So last night I did Felix's bedtime downstairs whilst Daddy was upstairs with Jambeans. It seemed to work well as after a long cuddle he told me he wanted to go into his bed then settled down like an angel. Babymomma finally had a scream-free bedtime! Fingers crossed I can put the Supernanny costume back in the cupboard...
Since starting Big School Jasmine's tendency to spout made-up words has adopted a somewhat whining, baby tone (as in "ishi soshi oshi nnnye nnnye" all said whilst jutting jaw out, flapping arms up and down or stamping feet somewhat lamely).
Today, on our way back from Highgate Wood I met Ben Wilson, a Barnet artist who turns splats of chewing gum on the pavement into colourful mini masterpieces, and I totally didn't have my phone to prove it!!!
Jasmine has been settling into big school super well. Today Tanya started too, Jasmine's friend from nursery, so she was more than a little enthusiastic this morning. But as I watched Jasmine clutch Tanya's hand and race into the classroom without so much as turning her head I felt a little pang of loss. All I wanted to do was follow her in, give her a massive mummycud and spend the day watching how she got on, but what I had to do was let her go and blub all the way home instead.
Ever since our week in the West Country getting spoiled (and fed) by various grandmas and aunties Felix has turned into a sleep rebel. Only Supernanny-type resilience is working but after 7 nights of screaming, clinging, procrastinating and other remonstrations I'm getting a little fed up. And it's much harder than new baby sleep training because Felix (now 2 and 1/2) has a vocabulary and has used this to fine tune the art of emotional blackmail. He has a way of screaming-wimpering (scrimpering? it kinda works) "Mu-mmy mu-mmy" that gets me every time.
Jasmine started Big School yesterday! She was very excited, as was I, and for the next 3 weeks I am going to be a happy and willing mama at the school gates.
Suburban, middle-class 30-something living in London with dreamy boyfriend, 2 kids and all that. It gets worse, I actually like my life. I'm a left-leaning make of 30-something, so I spit on Chelsea Tractors and pontificate a lot about, well, anything really. All sounds very, erm, comfortable, I know, but I do have large reserves of cynicism, which I see as my saving grace for becoming one of the masses.