Those of you who know me on facebook might like to know about the 'kissing a boy' bit. It's a very short story. I went out in Liverpool on Saturday for cocktails, followed by sushi, followed by beer (a strange combination, I know). I pulled. He was in his early 20s. He seemed very sweet. He wanted me to go home with him. I wanted to go to sleep. I snogged him like a teenager then got a taxi home. Now listen carefully ladies for the chat-up line: There was a horrible lecherous guy with hands everywhere stumbling round the pub telling everyone he was horny; so I asked this nice young man and his friend to come and stand with me to keep said lech away. And like knights in shining armour they obliged. Job done. Ego boosted.
I don't usually mind working on Sundays. It at least means that little man is seeing daddy when I wouldn't be with him anyway. But it does have the drawback of not giving me much time to get over the cocktails and the beer. But I think I've had my fix of drunkenness for a good few months now.
I'm now back in mummy mode. Little man slept til quarter to eight, which is wonderful. I think the new blackout cover for his window and the new blind in the bathroom might have helped (his bedroom door has glass in the top half). I've decided that most bouts of whinginess and tantruming can be solved by tickling, which must be extremely infuriating to an annoyed small boy.
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
Friday, 26 March 2010
Zzzzzzzoo
After a crappy night's sleep due to some weird twingy sinus thing, there was only one thing for it: a trip to the zoo. Well, I figured (after my third cup of tea) that there was going to be no Getting Stuff Done today. And if we stayed at home I'd just end up getting grumpy and snappy. So we packed a picnic and headed off, just in time for little man to have a nap on the way there.
Of course, due to the universal laws of toddlerdom little man was most impressed by the ducks. Especially when they waddled under our picnic bench looking for oatcake crumbs (it was a very cobbled-together picnic). Never mind the 14ft giraffe munching twigs just yards away. No, let's do duck signs and start quacking (go on, you know you want to). Fortunately, it's very easy to stick to a diet when you're at Chester Zoo because the catering is so dire you're unlikely to want to buy food there. Little man enjoyed the plastic replicas of rainforest crops though.
I only took the hip seat, expecting little man to do some walking. Of course, due to said universal laws, the day you have no sling with you is the day they want to be carried everywhere. So I can confirm that the hip seat digs in after a few hours. The only time he wanted to walk was when he saw a puddle. A word he can now say passably well, but no wellies means no puddles, in my opinion.
Despite not walking much, the whole experience apparently tired little man out. Not even the gentle tones of Green Day at full volume could keep him awake on the way home. Now we're just watching the end of Waybuloo and he's showing no signs of being ready for bed.
Of course, due to the universal laws of toddlerdom little man was most impressed by the ducks. Especially when they waddled under our picnic bench looking for oatcake crumbs (it was a very cobbled-together picnic). Never mind the 14ft giraffe munching twigs just yards away. No, let's do duck signs and start quacking (go on, you know you want to). Fortunately, it's very easy to stick to a diet when you're at Chester Zoo because the catering is so dire you're unlikely to want to buy food there. Little man enjoyed the plastic replicas of rainforest crops though.
I only took the hip seat, expecting little man to do some walking. Of course, due to said universal laws, the day you have no sling with you is the day they want to be carried everywhere. So I can confirm that the hip seat digs in after a few hours. The only time he wanted to walk was when he saw a puddle. A word he can now say passably well, but no wellies means no puddles, in my opinion.
Despite not walking much, the whole experience apparently tired little man out. Not even the gentle tones of Green Day at full volume could keep him awake on the way home. Now we're just watching the end of Waybuloo and he's showing no signs of being ready for bed.
Thursday, 25 March 2010
Yet more mysteries
Why, having tried a mouthful of sand to see what it's like, would a small person decide to eat more?
Why would he want to shove sweetcorn up his nose?
Why is today the day he wanted more sausage, when I had just eaten it all?
Why will he try raw cauliflower but not cooked?
How did he manage to just delete this entire post so I had to start again?!
Why is there so much cat shit in the alleyway behind my house, along which I have to drag my wheelie bin?
How long will it take for the dead mouse, in the covered part of the alleyway behind two houses, to fully decompose, considering it has already been there for three months?
Why isn't tea free on the NHS?
Why did I eat the last two slices of cake in one sitting (Sticky tea loaf from Delia's Frugal Food, highly recommended)?
Why are there always clothes all over my bedroom floor?
Where did this shower of rain come from and why didn't anyone tell me my washing was getting wet?
Why am I always the one who ends up swimming lengths in zig zags trying to avoid bumping into anyone?
Why haven't the health visitors got back to me with an appointment time considering that someone fucked up and didn't tell them we exist anyway?
Why is it apparently easier to say miaow than it is to say cat?
Why would he want to shove sweetcorn up his nose?
Why is today the day he wanted more sausage, when I had just eaten it all?
Why will he try raw cauliflower but not cooked?
How did he manage to just delete this entire post so I had to start again?!
Why is there so much cat shit in the alleyway behind my house, along which I have to drag my wheelie bin?
How long will it take for the dead mouse, in the covered part of the alleyway behind two houses, to fully decompose, considering it has already been there for three months?
Why isn't tea free on the NHS?
Why did I eat the last two slices of cake in one sitting (Sticky tea loaf from Delia's Frugal Food, highly recommended)?
Why are there always clothes all over my bedroom floor?
Where did this shower of rain come from and why didn't anyone tell me my washing was getting wet?
Why am I always the one who ends up swimming lengths in zig zags trying to avoid bumping into anyone?
Why haven't the health visitors got back to me with an appointment time considering that someone fucked up and didn't tell them we exist anyway?
Why is it apparently easier to say miaow than it is to say cat?
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Cafes and toddlers
You're in a cafe at a garden centre. Your two-year-old has some fruit (his favourite kind of snack) and some toys. You have a cup of tea and a piece of walnut cake despite the fact you're meant to be on a diet, but your period just started and you're knackered because the child woke in the night and fidgeted for a couple of hours. Anyway, back to the point. The toddler keeps going to the slighly ajar door into the outdoor bit, squeezing through whilst giving you the cheeky, 'I know you don't want me to do this' look and running off.
Do you:
a) decide your child is too difficult/spirited to take to cafes and avoid them.
b) keep dragging him back, tell him he's a naughty boy and withhold something he likes to teach him a lesson.
c) follow him out of the door and run around after him making sure he's not in any danger or about to break anything, while your tea goes cold.
d) find some ingenious alternative solution that allows you to drink a hot cup of tea and allows the child to be his energetic and inquisitive self.
If anyone knows what (d) entails, please let me know because I'm leaning mostly towards (c) with occasional exasperated outbursts that, while not quite reaching the level of (b), are not the approach I want to take.
Do you:
a) decide your child is too difficult/spirited to take to cafes and avoid them.
b) keep dragging him back, tell him he's a naughty boy and withhold something he likes to teach him a lesson.
c) follow him out of the door and run around after him making sure he's not in any danger or about to break anything, while your tea goes cold.
d) find some ingenious alternative solution that allows you to drink a hot cup of tea and allows the child to be his energetic and inquisitive self.
If anyone knows what (d) entails, please let me know because I'm leaning mostly towards (c) with occasional exasperated outbursts that, while not quite reaching the level of (b), are not the approach I want to take.
Friday, 19 March 2010
Turbo pottering
I put little man in a creche for the first time today, at the leisure centre so I could go for a swim. Now my knee hurts and I've decided exercise is bad for the health. The little guy was unfazed by being left with strangers for three-quarters of an hour; when I returned he was engrossed in some crayoning. The creche staff weren't actually all complete strangers to me. The first person I met on walking through the door was a woman who was my best friend for a while during primary school. This is what happens when you live in one place for the first eighteen years of your life and then return after fourteen years or so away.
There was still plenty of opportunity for little man to demonstrate his dislike of playing with other children when we went to the park. It was lovely and sunny and the park was busy. And he starting crying every time another child went near him on the little climbing frame-bridges-steering wheels-steps-slides thing. He gets very proprietorial of those steering wheels. So we went off to look at the ducks on the pond instead and he managed to cadge a piece of bread off a kind passerby to feed to the varied waterfowl, which included some swans that looked like they wanted to snatch the bread straight out of his little fist.
After visiting the chooks and feeding them the lettuce and cabbage I didn't get round to eating from my veg box, little man insisted on carrying one of the two eggs we collected back to the car himself. I had to keep reminding him to concentrate on carrying it gently and not stopping to point at aeroplanes or starting to run to see the tractor mowing the playing fields. It made it home in one piece. Now if only he actually liked eggs in other guises than eggy bread...
Next up was a stroll into town to buy a bunch of daffodils for my front window. It's part of my campaign to make the area seem friendlier. So many people have blinds or curtains that are permanently closed. Well, I don't care who sees what I own. It's just stuff and I don't have that much of it anyway. But on the way, just after little man had decided he'd walked far enough and it was time for a ride in the Yamo, we were approached by two smart, besuited young men on bicycles, who asked me, in American accents, whether I had time to talk to them about the family. I should have referred them to the STBE husband since I'm not the one who gave up on my family.
Back at home, after the compulsory stop-off at our local playground where little man usually has the steering wheel to himself, it was time to do some painting so mummy can turn the daubings into something artistic looking for grandad's 65th birthday card. Unfortunately, our major mess making was disturbed by grandad himself who came to measure up for a gate to go at the top of the steps in the back yard. The ones little man decided it would be a good idea to try to drive his little car down the other day.
Such a busy day! I haven't described every incident of whinging, whining and tantruming, of which there are a lot from a little guy who still doesn't talk much. I now feel very much like a glass of wine, even though I had planned on abstaining until grandad's party tomorrow and all I have in the house is a couple of those miniature bottles, which I buy for cooking with.
There was still plenty of opportunity for little man to demonstrate his dislike of playing with other children when we went to the park. It was lovely and sunny and the park was busy. And he starting crying every time another child went near him on the little climbing frame-bridges-steering wheels-steps-slides thing. He gets very proprietorial of those steering wheels. So we went off to look at the ducks on the pond instead and he managed to cadge a piece of bread off a kind passerby to feed to the varied waterfowl, which included some swans that looked like they wanted to snatch the bread straight out of his little fist.
After visiting the chooks and feeding them the lettuce and cabbage I didn't get round to eating from my veg box, little man insisted on carrying one of the two eggs we collected back to the car himself. I had to keep reminding him to concentrate on carrying it gently and not stopping to point at aeroplanes or starting to run to see the tractor mowing the playing fields. It made it home in one piece. Now if only he actually liked eggs in other guises than eggy bread...
Next up was a stroll into town to buy a bunch of daffodils for my front window. It's part of my campaign to make the area seem friendlier. So many people have blinds or curtains that are permanently closed. Well, I don't care who sees what I own. It's just stuff and I don't have that much of it anyway. But on the way, just after little man had decided he'd walked far enough and it was time for a ride in the Yamo, we were approached by two smart, besuited young men on bicycles, who asked me, in American accents, whether I had time to talk to them about the family. I should have referred them to the STBE husband since I'm not the one who gave up on my family.
Back at home, after the compulsory stop-off at our local playground where little man usually has the steering wheel to himself, it was time to do some painting so mummy can turn the daubings into something artistic looking for grandad's 65th birthday card. Unfortunately, our major mess making was disturbed by grandad himself who came to measure up for a gate to go at the top of the steps in the back yard. The ones little man decided it would be a good idea to try to drive his little car down the other day.
Such a busy day! I haven't described every incident of whinging, whining and tantruming, of which there are a lot from a little guy who still doesn't talk much. I now feel very much like a glass of wine, even though I had planned on abstaining until grandad's party tomorrow and all I have in the house is a couple of those miniature bottles, which I buy for cooking with.
Tuesday, 16 March 2010
Practical matters
You see, this is the sort of thing that happens when I so much as think of getting the sewing machine out. Things end up upside down. Or back to front. Or inside out. I also prick my fingers on pins and say ouch, which results in little man coming to rub it better. And I have sewn in three pins behind the header tape, which are going to have to stay there forever more. I really shouldn't be expected to do practical things like this - I am a pisces after all! I should daydream about beautiful curtains while someone else makes them. But I am still proud of the end result. I now have to do an identical pair for the other end of the room.
Monday, 15 March 2010
Little helper
My little man would like to say hello to Franklen and his DS, who likes to help around the house. Well, this little man does too. He likes brushing up and vacuuming, putting things in the bin, putting wet washing on the airing rack, peeling and chopping veg, mixing cakes, whisking eggs, kneading dough and carrying the reusable bags into the supermarket. But we're still working on the idea of putting toys away when we've finished with them!
I think it's only natural that young children will want to join in with what they see their grown-ups doing. Everything they see is fascinating to them. Everything they do, they become completely absorbed in. They're not daydreaming about the weekend whilst peeling carrots. Or planning their evening's television schedule whilst scrubbing the bath. And if us grown-ups are doing all this stuff around the house, it must be important. Right? Otherwise why would be doing it?
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