Charlie (and me) have taken almost exactly six months to reach the point where he can walk in with a smile on his face and for me to leave feeling light in my heart and able to achieve anything at all except mope around wondering how he is doing. Some people seem to find this process a walk in the park. For me it was more like a stagger across hot ashes. Still we appear to be on the other side now. Hurray for the moment. Next stop- school choices! aagghhh!
Charlie is now 3 years 4months old and seems to understand almost everything he needs to. He also has an incredible case of selective deafness especially when Scooby Doo is on. This weekend we took the ferry to the Isle of Wight and I have to say that he made the whole process such fun and seeing the world through his eyes is like being given a new life. I find I enjoy doing things so much more than I did pre-children because you have to pay attention to detail so carefully that you end up in an almost dreamlike blissful state much of the time. Obviously this nirvana is quickly shattered by an often frequent show of refusing to do what you want them to do and the social embarressment this can cause.
Overall I would give this stage of our relationship together 9/10 (marks lost because his demands for nighttime milk is getting out of control and means broken nights for toilet breaks. This is exhausting.)
Amazing - one week on and Charlie is seemingly getting a handle on this potty business without much help from his parents at all except from rewarding him with a sweet every time he gets it right and keeping quiet when not. Even miraculously asked to use the porta loo at the fireworks display last night at 8pm and while wearing an emergency nappy for the occasion. Incredible. Know it could take a backwards turn at any point but fingers and legs crossed.
Day 3 and after a great day yesterday (3 wees in potty and no wet trousers) today was a weeing fiasco. Blame this mostly on having to leave Charlie with Mum this morning while I dashed to Chichester for emergency take back situation (Jigsaw no refund after 14 days only credit note) and all went to the wall potty wise. His friend Monte visited later in the afternoon and so busy in entertaining him he forgot that the nappy was gone. More washing. More later…
July 18th 2009
Spending the day with friends who also have children is a sure way of making you question whether you are bringing up your own child to the best of your ability. Two of my best friends had babies (one including a set of twins) at about the same time as me give or take six months. They are all now two and our parenting styles are quite different but most of the time (I hope) take a bit of inspiration from each other. Like all new mothers I lurch wildly from thinking that I am doing really well to the next minute feeling completely at sea. Yet we all, for the sake of sanity really, have to present some kind of façade of knowing what we are doing. The proof of the pudding, when it comes to children, really seems to be, their behaviour right in front of our eyes. No matter how we might pontificate about our fantastic discovery of the trick of sleeping through the night or how to ignore a tantrum the evidence of our success is the child that is right at the table eating lunch with us. It is like being continually judged firstly by others and most critically by ourselves.
Today the lunch went reasonably well in an outside pub garden sitting along a trestle table with four 2 year olds and six adults. The food arrived and was eaten with varying degrees of success with the majority of the children sitting long enough at the table to partially clear their plates. So far so good. Then came the running around the pub garden and looking at the ducks which required a cunning combination of trying to ensure that each child was within site of at least one adult while endeavouring to hold some kind of conversation with one or more of the other adults while also trying to eat our own food. A certain recipe for indigestion and mildly improved with the addition of vodka tonic.
All was going rather well and aside from our son Charlie disappearing into a bush and refusing to come out the stress levels did not soar too high. I sometimes find the different dynamic of having a husband/partner on hand at weekend activities quite stressful in itself. From single handedly navigating social activities with my son through the week suddenly I am wondering whose ‘turn’ it is play around or converse and this brings the whole dynamic of the marriage into public view as well as any errant behaviour on behalf of the toddler. At this point I may well order another vodka and tonic in the knowledge that at least today I will not be driving even if I may later be drunk in charge of feeding and bathing a feisty child.
Then I joke with one of my girlfriends about Charlie sometimes thinking he is the character Ben 10 from one of the cartoons on Sky. “You let him watch Ben 10?,” she retorts with quite some strength. “I would never let Douglas watch that. I think it’s for seven year olds and has far too much violence for children of two.” Suddenly I am forced to assess my entire parenting approach and realise it could well be running the risk of being at fault. Certain programmes such as boxing or The Day of the Dead I would certainly avoid putting on for him to watch but a cartoon of characters playing make believe games which he clearly adores and often asks for seemed to be OK. The worst thing is I realised that I had never actually sat down and watched it with him so make a mental check to do this next time. My husband luckily shows a hastily constructed united front and says he has watched it with Charlie and thinks its fine and loves the fact that Charlie thinks he is Ben 10 and can often be found (particularly on woodland walks) darting in and out of trees tapping a make believe watch and attacking mythical beasts. Maybe my judgement is not so wildly out of kilter after all. Phew!
Then tonight I, like most other nights, realise the importance of a nightime routine for our sanity if not theirs. Charlie has refused the fish pie dinner that my husband has so carefully created for him in a mini ramekin created from our main meal for later. He has now disappeared upstairs chasing the new kitten and has wedged himself under the spare bed which makes it virtually impossible to reach him and drag him out. I am now feeling hungover, slightly sick and exhausted and retreat downstairs muttering to my husband that he “will come out when he is ready”. He is quietly furious at my obvious ineptitude and says “Are you going to just let him get away with this or make him get out from under that bed and eat the yoghurt for desert?” I am now wildly regretting that third vodka and feel dizzy at the thought of trying to wrestly him out from under that bed. “Why don’t you get him out then if you’re so cross about it?” I snap back at him and all of a sudden our marriage as well as the future development of our son is at stake. A bit more crashing from the kitchen and I can stand the tension no more and so gallop upstairs, grab the startled child by the hand and drag him downstairs. He soon gets over this and sits quietly eating his yoghurst while singing merrily to himself. Now not sure what the dynamic is between husband and I. Who was right and is anybody ever right and does it even matter?
The bath bit went quite well and then, with a headache still brewing and time ticking on to the discussed bedtime deadline of 7.30pm and sit with him on my knee in the rocking chair in his nursery and we read the same book three times. Then he makes a run for the door and I rugby tackle him and tell him I absolutely refuse to get the Gruffalo book from downstairs and am about to launch into another mother child battle when he quietly says “Mummy I am really tired. Bed please.” So I place him in his cot. “Please can I put the pillows round the other end tonight Mummy so the monsters cannot reach me?” (slight concern that Ben 10 has had a negative effect) and I say “Of course darling” and we switch the pillows and then he has to kiss each of my hands in turn and then wave night night (his current evening ritual) and then, like every night, I tiptoe out of that room with an air of confidence that all is good with the world and he shall now fall into a deep sleep and of course masking the inner turmoil that he could just start shouting and refusing to sleep. If I make it out of the door with no murmer from him then I can be 99% sure that sleep will be the victor. I literally dash down those stairs and straight into the red wine. Another day achieved. Another mountain climbed. Another day towards achieving the much coveted award of “mother who might know what she is doing for one day at least.”
This is again how long its taken for me to remember to find the time to use my blog! Tim is currently at the pub and Charlie is asleep and have been driven to my laptop because we are out of tobacco. Needs must as the mother of a toddler but generally only smoke when he asleep and I outside. I am definitely a slummy mummy- no doubt there but obviously doubt about everything else from potty training (know I should start it but keep putting it off) to Charlie having his own bed (is there anything wrong with somebody sleeping in a cot till their 21st birthday?)
xx
Wow - its taken me exactly a year to work out how to use the new login to get back on my blog! A whole year but that is a perfect reflection of life trying to get anything done while catering for the needs of a 25 month old toddler. Yes he is now walking and can even string a few words together such as “I stuck” and “Mummy sorry” and “Bread please with butter”. Its great - he’s almost like a fully functioning human being which is more than I can say for myself!
To be fair to myself I have been keeping it all together and have have managed to lose 18lbs in weight since this time next year so congratulations to me and well done. Just 18lbs more to go and I’ll be fit for a bikini again (sort of)
Went to Dubai, survived and had a great time. Daytimes were very much baby routine led with morning babygroups and mall shopping trips followed by Charlies nap (and mine). Then the discovery and wonder babysitter Lorna transformed our evening social life into new heights. Wonderful bars, restaurants and drinking fun on our doorstep. Quickly settled into the expat life. Tim out there again now for three weeks which is taking forever but he back next Wednesday. Hurray! Charlie still not walking but making attempts to and pushing his trucks around most of the time. He likes holding hands when he walks which can get a bit exhausting and looking forward to the day when he just walks off on his own. Apparently it is on the horizon!!
Ventured to the sales in Guildford today to return stuff as usual. Left Charlie with Tim as we are all suffering from colds and idea of that mixed with sale crowds was just too awful. Returned after wandering vaguely from shop to shop with an uneasy feeling that buying just one or two items was not enough and that I would need an entirely new wardrobe and therefore left with nothing except yet another maternity style smock (and I have not been pregnant for well over a year now). At home Charlie quite grissly and miserable and Tim complaining that he had not got any work done at all. Was not surprised at all but when he then said he was popping to the pub felt he deserved it.
Not to be recommended. After several biscuit bribes Charlie remained quiet enough for me to order a coffee at Cafe Nero in Guildford and drink it while walking. Every time we stopped in a shop he got hot, threw his hat off and shouted. Tim away for 10 days in Dubai and it seems like a very long time indeed. Good news is that Charlie and I are fleeing these rainy shores in January to join him for a spell in the middle east. The Wild Wadi Water Park in Dubai City must surely beat going to Budgens as a highlight of the day.
Presents bought = 0 Stress factor at feeling disorganised =10