice cakes, soft carrots and broccoli spears.

But best of all, what has returned again with full force is the happiness - that deep, intense feeling of love and discovery as I watch, and help my little boy grow up.

what u doin mummy?

I was chatting on the blower to Uncle Mary yesterday, swapping notes on the bubs, as you do. And she was saying how baby Kate's developmental thang was all about babbling and communication. And I was saying how baby Felix' developmental thang was all about mobility. And she was saying how that's so typical of all the baby girls and boys in her NCT group, which got me comparing notes to when Jasmine was a bub (corrected age of course) and how that all seems totally true. That's not to say Felix doesn't talk - he babbles quite a lot - but it ain't half so interesting to him as moving is.

Jasmine's developmental thang is asking questions. Right now, it's 'what u doin?' As in:

'what you doin mummy?'

'I'm washing up'

'You washing up.'... (pause) 'what u doin mummy?'

and so on.

Jambeans and Felix do us proud

Today at nursery, Jasmine did her first wee on the toilet. I was totally gobsmacked. I thought we would never make progress. And not to be outdone, Felix stood unaided for about 2 seconds.

Champion children.

Inching forward

The weekend. At last. We're both exhausted and need a lie in. Someone forgot to tell Felix it was the weekend. He woke at a quarter to six, which is totally rude. But then he rewarded mummy by crawling forward a whole 2 inches (as in proper crawling) before faceplanting into the plastic rings. I was moved to tears.

As if that wasn't enough, he started doing some serious babbling - babababababababa - then paused, then opened his mouth again...

And then my baby boy said ma-ma.

What a total result.

Wannabe wrestler

Felix wants to crawl. He really really WANTS to crawl. His determination is so fierce that bf and I are having a job changing his nappy these days. He wriggles and jiggles and flips onto his front, then up on all fours faster than, erm, a very fast thing. I had to wrestle him back onto the mat many times in quick succession yesterday, then pin him down before he could escape again (or worse still, before he weed all over the carpet) and then grapple his nappy on. And he kept resisting, and struggling to get free and shouting his protests. And he's strong too. God knows how I'll cope with him when he's bigger.

Maybe it's a boy thing. Maybe it's a full-term thing. Maybe it's just a Felix thing but I sure as hell don't remember Jambeans being this wriggly.

Sentimental Old Fool that I am

So, my FIRST full day sans enfants of any sort. And what do I do?

Hotfoot it down to the local spa?

Nope.

Indulge in some retail therapy?

Nope.

Kick back relax and watch some chick flicks?

Nope.

I file.

And I'm not talking fingers and toes either. No, instead of basking into my newly found freedom I launch into that unbalanced tower of paper that has amassed over months and I file it all away into various, erm, files. And it takes me two bloody hours of pure unadulterated efficiency.
And now I'm sitting here not knowing whether to worry that I really am that anal or feel satisfied that it's done and out of the way. A bit of both I guess. But whilst filing I uncovered this gem of a report that Jasmine got from nursery back in May:

"Jasmine has become so chatty about everything. She is singing and dancing all day, or laughing. She is so happy, enjoying everything we do. She is also more active and able to do more activities. Jasmine loves action songs and games in the garden."

It's such a joy to see that desperately small and vulnerable bundle of premature baby flourish into a lovely little girl.

Our holiday, in brief

So, our 3-week holiday, aargghh. Where to start? So much to cover. So many memories to capture. The short version is that we all had a great time. Spent a night at Nani's, then to Granma's for a week, then to Granpa's for a couple of days, then bf went back to work for a week (boo hoo) and I stayed at Granma's with the kiddisplinks and Nani came down to visit for a couple of days, then bf came back for a week (hurrah) during which we disappeared to Fowey Hall for 3 nights sans grandparents of any description (double hurrah) then we went back to Granma's for a night, back to Nani's for a night and then, breathe, home. Oh, and in between we also managed to do much catching up with Uncle Angus, Auntie Tina and Cousin Abagael as well as Auntie Leon, Uncle Mary and oooh their gorgeous new baby Kate.

I feel that Jasmine stopped being a toddler this holiday, and has really turned into a little girl. Her speech is coming along at a rate - it's now moving into full sentences, with plurals, personal pronouns, possessives and tenses - and she sounds so grown up when she says things like 'I'm feeling ok;' 'Look Daddy, I'm driving!' or, yesterday's new one, 'I don't like it' (gulp). On holiday she also rode a bike for the first time, did the washing up, went to the circus, danced at a birthday party, practically lived in her Wendy House and graduated to a proper bed. She is embracing this new stage of maturity and independence with a lot of giggly excitement and bossy charm.

Felix, quite simply, hit the handsome button this holiday. He is just getting more and more gorgeous each day. Oh yes, he also hit the loud button. One day he realised he could squeal much louder that all the pigs in Pigdom. And so he did, throwing me totally off track as now there are a whole load of new noises to mean, hungry, bored, tired, need a new nappy etc. etc. He has also started mooncrawling (trying to crawl only going backwards), sitting quite beautifully, grabbing for toys and shoving anything in his mouth with a vigour I had quite forgotten about.

Teething is upon us

Felix has definitely started teething - which will rapidly become the catch all explanation for every scrumble fit he has from now for the next 12 or so months. He's been doing about 2-3 teething poos a day - smelly, gooey, lumpy and mustardy - he wakes often at night and is impossible to settle in the evening, crying till about half eight or nine at night. Bf and I have been taking turns to work through the various remedies to the crying: Bonjela, which lasts for about 10 minutes but can only be administered every 3 hours; cuddling (=armache); feeding - often doesn't work because he's either not hungry, or is hungry but is in pain and can't eat comfortably; burping and ultimately Calpol, by which time he's exhausted, we're exhausted and ready to let him cry himself to sleep.

Felix Cutie Pie does more stuff

Felix Cutie Pie is still a wee Chubba Bubba and is well into being a Grabby Babby and has just started to Squeal With Delight (sooo cuuuuute) and now, at 14 weeks old, is entering the Dribble Monkey and the Icky Licky phases of early babyhood. I seem to remember that this means some horrendous Teething Poos are no doubt in the offing, so time to perfect my tactics for playing Poo Roulette with the boyfried. And as I write it all down I realise how much easier it is second time round, being able to Read The Signs and knowing What To Expect (erm, except maybe the bit about Poo). Speaking of, is it so very obvious I have been reading a lot of A. A. Milne recently?

The Little Boy Man - Dressed in Girl's Clothes and Smiling Big

The Little Boy Man - He Smiles

When is the first word?

Think Jambeans said her first word a few days ago, not counting 'mama' and 'dada' which she says discriminately now, tho' not consistently discriminately, if that makes any sense.

Her first word was "bubbub" for "bubbles" when we were having a bubble fest on the sofa, which she said over and over and over, but only when the bubbles were out and floating around, and not after we put them away. The reason I'm not 100% sure it's her first word is she could have been saying other things for ages that are words to her but I've been too thick to notice. But "bubbub" was definitely "bubbles." Clever little Jambeans.

We tried to get her repeat the proud moment next day when bf was there, but to no avail. Not sure I'll ever learn that babies and performing seals are two different things.

neglecting jambeans

jambeans, poor little thing, has been a bit neglected on the blog front. bit of an outrage since it's really her blog. so here's the rumpus:

exciting news is SHE'S WALKING. She can do an entire width of the living room quite confidently. Such an amazing milestone I can't believe I haven't rushed to the keyboard before now to mention it.

and she's trying to climb up/in/out of things.
and she's doing red indian impressions.
all seriously cool stuff.

not so exciting news is she got another virus hot on the heels of the last one. no bad chest this time - relief - but 2 full days and nights of 40 degree fever with calpol/ ibuprofen rejection coming towards the end of day2 and all on a weekend when the bf is on call. now i have caught whatever lurgi she had and doubtless bf will succumb before too long. it's been demanding to say the least (= babymomma is hanging by a thread).

in usual baby-bounce-back fashion she's been on good form today. we haven't, but as if we hadn't all suffered enough, pre-molar teething has also kicked in which is really painful. so her good mood and, most importantly, her sleep have been interspersed with serious bouts of shrieking and the inevitable meds rejection.

other thing is she's terribly clingy at the moment. she's deep into separation anxiety territory. which isn't so bad apart from the fact that it's exclusively mummy she wants. quite touching at first, in that 'mummy is best' kinda way. but that sentiment very quickly evolves into weariness at having, literally, to shoulder the baby burden. 'clingy' has reached levels of ridiculousness i wouldn't have thought imaginable, like having to take over from daddy doing the bath yesterday, because it was no good having mummy sit just outside the bath, a mere 15 cm away. No, it had to be mummy IN the bath so the bub can get as close as possible. but it's times like that you remember there's no reasoning with a littlun.

we keep telling ourselves we're going to be firm and ride out the toddler tantrums when she doesn't get her cuddle NOW. but then she screams so loud and her face goes bright red and she looks imploringly into my eyes, arms outstretched, with snot and tears pouring down her cheeks and into her mouth and i just succumb and think: 'next time. next time i will be an evil-gina-ford-type cow of a mum. right now i will reassure my little girl.'

jasmine is standing

jasmine is determined to stand. she stood for the first time yesterday, in the bath, while i hyperventilated with excitement. and she's managed about 3 or 4 wobbly seconds of 100% hands-free standing a few times today as well.

wot a clever bub.

Hail in July, back to the Whit

weather's gone bonkers. heavy rain. thunderstorms. lightning. we had a hailstorm earlier on. already been soaked 3 times in 2 days.

lots of floods up north. people's houses entirely ruined by water damage. no doubt they'd be none too impressed with my soft southern moaning at a bit of rain.

jambeans went back to the Whit yesterday for another developmental check up. everything went fine apart from my usual inner RAAAAAAAAGE at there only being 5 metered parking spaces within a 100mile radius of a busy london hospital, which meant i had to drive around in circles for 20 minutes, and finally found somewhere to park, but it was miles away, on another planet i think, then got a thorough soaking as i ran across galaxies, with the pram, in the rain, to get to the hospital on time. and then more RAAAAAAAAGE at remembering how crap hospitals are, and full of scummy chavvy people with no manners who push into the lift and can't wait for anyone else to get in too, even if the other people were in front of them, or have a pram - that seems to mean extra shoving. and extra special RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE reserved for all who work in hospitals, especially the admin staff who, even though they sit at that desk all afternoon, can't tell me whether the clinic is running late, or how many people are ahead of me, or how long i might have to wait, even if you ask really nicely because you are on a meter and have a hungry baby who wants feeding so you genuinely do need to know.

the appointment was for 3.20pm. we got seen at 4.30pm. not too bad by their standards.

(had a huge grumpy 'ole woman rant about it in the pm but then boyfie told me that all the hospitals in london cut admin staff first when they're trying to save money, so they are some of the lowest paid and most demotivated people you can find. feeling a wee bit guilty...)

Tooth number 7 definitely poking through

hamster latest

jamster hamster...

... is still big on cruising, particularly likes hanging on with one hand and bending down to pick up something else with the other

... eats like a horse ...

... but gets fussy at mealtimes, sometimes only eating if she can feed herself, which she does very inexpertly with a spoon, getting more on the chair/ floor/ me/ than in her gob

... doesn't quite get what scooping is all about yet so her favourite manoeuvre is to grab the spoon, throw it in the bowl then wave her arms about quite madly in an abracadabra type motion as if the food will then leap onto the spoon by magic

... prefers using her fingers to eat, even for soft, mushy food, which she daubs onto her fingers before shoving them into her mouth

... thinks bananas are great, her favourite bit being the banana skin which she bites into with relish? guess (hope) that's a teething thing.

... is also dribbling madly today so we guess #7 is coming soon

... is fascinated by 'in' and 'out' and will endlessly put something in the cup/bowl/box/etc. then out the cup then in the cup then out the cup, even (especially?) if the cup is full of water

... likes crawling around in the garden

... likes passing things to mummy and daddy then taking them back and passing them and taking them back and passing them and taking them yaaaawwwnn

... is still obsessed with clapping

... has started to copy, so will take the hairbrush and brush her own hair, or feed us raisins or will hold mummy's mobile to her ear

... has started to get onto her knees, or even stand up in her cot (grobag permitting) if she doesn't want to sleep at night

... throws tantrums, cries when we leave the room and is growing quite nicely into a right little diva