100th Post!

I had big plans - cocktails, appetizers, fireworks.
Here's the thing - I'm on vacation.
I planned to tell you before I went but packing got in the way.
So, I'm celebrating 100 posts by sipping cocktails by the pool.
I sincerely hope you'll do something lovely for yourself to celebrate with me.
I'll be back all too soon and I promise to make post 101 spectacular.

Slacker.

Last night we went to a local community event. Music, bounce house, beer, wine and food.
There were lots of kids running around and the six year old joined the pack soon after we got there. We have a rule - she has to check in with me if she's changing venue. She's really good about it. Other than the check in - she's free to roam. It's a small contained area and I (and she) know many people there.

It's been a long week. The husband has had to be at work most evenings. I needed a break so it was great for me that she was off running around and I was having a beer. The baby was crawling around my feet chewing bark. A woman approaches me.
"Is that your second child by chance?"
"Yes?"
"It's just, I thought you'd want to know she's eating popcorn off the ground."
"Right. Thanks for letting me know."
Do I really need to explain how I feel right now?
Guilty, embarrassed and selfish might be a good start.

Then I hear from a friend that my daughter and her crew are cutting in line at the bounce house. Uuugh.
Here's the thing - I want to care. I want to go and talk to her about respect.
I want the one year old to eat fresh food I have bought or made for her - but I also REALLY don't want to.

I really want to talk with adults.
I really want to finish a mouthful of food or beer uninterrupted.
I really want to listen to some music that doesn't have Twinkle, Twinkle in the lyrics.

I do stop the baby from her ground grazing but I leave the six year old deep in naughtiness. If that's her worst trick today - I'm ahead.
I drink my beer, dance a little and go home a happier, more energized mommy.

Food Glorious Food.

I've just finished reading 'Toast' by Nigel Slater.
It is the inspiration behind today's post.

Getting up before 6am is a struggle. Getting my stomach to wake up then is impossible.
The six and one year olds don't seem to have the same problem.
This morning, before it was even fully light the one year old greeted us like a rooster with loud shouts of "NAK!"

Cutting raspberries in half is not too difficult. Everyone eats a different cereal so I line up the bowls and deposit the choices. The milk is a challenge. I'm not a big fan of milk and for some reason the baby's whole milk churns my stomach. It so creamy looking. The six year old takes at least half an hour to eat her cereal so it turns into a golden sludge that I find hard to look at. I remember when I was pregnant with the one year old - the six year old had to have toast.

That's round one. Round two gets requested about a half hour later. By now I've had a lovely cup of tea. Well at least I've had the idea of a lovely cup of tea. I might get a few hot sips and by the time I can get back to it, it's headed to lukewarm.
Heating tea in the microwave does something to the taste - it's never the same.

Round two is usually waffles, pancakes or toast. I'd like to pretend I'm the kind of mom who whips up a batter and pulls out the waffle iron but really they're from the freezer. The six year old likes syrup, the one year old butter. When they are both in grade school I might have a new career as a short order cook.

It would be nice to exit the kitchen until lunch but there's snacks to pack or maybe lunch will be at the park. We have two lunch packs - the baby needs her own now. Filled with lots of little tubs of mac'n'cheese, black beans, crackers, tiny fruit pieces and a yogurt.
The six year old has a sandwich, fruit, carrots, cheese stick, various bars and her yogurt. Different from the baby's yogurt - big girl yogurt.
I can't tell you how many times I've finished this lengthy task with pride and relief and headed out only to realize I didn't pack anything for myself.

Dinner is another multi-tasking affair. I've probably created a monster but the husband and I really enjoy eating dinner together on weekdays. We put the kids to bed and then cook. It's good for our relationship and bad for the kids eating habits. I make them separate meals. It's a fairly short repertoire 'yummy noodles', rice, beans, fish or chicken, pizza, mac'n'cheese, taquitos or tomato soup. Our vegetable menu is also short - carrots, broccoli or peas.
Our dessert menu is apple sauce, mochi or yogurt. Mochi, of course, is the most requested.

I remember my childhood meals being very repetitive and I liked it that way. We had a fixed menu - fish on Monday, cauliflower cheese on Tuesdays, sausage and beans on Wednesday, mince and tatties (go Google it and come back!) on Thursday and ham salad with chips (fries) on Friday. Weekends involved glorious, melt in the mouth roast dinners with chicken or roast beef and pudding (dessert.)
The routine was comforting. Except for Tuesday - I never liked cauliflower cheese and we had many tearful Tuesdays with me refusing to eat it while listening to a lecture about hungry children in Africa. I finally prevailed and Tuesday, for me, meant beans on toast instead!

We don't have many food struggles - the six year old makes her choice and for the most part then eats it. The one year old continues to eat and decorate with her selections but I hold out hope she'll get with the program soon.
Food service is usually done by 6pm and with the exception of nightime bottles of milk and glasses of water - I'm done.
Twelve hours until we do it all again....

Adventures in Fairyland.

Spoiler Alert: Not for little eyes or ears!

You can always count on kids to be unpredictable. After having four of her front top teeth kicked loose a month ago the next tooth to fall from the six year old's mouth was on the bottom row.

She was eating a burrito at the time and the fact that she didn't swallow it was impressive. Compare a baby tooth to a grain of rice and you'll know why. They are so tiny!

We were over at a friends which quite frankly was a dream come true for the six year old - an audience! She didn't disappoint - we were treated to a full performance. Excitement, tears, blood therefore drama then finally, triumph!
After much parading and gap inspection the tooth was secured for the tooth fairy.
I should point out this is not the first tooth to come out of the six year old - with this one we are three in - seventeen more shows to go.

After the initial excitement wore off, we began the tooth fairy anticipation. Lots of her peers have been visited recently so she has lots of treasure ideas stored. Some kids got $20 ($20! I thought we were in a recession?) Her first visits here she brought a gold then silver dollar. The six year old was clear that she didn't need another dollar.

Later, tucked up in bed with the tooth stowed under her pillow - I suggested she make her wish. She did - in her head.
"What did you wish for sweetie?"
"I can't tell, it won't come true."
"Hmmm, I don't think that's true - I'd love to know."
How do you convey how much you'd love (read need) to know?
The six year old was firm. "It's a secret."
It's OK - I'm pretty sure I know what she's wishing for.
We read her story and as I'm tucking her in I say "Well I hope the fairy brings your bunny train."
"Oh, I don't want that anymore."
What? I'm counting on it being the bunny train thingy. She's been pointing it out for weeks.
"What did you ask for then? It would be fun for mummy to wish for you too. Also, you don't need to keep wishes secret for them to come true - I know people say that but it's not true. Mummy really wants to know..."
OK, I know, but what am I supposed to do?

"A stuffy!" she says.
Phew. Now I know.
"Night, night sweetie."

I am downstairs before I realize, I don't know what kind of stuffy. A stuffy is a cuddly toy. The options are endless. Thankfully the husband remembers she saw one earlier that day at the supermarket that she had wanted.
I troop off to the market and find the puppy - only there are two colors. Which one?
I am thinking how grateful I am for late opening hours and cell phones when the husband informs he doesn't know. He's feeling pretty smug he remembers the stuffy type and store. Stuffy details are a stretch.

Next morning we are greeted by squeals of delight as the six year old discovers TWO puppy stuffies under her pillow.

Am I overachieving?

Girl Power!

My baby is a girl. I know this because I've seen her naked. If you were to meet her, you would know this because of her gorgeous, brow skimming, eye lashes. Another clue would be the fact that she is usually wearing a dress. Her preference for head to toe pink should also clarify things.

Why is it then, that I spend so much time listening to:
"How old is he?" or "What's his name?"
I'll admit she's short on hair but really, the pink dress didn't clue you in?
Actually, I don't mind - I can see that it's an easy mistake to make - what I do mind is when the commenter gets annoyed with me for their mistake.

I have been told:
"Well you shouldn't cut her hair so short."
It's not a cut it's just slow to come in.
"You should dress her in girl colors."
I suppose blue flowers on a pink t-shirt can be confusing (if you have a low IQ.)
My favorite:
"Too bad you got two girls - she looks like a boy though."
Oh well - that makes the fact that 'I got girls' so much easier to bear - that they look like boys.
For the record - I love my girls - boyish or otherwise.

You know that game you play where you bring in a baby photo to work and everyone has to guess who's who? My photo always had guys names under it - despite the fact I was wearing a bikini in the shot.....

I'm unconcerned. I was virtually bald until I was three and now I have thick, flowing locks. In the meantime maybe I'll get the baby a wig.

Dirty, Happy People.

We survived our trip to the woods. My washing machine may not. I think we brought back around 20lbs of dirt each. The kids were crusty. The bath that I ran for them on our return, looked like beef stew two seconds after they got in.

Going from electricity to lamp light, walls to canvas, carpet to dirt floors, stresses to relaxation is a delight - we are all wide grinned but so completely filthy. I gave up trying to stop the baby from eating the dirt after an hour or so. She appeared to have a brown beard and moustache for the entire trip.

Camping is definitely an education in letting go. The risk of bug bites, poison oak and campfire burns could freak a parent out but what's the point in stressing about it? Guess what - we came home unscathed.

We also came home with sweet memories of toasting marshmallows by the fire, making campground friends, eating three rounds of breakfast around the camp table and exploring beautiful redwood trees and then there was night time.

I knew going in that camping does not always equal sleep. Campgrounds are often noisy. Night time bathroom trips are complicated. Animals investigate your food and may need chasing away. It can also get cold.
I was completely mellow about bugs, marauding raccoons etc but the thought that the kids might get cold overnight worried me. So, I bundled. They both went to bed in several layers including hats. I then heaped blankets and towels on top of them. The six year old slowly discarded her excess throughout the night - for the baby it was a little harder - she was zippered in.

I had taken her pack'n'play but she made it clear in the middle of the night she wanted out. I brought her in with me. I had a queen sized mattress to share. We both fell back to sleep. I woke a little later, startled - baby was gone!
I found her in the corner sleeping on the ground - she must have crawled over there.
I brought her back - still sleeping - in with me. Again, I woke to find her missing. There she was back in her corner. I realized she was so over bundled that the cold ground felt good to her. After removing a layer (or two) she fell peacefully asleep in her travel crib.
I lay back and watched the stars.

Lazy.

I'm taking the kids camping. Me, by myself. No husband. If you're the kind of mom who does this all the time - feel free to scoff. For me, this is a big deal.
I'm definitely a 'can do' kind of girl. My inner princess is usually repressed so it's not the packing, tent set up, etc that intimidates me.

It's just that when I'm camping I just want to sit by a river or sit by the fire making S'mores. You will see the theme here - sitting. Camping makes me feel lazy.
Camping with a baby is anything but lazy. The six year old is easy. Everything about camping thrills her. She can amuse herself with dirt and sticks for hours. Cooking on the cute little stove, making her camp bed, even getting sun block on is just much more fun if you're in or near a tent.

Baby is a whole different story. Being so close to the ground she has a special relationship with bugs, trash, dropped food - nothing is off limits. You can't gate the forest. So turn my back for 30 secs and she's off.
If baby cries in the night - the whole camp ground hears it and how do you get everyone else to be quiet for nap time?

So, why am I doing it?
Because - snuggling in a tent under the stars, exploring the world without the distraction of toys or TV, eating al fresco and roasting marshmallows by a fire are simply the best times you can have with your kids.

We'll have a S'more for you.

Chubby!

Well not quite - but the one year old aced her weight check!! I am so grateful. Maybe now I can stop treating her like a turkey in October. She also handled her MMR with grace which was a huge relief.

We celebrated by going to a local kids museum. It's a great place, loads to do for kiddies and split into different age areas. We were having a ball in the tot spot.

Enter no-discipline kid. I think you know I'm trying to practice tolerance. I know that different is not wrong and that people do the best that they can. I do however have absolutely ZERO tolerance for this.....

Cute little boy, maybe three, enters the tot spot and heads for the water play area where we are. He immediately gathers up all the toy fish and frogs (maybe 20 of each) and takes them to a corner for himself. The other kids stare looking confused then start to ask (or cry) for 'their' toy back.

Cute little boy's mom (on the phone): "Honey, give those back."
Cute little boy: "No, mine"
Cute little boy's mom: "Honey, you have to share."
Cute little boy: "No."
Cute little boy's mom: "Just give them one each."
Cute little boy: "No."
Cute little boy's mom: "OK, honey but that's not nice."

There are not enough emoticons for me to describe my reaction.
I am incredulous but keep my opinions to myself. I walk over and collect a few fish and frogs and distribute them.
Cute little boy immediately runs over and starts collecting them up again. Each parent now comments that their child would like to play with them. This as you can imagine is ignored. When he comes over to us he looks me straight in the eye, picks up the frog the one year old has and throws it.

Cute little boy's mom: "Hurricane (you couldn't make this stuff up) share the toys.
Hurricane: "They are babies - they don't need them."

He now starts throwing the toys everywhere including over the fence. Picks up the aprons and dumps them in the water and then runs around frantically, startling the babies.

Completely irresponsible little boy's mom (still on the phone): "Hurricane (what an advert for self fulfilling prophecy) pick those up."
Really annoying little boy: "I don't have to."
Setting herself up for disaster mom: "Let's go to another area and you can have your candy."
Cute little boy who's going to have lots of problems later in life: "OK but I want my candy NOW - give it to me."
Are you kidding me mom: "OK honey."

I know I should have compassion for her but really it just made my blood boil.
I was really proud of myself for not commenting, other than in my head.
Instead I have decided to tell the world (that's right people I have readers on three continents!) about her failure here - much more appropriate don't you think?

From the Sublime...

In between the golden moments are the flat out ridiculous moments of parenting.
As with all things because we had a lot of golden moments in the past few days - the ridiculous had to have it's say too.

I am not a Catholic but I can see the appeal of confession. I am going to take this opportunity to use this as my confessional. These are the moments that made me question my ability and sanity - this week.

The baby fell - flat on her face - giving herself a bloody nose.
A baby with a bloody nose is a tragedy. I took a photo just so I could feel guilty about it for a long time.

The six year old cried at camp because she missed me and wanted to come home. They didn't call me so I had a 20 minute car ride home filled with gut churning questions like:
"Didn't you want to have me at home?"

The baby pooped in the bath. The six year old was also in there at the time. The resulting hysteria may mean we have to redecorate that particular bathroom.

The baby hit the six year old with a hammer. It was a wooden hammer but the six year old was unimpressed. How do you explain to a one year old that it hurts, without letting the six year old reciprocate? Maybe I should pull out the bloody nose picture?

On the upside - the baby has decided to eat. Anything and everything - so we might just ace our weight check today. She is however having the MMR. I can't put into words what that does to my heart, mind and stomach.

In other news we have a new swimming pool in our yard. Not the pretty tiled kind you can swim in. The burst pipe, dig up your yard to repair kind.
Click on my ads - I have a huge repair and water bill to pay!

I also want to say thanks for all the votes. I made it into the top twenty. Pretty good for a little ole blog like mine. It was the most hotly contested category.
You put a smile on my face - Thank You!

High.

Are national holidays for parents or kids? I mean isn't every day a holiday for a kid? Holidays are for those that work right?
Why is it then that our traditions involve so much sugar and excitement that our kids are even more time consuming than usual?

Looking back over this past weekend I can see where we might have gone wrong. We went to a fair where the six year old slid, spun and squealed herself into a frenzy. The one year old was slack jawed at the lights, noise and cute animals to terrorize.

I had a very overdue promise for a mommy and me date with the six year old so I took her back to the fair at night to do yet more rides and then watch the fireworks. We stayed out until 11pm. It was my idea. I bought her cotton candy.

The next day was the actual fourth, so we watched a parade, went to a swim party and then stayed up late (again) for fireworks. This time the one year old stayed up too. She had declined to take her nap - maybe because we were at a parade? We decided that since she was already wired, why not let her watch fireworks.
We had ice cream while we waited for the show to start.

I don't necessarily regret my choices. It was a weekend filled with golden moments. Snuggling with my big girl on a blanket watching the sky light up was delicious (and not just because of the cotton candy.)
Listening to the one year old ooh and aah and then clap with delight during her outing was yummy. It's what childhood is made of. It's why I became a parent - to get to do it again.

So, why is it that the pay off is that the husband and I are completely and utterly knackered? Happy but knackered. When will our children equate staying up late with sleeping late. If someone could just work out how to add triptaphen to cotton candy and ice cream - we'd be all set. In the meantime - you might just find the husband and I napping under our desks.

Last Chance. Really.

My final plea - then I promise not to enter any blog competitions for a least a week :0)
My hit counter tells me that around 100 of you lovely people stop by here each day.
If you were all to vote just once I would make it into the top twenty.

My life revolves around poop and mashed banana - throw me a rope here.
I thank you.

Happy 4th of July!

This is an interesting day for me - I'm a Brit so it's all about celebrating our defeat but the six and one year old are Americans. Maybe this is the one day they have the upper hand!
Wishing you all a safe and happy day.

Food tales.

I was thinking about keeping a food diary for the baby. I have mommy brain and when I try to think about what she has eaten I can't remember. I am preparing my defense for her weigh in next week. I tried for a couple of days but it's not as easy as it sounds.

For example, if you give the baby a croissant - how do you add up the total amount of flakes on her highchair? It's quite a pile - maybe as much as half a croissant.
She also really enjoys to smear. If there are cheese smears on the wall, table and highchair has she really eaten a whole slice?
Then there's the snack pouch. This is the supply of food I assume she is storing for later. Perhaps she is part squirrel? I usually find a decent serving of mac'n'cheese, black beans or bread inside her onesie at diaper change time.
I would also need to wring out her clothes to calculate the actual amount of milk or yogurt consumed. We can't also forget the food mashed into the highchair straps, her clothes, my clothes and hair and the large amount spread around her face and hands.
Just as well we don't have a dog - although it would probably cut my clean up time in half.

The five day high fever she just endured took a heavy toll on her weight so I'm seriously struggling up hill on this one. Yesterday, three separate people commented to me that they couldn't believe my little baby could walk and/or talk. She's fourteen months. After my first reveal of her real age and the shocked look that followed I just said "I know, she very advanced!" and moved on quickly.

Do you think the Doc would notice if I just borrow a chubby baby and take her to the weigh in? I think that just might work. Anyone have a 20lb fourteen month old they want to lend me? I'll return her in very good condition....

Voting closes in two days - don't wait!!

Camp.

The six year old is in camp. It's a day camp. The thought of her staying away is both tantalizing and terrifying. When I drop her off she is glowing with possibility. When I pick her up she has that look of being gloriously exhausted. We signed her up with one friend so she has met 12 new friends, some are 'yucky boys.' For the record, not all boys are 'yucky' but many of them are (so true!)

When I ask her how it went, what did she do? She is coy and smug. She has secrets. It's not school, they are not so closely supervised - they can get away with things. It makes her eyes twinkle. Of course - in true six year old style - she will confess all over time but for the first few hours or maybe even days, she delights in her autonomy.

I find myself thrown back to my own camp memories. I went to camp with my family's church. We stayed away but my parents were there. Still, it was the highlight of my year. I slept in a dorm. After lights out the older girls would make my eyes wide with stories of kissing boys or stealing lipsticks from Woolworths. I was a 'good girl' and these things sounded divinely sinful to me.

Each day was full of adventure. Eating lunch on the grass with 20 other kids made it taste extra delicious. The kids came from different places and backgrounds - they had jokes and stories I'd never heard. They were so glamorous to me.

At night we would squeal with delight running to and from the bathrooms because the boys might see us in our nighties! We had crushes and spent a lot of time giggling.

It is one of the greatest joys of parenting to see my wee girl taking the path I've walked. Doing it her way. Delighting in discovery of the world outside of her routine. Breaking the rules.

Still, when she does eventually go to stay away camp - I will be in the bushes with binoculars.


Did I mention you can vote once a day?!
Voting closes in five days - go on I dare you.