To cut a long story short

So, I should be writing about the drama and adventure that was Marrakech, and posting one or two of our billion photos. But instead, I am writing about the drama that is Jambeans, ill, in hospital, with pneumonia, again. Total shit for everyone involved.

photos from the rat and the monkey's wedding

Island holiday

Ile de Re - land of the poppies - a beautiful unspoilt island for a week of the simple life and total R&R.

In which Babymomma and family strike holiday gold

Went to Devon for a week's holiday where we had nothing but glorious sunshine for the whole week - in March. How jammy is that? Did Lewtrenchard, in the sun. Did Wenbury beach and cliff walk, in the sun. Did Paignton Zoo, in the sun. Did the viaduct & river walk, in the sun. Did the walk to Belstone Tor, in the sun. Discovered Pennywell Farm, in the sun. Did the Dewarstone walk on bf's birthday, and with Mary-Fairy, Leon-berger and Kate-O-Matic, and in the sun. Did Sushi with friends, not in the sun but on a Friday evening sans enfants.

Pure. Holiday. Gold.

Day after we got back - pissed down with rain. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

To Queue or Kew?

When we stayed at Fowey we took the opportunity to visit the much vaunted Eden Project, along with, let me think, oh, only the whole of the rest of Cornwall and Devon. The queues started in the car, before we even got to the front gates, rendering our "20 minute drive" into a 40-minute piss take. From the car parks they bus you to the entrance gate. Come again? You have to queue for a bus? (I know, I know, the irony of The Eden Project bussing everyone in - two words spring to mind: Carbon. Footprint.) So instead we walked the path for 15 minutes to... the back of the queue leading to the entrance gate. Felix was cool. Jambeans was entertaining the masses by singing 'Horsey Horsey' quite tunelessly at the top of her voice. Unsurprisingly Babymomma and Poppa were getting antsy.

Another 15 minutes later we were farmed into the entrance hall where we were fooled by the 14 ticket desks into thinking this would be a breeze, but didn't account for the incompetent laziness of the 14 stupid Janners manning the ticket desks. Which is why, when there were only 2 people ahead of us, it took us yet another 15 minutes to get to the front of the queue. Where we were informed by the cashier that her till had broken and we would have to go to the back of another queue. AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH. So boyfried harrumphed off to queue in a silent, manly strop, and I harrumphed forward with Felix with a huffy, about-to-have-a-London-style-hissy-fit scowl on my face. Which was fortunate because from my vantage point I could see that the cashier fixed her till in about 3 seconds and dully went on issuing tickets without even trying to call us back. So we barged back in and, finally, paid our £30 dues to enter...

The Eden (Queueing) Project.

We've arrived. Thirty quid poorer, totally pissed off and we've only just got inside the front door. The Eden Project had better blow us away to make up for that. So we look around, and all I can see is people. Where are the Biomes? Oh, you have to walk another 10 minutes to enter.

Stop. Sigh. Try to Think Positive.

So off we trot, and as we get closer, the throng gets thicker and thicker, till finally we're in the cafe-canteen-lunchy-type-area that acts as entranceway to the Biomes and we muscle our way forward and finally we're in the Rainforest Biome and are being herded around a one way system Ikea style and it's hot and humid and there are simply billions of people everywhere and to top it all off Felix starts whining his hungry whine so we have to turn around: we've barely been inside 5 minutes.

Around we turn, fight our way back to the cafe-canteen-lunchy-type-area, queue to find a seat (and curiously, get to witness some people queueing to see how a pasty is made), feed the bub, get lunch, have the privilege of eating it with a spoon and fork because all the knives have run out and then decide to forgo our £30 entrance and GET THE HELL OUT.

So we're trying to get the hell out, and guess what? We even have to queue to exit the goddam Eden Queueing Project.

We've been there 2 hours, spent about £50 and haven't seen a single decent plant. Thankfully, we laugh. And resolve never to go back.

By contrast, yesterday was the most perfectly sunny day so we went to Kew and it was total bliss. Our very own Eden, right here in London.

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.

Hol-i-day. Good.

I set off on holiday a total zombie. I returned a happy human being again.

Our first stop was a budget hotel on route to the lakes. Jambeans spiked a fever that night and her respiratory rate went up again. It was horrible - the next morning we debated at length whether we should turn around and go home, but decided in the end to risk it and press on. Best decision we ever made. We made it to the lakes (via a fantastic safari park, where baboons climb all over your car) to some fabulous accommodation on the edge of Grasmere, some great company in the form of 3 other families, stunning scenery, good weather and plenty of fresh air and exercise. Jasmine was well the whole time (but sadly awoke most nights shouting for either mummy, daddy or a cuddle before settling down in our bed) and Felix was an angel as ever. Jasmine learned loads of new phrases, like 'mountain,' 'boat trip' and 'lake' but her favourite was to repeat 'Hol-i-day. Good.' over and over.

I couldn't put it better myself.

Fingers crossed for next week

In 90 minutes time we're going to leave for a week's holiday in the lakes with some uni friends of the bf. Fingers crossed it will be a watershed moment and we can leave this horrible, horrible week behind us. Felix rejected the bottle again last night, plunging me further into despair over my lack of freedom, and I couldn't sleep even when I had the opportunity. Today I am so tired I have been dry-wretching in the toilet bowl.

That said, it hasn't been a total nightmare. Despite the exhaustion had a lovely day on Wednesday when I went to work to introduce Felix to the lay-deez. Oh yes, and hand my notice in! (I have a new job which I start in October - 3 months' time - but more on that later...) And yesterday my lovely sis came to see me, and after the obligatory shouting match for the first hour we kissed and made up and then had a spankingly lovely day.

Can you believe it has taken me a whole day to pack for just 1 weeks' holiday? The scariest thing is my stuff fits into one small rucksack, but the car is jampacked full of all the kid stuff we seem to "need" these days.

Holiday

Jambeans started her holiday last Thursday evening by doing a poo in the bath. I was in it with her at the time and got out at a speed worthy of an Olympic Gold. What I was supposed to have done next was stay super calm and not show Jambeans that what she had done was in any way wrong or distressing. What I actually did was nakedly flap, squawk and hyperventilate for 20 minutes while screaming incoherently at the boyfried (who did stay calm and sort everything out). Jambeans was quite unhappy and (bf had fished her out of the bath by now) finished her poo amid screams of distress on the bathroom mat.

My score for that particular test in perfect parenting- FAIL.
Ho hum.

Set off on Friday to the West Country for the week. Got lots of sleep, visited the rellies, got fed, got (even) fat(ter), enjoyed the free babysitting, introduced Jambeans to the outlaws' dogs again, saw friends, went to 3 zoos and an aquarium, which was cool but admittedly was getting bored of them by the last one (which wasn't planned - we're not that zoo bonkers - it's just it was the nearest pit stop on the way home when Jambeans had enough of being cooped up in the car and started screaming).

Jambeans really enjoyed herself and smiled the whole way through. I totally fell in love with her all over again. She says 'dada' discriminately now. Also, on the last day, when we stopped off at mum's on the way home she rewarded us by taking 3 whole steps all by herself. Bf has been beaming with pride and calling her 'toddler' all day today (the usual 'darling princess bubfried' plus all the other silly nicknames still very much there too - it's gonna be a long time before they get binned)

She introduced us to 'holiday rules' sleeping, which basically means us putting her down at 7, her screaming until we give in and take her downstairs, then NOT sleeping until we drag her cute but sorry ass upstairs again at 9.30 then only falling asleep between the two of us on the not-really-big-enough-for-3-even-if-one-of-us-is-only-a-bub double bed and only then allowing us to transfer her to the travel cot.

We're paying for it now as she has spent the last half hour screaming and trying to climb out of her cot. Bf and I had a momentary 'dunno what to do' moment till images of Supernanny flashed into my head, where distraught mothers drag hissy-fitting toddlers back into bed for hours on end with no eye-contact, no cuddles, no talking etc. so have tried that and it seems to have worked.