Posts Tagged "Motherhood"
On giant toddlers, bum cracks and a whole lot of Pooh
It is official.
My son is some kind of giant child.
At not quite 17 months old he is now growing OUT of his 18-24 month clothes. Kai’s freakishly long body are giving his vests a rather slovingly off the shoulder look and revealing about three inches of bare chest which is probably not ideal in December. And although we’re still rolling up trouser legs, Kai’s enormous Buddha belly is putting serious strain on his waist line. And this is AFTER he’s slimmed down quite substantially since learning to walk.
This is not good news. I was hoping our huge bin bag of nearly-new clothes from the last NCT sale (in which I showed SPECTACULAR elbowing and bagsying skill) would get us right the way through winter. But no, Mr-Growth-Spurt has gone and bloody grew. So inconsiderate.
I have to admit though, I kinda love his little bod at the moment. He’s got all lanky, his legs have lost some of their chubbiness and gone all knobby and long. It’s not a baby body any more, it’s a toddler body, complete with requisite bruises, scrapes and bumps.
His toddler body matches his new toddler moves. He’s walking confidently now, even working up to a little tottering run. He still has a tendency to fall over and charge head first into door frames (hence bruises) but his body confidence is growing, as is his stamina and his desire to walk further and further. He’s learnt how to stamp his feet, which has resulted in some interesting new dance moves, and has perfected the adorable toddler squat as he plays his complicated car games, lining them and pushing them round, or two stop in the street and pick up whatever interesting twig or leaf has caught his eye. I could watch him all day. I really could.
One other change resulting from all the growing and moving around has been his nappies. A month or two back I finally had to pack Kai’s cloth nappies away, given that they were now revealing about an inch of bum-crack, cutting into his chunky legs, and having to be ridiculously padded out to cope with the shear volume of toddler wee.
It was a sad day. I shall miss his big bottom look and pegging them out on the line (I defy anyone to tell me a sight more beautiful and satisfying that clean nappies drying in the sunshine). They’ve now been washed (you’ll be glad to know) and packed away ready for the bambino #2 when we decide we’re brave enough to start this crazy journey all over again.
So, Kai’s in disposables full time. And I have to say, I kind of love them!! Scraping sticky excrement of cloth is something I don’t miss in the slightest, and given the potency of Kai’s poos these days it allows you to work fast: remove, contain, get it as far the hell away from you. Aceamundo. Yes I still get the little twinge of guilt when the (biodegradable) plastic bag goes in the wheelie bin, but I figure 15 month of clothy goodness is more than most manage, so I’m not going to beat myself up too much.
Anyway. I’m waffling.
In keeping with my new (guilty) love of Kai’s disposable-clad bee-hind, Sleep is for the Weak is taking part in a little Treasure Hunt run by the Huggies’ blog Enjoy the Ride. For the first 14 days of December they’re posting a clue to lead you to a parenting website or blog. Solve the clue and find Winnie the Pooh’s honeypot and you get given the chance to win one of 7000 prizes from free samples to a family break at Disneyland Paris.
Check out the Discovery Hunt webpage to find out how to play. All the clues so far are up for you to solve, with a new one everyday, and if you play along you may just find yourself back here in a day or two…
Read MoreBah Humbug – A Christmas Rant
Gah what is it with all you people and your determination to make Christmas last as long as possible?!
Not only have I had to suffer Christmas hitting our high street before Halloween this year, now December 1st has rolled round I’m suddenly met with endless accounts of people with their tree up, presents bought and wrapped, and Christmas cards written.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas. But I just start to think about it on the 1st, using the whole advent period to gently warm up to the idea. I put up Kai’s advent calendar last night and got my first little Christmas tingle filling it with various disproportionately sized plastic animals for him to find each day. By the weekend I might just start thinking about doing some Christmas shopping. In another couple of week’s we’ll put the tree up and try a think of a way that we can ensure it survives three weeks of toddler attention. I probably won’t even eat a mince pie for at least another fortnight. This way my excitement builds slowly up to an uncontrollable hysteria on Christmas Eve (where my brother will come and we will play board games and eat our body weight in buffet food), a night lying awake wondering if that sound I just heard really was Santa, not daring to move and thinking that all those unbelievers are going to feel such eejits when they don’t get a Canon SLR under their tree, and then be up at the crack of dawn for a few days of festivities and more food and mulled wine than should probably be legal.
If I started with it all too soon, my excitement would have peaked and waned by the time we gotten half way through advent and I’d be bored and disinterested with the whole thing by the time the big day rolled round. Now fair enough if you personally have the energy to maintain your Christmas Spirit for endless weeks at a time, I just don’t have it in me.
And, for me, having Christmas last a whole month, or even longer, kind of throws out my whole rhythm for the year. Christmas is a specific day, or a few days at most, which is proceeded by ADVENT. Which, if you’re of the non-religious persuasion as I am, means a time of getting ready. If you’ve already got ready then what the frick is the point? You’ve lost all the build-up, all the magic – all you’ve got to look forward to is three weeks of novelty chocolates which I swear are made up of the ground up cardboard of last year’s advent calendars.
*sigh*
I’ll stop ranting now. I don’t mean to wee on your Yule log or anything like that.
I’m just saying, let’s all calm down a bit shall we. We’ve got 24 days people, let’s enjoy them.
Read MorePlease Send Wine and Cake
*WARNING: In line with my honest disclosure policy and commitment to blogging with integrity, I should warn you that this a whiney post*
Kai is going through a phase.
At least, I think he is. It could be teething, it often is. I fear not, however, I fear that this is just HIM.
I never realised this about babies, before I had one that is. I figured that they grew and stuff (obviously), but I never realised THEY changed so much. Their needs, their personalities. That periodically they would become demon children from hell as they transitioned to a new stage.
Kai I think is in one such transition. After he started walking we had a month where he was absolutely delightful – everything was fun and exciting and interesting. We’d spend all day going on adventures and discovering the world from an upright position and all the many delights it had to offer – puddles, pidgeon chasing, running with wild abandon through the shopping centre and trying to steal things from shops. I loved it, and, as I always do I stupidly, rested on my laurels and thought “Ahhh this is lovely. THIS is what Kai will be like now. Life shall be good from now on”.
And then came this week.
This week where the my lovely, smiley boy was replaced with Lord of the Nazgul, complete with ear piercing shriek which he proceeded to unleash, with tears and biting and hitting and thrashing around, roughly every 7 minutes.
Here he is in all his glory:
NOTHING has pleased this boy this week. He doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t want to go outside, he doesn’t want to make dens on the sofa, or build things, or colour. He most certainly does not want to take a nap. All he wants to do is shout at me with nonsensical words, throw things, attempt to scale the furniture and get his mitts on every type of easily breakable thing in the house. Every trip to a public place has resulted in a prostrate, screaming child, and me trying to wrestle him, plank-like, into his pushchair by pinning him with my knee and fending off well-aimed kicks to my head. I am THAT mother, smiling wanly and embarrassingly, as the world looks on slightly pityingly obviously wondering why I seem unable to control my child and worrying that his head seems to be covered in rather nastly looking bruises (from throwing himself backwards and hitting it on every protruding edge in sight).
Our routine has gone to pot. Again. This is the other thing you don’t expect as a parent. You are told that routines are important for a child so you do your upmost to settle into a consistent rhythm of eating and sleeping. And it works, beautifully, for about 6 weeks. Two months max. Then you find they suddenly change the rules – they want to get up earlier, or aren’t ready for bed at the same time. They need less naps, or shorter naps, or more snacks. And you are left running to keep up.
I HATE these times. They never fail to make me feel incompetent, insecure, useless and doubt every single aspect of my parenting.
Of course, it will settle again, it always does. But in the meantime I am in my own personal hell and miserable with it. I’m still so tired anyway, with my blood pressure all over the place (turns out that’s why I keep falling over), and I’m having to spend my days wrestling with a small, ferocious ball of rage.
The worst thing is that he is always as good as gold when in the company of others, like his grandmas, so meaning they don’t really understand what all the fuss is about or why Ant and I periodically take on a grey, shrivelled look and look at our child slightly fearfully, worried he might ‘go off’ at any second.
God only knows what’s up with the child. I fear a lot of it is frustration – we had a similar patch just before he learnt to walk. He is obviously so desperate to communicate, babbling desperately and earnestly at every moment. Shaking his head and gesturing wildly. But what ever developmental thing that needs to ‘click’ to make talking possible just hasn’t happened yet. He struggles to formulate more than a handful of basic words although understands nearly everything you say to him. You can almost see him, trapped in this little body of his that hasn’t quite caught up to his brain. It’s no wonder he’s so angry really, I think I would be too.
Luckily time heals all ills, no doubt he WILL learn to talk eventually and this frustration will ease and all will settle again. Until the next thing of course.
And in the meantime, I’m left with this…
Please send cake. And wine. I mean it. For the love of god. Please.
I’m sure you’ve all been there. Any advice always appreciated xx
Read MoreWhat Josie Did
So… yesterday…
Actually, no. Back track. To last Sunday. When I finally managed to swallow a huge elephant sized chunk of pride and asked my Mother-in-Law whether she would like to have Kai over to play for a few hours every Friday afternoon. Kai adores her, they have a dog called “DEEEE” (Eddie in Kai-speak) and a back room full of toys. It was always going to be a win-win situation. I’m just not very good at asking for help… but… I did! And it felt good! (once the huge chunk of pride had worked it’s way past my windpipe anyway).
We can scoot forward again now. It’s Friday afternoon, I have waved Kai off happily sat in the back of Grandma’s car clutching his digger in one hand and a police car in the other and grinning like loon.
I have four hours. Four whole childless, peaceful hours.
What on earth do I do?!
Well for starters I have made a deal with myself that these four hours each week are NOT going to be spent doing housework. Absolutely not. I also made a deal with myself that these four hours would be spent outside, or, at least out the house.
So I packed up Clive and my notebook and my many pens and I put some gloves and a hat on and I went out. ALONE.
It was so weird. I did crazy things. I crossed the road when the red man was still showing. I carried a bag that did not contain a nappy, wipes, three toy cars or emergency raisins. I walked past people thinking “they don’t know I’m a mummy! I could be ANYONE!” and tried to look mysterious and alluring.
I bought a cheese sandwich and I sat on a bench in the middle of town with my legs on the arm and I wrote until I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore.
And then I sat in Starbucks and ate the cream off my grande hot chocolate with a spoon and wrote some more. And then I went to MacDonalds and stole their free Wi-fi while rebelliously not ordering ANYTHING but setting up camp next to a rubbish covered tray in a genius undercover stake-out maneauve.
And then I went home.
It was glorious.
And I learnt the following things:
1. I absolutely, unconditionally, obsessively love PEOPLE. Not to the point where I actually want to talk to them, but just to watch them all go about their busy little lives, overhearing snippets of conversation, noticing their funny little gestures and weird clothing choices. I am addicted to them and their randomness. I could sit and watch them all fricking day. Or all afternoon anyway. I am not sure how writers ever run out of things to write about when there are six and half billion of the wonderful weirdos to write about.
2. The prices for WiFi in Starbucks are criminal. I’ve just paid nearly £3 for a drink you evil multi-national corporation. How dare you try and charge me over a fiver for 90 effing minutes. Humph.
3. Clive is heavy.He could do with loosing a few pounds.
4. I can both miss Kai and be very grateful for his temporary absence at the same time.
5. Sometimes I really, really like not having to talk to anyone for a few hours. To not say a single word. It means I can hear the words in my head a bit easier. And that makes it easier to write them down.
6. I love Freedom Friday
Thanks Wendy x
P.S. Today, on my wanderings across the interwebs, I completely ‘accidentally’ happened across a rather cool and extremely interesting and brilliant blog. You should probably check it out… you know, if you like… Dunno who she is. But she seems pretty ace. Whoever she is…
Read More
