6
Sep
2010
Feel the fear (of rain) and do it anyway.
Children. Rain. Holidays. Could three words inspire more fear?
my alternative rain lifestyle
I love my children. Most of the time. Well, except when they are being really really really annoying. Or when it is raining and they are inside with me. ALL DAY. Despite the fact that it is September and supposedly not yet winter, we need to remember that this is England and there is a lot of rain. And cold. Even in summer. So they are inside with me. And when I say with me – I mean crawling over me, tugging my legs, putting their sticky little fingers all over my cream couches (I know, but it was before kids ok) and kicking their grubby little feet into my computer screen. I may well be going mental. Just mildly and quite quietly (depending on who you ask) but mental all the same.
31
Aug
2010
Herding cats. Or how to throw a kid’s party – part 2
So – part one was about the basics – planning the party. But every kid knows that planning the party is secondary. The venue can be ace, the games fun, the fire thrower awesome, but if you don’t get the main event right then all else may as well be thrown out with the pass the parcel.
Yes, I am of course referring to The Cake. Big, small, cupcake, multi-layered behemoth, store-bought, ice-cream, homemade – The Cake is the big kahuna of the party day. You have to have one.
If you’re Australian it is likely that you spent some time in your childhood pouring over the Cake Bible – second only to choosing your showbags from the newspaper lift-out (if you’re not from Australia, you just had to be there I’m sorry, but believe me, the day that lift-out came out was the BEST DAY OF THE YEAR) was the choosing of the cake from the Australian Women’s Weekly Kid’s Birthday Cakes Book. And if you don’t believe me, then see someone far more amusing than me…
Anyway – here are other top tips about cake preparation:
22
Aug
2010
Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions #1
I have often been described as a genius. By often, I mean I think I heard a teacher say it once. Possibly she said pest. No, definitely genius. Anyway, I present to you the first in my eagerly anticipated series – Kate’s Genius Child-Rearing Inventions. These are things that I have never seen in a shop – possibly as they may cause injury – but DEFINITELY should be in a shop. People would buy these things.
Pop-up remote controlled electric fence.
A little less violent
You know when you’re in a park. Or a coffee shop or a circus. And you have a small child running in the wrong direction. Or crawling away as fast as their little legs can move? And you really want to finish the end of JUST ONE sentence before interrupting your conversation to drag them back to the designated zone? This is where you whip out your remote control, press the buzzer and a child proof forcefield is erected. Nothing too violent – it wouldn’t give them an electric shock (that’s part of my invention #21) – would just keep them in a defined area, unable to disappear behind a faraway hedge, smear ice-cream on any one’s leather sofa or empty salt out of every salt shaker behind the waiter’s station.
19
Aug
2010
Note to child: I am not play equipment
CC photo credit: rosmary
In yet another in my series on summer and my poor adaptation to full-time mothering, I’ve reached a point of putting my foot down on the baby/11kg toddler crawling all over me every minute of the day and demanding to be carried all the time – which, all of sudden, seems to be pretty much all day). I can’t take it anymore.
You see, Monkey, contrary to what you seem to think, my little cherub, I do not exist for the purpose of being crawled and climbed upon. I am in fact, not playground equipment, or, as my South African mother would say, ‘a Jungle Gym’.
While I may call you Monkey, you are in fact not born of the jungle. And so, not only am I not a Jungle Gym, you will find on closer inspection that my hair is not a collection of jungle vines on which to swing, (though I am very flattered that someone perceives my hair to be of greater body than the flimsy fairy floss it more closely represents).
17
Aug
2010
Herding cats. Or how to throw a kid’s party – part 1
Not appropriate for a three year old. And frankly, a little bit disturbing at any age?
I have been planning my son’s 3rd birthday party basically since his 2nd birthday. I know – what a nerd. But that won’t be news to anyone who knows me – I do love a drink good shindig. And as I have the most amazing memories of parties thrown by my mum, I guess I’m just trying to make sure my children have the same sort of memories. Of course, emulating my mother’s parties is a slippery slope. It’s only a hop step and a jump from similar parties to bridge games four times a week and antique shopping. Before we know it I’ll be posting about ten ways to improve your family tree (sorry Mum – I really am dying to see the results of the three thousand years of research you’ve done.)
Where was I? Oh yes – parties. Seriously, how can you not like kid’s parties? The mess, the screams, the tears – there’s something for everyone. Personally, I’m in it for the cake and the champagne. And the fairy bread – which I have discovered today is an Australian thing. Who knew? And if you are unaware of the JOYS of fairy bread – see here. In the meantime, here are my top tips:
10
Aug
2010
World’s Worst Mother Award – or how to counter your smugness in a couple of easy steps
So you know when you are feeling really smug about something that things can take a turn for the worse?
This could well be me accepting the award
Like when you move out of your first house in London that you hate into one that you absolutely adore, and then regularly drive down your old street just to lean out the window and say ‘’aaaarrrrgggh, suffer’ to the old house? And then get a call from your landlady at awesome new house saying she wants awesome house back for herself and you have one month to vacate? And you end up living with your parents-in-law?
Or like when you feel really clever about getting up to date with all your personal admin and then realise you have forgotten to renew your visa meaning a last minute dash to Wales on the day it is due to expire, and costing an additional £830 for a priority in-person appointment? And 24 hours before said priority appointment, manage to lose your passport while organising papers for said visa? Meaning an emergency emergency appointment at Australian High Commission to replace said passport, only to discover (day before emergency trip to Wales) that some amazing soul has handed it in at the High Commission but in the process of preparing documents, photos plus emergency drive-as-fast-as-you-can taxi rides, adding another 100 quid to the cost of said visa process?
2
Aug
2010
Why I am an awesome parent – my new parenting philosophy
ideal parenting position
A male friend of mine sent a group email with the MOST fabulous article this week about ‘idle parenting’. It sparked much comment and a whole new language. The opening sentence of the article by my new hero Tom Hodgkinson sums up the whole concept:
Cancel all clubs, ditch the after-school activities and leave those kids alone.
In other brilliant highlights, the article includes gems such as:
a lazy parent is a good parent
A lot can be achieved by lying in bed. Simply by doing nothing, you can train children to do useful things.
My kids are happy because we’re happy.” Do not suffer. Enjoy your life.
I had no idea that I was already subscribing to such a widespread and legitimate* child raising methodology. But I am loving it.
27
Jul
2010
Travelling with kids – part two, into the inferno.
So I think it would be fair to say that we have covered airplane travel relatively comprehensively (if by comprehensive you mean in a kind of crappy yet witty and insightful way here , here and here) but there is always the other bit – when you actually get there. Oh yes, the holiday itself. I’ve just been on one and although I know most things in the world, as I’ve mentioned before, a far cleverer friend than me says that every time you travel you learn a new thing about travelling with your children. I think she might be right. Plus, she’s a lot taller than me, and currently about 11 months pregnant, so I usually agree with most things she says, lest she clout me over the ear. Anyway – some tips….
- Most importantly – do it. Travel. Get out there. Most places can be done with kids. Unless it’s a twenty two star adults only resort. Don’t take kids there – unless you plan to hide them in your room the whole time. But that might be a bit boring. Even if they do like DVDs.
23
Jul
2010
Bugger off kid
Kids getting along swimmingly
Sometimes you really just want to tell a kid to Bugger Off. Unfortunately, while it can be effective in the short term, the short victory normally turns sour. It usually ends with an accusing, pointing, sticky little finger and the words, “Mummy that lady told me to Bugger Off”. Dobber. You can look searchingly behind you as much as you like, a kids extended pointer finger is a frighteningly accurate instrument for identifying the object of their accusations.
What are your alternatives when a kid is behaving like a rat bag and their parents are absent or unwilling to discipline their child? I’ve heard horrific stories of parents witnessing their child being hit or pushed while the well-aware parent of the offender sits idly by, and I am sure there are many outrageous stories with which I hope you’ll regale us in the comments section, but actually we face smaller, less serious incidences all the time that can be pretty frustrating.
20
Jul
2010
The big child raising issues. Or how to annoy your husband in the middle of the night.
Do you worry about your children much? I mean clearly, crossing the road, not jumping into the pool or licking other people’s dogs – the things we all worry about. But I am talking about the really big issues. Those that keep us awake at night.
Sometimes I think I am doing aok – I have a nice little pigeon pair (what on EARTH does that mean by the way? And as an aside, I got a lot of congratulations on the birth of daughter. To which I of course blushed and looked suitably proud and modest. Like I had ANYTHING to do with it. Except of course my secret girl making potion sprinkled liberally on husband while sleeping.) . Anyway, a nice little pair who are occasionally well behaved and haven’t set fire to anything in months.
5
Jul
2010
The post about what to give when you’re not giving flowers
For the love of god, NO.
There are only so many flowers a person needs. Honestly. And this goes for sick people, as well as new mothers. Firstly, who has fourteen vases in the right shape and colour for fourteen different bunches? Secondly, who has fourteen mantelpieces to put them on? And thirdly, umm, who needs that many flowers? But who has the time to think of clever and thoughtful yet awesome value presents for people these days? What with full on jobs or full on children or full on both, you need some help. And they don’t call me Helpful Harriet for nothing. Actually, no one calls me Helpful Harriet but I am hoping if I use it enough, it will catch on. So here are some suggestions. Some of them might also be useful for someone who is coping with an illness, a bereavement, a break-up or a general rough time. You are welcome.
The gift of time
20
Jun
2010
Recovering from the ‘other kind’ of birth
It does not take this many openings - I swear.
I am a small-time c-section veteran, having got two babies up and out ‘through the sun roof’. Not on my own you understand – there were a few doctors and nurses, but basically I am tough and brave. As an obsessive planner, the second time round when I knew I was having another one, I did some serious research. I also bought a lot of unnecessary gear and freaked out a lot. Even if you’re planning the most natural of natural births, stuff happens sometimes and it always pays to freak out in advance. Oh wait – is that right? Anyway, based on absolutely no medical experience whatsoever (although I have watched a LOT of Gray’s Anatomy which is pretty much the same thing), here are my personal top tips for recovering from a c-section:
13
Jun
2010
Living with a Two Year Old Teenager
not mine, but so could be.
So I have this gorgeous little boy. He’s just turned two, couldn’t be more cheery, gregarious, smiles at everyone. Talks a lot, constantly laughing. Oh wait – that’s who I used to live with. Now I live with a TWO YEAR OLD TEENAGER. That’s right – on his second birthday he woke up and decided to skip a decade or so and move straight into being troublesome teenage boy. You don’t believe it is possible? I lived with my teenage brother, I remember the signs. Witness:
- Refusal to get out of bed. Lies in bed grunting at me and needs much coaxing and persuasion to join the rest of us. Paradoxically, a lot of unhappiness about going to bed – clearly a night owl. I am a horrible mother who refuses to indulge this. Although with a few more months I may give in – he can join me for a glass of wine and some Grey’s Anatomy on the couch.
- Sweats a lot. Not yet experiencing acne caused by excessive greasiness, but am anticipating getting him onto the Clearasil fairly soon now.
6
Jun
2010
Sophie – baby’s first status symbol? And our very first giveaway.
This is her. Skinny, Parisian and chic.
I don’t know if it has hit other parts of the world yet, but here in Europe if you don’t own Sophie, you may as well stay home – or stay hidden underneath the sun protector in your buggy or other baby anti-humiliation techniques. There is no way you could face life in the sandpit without knowing that you had Sophie waiting for you at home. Yes my friends – it’s not about highchairs or cots or even your designer buggy – if you don’t own Sophie La Giraffe, you are nobody.
Furthermore, if you don’t buy your baby one immediately, you are probably sentencing your child to a lifetime of lunches alone and dodgy denim choices (I have no memories like this to relate to, only ever having been seen wearing cool, up to the minute, always in fashion jeans. Cough denim hotpants cough).
But why? Why this French phenomenon? There are fifty five million different squeezy toys for babies (I counted), what makes Soph different? I’ll hazard a few (dodgy) guesses….
- She is French. Probably Parisian. And female. All Parisian women are skinny, chic, classic and colour coordinated. So is Sophie.
1
Jun
2010
And somewhere along the line I fell in love
ALERT: TOTALLY SOPPY POST COMING UP. AVERT EYES IF NECESSARY
So you know how all those movies and TV shows and chicklit books describe the moment you meet your baby and you fall instantly in love? Completely and utterly, beside yourself immediately, in love? If you don’t know those books and TV shows and movies then good on you, you probably spend your time reading worthy, didactic tomes about apartheid in South Africa and tutoring the underprivileged (which begs the question about why you are reading this blog, but we’ll take anyone).
Anyway, you know that instant love feeling? Well, nope. Not me.
When number one came along, sure I felt protective. He was also very cute (massive head notwithstanding) and I was keen to look after him the best I possibly could. We spent hours marvelling at the fact that we had MADE THAT LIMB. I know, the first people EVER to create life – I know how clever we are. But overwhelming, tear inducing love at first sight? Nope. Am I weird?
17
May
2010
Gina Ford – the case FOR.
Do not set one of those up in your back garden to burn books. This would be weird.
Oh my god, my pulse is racing, my heart is beating faster and I can hear Jacqui yelling from Madrid. It’s that time. Time for the post I have been thinking about since we started the blog. The Dame Gina Ford post.
If you’ve had a child in the past ten odd years in the UK or Australia, you’d have to be a bit lacking in eyes and/or ears to have missed one of her books on the parenting bookshelves, seen referenece to her methods on the internet or heard mention of her routines from other parents. The most popular book is The Very Contented Baby, but there are various follow-ups including The Contented Baby with Toddler.
At the outset, I need to divulge something that might already be obvious – I love Gina. There, I’ve said it. It’s out there. Let the stabbings commence and the bags full of poo start arriving on our doorstep, but it is true – her methods have worked like an incredible charm for our family and Gina (or The Big G (TBG) as we prefer to call her) rules the child routine roost around at our pad.
3
May
2010
By popular demand – THE BABY LIST. Essentials and almost essentials to buy.
This is like a picture of me at the dentist. I know - bad hair day.
Ages ago I wrote a post about baby things I had bought that I had wasted money on. I made a rash promise to post my spreadsheet of things that you SHOULD buy. Four months later I am coming good with my promise. I know. I’m reliable like that. You should hear my promises to my dentist – they are nothing short of inspiring and involve trips to hygienists, dental floss and 45 degree brushing angles.
Anyway, I digress. I know that interesting dentistry anecdotes is a post in itself but baby stuff I promised and baby stuff you shall have. There are many many things to buy when you are having a baby. And many many shops and online stores from which to buy these essentials. I say essentials. In actual fact, apart from a cot, a pram and some clothes, you’d be hard pressed to say anything was truly essential. But we are what we are. Well, actually, I am what I am. You may well be a far more worthy and green type person who buys the minimum, recycles stuff, freecycles it back into the community and is generally a better, kinder and more annoying person than me. If you are, can I suggest you stop reading? I think you will not enjoy my list of essentials.
26
Apr
2010
Things that make me vomit. And other fun stories about toddlers.
Many may be needed.
The day I hoped would never come is here. Or rather I hoped it would come, but I hoped someone else would have to deal with it. But no, no other mother has popped out of the woodwork offering to take over my role for a few months. So…… it is POTTY TRAINING TIME.
I have enjoyed each new stage up until now (apart from the hellish non-feeding phase of the first baby which I have conveniently blocked from all memory). The weaning was fun, the walking, the learning to feed themselves, talking (offensive swearing toddler aside) — all good stuff. But this, this is something I am ill-prepared for. Mentally, physically, emotionally, I am just not a potty-training type of person. I have a number of issues here:
- I am not a massive fan of talking about bodily functions. I cringe when I hear myself saying “can you do wee-wees for Mummy?” and my voice drops four volume levels when I ask my little angel if he needs to do poo-poos. The thought of having to spend the next few weeks (months? years?) talking about this is KILLING me.
12
Apr
2010
Parenting Skills – the top five. Which include shopping.
I have not taken children to a concert yet. But I imagine I would be quite good at it.
I am not good at games. I don’t like making crowns. Or playing trains. Or pretending to eat belly-button chocolate (don’t ask, it’s a family thing). I imagine I will be rubbish at watching children’s sporting matches, as I have a tendency to drift off when balls start flying around in front of me. I also dislike taking my children out to lunch, playing in the park and speaking baby talk to newborns. However, I do have some parenting skills of which I am proud. Some may say weirdly proud — I would just say proud.
1. I am an EXCELLENT story reader. I give it everything I have got — whether it’s pathos, humour, kindness or poignancy (not a commonly required emotion in board books, but you never know) — I can carry it off. I have been known to receive a small round of applause at the end of Dig Dig Digging and if you thought you couldn’t eke out a tear from a 2 year old at a rendition of The Very Hungry Caterpillar, then you were wrong.
5
Apr
2010
Mere Male: celebrating the stay-at-home dad. Or mum really.
So we let a man into the blog in a defenceless moment….
A few weeks ago at one of our post work pub gatherings, a group of male friends and I were discussing whether we would prefer to work or be stay at home fathers. The universal view was that whilst work sometimes may just be a means to an end rather than a passion, is often stressful and demanding and is invariably fraught with politics, it was still infinitely preferable to being at home with children. I often greet my wife with a variation on the “I’d love to give up working and go to coffee mornings and play dates all week” theme (note to any fathers reading this, try this line at home, they love it despite what the reaction might suggest) but I’d bet serious money, if I had any, that if I did take my wife up on her offer to switch roles, within the week she’d come home to find someone thumb in mouth, gently rocking themselves and calling for their mummy, just not one of her children.
Why is this? A few observations:
