I noticed stagnant water had appeared in the shower tray of our basement bathroom the other day - we very rarely use it. I tried to flush the loo and nothing happened. Time to call out a plumber.
I rang our resident local plumber as he'd installed the bathroom, but he was less than keen to come out (suprise suprise) and directed me to a Saniflow man. As the bathroom is below ground we had to have a saniflow system installed (yeah exciting information I know but its important for you to get the story so bear with me please!)
So, I booked Mr Saniflow in, he came with buckets and rubber gloves and some long implements vaguely resembling hoses and I left him to it, whilst I blogged in the kitchen.
He spent ages going backwards and forwards with bucket loads of revolting looking water, and I kept reminding myself how lucky I am to do the job that I do, and not his.
Eventually he appeared in the doorway with a handful of objects. " These are what are causing the problem" he said as he showed me a ping pong ball, a bouncy ball, a long thin paint brush and a handful of baby wipes!
My lovely little angelic four year old had happily been stuffing said objects down the toilet without us being aware - remiss parenting definitely!
"You'll need a new pump, the old one's completely ruined" said Mr Saniflow. Great I thought, that sounds very straight forward. So I told him to go ahead and order one.
As he was leaving I asked how much a new pump was, thinking £30 - £40 quid (plumbing parts not being my forte; but if you asked me about Juicy Couture tracksuits in Harvey Nichols I could tell you to the penny!). "Oh, approx six hundred and fifty pounds including labour " he said casually.
After I'd picked myself up off the floor, I decided Nats pocket money will have to be stopped for the rest of his life to pay for it. Now just to tell him!
Saturday 31 January 2009
Monday 26 January 2009
CONFUSION
It's hard being a three year old and making sense of the world, as the following demonstrates, but so lovely to record and read back.
Ben was nearly three when he said these :
Ben told his daddy the weather forecast " Daddy the wind will be 46, I got it from the lady on the telly".
Ben's Auntie Doe asked him his age and he said "three forty two".
I asked him what he weighed as he stood on the scales and he said "three years!"
He took his Grans glasses off and said " I can't see you now Gran".
This one's a little more logical! "If we play with our cats too much mummy we'll smell of cats because Hannah has a dog and she smells of dog"
Bless him!
Ben was nearly three when he said these :
Ben told his daddy the weather forecast " Daddy the wind will be 46, I got it from the lady on the telly".
Ben's Auntie Doe asked him his age and he said "three forty two".
I asked him what he weighed as he stood on the scales and he said "three years!"
He took his Grans glasses off and said " I can't see you now Gran".
This one's a little more logical! "If we play with our cats too much mummy we'll smell of cats because Hannah has a dog and she smells of dog"
Bless him!
Thursday 22 January 2009
JOKE
Laurens latest offering (Jan 2009)
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Stew.
Stew who?
Stew early to go to bed!!
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Stew.
Stew who?
Stew early to go to bed!!
Tuesday 20 January 2009
BIG CAT
Lynne, my friend and I were busy chatting away in the playroom of our house in Ilkley. Lynne has Harry who is very close in age to Ben, and then they were both just under two. Lynne had also just had a baby, Oliver, who was in the playroom with us.
Harry and Ben were chasing around like two year olds do, but seemed perfectly happy so we left them to it, giving us chance to coo over baby Oliver and have a good old natter.
Suddenly, there was screaming, real loud proper screaming - coming from one of the boys, from around the corner. I jumped up and diligently rushed in the direction of the noise.
What I saw will stay with me a long time!Bens bottom was up in the air and his arms flailing around whilst his head was nowhere to be seen. On closer inspection, I could see that it was stuck in the cat flap in the front door!!!!!!
Don't panic Ruth I said to myself, jumping up and down on the spot. Harry was screaming too by now as Lynne joined me in the hall carrying Oliver.
What to do now? Join in with the screaming?Phone the fire brigade? Saw off the side off the door? Pull Ben backwards? Push Ben forwards?
After assessing the situation for a few minutes (poor Ben, but we had to think about it!) Lynne and I came up with a plan. Much as both of us would have loved some hunky firemen to come rushing round we decided we needed to take matters into our own hands.
I took hold of Bens torso whilst lynne opened the front door, manouvering him backwards with the door keeping his head still. It was well and truly stuck and he continued to scream. I talked soothingly to him telling him of our plan.
The plan was this: Lynne pushed Bens head gently from one side, while I pulled the whole of him back from the other side. At first it looked like he wouldn't shift, but then he had a tiny movement, he screamed louder but we continued. Eventually, with a pop, his head came free.
Poor kid was traumatised for a while and had two lovely red raw 'scrapes' down either side of his head which took a week to disappear.
And the moral of the story is : cat flaps really are just for cats. A hard lesson to learn when you're just two!
Harry and Ben were chasing around like two year olds do, but seemed perfectly happy so we left them to it, giving us chance to coo over baby Oliver and have a good old natter.
Suddenly, there was screaming, real loud proper screaming - coming from one of the boys, from around the corner. I jumped up and diligently rushed in the direction of the noise.
What I saw will stay with me a long time!Bens bottom was up in the air and his arms flailing around whilst his head was nowhere to be seen. On closer inspection, I could see that it was stuck in the cat flap in the front door!!!!!!
Don't panic Ruth I said to myself, jumping up and down on the spot. Harry was screaming too by now as Lynne joined me in the hall carrying Oliver.
What to do now? Join in with the screaming?Phone the fire brigade? Saw off the side off the door? Pull Ben backwards? Push Ben forwards?
After assessing the situation for a few minutes (poor Ben, but we had to think about it!) Lynne and I came up with a plan. Much as both of us would have loved some hunky firemen to come rushing round we decided we needed to take matters into our own hands.
I took hold of Bens torso whilst lynne opened the front door, manouvering him backwards with the door keeping his head still. It was well and truly stuck and he continued to scream. I talked soothingly to him telling him of our plan.
The plan was this: Lynne pushed Bens head gently from one side, while I pulled the whole of him back from the other side. At first it looked like he wouldn't shift, but then he had a tiny movement, he screamed louder but we continued. Eventually, with a pop, his head came free.
Poor kid was traumatised for a while and had two lovely red raw 'scrapes' down either side of his head which took a week to disappear.
And the moral of the story is : cat flaps really are just for cats. A hard lesson to learn when you're just two!
Monday 19 January 2009
PETS
By Lauren, aged 6.
20th October 2008
I have a pet,
He loves a ball,
He loves his food,
He gobbles it all.
He loves a walk,
And he does what I say,
He loves to play,
I wish he could talk.
20th October 2008
I have a pet,
He loves a ball,
He loves his food,
He gobbles it all.
He loves a walk,
And he does what I say,
He loves to play,
I wish he could talk.
Sunday 18 January 2009
WINE MAKING
It was the last day of half term. and Ben was in year two. I was chatting away to the other mums in the playground and heard my name being called by the teacher. Whoops, my immediate thought was, what had he done !? (why I don't know because he's not and never has been a bad kid).
She asked me to go inside the classroom, and I duly followed still wondering what was going on.
She said she had something to show me. She said "you know all those grapes you've been sending down for Bens break time snack, Mrs Goodwin" (every day for the whole of half term in a little plastic bag at Bens request - he doesn't eat much fruit but red seedless grapes had always been a favourite).
"Well", she said laughing, as she pulled out Bens tray from the cabinet, "this is just a theory but I don't think he likes them anymore".
The tray came out virtually steaming, and full to the brim of bags of red grapes , in various stages of fermenting!
Think we have a budding wine maker in the family!!
She asked me to go inside the classroom, and I duly followed still wondering what was going on.
She said she had something to show me. She said "you know all those grapes you've been sending down for Bens break time snack, Mrs Goodwin" (every day for the whole of half term in a little plastic bag at Bens request - he doesn't eat much fruit but red seedless grapes had always been a favourite).
"Well", she said laughing, as she pulled out Bens tray from the cabinet, "this is just a theory but I don't think he likes them anymore".
The tray came out virtually steaming, and full to the brim of bags of red grapes , in various stages of fermenting!
Think we have a budding wine maker in the family!!
Tuesday 13 January 2009
NINE LIVES
I always thought it was cats that had nine lives. Well, last year that theory was extended to hamsters! Nat was then at nursery, and nursery had its own pet hamster - Percy, or Percy Wurce as Nat named him. I'm not terribly into little furry creatures, particularly if they in any way resemble rats, but Percy is the most divine little thing. He's golden and white and so very sociable.
We'd had him a few times before this memorable weekend, and had no problems. I was worried our five cats might take a liking to him, but they're so lazy they weren't interested. He slept in his cage in Nats room at night, and during the day did exciting things like riding toy tractors and going up the children's trouser legs.
This particular weekend started off like any other. Then, on Saturday afternoon the children were in the playroom, all playing with Percy and getting very giddy. My husband was supervising (thank goodness) and I was in our basement doing something creative.
The story goes something like this : Chris left the kids with Percy for just a minute to go the toilet, asking them to be careful and kind to the hamster before he went. They nodded and off he went. the next thing I heard was a lot of screaming and crying. I rushed up to the playroom and poor little Percy was staggering round in circles on the floor, with one of his eyes shrunk to the size of a pin prick.
Oh my goodness! Eventually when the kids had calmed down abit I established that Nat had placed Percy on top of the toy chest (which is relatively high, especially for a hamster) thinking he may like to go sky diving, but without a parachute. Percy did, diving off the end and landing head first onto the solid floor below.
Poor little Percy I thought, and how on earth do we explain a dead hamster to nursery on Monday morning?. Thinking on my feet I thought how I'd react if it one of the children, and it came to me - I'd give them arnica. I use this homeopathic remedy for any knocks, bumps or bruises and it works on them so why not on a hamster?
I crushed an arnica pill, Ben held Percy and we pushed it into his mouth. And lo and behold within half an hour Percys eye increased to match the other, and when we put him on the floor he no longer looked drunk and could potter around as normal. Major relief!
We've not volunteered to have him since though!
We'd had him a few times before this memorable weekend, and had no problems. I was worried our five cats might take a liking to him, but they're so lazy they weren't interested. He slept in his cage in Nats room at night, and during the day did exciting things like riding toy tractors and going up the children's trouser legs.
This particular weekend started off like any other. Then, on Saturday afternoon the children were in the playroom, all playing with Percy and getting very giddy. My husband was supervising (thank goodness) and I was in our basement doing something creative.
The story goes something like this : Chris left the kids with Percy for just a minute to go the toilet, asking them to be careful and kind to the hamster before he went. They nodded and off he went. the next thing I heard was a lot of screaming and crying. I rushed up to the playroom and poor little Percy was staggering round in circles on the floor, with one of his eyes shrunk to the size of a pin prick.
Oh my goodness! Eventually when the kids had calmed down abit I established that Nat had placed Percy on top of the toy chest (which is relatively high, especially for a hamster) thinking he may like to go sky diving, but without a parachute. Percy did, diving off the end and landing head first onto the solid floor below.
Poor little Percy I thought, and how on earth do we explain a dead hamster to nursery on Monday morning?. Thinking on my feet I thought how I'd react if it one of the children, and it came to me - I'd give them arnica. I use this homeopathic remedy for any knocks, bumps or bruises and it works on them so why not on a hamster?
I crushed an arnica pill, Ben held Percy and we pushed it into his mouth. And lo and behold within half an hour Percys eye increased to match the other, and when we put him on the floor he no longer looked drunk and could potter around as normal. Major relief!
We've not volunteered to have him since though!
Monday 12 January 2009
Beasty quotes!
These have been collected over the years :
"Mummy I've got two woodlife in here " . Ben aged four.
"Benjy says I can go to his party as a dinosaur mummy, but I want to go as me". Lauren aged three.
" I've got budgies in my hair " (midges). Lauren aged three.
"Do you think the rabbits have laid any more babies ". Lauren aged three.
"I'll be quiet as a busy bee". Lauren aged three.
Nat says he makes "stuff 'n' frogs" out of his playdoh. Aged two.
"Poo - poo - potamus". Nat, aged two.
"I love you mices to pieces mum". Nat aged two.
Nat has lots of plastic frogs and takes them everywhere with him. He's named them dead mum, dead dad, and Freddie Helen!
Ben trying to get to sleep aged five, I suggested he counts tigers (he's animal mad). "Mummy I can't get to sleep tonight, I can't find the right channel with animals on it in my head".
Ben making friends, whilst carrying a bucket on the beach in Majorca " Hi, I've got crabs". What a chat up line!
"Hairy bulls " (highland cows). Ben aged four.
Ben aged two and a half found a dead crab on the beach in Cornwall. "We need to call the police daddy!".
"Mummy I've got two woodlife in here " . Ben aged four.
"Benjy says I can go to his party as a dinosaur mummy, but I want to go as me". Lauren aged three.
" I've got budgies in my hair " (midges). Lauren aged three.
"Do you think the rabbits have laid any more babies ". Lauren aged three.
"I'll be quiet as a busy bee". Lauren aged three.
Nat says he makes "stuff 'n' frogs" out of his playdoh. Aged two.
"Poo - poo - potamus". Nat, aged two.
"I love you mices to pieces mum". Nat aged two.
Nat has lots of plastic frogs and takes them everywhere with him. He's named them dead mum, dead dad, and Freddie Helen!
Ben trying to get to sleep aged five, I suggested he counts tigers (he's animal mad). "Mummy I can't get to sleep tonight, I can't find the right channel with animals on it in my head".
Ben making friends, whilst carrying a bucket on the beach in Majorca " Hi, I've got crabs". What a chat up line!
"Hairy bulls " (highland cows). Ben aged four.
Ben aged two and a half found a dead crab on the beach in Cornwall. "We need to call the police daddy!".
Thursday 8 January 2009
Family =father and mother I love you
I pulled this fabulous poem out of a magazine years ago, it made me cry so much, and still does today. Thought I'd share it with you.
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" went my reply.
He said "please excuse me too,
I wasn't watching for you".
We were very polite, this stranger and I,
We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down,
"Move out of the way" I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken,
I didn't realise how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, but the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
These are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself, pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the suprise, you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes".
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up" I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled " I found them by the tree.
I picked them because they are pretty like you.
I knew you'd like them especially the blue".
I said "son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way".
He said "oh mum that's ok.
I love you anyway".
I said "son, I love you too, and I do like the flowers, especially the blue"
I ran into a stranger as he passed by,
"Oh excuse me please" went my reply.
He said "please excuse me too,
I wasn't watching for you".
We were very polite, this stranger and I,
We went on our way and we said goodbye.
But at home a different story is told,
How we treat our loved ones, young and old.
Later that day, cooking the evening meal,
My son stood beside me very still.
When I turned, I nearly knocked him down,
"Move out of the way" I said with a frown.
He walked away, his little heart broken,
I didn't realise how harshly I'd spoken.
While I lay awake in bed,
God's still small voice came to me and said,
"While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, but the family you love, you seem to abuse.
Go and look on the kitchen floor,
You'll find some flowers there by the door.
These are the flowers he brought for you.
He picked them himself, pink, yellow and blue.
He stood very quietly not to spoil the suprise, you never saw the tears that filled his little eyes".
By this time, I felt very small,
And now my tears began to fall.
I quietly went and knelt by his bed;
"Wake up, little one, wake up" I said.
"Are these the flowers you picked for me?"
He smiled " I found them by the tree.
I picked them because they are pretty like you.
I knew you'd like them especially the blue".
I said "son, I'm very sorry for the way I acted today;
I shouldn't have yelled at you that way".
He said "oh mum that's ok.
I love you anyway".
I said "son, I love you too, and I do like the flowers, especially the blue"
Neon Necklaces and Rubber Bullets
We've been to casualty with all three of our kids, actually more than once and mostly it's a scary experience. With Nathaniel, who's a spirited kid to say the least, both times have been most amusing!
The first one, nearly two years ago was when we'd gone to see an England match at Old Trafford and the kids had all been given those neon necklaces that you snap to make glow. I was reading a magazine in the car on the way home, as my husband drove, and feeling pretty relaxed (as much as you can with three kids in the back of the car, but they were watching a dvd!).
Suddenly Nat started screaming, ear piercing screams that send shock waves through your whole body. I turned round and will never forget the sight I was greeted with.
He was glowing. A lovely yellowy green colour from his hair down to his fingers! He'd only gone and bitten into the neon necklace, punctured it and the slimy liquid had splattered all over him. My concern was his eyes, they were a yellowy green colour too!
I shouted at my husband that we needed a hospital, and luckily we were close to St James's. I carried him in, by which time he'd stopped crying but he still resembled a miniature Incredible Hulk. They took us straight in to a booth and a nurse took details. We had the packaging from the necklace and it was checked and all ingredients non toxic, thank goodness. They cleaned him up and we went on our way. Panic over!
A few weeks ago, we had to go again. All three children were at Grans for the day; they love it with my mum, it's like their second home. I got a call, and could here the screaming in the background before my mum spoke. Nat had pushed a rubber bullet up his nose and wouldn't let her get it out!
I dashed round, we pinned him down to have a look and sure enough we could see the bullet lodged up high in one of his nostrils. He wasn't in pain but was screaming because he didn't want to go to hospital.
We went non the less, and had to wait over two hours as it was, quite rightly, deemed to be a non emergency. In this time Nat had the time of his life playing with a little boy with a giant egg like lump on his forehead, and forgot all about the bullet.
A nurse eventually called us into a booth and typed his details into the computer - alarm bells must have rung somewhere as he turned to me and asked " do you have a social worker Mrs Goodwin". My mum wanted to punch him; I just laughed politely and prayed Nat doesn't have any more 'accidents' in the near future, otherwise we probably will get a social worker.
Another nurse got a pair of tweezers and Nat sat calmly as the offending article was removed, swiftly and with no pain. When she asked him never to do that again, he just grinned from ear to ear.................yikes!
The first one, nearly two years ago was when we'd gone to see an England match at Old Trafford and the kids had all been given those neon necklaces that you snap to make glow. I was reading a magazine in the car on the way home, as my husband drove, and feeling pretty relaxed (as much as you can with three kids in the back of the car, but they were watching a dvd!).
Suddenly Nat started screaming, ear piercing screams that send shock waves through your whole body. I turned round and will never forget the sight I was greeted with.
He was glowing. A lovely yellowy green colour from his hair down to his fingers! He'd only gone and bitten into the neon necklace, punctured it and the slimy liquid had splattered all over him. My concern was his eyes, they were a yellowy green colour too!
I shouted at my husband that we needed a hospital, and luckily we were close to St James's. I carried him in, by which time he'd stopped crying but he still resembled a miniature Incredible Hulk. They took us straight in to a booth and a nurse took details. We had the packaging from the necklace and it was checked and all ingredients non toxic, thank goodness. They cleaned him up and we went on our way. Panic over!
A few weeks ago, we had to go again. All three children were at Grans for the day; they love it with my mum, it's like their second home. I got a call, and could here the screaming in the background before my mum spoke. Nat had pushed a rubber bullet up his nose and wouldn't let her get it out!
I dashed round, we pinned him down to have a look and sure enough we could see the bullet lodged up high in one of his nostrils. He wasn't in pain but was screaming because he didn't want to go to hospital.
We went non the less, and had to wait over two hours as it was, quite rightly, deemed to be a non emergency. In this time Nat had the time of his life playing with a little boy with a giant egg like lump on his forehead, and forgot all about the bullet.
A nurse eventually called us into a booth and typed his details into the computer - alarm bells must have rung somewhere as he turned to me and asked " do you have a social worker Mrs Goodwin". My mum wanted to punch him; I just laughed politely and prayed Nat doesn't have any more 'accidents' in the near future, otherwise we probably will get a social worker.
Another nurse got a pair of tweezers and Nat sat calmly as the offending article was removed, swiftly and with no pain. When she asked him never to do that again, he just grinned from ear to ear.................yikes!
Wednesday 7 January 2009
Boobies!
Just lifted this from my diary from March 14th 2004 :
Lauren (aged nearly two) has been feeding her dolls this morning with her 'boobies'. She holds them close and lifts up her top! She put two breast pads (I was feeding Nathaniel aged one month) inside her pyjamas and said "for me's boobies"!
This afternoon we went to pick Ben up from nursery and it was raining. She was carrying a frog umbrella and jumping up and down shouting "ribbit ribbit".
Later, Ben came running into the kitchen shouting "Mummy, alert the media, alert the media!" and when I asked why he said "Laurens gone outside on her own"?! This was a first but she hadn't gone far - I was being a consciencious mother, honest.
That evening Grandad was putting Ben to bed and he asked him if he snored at night. " I don't know how to snore Grandad".
Lauren (aged nearly two) has been feeding her dolls this morning with her 'boobies'. She holds them close and lifts up her top! She put two breast pads (I was feeding Nathaniel aged one month) inside her pyjamas and said "for me's boobies"!
This afternoon we went to pick Ben up from nursery and it was raining. She was carrying a frog umbrella and jumping up and down shouting "ribbit ribbit".
Later, Ben came running into the kitchen shouting "Mummy, alert the media, alert the media!" and when I asked why he said "Laurens gone outside on her own"?! This was a first but she hadn't gone far - I was being a consciencious mother, honest.
That evening Grandad was putting Ben to bed and he asked him if he snored at night. " I don't know how to snore Grandad".
Monday 5 January 2009
Alternative Rhymes!
Dip,dip tation, corporation,
The cat's got the chickenpox
So out goes the cotton one!
My four year old deciding which t-shirt to wear!!
The cat's got the chickenpox
So out goes the cotton one!
My four year old deciding which t-shirt to wear!!
Sunday 4 January 2009
Sheriff or Shepherd?!
My four year old came out of school one day in December and announced "Mummy I'm going to be a sheriff in the school play". He was very excited and full of his own importance, so I gingerly questioned him. " Do you mean a sheriff sweetheart?". "Yes mummy". I asked several times over the course of the afternoon and evening and he was adamant, so I assumed they were performing some alternative nativity play where Mary and Joseph meet cowboys!
It turned out, after I'd quizzed his teacher, that he was actually Chief Shepherd and not only that but he had a line to say!
We practised it at home every night " Come here my five best sheep" - much to the amusement of his brother and sister, until he'd got it off to a tee! So much so that they thought they'd have some fun with it, and him, by changing the word 'best' to all sorts of other things.
"Come here my five rubbish sheep"
"Come here my five worst sheep"
" Come here my five wee-wee sheep"
"Come here my five poo - poo sheep" (he's going through the wee-wee, poo-poo stage at the moment!)...
...and so it went on. Every night they'd come up with new words to fit into his one and only sentence. It was like something out of a Horrid Henry book listening to them and my husband and I laughed but cringed at the same time.
What on earth was our little darling going to come out with on the day of the nativity??!
We bought him a fabulous little outfit from Woolworths ( what ever will we do without that shop, so sad) complete with head dress, crook and a little sheep. He wore it every night for a week before the play and all day at the weekends if he could.
I went to the dress rehearsal and waited with great anticipation for thirty little four and five year olds to march into the hall and onto/next to the stage. The performance was fabulous, the audience had tears in their eyes as their little angels did their bit - and my own little angel stood proudly and said his line loudly, clearly and .................accurately. Bless him.
It turned out, after I'd quizzed his teacher, that he was actually Chief Shepherd and not only that but he had a line to say!
We practised it at home every night " Come here my five best sheep" - much to the amusement of his brother and sister, until he'd got it off to a tee! So much so that they thought they'd have some fun with it, and him, by changing the word 'best' to all sorts of other things.
"Come here my five rubbish sheep"
"Come here my five worst sheep"
" Come here my five wee-wee sheep"
"Come here my five poo - poo sheep" (he's going through the wee-wee, poo-poo stage at the moment!)...
...and so it went on. Every night they'd come up with new words to fit into his one and only sentence. It was like something out of a Horrid Henry book listening to them and my husband and I laughed but cringed at the same time.
What on earth was our little darling going to come out with on the day of the nativity??!
We bought him a fabulous little outfit from Woolworths ( what ever will we do without that shop, so sad) complete with head dress, crook and a little sheep. He wore it every night for a week before the play and all day at the weekends if he could.
I went to the dress rehearsal and waited with great anticipation for thirty little four and five year olds to march into the hall and onto/next to the stage. The performance was fabulous, the audience had tears in their eyes as their little angels did their bit - and my own little angel stood proudly and said his line loudly, clearly and .................accurately. Bless him.
Setting The Scene
Hi, I'm a mum of three kids aged 8 and a half (boy), 6 and three quarters (girl) and nearly 5 (boy). I really enjoyed being pregnant each time - I bloomed all the way through, ate what I liked and thoroughly enjoyed all the attention.
When my first was born I carried on working a little, nothing much just a few hours here and there and that was from home inbetween feeds, nappy changes, and buggy pushing.Oh and don't forget the mums and baby groups where we ate cake, drank tea and swapped notes on our little bundles.
After my second and third came along (there's twenty two months between each one - precision planning!) things changed big time. I had given up work whilst being pregnant the second time and with little sleep each night - both boys were terrible sleepers, I was knackered.
Not suprising looking back, that I got post natal depression twice. I hated my body which didn't help. It changed shape, my tummy was saggy, my boobs leaked and my nipples felt 'chewed' and I felt most comfortable in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Very stylish - not, and for all those who know me so very not me at all!
With no job other than being a wife and mother - very important I know but I now realise that this just wasn't enough for me, I struggled every day for six months with my second and third child wondering how I'd get through the day. I resisted anti depressants, conventional medicine is so not me, and opted instead for homeopathy and acupuncture. It worked but it was a slow process.
Whilst I loved, and still love, my children dearly ,I resented them. I felt like I'd dropped off the end of the earth and had nothing that was 'just for me' in my life. If I wasn't breastfeeding, changing nappies, potty training, spoon feeding, pushing a double buggy and dragging a toddler behind, reading stories, making meals that they didn't eat, bathing and putting to sleep I had nagging little voices saying "mummy" all day and alot of the night too!
Despite all this I managed to keep a diary and have recorded some of the wonderful (and not so) things that my children have said and done so far in their little lives and reading through them makes me realise how very special they are and how very precious life is.
They deserve the best, all children, and not all of them get it. For years I' m not sure my children got the best from me - but thankfully they also have a loving father who has more patience than me and never lost his sanity - and now I'm trying to live with this and move on.
I hope you enjoy this blog, it's supposed to be light hearted and fun despite the heavy introduction. I hope it makes you smile and think how equally gorgeous your own little ones are. Please leave lots of comments particularly things you've recorded too.
When my first was born I carried on working a little, nothing much just a few hours here and there and that was from home inbetween feeds, nappy changes, and buggy pushing.Oh and don't forget the mums and baby groups where we ate cake, drank tea and swapped notes on our little bundles.
After my second and third came along (there's twenty two months between each one - precision planning!) things changed big time. I had given up work whilst being pregnant the second time and with little sleep each night - both boys were terrible sleepers, I was knackered.
Not suprising looking back, that I got post natal depression twice. I hated my body which didn't help. It changed shape, my tummy was saggy, my boobs leaked and my nipples felt 'chewed' and I felt most comfortable in leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Very stylish - not, and for all those who know me so very not me at all!
With no job other than being a wife and mother - very important I know but I now realise that this just wasn't enough for me, I struggled every day for six months with my second and third child wondering how I'd get through the day. I resisted anti depressants, conventional medicine is so not me, and opted instead for homeopathy and acupuncture. It worked but it was a slow process.
Whilst I loved, and still love, my children dearly ,I resented them. I felt like I'd dropped off the end of the earth and had nothing that was 'just for me' in my life. If I wasn't breastfeeding, changing nappies, potty training, spoon feeding, pushing a double buggy and dragging a toddler behind, reading stories, making meals that they didn't eat, bathing and putting to sleep I had nagging little voices saying "mummy" all day and alot of the night too!
Despite all this I managed to keep a diary and have recorded some of the wonderful (and not so) things that my children have said and done so far in their little lives and reading through them makes me realise how very special they are and how very precious life is.
They deserve the best, all children, and not all of them get it. For years I' m not sure my children got the best from me - but thankfully they also have a loving father who has more patience than me and never lost his sanity - and now I'm trying to live with this and move on.
I hope you enjoy this blog, it's supposed to be light hearted and fun despite the heavy introduction. I hope it makes you smile and think how equally gorgeous your own little ones are. Please leave lots of comments particularly things you've recorded too.
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