Read-it

Perhaps this is a clue as to why Isobel calls books 'more'!

Today started very nicely indeed thank you.

I woke up just before 7 and Isobel woke a few minutes later. We
lolled about in bed drinking tea and reading books for about half an
hour. So far, I can definately say this is my second favourite way to
start the day. ( I am purposefully ignoring the fact that the first
word Isobel said to me today was 'daddy'.)

Isobel spent a good ten minutes running around with my knickers on her
head (clean ones of course!) saying bye-bye and coming back for a new
pair. Meanwhile I lay on my bed pretending to have a lie-in.

Then the urge to runaway became too much, so we packed our red and
white hankies and tied them to our sticks and left home.

Ok, we packed our red and white mini and we left home and headed south
to Grandma.

And that's where we are now.

Yesterday we enjoyed Kew with PD and today we are just being girls
together.

Actually it's not been a bad day.

Sent from my iPhone

Tote that barge; lift that bale...

This evening my little cinderella had to do her own washing up.

And she's not even one and a half yet!

A saving grace or a disgrace

I've been tagged by Rachel with this sevens meme and it couldn't have come at a better time.

At the moment I'm struggling to blog for fear of what I might actually say. There is so much I think I want to say but can't say, but then I'm not sure what I'm trying to say, so I've said very little.

Confusing isn't it? Try being me for a minute....

Anyway, I have to list seven character traits. Now at the moment when I hardly know if I'm coming or going, am not really proud of some of the traits I'm displaying, I'm not sure if this a good idea as it gives me a safe framework to write about or is it just going to highlight what a pickle I'm in.

Heigh ho, let's go, feet first (hopefully not into my mouth)

Do you know the first word that sprung into my head? Depressed - how depressing is that. I'm choosing to ignore that one.

• Anxious - yes right now I am anxious. I have a big knot in my tummy, you know the kind that fills you with a bread baby sized sense of foreboding. Anxiety is actually something I feel a lot lately. It's what stops me answering the phone, it stops me going out. Basically it's pants - this must change!


• Resilient - you know Tubthumping and all that; Weebles wobble and they don't fall down. E.g. I still love to love even though I keep loosing.


• I can't put defiant because, as has been pointed out to me lately, I have lost my defiance. It's true I have, I'm not proud of it.

So, so far I am anxiously resiliant with more than a faint air of defeat about me... hmm attractive, let's see if we can do better than that...

Struggling to come up with more...

• A dreamer - I do have romantic notions and I dream in colour, I like to say this makes me hopeful, and I certainly don't see this as a bad thing - you have to have a dream else how you going to have a dream come true.


• Loving - I have certainly found a capacity in me to love more than I thought imaginable where my child is concerned, which is good. The inability to stop loving is possibly a bad thing, while it makes me generous, it also makes me a little foolish.


• Naughty - you can take this however you see fit...

Hmm a Naughty, loving dreamer, that sounds slightly better

• Last but not least let's go with Creative - it covers allsorts from baking to home making, via the office and back to the bedroom.

Not sure that is me in a nutshell, but it will do for a Thursday lunchtime - not quite a tick vg more of a could do better...

Not sure I can find 7 peeps, but maybe these would like to tell us more for a start; He of the Brouhahah; Butterfly Girl; Her Ampleness and Mr Ledger (no not Heath, that really would be very odd, but very creative...)

Wordless Wednesday - perchance the face of Caffe Nero?

Word association

I have recently read a good book, a book that resonates, a book that I have now evangelically recommended as it was recommended to me via Twitter by Butterflygrrl.

The book is called F*ck It.



There are no two words I wish to say more than these right now.

The book is right it is the 'ultimate spiritual way'. I mean don't you feel so much better just saying those words at any point in time, if only briefly.

Unfortunately, with a daughter who is learning to talk I feel I would be ill advised to say it out loud so maybe that is why it isn't quite working.

Let's face it these do not have quite the same effect, or the same hint of defiance:

Fudge it
Frig it
Fluff it
Foot it

Perhaps when I come up with a suitable word I will be able to rise above it all.

Any suggestions?

Does this make moving home harder?

Yes.

Do you have such a rockin' start to your day?

Pat-a-cake

If you know me at all by now, you know I am partial to the odd romantic notion. Too many Meg Ryan movies perhaps...

I haven't learnt my lesson yet, I'm still having them.

A few months ago 'visions of jam tarts' danced in my head.

And in the last month Isobel and I have been busy with Tuesday baking (see I can be a real SAHM, well on Tuesdays anyway).

Baking with bananas means we can cook and eat at the same time.


So, we have baked biscuits and muffins, but it wasn't until this week the end result was photo worthy.

When a diet talks of courgettes it does mean you should bake them into a cake - doesn't it?

Hey presto, fat free Cinnamon Banana loaf, made with spelt no less...

Just a wee thing

(This is not the post I was planning to write tonight but...)

This evening Isobel used her potty for something other than a step from which to brush her teeth.

Yes she used it appropriately and actually requested it.

I haven't actually started potty training and although I was, a while ago, the proud owner of not one but two copies of Gina Ford's Potty Training in a Week, I have yet to read a word.

But I did buy a potty and occasionally before Isobel's bath I have sat her on it, hoping to catch the bathtime wee (it is universal isn't it?!).

Last night as Isobel stood up in the bath to wee, she pointed at her potty.

Tonight, she pointed at her potty, the waterworks begun, and I asked if she wanted to get out...

'Yes'

She sat on her potty and produced a few drips; stood up; sat down again and drissled some more.

I cheered!

That does count, doesn't it?

Does this mean I really have to read the book? I thought we were months away from this!

Who does she think she is!

Beads; sunglasses...

Well it's not exactly flip-up-guess-who!

Night and seek

I'm actually quite proud of our bedtime routine, I can probably count the number of times it has been unsuccessful.

While most of it is probably fairly text book: bath, snuggles on her spare bed accompanied by bottle, a story and a cuddle.

Occasionally going to bed with her bottle when she subtly posts it through the bars of her cot and says 'night-night'; always then relieved of it before she falls asleep.

Isobel waves bye-bye and blows kisses from her cot, and we are away.

But, somewhere in the midst of this calm tranquility is a little game to be played with Daddy:



This evening wasn't a daddy day but she looked in all his hiding places just to be sure (he added two new spots last night so she checked those too), we wouldn't want him lurking anywhere uninvited would we now?

Tomorrow she will probably just call his name a couple of times.

The next day she may not.

Gossip

There is a rumour circulating that my precious angel child is suffering from a touch of the terrible-twos, a rumour I belive is being prolifigated by her very own father!

Well I'm here to say it's not true, not true at all and heaven help him when she really enters that phase in her life.

Isobel has been busy growing the most enormous pair of molars. A pair of molars that have terrorised her gums, more than she has our days.

Don't get me wrong, there have been tantrums, indeed some days have been heavily seasoned with them, but they have always been the seasoning not the main dish.

The molars are through, and life is easier again; there are other teeth on the way, but as this is our first experience of teething we really shouldn't complain.

Oh, and by the way, a bear with a sore head has nothing on a child with sore gums.

The real gossip is that Isobel has, this evening, spent 20 minutes calling Iggle-Piggle daddy. Questions will be asked.

Co-ordinates

This morning while I was still in my undies, Isobel and I were chatting about getting dressed.

Then, off she scampered (what a great and under used word) to her bedroom.

I heard the drawer open, and close again.

She scampered back (yes, I know the same word twice, shoot me, I just realised I like it), proudly clutching a cardie in her hands.

She then proceeded to match it to my knickers.

And there is always Sunday

Sunday started with cosy cuddles with Grandma and her girls.

Followed by a swift departure to avoid tears -mine of course!

And ended in the paddling pool in our back garden.


I heart summer.


*Please don't bother telling me what I already know - the lovely happy picture shows every ounce of my extra weight, I have already been asked if I have a baby in my tummy in the persistant way only four year olds can get away with, and this picture will serve as a mighty fine fridge picture.

Just focus on how happy we are, please!

In which I know it's been a good day

When I take a photo of my daughter with her Great Grandma



And this is the view in my mirror on the way back to my mummy's house.




Then I spend a lovely evening outside at Apple Tree Cafe with my best friend Miss B, and the brushing on my foot is my napkin, not a mouse.

And I seriously start wondering about moving home.

In which we were not alone

As there were four generations at The Hut on Saturday you can imagine while not exactly peaceful, it was fun.

Trouble is, as if often the case at these events I often feel woefully inadequate. I had simply stuffed swim nappies and Isobel's swimming costume in our bag and off we went. (Yes, only one costume not two, can't put a wet costume back on a babe - it's impossible, so impossible I didn't even try!)

Foolishly I hadn't bothered with her towelling poncho; thriftily I hadn't bought a sun suit for the very few odd days we make it to the sea; AND I had decided to just buy lunch from the fab cafe next door.

And I certainly didn't pack a costume for me.

Everyone else was well prepared and stocked for their week at The Hut. That is my only defence: I knew we were only going for a few hours one afternoon.

Here's some more pics:





One thing I did do right is I didn't bother to pack a book or get a deckchair out.

In which we head to the seaside

On Saturday we went to the seaside.

Yes, we were back on the Island for a family catch up and that means heading to The Beach Hut. I capitalise it because to my family there is only one hut and any sign of sun means it's A Hut Day.

So there I am standing at the waters edge, camera poised ready to take photos of my little girl's first toe dip in the sea. Strictly speaking she dipped a toe or ten last year but this was to be her first self propelled foray into the sea.



I imagined us splashing around where the water just lapped the sand, walking hand in hand in the shallowest of shallows...

Instead, I hurriedly tuck my dress in my knickers to hold her hand; and then in order to prevent my daughter washing herself out to sea I find myself hastily tucking my camera in my bra - good look. So good in fact I had to do it on the second trip to the sea too - when will I learn.

(But would squeezing the extra 7lbs of me into a swimming costume have been a better look? Actually I think maybe it would have, rather than being the towny in a dress and beads to boot!)

I won't leave you with that image; try these instead:






To say Isobel took to the sea like a duck to water would indeed be an understatement. She followed the waves out up to her little chest on a quest for 'Bub-bals'. Leaving me to clutch the straps of her costume as she waded... and waded.

The sea splashed her hat and she barely stopped.

Apptly titled 'Mini Posts'

I can't quite remember when I started it, but I have always labelled the comments on my blog as Mini Posts.

And how true that can be.

While I am debating how much reviewing etc I wish to do on my blog, and whether or not I am just writing it for fun or do I want to exploit the opportunities to make some cash, one thing I do love is the sense of community.

So while I may not make it to Butlins tomorrow, I am so pleased to have made some 'virtual' friends.

The purpose of this post is to point you all in the direction of the lovely mini-post responses to my post last Wednesday.

If you haven't read them, please do.

And if you wrote them a very BIG THANK YOU!

A taste of posts to come

A reply of thanks to all the comments on my previous post.

A discussion on how hard motherhood is when your daughter's favourite
game involves waving and you realise your arm continues waving long
after your hand has stopped.

Why my back is burnt and Isobel has sand in every crease.

How not to confuse a napkin sliding off your lap with a mouse running
over your toes.

Sent from my iPhone

One word from me

We have a slight problem at the moment. Isobel seems to have started smacking.

Now there is no doubt that this has been picked up from nursery as she has never seen any one raise their hand at home.

On several occasions, three to be exact, I have caught the same little thug boy smacking Isobel. He has been greeted with the nursery standard response 'Sad choice'.

The tone of this utterance seemed to only have an effect on me; it made me sad.

So what do I expect them to do: be stern at the very least. I know you mustn't label a child as 'bad'... I know, I know, but...

How do you discipline an under 2 year old?; how do I stop 17 month old Isobel before she really starts?

I am in no doubt that, no way, no how, will anyone lift a finger to, or even come close to smacking her. If I do I will have failed not her but me too. If anyone else does, it will be all I can do not to smack them, and hard. (But not when Isobel can see as that would be setting a very bad example...)

Right now I bring her raised hand down and say 'No' but is that the right thing?

As for naughty steps: how naughty can a step be?

How much of a banishment is it when that's where we put our shoes on and eat our apples.

No wonder I go to work

So far today we have been to Waitrose, the Post Office and the cafe.

We have made banana muffins and granola bars.

I have offered Isobel 4 different meals not including breakfast.

She has slept for an hour and a half, time which was spent having a
angsty email conversation (no not with PD).

We have been to homebase, done some gardening and played in the sandpit.

Kissed Buddha.

Swept the kitchen floor 17 times and the sitting room once when cheese
and toast in front of tele was rejected.

The tele is now on (Third and Bird) and I am tapping this out on my
iPhone with one hand while holding the hide and seek farm book with
the other.

Where's my tea?!

Sent from my iPhone

SAHM vs WM

I actually have no idea why there has to be a 'versus' in that title. It implies conflict straight away.

I'm lucky, I get to do a bit of both.

When I first had Isobel, right up until the point at which I went back to work, I thought I wanted to be a stay at home mum. Who wouldn't want to spend all their time with the beautiful child that they gave birth to.

As it turns out, I actually found I enjoyed having a couple of hours to myself when Isobel went to nursery; yes I cried nearly every time I dropped her off, but it was good for me.

Remember I am a single parent (how could you forget) and although I am lucky in my relationship with PD that we do manage to co-parent at times, I do bear the brunt of parenting. No lie-ins, no-one else to get up in the night, no one coming home for supper and 'how was your day'.

So to me going to work is a respite, a chance for adult non-baby conversation. Not to mention the fact that I think being a stay at home mum must be blooming hard: how do you entertain a child all day? I worry that I don't give her enough stimulation, that I should do more things and go different places all the time. It's pressure and a lot of it, to bear on your own. It's not like I have family nearby to help take the strain.

No, it's me and just me.

I think all this isolation has a lot to do with my the state of my health mentally. I built a little bubble and lived in it. Slowly I drew the bubble in tighter, to a point where I couldn't let anyone in it or get out of it.

Meeting people, even people I was close to was hard, I wouldn't pick up the phone I still don't always pick up the phone, I wouldn't write, I just couldn't talk to anyone. It was too hard. I just wanted to curl up in a ball or runaway with my little girl.

I took pills, I went to yoga and now I work too. I've stopped taking the pills but not because I thought I was necessarily ready but because I simply didn't want to take them anymore. It's been tough, I walk a tightrope every day and I have no spare emotion left, I'm not even sure I have a safety net anymore.

I still find it hard to venture out, even the most innocuous invitation can shake me, but at least now, more often than not, I go and I have fun. I'm nearly me again.

So you see it's not that being a stay at home mum is something I look down on, it's just something I have realised I cannot do on my own.

Morbid-go-round? Walkies?

Another weekend has passed and there are sooo many things I could blog about...

Isobel choosing to play among the headstones rather than the swings.



The new words: door, ball and cheese.

The counting: one, twoooo, freeeeeeeeee!

The mother of all tantrums because I wouldn't let her play with the snip-snips (nail clippers), and how helpless I felt.

Isobel eating my linguine rather than her pizza pie (yes, these are PDs gorgeous pics, I'm sitting next to her within linguine grabbing range)




Or Isobel taking her daddy (who still isn't sure of how to handle off-piste napping) for a walk.



Maybe, just maybe, I should find some words to describe how it felt when all my little girl wanted was to hold my and PD's hands at the same time...

One I made earlier

When I was pregnant I painted this framed magnetic blackboard on the
kitchen wall.

I felt very pleased with myself today when little girl started drawing on it.