Y- You can't run before you can walk

Unless you are my nephew, in which case you can.

Oh yes, this little baby who is as dainty and graceful on his feet as a dressage horse turned this phrase on his head.

This little tot decided walking was way too slow and boring. He was going to run and at least that way he would get from A to B without hitting the deck.

Which just goes to show there is no right way of doing it.

Some crawl

Some toddle

Some bum shuffle

Some do the worm

Some squirm

But however they do it. Whatever their adorable, unique manner. They all get to walking at some point.

FRom CArrying... To walking... Then running...Then running off... Then falling... Then screaming... And then you are carrying them again!

T - Techy kids

My hypothetical kids were never going to watch TV, own computer games or have Mobile phones. My hypothetical kids would need nothing more that a good book and a bit of playdough. We certainly wouldn't be considering buying those hypothetical kids an ipod touch for their 3rd and 5th Christmas.

However, my real, breathing, demanding and digital kids are very different!

The TV is the 6th member of our family (they don't understand why he doesn't come on family days out with us) , the ipad is one of their toys and they laugh in the face of mobile phone security pins!

So these techy kids amazed me twice this week...

1) My Mum rang me up to tell me that after my 3 year old had been playing on her ipad, she recieved an email saying he add ordered a £90 electric fire from 1-click-to-buy amazon which would be delivered in the morning.

2) I had to explain to my 5yo that not everyone can pause live TV. And that unfortunately we are part of that few!

This led me to think of many future conversations I will have with my kids where they say "Shut up!" in disbelief (Essex accent optional)

1) "What? You had to go a Library? Why?"

2) "You couldn't pause live TV? What did you do if you needed a wee?"

3) "You wrote letters!"

4) " You had to start every Facebook update with 'is' "

5) "You didn't photoshop your pictures! You must have looked terrible"

6) "You didn't have a mobile till you were 18! How did you tell the time?"

7) "What? When mobiles first came out nobody texted?"

8) "You wrote your exams by hand!"

9) "You used money - wasn't that in the olden days"

10) "What the hell is a pager?"

11) "Nokia? What's a Nokia?"

When Nokia Ruled the World!

But the truth is, this is the world they live! And the digital transformation means it is a world that revolves around them. Then can pause the television whilst they run up for a wee and not have to desperately hold on till an advert break! They can find any TV programme on the internet and watch till their heart's content. Any piece of homework is only a copy and paste click away!

I have to except this is part of their lives and that the digital world is only going to get faster! Cbeebies is only going to become a better babysitter, it may even provide digital snacks one day! And they will run with it, as I jog slowly behind. I guess my job isn't to prevent them having access, but to protect them whilst they do.

Anyway, back to the comedy...

Please make me laugh... tell me what your kids will be unable to believe about the world you grew up in!

P - Potty training

There isn't a parenting blog on the planet that doesn't include a post on potty training right?

Well, I held off as long as I could, but somethings are just inevitable...

But I have done potty training twice now, so that pretty much means I'm an expert right?

Wrong.

Potty training has no levels, no beginning, no end! And there are no fucking experts.

Just parents, children and poo!

It's just something you've got to get through, and then at some point you will find you are in a better place and life is OK again.

The Myths
"Whatever you do don't stop"
Bollocks! if isn't working stop! For the love of God - stop! For your sanity and your child's well being - stop! Any time you want - just stop!

"You'll know when your child is ready"
 No you won't... You'll agonise over it. Deliberate about it. Beat your self up about it for ages. Then you'll do it and after a day probably say "I don't think they were ready"

"You need to stay indoors" As if it isn't hellish enough, people encourage you to be under house arrest as well? Potties are portable, pull ups are available and you have spare clothes. And what's the worse that will happen? They''ll poo their kecks and you'll have to change them... you've been doing that since they were born anyway.

The Facts

• No child is the same.
• There is no "right" way or "wrong way" just The Way you choose to do it.
• Nothing can't be fixed with some baby wipes and a change of clothes. (I also have carried anti-bac spray and roll too!)

Just be prepared that it'll take longer than you think and there will be accidents. On the upside it'll probably provide you with some funny stories to tell, you could even write a blog! Like when a perfectly formed poo fell out the bottom of my child's jogging bottoms whilst we were having coffee in a posh cafe, or when my middle son used his brother's birthday present as a potty, or when my parent's dog wolfed the potty contents or how about when the baby pulled the potty from under the toddler mid poo!

What am I saying? Potty training's not hard it's hilarious! It's been a blast!

B - Breastfeeding

 

You don't have to go far to catch sight of a woman feeding a baby with a bottle do you? I mean they're everywhere right? At the park, in cafes, in playgroups, sat outside shops, on park benches, travelling on public transport, waiting in waiting rooms... My God the list is exhausting!

But a breast-feeding mum,  that can be quite rare.

Oh she probably is there somewhere, like a kingfisher lost in the colours of a riverbank, you just didn't see her. Because contrary to popular belief, a breast feeding mum isn't "getting them out here, there and everywhere", she's usually quietly sat in the corner, her top slightly ruched, with a baby wrapped around her belly as if it were sleeping.

But when I do see her, catch a glimpse of a feeding position or realise later, she was ACTUALLY breast-feeding her baby something I hadn't noticed straight away, I always feel the need to go over and hug her, congratulate her, suffocate her in admiration. But I stop myself. She doesn't need that. Because the likelihood is, to have got to this point, she already knows how amazing she is.

Because unfortunately for most, breast-feeding isn't easy, it's bloody hard work; there's a lot of tears, angst, self doubt and  challenges to overcome.  Then if the skill (which it most definitely is) is mastered, having the confidence to do it in front of people isn't as simple as just "getting them out".

Breastfeeding in public requires a thick skin, a subtle amount of confidence, a grounded outlook and a positive attitude. Some people are fortunate to have these already. Others have to find them, muster them or grow them.

I was one of these women.

For me the act of breastfeeding was relatively easy. OK I'll take those rose tinted glasses off... Yes with my first there were some challenges. But compared to other peoples' hardships, mine were quite easily overcome.

But I think i know why

Firstly, I did have an emergency c-section with my first, this meant I was in hospital for three nights after his birth. During my stay the breastfeeding support, advice and warmth I received from the midwives was first class. And if, like other new mums, I had discharged myself at the first opportunity, it may have been a different story.

Secondly breastfeeding wasn't really a choice for me, in my head it's just how you feed your baby. I'm pretty sure I breast fed my dolls. You know, after I'd given birth to them out of my jumper. But that's because I watched my Mum feeding my brother till he was two years old. Because she breast feed me whilst she breast fed my 18 month older sister, because she's probably still remembered by some, thirty years on, as "THAT women who breast fed in the cricket club" But for me, us, our family, it was the norm. So of course I was going to breast feed my own.

And, although now,as I type one handed whilst breast feeding my third son, it's difficult to remember the struggles, but there were some. In fact sometimes it was a two person job, (three if my mum was visiting) as me and The FH tried to get O to latch on to an over inflated, veiny, water-melon-shaped-boob that would project milk spray if the wind blew the wrong way. And yes, there were tears and tantrums as we desperately tried to remember the exact position of infamous "rugby-ball"  that had "SAVED THE DAY" on ward 17.

But when I got it, I really did get it and it seemed to be plain sailing...

....Indoors.

Outdoors was a whole other kettle of fish.

I was really self-conscious. Worried (I have No idea why) about what others thought. Scared  Petrified about receiving negative comments (which unfortunately some women do). Convinced the world wanted to watch me feed my baby - which I have now realised it doesn't, but it should - I'm bloody good at it. But the reality is most people couldn't care less, they have their own lives to get on with, and really just aren't that interested in seeing my boobs; be it going topless on a beach in the Caribbean or feeding my child in the middle of a shopping centre, 99% of the population just aren't that interested.

But it took having three children to really understand this, to stop caring and to be really comfortable breast feeding in public,  I'm not sure what happened to make me this self-concious, but somewhere between being the girl who breast fed her dolls and becoming the young women who sunbathed topless on holiday, I let some people's idiotic views influence me. Which is a shame. A real shame. I wish I felt like I did now when I had my first, but it was a learning curve and I'm just glad I got there in the end.

I do believe that if breast-feeding did in fact make your boobs firmer that a lot more families would do it. Regrettably, in our shallow, vain and image-obsessed culture, health incentives for you and your baby aren't enough. But it seems if it gave you a cracking pair of tits we'd all be doing it!

I don't like to preach, or tell people they should do this, that or the other, purely because I have been on the receiving end of that... and it's exceptionally annoying

But I don't mind being smug, so here goes... One thing I am sure of, the decision to breastfeed my children is one of the best decisions I have ever made. So I couldn't let the week pass without commemorating it somehow.

So if you do happen to come across a women breast-feeding her child in public, you just need to do one thing: smile! Whatever you think, however you were fed, however you feed, just smile at her... Because I can assure you of one thing, she's not doing it to get attention, that baby is just bloody hungry!

This one obviously needs fattening up,

More tales of my boobs and public breast feeding are found here.

N - Need Help

I didn't set this blog up to give advice, just to share my experiences.

I am really fortunate; I have an excellent support network, I have my  fiance, my mum and sister round the corner, my parents in law at the end of the phone, ex-colleagues who have kids, new mum-friends from playgroups... I am really lucky, I have a lot of people around me,

So I set up this blog, to share my parenting stories, help others who may not have the same support. Because it's not advice that you want to hear, just experiences, as sometimes someone else is going through the same as you.

But for the first time, my support network can't help me. Together we are stumped.

So I am asking you, followers, Internet friends, twitterers and fellow parents to read, share and offer any advice you have.

In February my middle child (who is about to turn 3) had his tonsils and adenoids removed and grommets put it. This is a really heavy op for a 2 and a half year old to have. I only recently understood how heavy when different specialists  told me this op is something surgeons will hold off undertaking for as long as possible.

In our case, the specialist examined Jonty and then booked him in for the earliest operating appointment he could get; things must have been bad.

Only looking back I realise that they were.

He had suffered from chronic nose infections since he was born, he snored as loud as a grown man, suffered from sleep apnoea and was constantly tired and irritable, plagued by nose and ear infections.

The illness was bearable, but it was the way it was affecting his development and personality that broke our hearts.

Although we had flagged this up with Doctors since he was born and been told "babies are mucus-y", it was only when I had shared my concerns about his speech and hearing that they referred us to a specialist. The hearing test showed he wasn't localising any of the lower volumes, we couldn't get a percentage of his hearing loss as he completely flipped when they tried to put headphones on him, but the department's reactions showed us this was not good.

Afterwards, the surgeon who operated on him said his tonsils and adenoids were enormous, quite possibly the biggest he had seen.

Pre-operation his speech had lacked progression, he was still only using the handful of words he had formed a year earlier and the rest of his noises were undecipherable baby language. He had found ways to communicate, but he had never said "Mama", didn't attempt to craete a word for his brother and was frustrated that the world couldn't undertsand him. So he bagan to shut us out.

We had slowly watched him turn from a smiling bubbly baby to a shy, introverted toddler. He would remove himself from social situations, isolate himself at play groups, and was reluctant to interact with his grandparents or aunites and uncles.If visitors came to the house, including our family, he would take himself off upstairs. Shutting the door.

Post - operation we have slowly seen him return. A new day brings new words. He is confident, sometimes to the point of cockiness, and at my brother's wedding a few weeks back  he was the life and soul of the party. He couldn't get enough of socialising.

I can't tell you how good this has been. The interaction, the moments, hearing him say my name, reading a book together, laughing and giggling over words, sounds; enjoying together the world around him.

Things are good; everything is falling into place.

Apart from one thing...

In December (2 months before Jonty's op) I gave birth to my third son Leo. He is a wonderful baby. He rarely cries, pretty much slept for the first 3 months and is always smiling.

However,now he is 7 and half months and become quite vocal, The usual stuff: teething noises, babbling, exploring sounds and he does have quite a loud cry if something startles him.

Last month Jonty started whimpering when Leo cried. And if we were somewhere where I couldn't comfort Leo or Jonty, like pushing them in a buggy on the school run, or driving in a car, this whimpering would turn to a full-scale tantrum where Jonty became hysterical, inconsolable and distressed.

This has now escalated so when Leo makes any noise at all, a babble, laugh or a yawn, Jonty screams, wails or shouts.

I was hoping when the holidays came, with my partner being off and two of us on hand, this would be ok, but things are getting worse.

And it's wearing us all down. If you have any advice, please share it with me. He has come so far and is doing so well it's heart breaking to see him so traumatised by his own brother's voice.

So here's some more info:

• Jonty doesn't like it when any child cries, his older brother, or some one at play group hurting themselves will reduce himto sobs.
• No other noises seem to effect him , but when we were watching a live swing band the other day he covered his ears
• Jonty has never interacted with the baby, generally he isquite wary of him.
• When I had Leo and Jonty came to hospital to see me, he caught sight of his brother and buried his head in his dad's shoulder and wept.
• Jonty's speech is improving, but he you can't reason or explain yet... he is still learning to follow simple instructions and interpret sounds

This is what we have tried:

• Reassurance, lots of cuddles and comfort when he cries
• Possitive association, encouraging Jonty to play with Leo.
• (not ideal, only in desperation) Separating them different rooms, different floors
• Sending Jonty upstairs to his room to play when he does it
• Reasoning
• Talking
• Calming
• Shouting (when pushed to it)

Please help, offer advice, or share this blog to see if anyone you know has been in a similar situation.

This is the only part of my parenting where I have thought "I can't do this" and that really isn't a nice feeling, if it wasn't for this one thing, life would be perfect. I know I am very fortunate to be able to say that, but I do need some help with this bit...

Thank you x x

Y - Yummy Mummy

I hate the term Yummy Mummy.

In fact, I find it offensive.

I find it offensive if someone uses it about me. Just because I've kids doesn't mean you can judge me on how I look. Yes it's a compliment, but it's also like saying "I actually think all Mums look like shit, but you are alright I suppose"

I've always looked like this. The baby hasn't made be better or worse looking, it has just meant some days I don't have time to apply make-up or do my hair.

I know the days when I do look better though. Not just because I've put make up - they are the days when more dads smile at me on the school run than mums. And as much as I think that is wrong, it is true. Sorry.

But what I really hate is when people call themselves a Yummy Mummy.

Really - you're putting that out there?

But they do... On Twitter, on FB updates, on blogs, on a sodding car sticker "Yummy Mummy on board" - Yes they have made one. And, yes the Yummies are using it.

Don't ever buy me one. Not even as a joke.

But imagine this, you are scrolling through people to follow on Twitter and you come across someone called "DishyDad" what do you think?

 "What a cock?"

Works both ways.

B - Beauty Products

Here are my top 5 beauty products for Mums... Or any women who are in a rush, can't be arsed, rarely have a minute to themselves and can't afford plastic surgery.

In no particular order...

1. Touche Eclat

I know every one wants to bonk Touch eclat - but it really is THAT good. It's one of those things you don't realise how goiod it is till you stop wearing it - and then every other bugger tells you how tired you look. And it can be worn with nothing else, just smidge a bit on, look less tired and off you go.

2. Dove moisturising false tan
Because we just don't have time to do the whole exfoliate, moisturise prep bollocks. And if  we did have time for that, would we have time to evenly spread/spray and rub our legs for about two hours and then lie there motionless for another two hours?

If you use Dove like a moisturiser (and by that I mean rub a small amount on each day, not slab it on in a panic an hour before your're due to leave the house) then it works - and doesn't streak and takes barely no time at all! You just have to rememeber to do it each morning/night - I know a toughy - but try putting a post it note on your mirror or forehead - worked for me!


3. L'Oreal BB
I know the advert is a bit like "whatevs Lady - you look like that anyway bitch" but it is quite good, not too heavy and gives you that kind of glow that sleep used to give you! Sleep - rememberr that? It was good huh? Well this isn't that good, but it does make you look like you've had some.

4. Max Factor Masterpiece Mascara
I'm a bit obsessed with Mascara - I have to try them all. And lose them all. So I'm  obssessed with losing Mascaras. It's an costly obsession, but we're working on it. Anyhow, I always come back to this one. Works for days, evenings...  middle of the night feeds. It's an all rounder.

5. Bastiste Dry Shampoo

Because there are days when you wake up, look in the mirror and realise your hair is stuck to your face with grease. And these are always the mornings when you got up late, have to leave early, have your kids homework to do and the school uniform to wash. It's just the law of the sod. But if you have a can of this handy (look they even do Team GB ones!) then you spray it on and you are transformed. Now there is a technique to gettting just the right amount to avoid that talc-in-hair look, or static-wig effect. But when you have mastered it, it will change your life forever.

Q - Quiz shows

We would watch quiz shows pre- children. You know if we were not out in pubs or restaurants or on holiday. But if on the off-chance, we were in on a Saturday night we would watch them. We'd watch with that arrogant superiority; that kind of "we're so fucking clever. We could piss this, but we'd never go on a quiz show" kind of thing.

He'd answer all the history and geography and l'd take care of literature and celebrity, because I'm diverse like that. Anyway we pretty much nailed them.

Now we watch quiz shows because we have no choice. We are at the merciless hands of bad weekend TV and we submit to it willingly because will long for mind-numbing escapism.

Most of the time we watch like zombies, answering in monotone synchronisation. But sometimes we get a little excited. Almost raucous. Because occasionally there's a question on kids TV or Disney or nursery rhymes and we sit up in our seats because we know we've got it in the bag.

You should have seen me when the list Thomas the tank characters came up on "He Who Dares". I was giddy. I turned to the other half "40. Easy." At which point he challenged me to 50. There was only one thing to do. We had to get a pen and paper out and write them all down. What can I say? It was one of those rock and roll moments.

Then, there was yesterday when I caught Pointless Celebrities (I know the name is pure genius) for the first time. They were asking Esther Rantzen to come up with the most obscure Mr Men character. Do you know what she gave them? Mr Happy. Mr. Sodding Happy. He must be the third most popular one. After Bump and Tickle of course!

Then just to get the adrenaline pumping later I watched In It To Win It where the asked a dad-to-be "Who in Sing a song of sixpence got their nose pecked off?" And the young whipper snapper didn't have a clue, and the worse bit was when he joked "I bet this time next year I'll be kicking myself"

Pal, this time next year that nursery rhyme will be the reason they section you. You'll be rocking to it in your padded cell as they play you re-runs of Wheel of Fortune to keep you ticking over!

C- Calpol

I have three children, one would walk over hot coals for a spoonful of Calpol, the others need to be held down, have their mouths forced open and syringe fed the stuff - seriously you would think I was trying to force feed them disinfectant!

Clearly a "parent's best friend" is Marmite for kids. They either love it or they hate it!

But we have got to the point now where we think are thinking is it worth it? IS the relief from their illness going to be worth the trauma of giving them a spoonful a Calpol? Sometimes the answer is yes (chicken pox), sometimes no (teething).

But surely they need to offer some alternative methods now. The spoon and syringe don't cut it our household.

I talked with some other Mums who have they also spawned "Calpol Haters" and we thought of "the patch" like a nicorette patch but with Calpol, not nicotine, obviously. A Calporette?

Well, we think it would work, the only question is do I apply for Dragon's Den or The Apprentice?

C- Cradle Cap

Reasons I hate Cradle Cap:

• It looks like someone's spread pease pudding on your baby's head
• It is near impossible to say without calling it "cradle crap"
• It makes my skin twitch when I pick it
• But I am compelled to do it anyway

S - Spanx

When my sister was pregnant she said "It's so nice not to have to worry about sucking your stomach in all the time".
I replied with  "the only downside to that is afterwards you need to buy a pair of knickers to do it for you!" Thank god for Spanx ek? Underwear NOT for the faint-hearted!

I have to be honest, pre-children I never really knew about "magic knickers" In fact my only knowledge came at a wedding  when a colleague  announced to the table: she was "going to have to go to the bog and take these fucking awful knickers off before my legs turn blue."

But post-babies I have learnt two things about knickers:
1) You should always carry a spare pair if you are going to jump on a trampoline
2) There are certain outfits that require sturdier underwear.

For Longer version click here

B - Baby Wipes

Ok so as wiping babies' bums go they are pretty good. Let's just say they get the job done. But it's how damn useful they every where else that makes them pure genius. Sometimes I wonder what I did before baby wipes were in my life. W"hat did I use... To get dried red wine off the wooden floor? To take my make-up off? To dust? To get toothpaste off a black top? To clean dog-poo off a shoe? To wipe ice cream off The FH's  shaved head? To clean a muddy slide? Clean the rear-view  mirror? Wipe-clean a birthday card? Clean mascara stained cheeks? Remove something unsightly from a park bench/train seat/cafe table? Use a public lav?

And that was just today, tomorrow there will be another Twenty things I've used baby wipes for.

G- Girl Bits

I was in the bath with my three boys feeling not at at all self-conscious... Until .. My two year old pointed at my pubic hair and said "Stosh". This is his word for "Moustache". His association of the word comes solely from Mr Pontipine. See image above.

"Stosh" he repeated and pointed between my legs. I looked down, Not quite the look I was going for.

I tried to brush over this conversation by distracting him. I threw a rubber duck at his head. That worked. But then my four-year-old piped up.

"It's not a stosh is it?" he asked, his quizzical glance making me feel very self-conscious.
"No it's not." I said, turning my back on all three of them.
"What is it called?" he asked innocently.
Great, let's gang up on the only girl.
"Well when you were two you called it a star". I said. Hoping that would be it.

"It's not a star." he said "a star is this shape" he added helpfully drawing an outline in the air with his finger.
"I know. But you just called it that."
"Well what's it's other name?" he asked.
"What do you mean?" I said, trying to bide myself some thinking time.
"What does every one else call it?" he demanded.
"Erm..."
And that was me stumped. Three pairs of eyes on me (even the baby had jumped on) waiting for an answer. Me, uncomfortably huddled at one end of the bath.
"Well...?" he asked. He wasn't going to let up.

What to say? Vagina popped into my head, but he is 4. I really didn't want to start with vagina this and penis that at this age - far too formal.

 I was aware that "star" had been scrapped, which I was quite thankful about as they were starting a "space" topic at school next term and I was worried he would be sharing with the class "My mummy has a star".

So what to say... Why isn't there a nice, child-friendly, universally used name for girl's bits? Like willy. Willy is used by everyone. It's not offensive and is not used as a derogatory insult.

So what could I say?I 'm the only girl in my house, so the pressure was on me?

Fanny? Used to describe someone who is spineless.
The "C" word ? I know Caitlin Moran says this is her term of choice, but really to your 4 year old daughter Caitlin? I don't think so.
Lady garden? -Please! Bork!
Front bum?  I really don't want it being associated with a bum, where poo comes out? I just don't. Why should it be?

So my answer was:

"It's got lots of names, people call it all different things, but if you ever need to call it something you can say "girl bits" people will know what you are talking about.

C - Chicken pox

I am writing this one mainly because Google was utterly useless when I first suspected it may be Pox. Plus, Fireman Sam, Postman Pat and Hollywood in general lead you up the wrong path! Usually on TV, the child goes to bed fine and wakes up covered in evenly spread spots... Usually before a beauty competition, school play or the day they are set to fly on holiday. In reality - slightly less dramatic I'm afraid.

This is how it happened in our house - Google will tell you it doesn't always start the same way (helpful!)

He had a temperature
He felt unwell
He said he had pins and needles in his head (which by the way terrified me!)
The next morning he seemed a lot better
He was still slightly warm
I kept him off school
He had one small spot on the bridge of his nose
By the evening he had about 4 or 5 on his torso
If you weren't looking you may have missed them
They looked NOTHING like the spots on Google images
People asked "Do they look blistery? DO they have a head on them?
They didn't
In the morning they did
And tiny red pin prick sized spots were starting to appear else where on his body
Up until this point he hadn't itched once
I had itched non stop
In total he got about 8 "pox" spots
The pin prick sized spots faded to nothing
I kept him off all week
He was perfectly well
I was knackered
His eight spots blistered
They SLOWLY crusted over
His brothers got the warning symptoms but NO spots
His auntie got the warning symptoms and spots, even though she definitely had it has a child
We considered it to be a chicken pox conspiracy


So for those of you who are trying to self diagnose on Google - step away from the Internet, you will find no answers there. Put the phone down, your parents can't help you they don't remember ANYTHING!

Just sit and wait and itch.

T - Thomas the Tank Engine

Thomas played an important part in my eldest's pre-school years.

He loved him.

Wholeheartedly.

He took him everywhere.

We have the photos to prove it...

Thomas on a sledge

Thomas in the bath



Thomas doing the Limbo

Thomas at Thomas Land

In fact, he appears in that many photos he could have his own album.

But then, out of the blue, after they aired Disney's Cars on the BBC one Christmas, it all changed...

Whenever I watch Toy Story I think that is how Thomas must have felt when Lightening McQueen came to our House. One day, Thomas fell from his hand, the tracks started collecting dust, his favourite colour changed from Blue to Red and no longer did we hear "Peep Peep" echo through the house.

And for us, the Grown ups, a wealth of knowledge was suddenly out of use. We had memorised ALL the Engine's names, knew the Sodor songs like nursery rhymes, watched every feature film at least 20 times, bought every piece of Thomas merchandise... and for what? For a red, American racing car to come in and steal the limelight. My sister took it the hardest. She still can't find a nice word to say about Mr. McQueen.

But hope was not last, there was always his brother. Our Thomas knowledge would not be wasted, the toys would be played with once more. For two long years he showed barely a flicker of interest, then the other week. BOOM! Thomas love.

Check out the first picture I managed to get with the three of them together (or should I say 4?)



Look who's back!

And look at the baby's face! Smitten at 3 months! Yay!

S- School Run

This is how it goes:

- Take 45 minutes to get myself and three children washed and dressed (without  make up or nice hair)
- Settle baby in buggy
- Ask if anyone needs the toilet
- Put coats, gloves, scarves, hats etc on at door
- Eldest child: "need a poo"
- Eldest child strips from the waist down
- Commentary on poo (inc size, colour and wiping)
- Middle child wakes baby
- Re-dress eldest child whilst jiggling buggy
- Leave house with three children
- Remember about dinner money/ PE kit/water bottle/homework/ridiculous random item needed for that day e.g. egg box or something less specific like "an item in the shape of a cylinder"
- Leave children in front garden and return to house
- Retrieve forgotten item
- Separate children fighting over pushing the buggy
- Retrieve buggy from the middle of the street
- Wipe a snotty nose
- Take a deep breath
- SET OFF!
- Eldest child points out huge dog turd
- Remark in OTT loud voice about how disgraceful some dog owners are
- Passing dog walker brandishes a poo in a see though orange bag in my direction
- Middle/Eldest child falls over
- Wipe tears and a snotty nose
- Chase middle child around a stranger's front garden, apologise to house owner, straighten unearthed flower bed  (x 3)
- Pretend to be scared witless by eldest child jumping from behind wall
- Stop and admire his favourite tree with middle child
- Force middle child onto buggy board
- Ignore middle child's tantrum
- Wipe  a snotty nose
- Explain to eldest child that I am also tired but also have to walk
-Reach main road and run along side of middle child who won't go on buggy board and has a fascination with the noise of the traffic
- Get off main road and swallow heart back down
- Reach pelican crossing, eldest child has tantrum about not being able to press button
- Wipe a snotty nose
- Hold on to middle child's hood till we here the peeps
- Cross the road
- Tell eldest child to run ahead, in case they're closing the doors.
- Chase middle around school outhouse
- Smile at some smartly dressed Mum holding hands of daughter with perfect pigtails
- Get blanked
-Carry middle child under one arm, pushing buggy with other, to classroom door
- Hang coat on peg
- Hand in homework/dinner money/mystery random object
- Say the longest-goodbye-known-to-man to eldest child (Romeo and Juliet departed quicker)
-  Stop middle child writing on the interactive whiteboard
- Remove middle child, who is sat crossed legs and sitting smartly amongst the class, from the class room
- Wipe a snotty nose
- Take a deep breath
- SET OFF HOME!

Every single day!

O- Operations

I've been very lucky; I have  very healthy boys. As parents we have manged to avoid the painful drama of visiting A&E at daft-a-clock and as health goes the children have had a fairly smooth run (meanwhile us parents continue to fall apart as our immune system plummets under the pressure).

However, my middle, adorable boy has suffered with chronic nose infections since he was born and we finally got forwarded on to a specialist who,without hesitation, booked him him for an op.

I was so focused with him getting better, I didn't absorb the whole "operation" procedure and what, emotionally, this entailed.

So the day we took him it hit me like a wrecking ball in the chest.

The Childrens' Ward is full of heartbreak. No matter how clean or colourful or how many toys, DVDs and smiling nurses, they can't plaster over the fact that children don't belong there. And every colourful wall is darkened by the broken look upon a parent's face.

We had to wait 5 hours on this ward before he went down to theatre, then an agonising hour and a half till he came back. Because I'm breast feeding the baby I had the perfect excuse to opt out of the hard bits; like carrying him down, watching him go under, leaving him there.

But I have three images I'm struggling to shake: his tiny teddy-bear-patterned gown folded on the overbed table; his dad carrying him down, a heavy eyed bewildered expression upon his face; him returning, sleeping silently with a tiny cannula bandaged against his little foot.

That night his dad stayed with him in hospital, I went home and slept with both his brothers in the bed with me. I kept waking in the night finding myself looking for a third child in the bed feeling like "I'd lost something".

Those images, that feeling, remind me how lucky I am. For us it was just two days.

The doors to Childrens' Wards are never still. Tiny veins have seen a life time of needles, beds are changed but rarely empty, some children go in and they don't come back out. I have the up-most respect for parents who have poorly children, parents who are on first name terms with doctors, who have to spend hours, days, weeks, in waiting rooms, waiting for appointments, waiting in children's wards.

Two days was enough for us to feel the strain.

D - Dog Poo

I really cannot stand people who don't pick their dog's shit up. It is the epitome of selfishness; giving two fingers to the community they live in...

... And wherever it is, wherever we are, it's always one of my children who steps in it.

There are only two places where it is acceptable to leave a dog turd:

1. Very long grass off the beaten track
2. The sea

Otherwise pick it up!

I am now all for offenders having their dogs taken off them - and those who think I'm harsh, I suggest you clean two pairs of Croc boots (£30 per pair) and a Bugaboo wheel (£500 of buggy) that is laden with the sticky, stinking, revolting  mess and then come back at me.

Don't even dare to say I should teach my children where they are going - don't even dare to suggest that my children should spend their time outside (in the little freedom this society allows for children) not running, laughing , chasing, giggling skipping or hopping, but instead watching the floor, in case they tread in something a dog owner couldn't be bothered to pick up,

And besides I challenge anyone to walk down the street, with a pram, a buggy board and a child holding onto either side and  ensure all 6 pairs of feet and all 5 wheels avoid a huge, steaming, fly ridden turd that someone has left in the middle of the footpath.

Let me know how you get on.

N- Newborns

I'd already had two babies. I was prepared for number three. "Oh an expert" midwifes would exclaim when I told them I already had two at home.After having two, you are hardened to the world of parenting, but never an expert.

You don't forget the nights, or the nappies, or the first smiles, But there are somethings you do forget about...

I forgot how long you can just look at them for. My mum rang me when my newest addition was 2 weeks old:

Mum: What are you doing?
Me: Just sat here... looking at him.
Mum How long have you been doing that for?
Me: About an hour.

You can just look at them. They may move, or murmur, or flutter their eyes. Or they may do nothing at all. Either way you will be transfixed. Whatever time you have, can be spent just, contently, looking at them.

The other thing I forgot was the five second window. When you have a toddler, the nappy change can take up to half an hour. You start, get half way through, the child escapes and runs off, you retrieve him, you fish out the sudo-creme from under the couch, you misplace the nappy, you get another one,the child has run away again, you retrieve him... etc etc And in this time, you'll be really unlucky if the toddler has an accident.

However, with a newborn you have a five-second window. It's a military operation. Everything must be ready, placed perfectly by your side, you've got to be quick, precise and efficient. You will only take "too long once". Only one second over and they'll have an accident, and if the newborn is a boy, it's likely that accident will hit you in the eye.

E - Elective C-Section

There's something very strange about knowing the day your baby will born. Oh yes, it's much more civilised this way round, but there's no drama. I miss the drama.

First time round... Waters break 6 days early at 3.00 am. The other half  is drunk.Mum woken in the early hours and drives us to hospital. Discover baby is breach. Rushed down for an emergency c section as contractions are coming quick and strong. One hour later I hear a tiny baby cough. He's here.

Second go... Waters break 6 days early at 3.30 am (again? that's a bit freaky) uproot and dump Little O at his grandparents. Go to hospital. Labour doesn't start. Wait 24 hours (in hospital). Still no labour. Get induced. 5 hours later he flies out. Cord round neck. Silence. Crash team called. He breathes.He cries.

Third time lucky... We wake up.Get showered.I do my hair. Drop boys off at their Grandparents at a reasonable hour. Drive to hospital. Get shown to ward. Meet the midwives. Small talk. Chit chat.Wait patiently in hospital bed wearing only a hospital gown and dark green hospital stockings. Random trainee midwife says a heartfelt goodbye to bump.walk down to theatre. Meet all the team (appears to be about 35 of them). More small talk. More chit chat. A few injections. A screen. Some tugging. A baby.

So the elective section was quite straight forward. Quite unusual for us.   We returned to the ward and I looked at Little Leo and felt utterly complete. My work in procreation was done.