Tag Archives: toddler

That’s My Daughter in the Water

When I got a promotion at work about a year ago it meant that I had to up my working days to 4 (plus a little more).  As a result and in order to make things work for our family, The Native arranged to go down to 4 working days.

Mondays are his Daddy/Daughter Day with The Duchess and to be honest, I never anticipated they would become what they now are.

He makes such an effort to take her out and do things with her.  It has genuinely become a time that he cherishes.  With my marathon of a maternity leave now only days away, we are both grieving losing that Monday because we know what it means to her and we both understand and see that it has really come to be something quite special for him, too.

Today they had a day out in Wells in Somerset.  They visited a tractor shop – as you do in the West Country – and then went on to the stunning Wells Cathedral.  Image

They trundled around the Cathedral, charming (at least in The Native’s account of things) the older visitors.  But the best bit of the day was walking around the moat.  The Native showed me this picture when I got home.  I love her mischievous face.  It tells a story.  And there is definitely a story there.  Image

“I told her that if she caught a pigeon, she could keep it.”

Thankfully she hasn’t yet inherited my insane fear of pigeons and seagulls (and I will argue that there is a VERY good reason to fear them).  She took the challenge seriously.  As a girl should.

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“But then she came across this freakishly over-confident pigeon.  The thing wouldn’t move and came right up to her.  She was reaching out to grab it and I had to scream, ‘DON’T TOUCH IT!'”

Hey.  He set the challenge.

Even when The Native “loses” his Mondays, long may Daddy/Daughter Days reign.

Further Tales of a Pink Potty

Months ago, we bought a pink potty simply to start the conversation around what would happen in the months to come as we transitioned from nappies to pants.  But recently, we’ve properly decided to explore potty training with The Duchess.  I am three months away from my due date, which means either she potty trains now or we wait until the kid is pushing three.  Because Lord help me if while sleep deprived, I am constantly running a toddler to a potty while an infant is treating me like a milk machine.  I am not made with that kind of patience.

She occasionally goes where she’s meant to at the moment, but mostly she goes in her pants.  Sometimes, she asks me to put pants on her SO she can go in them.  Last week she came home and bragged about pooping on my in-laws floor.

Somehow I’m not sure she’s getting the concept.

So when I unearthed this horse puppet from a corner that The Big Brown One had hidden him in and The Duchess made old Mr Horsey her go-to guy of the day, I am not above saying that I took advantage.   Image

I gave that horse a voice and talked to her as Mr Horsey until my throat became sore.  When the golden opportunity presented itself, I held him over her potty when she wasn’t looking, poured water in and shouted, “OH.MY.GOSH!  Horsey wees on the potty.”

The kid about fell over.

I’m just praying she’s not now expecting him to poo.  Image

Of Jetlag and Late Night Conversations

We have been away.  Just your last minute, run of the mill quick getaway.  To America.  It took us 2 travel days and we were there 6 full days.  It was to meet these two:SONY DSC

but more on that to come.

Long-haul travelling at 24 weeks pregnant is not to be scoffed at, but it’s hard to call the look anything other than scoffing as I passed fellow jet-setters in the airport with my emerging bump and toddler in tow.  People stared.  Especially middle-aged women type people.  Sure they could have been admiring the miniature-sized Thomas backpack I had stylishly slung over my shoulder, but I think it was the bump.  And I was never sure if it was a look of concern or of judgement.

I often underestimate how your body really does demand more of you when you’re pregnant (especially my back, legs and digestive tract).  When travelling in the past, I normally adjust to new timezones quickly, but this time, at 24 weeks pregnant, 12.30pm would roll around and I’d feel like I was dying.  On my feet.  Dead.  Sleep or die.  SLEEP or DIE.  I could not shake the tiredness.

And after adjusting to that 5 hour time difference – oh – like ONE DAY before left, we are now 2 days on from our arrival home and our bodies are struggling to swing back to British Summer Time.  This means the Duchess is raring to go at 1am and I am back at work tomorrow.  And oh.my.gosh I am actually going to die.  At work.

Last night when the awake-ness struck, I thought I’d try to get her to softly sing songs to lull her back to sleep.

Me: Do you want to sing a song?

TD: Yes please, Mummy.

Me: What would you like to sing?

TD: 5 Currant Buns.

Me: …………

I think that is a British song.  Do you sing it with Granny?  Mummy doesn’t know it.  How about another one?

TD: (Indecipherable…I think it was something about bananas.)

Me: Hmmm.  Don’t know that one either.

TD: Wheels on the Bus?  Mummy, you KNOW that one.  You know that one!

Me: Hey, thanks for being patronising.  I do know it.  And I am going to sing the poo out of it.  That bus will be taken to places it’s never dreamed.  The WORLD will be talking about that bus.

Call it American competitiveness, but that’s when the plan back-fired because in the haze of jetlag, I was about to show her that Mummy may not know 5 Currant Buns or a good banana song, but she could take that bus to a higher plain.

Rosemary Lemonade Ice Lollies

Last month I was the hostess for a baby shower thrown for my sister-in-law.  I wanted to pull together an interesting spread of food and tasty treats and went to one of my go-to lifestyle blogs, A Beautiful Mess, for inspiration.  They have inspiration coming out of the wazoo (literally – their wazoos are full) and I never cease to be amazed at all they offer.  But what I really wanted was a beautiful looking and fresh tasting lemonade.  I spotted their Rosemary Lemonade recipe and gave it a go.  It was a huge hit.  Genuinely.  It looked and tasted great.

I won’t mention my cake pops.   May they be archived and forgotten in Pinterest fail folklore.  Forever.

I’ve been wanting to find an excuse to make the lemonade since then.  Call it pregnancy hormones or Mummy guilt, but over the weekend I decided to embark on a lemonade making journey with the Duchess that might inject our spirits with a shot of summer since that mystical season still seems to allude us.  But instead of just making lemonade, I decided we’d turn that citric concoction into ice lollies .

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All you need is:

5-6 lemonades
fresh rosemary
sugar
ice lolly moulds – we got them nice and cheap at Sainsburys for around £2.

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It helps if your clothes match the lemons.

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Half the lemons and juice them.  Again, if you don’t have a juice squeezer – you can always hand squeeze or we picked this up from Asda for the cheap and cheerful price of £1 and it’s safe for little hands.  Once the lemons are freshly squeezed, decant the juice into a jug until the next step.

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Gently boil 1 1/2 cups of water on medium heat and add 1 cup of sugar.  Heat until all of the sugar has dissolved.  When all of the sugar has dissolved, remove the saucepan from the heat and add a fresh sprig of rosemary.  Let it sit until the water cools and then remove the rosemary.    I let the rosemary sit for quite a bit to make sure it really infused into the water.
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Add the lemon juice to the water.   While I don’t mind a bit of pulp in my lemonade, I didn’t want it in my ice lollies, so I sieved the juice when adding it to the water to make sure we’d get a smooth, no bits kind of liquid.  I then went on to add about 6 cups of water to taste.  That will be down to your personal preference as I don’t like my lemonade to be too sharp.  Once it was nice and cool, we poured the lemonade into our ice lolly moulds and left them to freeze.

The result?  Summer in your mouth.  So delicious.  They would definitely be made better with some blazing sunshine, but we’ll indulge now with the hopes that we get our chance to try them while sitting in the sunshine sometime soon.

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I question who the more sensible one is in this relationship.

Sucker

We have been back from America for well over a month.  When we initially returned I made a number of allowances for The Duchess during her bedtime routine.  And by routine I mean “bedtime free-for-all.”  (Because that’s the same thing, right?)

I blame myself.  I totally do.  But when you arrive in America and your child looks like this for the first 3 days:Image

And then looks like this upon your return:Image

It meant that I wanted to be patient with her preciously tiny little body-clock, fully expecting we’d soon be back on track.

But we are nearing the end of February and bedtime has instead become an hour long (+) process filled with impromptu Thomas stories  and the ever-present request to join her in her bed and hold her hand.  And it gets REALLY cramped in there.

Tonight was the night.

I clenched my jaw and steadied my hands as I prepared myself for war.  I sometimes watch Supernanny when there is nothing else on TV.  I knew what I was in for. Hours of screaming?  We’d just have to endure it.  Cries for Mommy?  I was doing this for her own good.  Claims that she’d pooped herself?  My nose would be the judge of that.  I know her tricks.

I read her final book of the night, reached over to switch off her lamp and placed her in her cot.

She was asleep in 20 minutes.  

(Ahem) It might have been 15 if I hadn’t run in there, convinced that she was going to use her crazy climbing skills to Parkour her toddler behind over the side of her cot.

20 minutes!!!  We have been doing this for 7 weeks.  SEVEN.  I am such a sucker.