biscuits-on-the-floor

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Ghost at the Window

I told them not to call on the dead,

But they wouldn't listen.

They continued with their Ouija board and Bloody Marys in the mirror.

So scared, I went to bed.

In a strange narrow room with a Gothic window;

its heavy curtains like Dracula's cloak,

I lay alone in bed.

I felt so small in this big country manor in the middle of nowhere.

My school friends, so excited about being away from home,

played dares and called upon ghosts.

Finally when their excitement dissipated they came to bed,

and soon one by one went to sleep.

I lay wide awake in the gloomy room

which felt cold and damp. 

Suddenly my heart exploded,

my skin went cold.

There was scratching on the window

Sweaty and unable to breathe in the dark,

silent room,

the only sound was the horrific noise of a ghost,

trying to get in.

I wrote this a few years ago but the memory is from a primary school trip to Derbyshire. Most of the memories of that trip are hazy; I can only really remember that we stayed in a scary looking gothic manor house in the middle of the countryside, and that we had hot chocolate in a big room in the evenings. Yet I can remember vividly the anxiety I felt when my friends were playing these games at bedtime, and the fear that I felt laying in the room and hearing that noise after they were all asleep!

I really enjoy reading poetry, I don’t always understand what I read but I like that I have to work harder to understand what is being described. The other reason I like poetry is that to me it feels like a snippet of a bigger story: a more intense part of somebody’s narrative; an enhanced description of a memory, experience or feeling. It is the offering of a pearl in a sea of words and stories.

I really don’t know how to write poetry! I understand the rules of poetry even less than the rules of grammar! That hasn’t stopped me from writing (bad) poetry pretty much my whole life though. I enjoy writing poems probably for the same reason I enjoy reading other people’s poetry - it is a recording of my memory of an experience; or feelings I felt in that particular moment in time. I’ve enjoyed reading through my old poems recently as they express something so specific to that time and that experience, and I really would not have remembered the feeling if I hadn’t written them.

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Block

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written here and I’ve recently been reflecting on why that is. The obvious being lack of time and energy, but if I delve a little deeper I know it is more than that.

It’s hard to feel creative and inspired to write when my days are long, busy, tiring and full of housework and child rearing. And whenever inspiration does strike it is at a time when I can’t write anything down, and when the first available opportunity presents I’ve either forgotten or I’m much too tired to write. Or there’s something more important to do instead like empty the dishwasher, put a wash on, hoover, put clothes away, bake something nutritious for the children, eat some chocolate, do my tax return, organise a cupboard, do more hoovering, look at instagram, wipe kitchen surfaces, clean a toilet, school admin, life admin, and a million other things! 

It’s hard to feel like I have anything interesting to say when my day is filled with these mundane tasks, and even if I did have anything interesting to say my self doubt stops me; she tells me I’m not a writer and my lack of writing skills would not do it justice. 

When it comes specifically to writing this blog I have a weird OCD thing where I think everything needs to be chronological. This blocks me from writing anything because the gaps in between posts are too long and there is way too much to fill in (a pandemic, having twins in a pandemic, having twins full stop! children starting school, turning 40). 

Writing has always been for me a way to process what is going on in my life, usually at times of great difficulty. The last two years have been the most difficult of my life and would normally be a time to write. But my experiences during this time have been so difficult and too much to process. I haven’t been able to gather my thoughts enough to write anything at all. So more recently when I have had moments of lightness and felt like I could write something, the baggage of the last two years has weighed me down, and the need to fill in and write all that has happened stops me writing anything.

The other block for me is I have often not seen the point of writing when no one reads it anyway. I have a handful of subscribers (friends and family) and it is so infrequent that I post anything that they probably don’t recognise that this is my blog anymore and likely don’t even open the email! 

These are the reasons that stop me. The biggest of which if I’m being totally honest is my self doubt and a feeling of embarrassment thinking about people reading what I write and thinking it’s totally rubbish. I have started two novels and given up because ‘Who would want to read them? the ideas aren’t original/clever/profound enough and my writing isn’t good enough’. I shamefully admit I don’t understand grammar, either my schooling was insufficient or I wasn’t paying enough attention but I’m terrible at it, I don’t understand all the rules and it makes me feel embarrassed. So why on earth would I put myself out there to be ridiculed?! 

It would be incredibly easy to just stop completely, close down the blog and not think about it anymore. And yet …

And yet, something niggles, something keeps me wanting to write. I don’t understand what it is, maybe I’ll never know. But it is persistently niggly enough to keep me here (how annoying!). 

So if I’m not going to give in then what I am going to do is try to remove the blocks. 

Firstly stop being a weirdo and realise I don’t need to write in a chronological order!

Realise this doesn’t have to be a blog about my life as a parent, my life is about all sorts of things, and it’s my blog so I get to make the rules! I can even include my poems if I want to! And things that are unfinished (shocking!)

I started this blog for me and not anyone else, so it really doesn’t matter if no one reads it. This blog was always a diary for myself to record precious memories with Squiggles and Roo. I am so thankful that I started it because when I read back old posts, I’m reminded of so many wonderful things about their early life that I had forgotten. So my original goal has been accomplished. 

Stop listening to my inner critic; she’s annoying and has held me back my whole life. Yes I’m not a great writer, yes my grammar leaves much to be desired, but no that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to write.

I love my life and I’m so grateful for my four amazing children. In this current phase of my life parenting is my whole world, but I am so much more than a parent. I have forgotten (trust me it’s very easy to forget who you once were when you have no free time for the things you love) that once I was a dancer and a dance therapist. I have studied at University (five years in total). I have had many jobs: some I loved; most I hated! I have travelled the world sometimes with people, sometimes completely on my own. I have been lonely. I have needed to escape people. I have volunteered in Kenya. I have lived in Italy. I have had my heart broken. I’ve lost people I’ve loved because of death, and because of life where sometimes you just lose people. I have moved to a city that I loved and had my heart broken again when I left many years later. I have started a new life for my family in a different place. It’s been hard. I’ve grown my family more than I imagined, and realised it was everything I never knew I wanted. I’ve navigated pregnancy and birth in a pandemic.

I have a whole heap of experiences that have nothing to do with my children, I also have a whole heap that have everything to do with them. Both are worthy of being shared.

So when the negative voice in my head tells me I can’t write, I’m going to tell her: These are my experiences, my memories, my stories, and only I can tell them.

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

In my heart

For the second time this year I was at a funeral today. With two funerals and a third in my heart, I start to struggle with the meaning of it all. Asking myself questions; Why are we here? What is the purpose? Where do we go when we leave this earth? Why do some people get taken from us too soon, and some lives end before they even had a chance to begin? I’m full of questions but it seems there are no answers. I don’t have an affinity with religion, so when Squiggles asked me today “Where is your Uncle? Is he in the sky?” I hesitated and eventually replied “yes” when I should have replied with my honesty which is: ‘I don’t know. Maybe’.

Today we gathered together to say goodbye and celebrate the life of my Uncle Ken. Uncle Ken who had the same sense of humour as my Grandad. Who always sat beside him at every Yorkshire Christmas dinner, chuckling together like two children. Uncle Ken who features in so many of my childhood holiday memories as our two families shared caravan holidays. I spent many an hour playing swing ball, rounders, making dens in the woods with my cousins, and Uncle Ken who was always laughing and joking with us.

Today his granddaughter Mia and my Mum shared funny stories and tender memories of Uncle Ken. His whole life condensed into funny photos, beautiful words and his favourite songs. I looked at the coffin thinking of the person inside who no longer breathes, no longer laughs. Thinking of all the other coffins I’ve seen through my life, each memory painfully seeping in. Seeing the person’s coffin sends a chill through the skin; it creeps into the bones and settles right into the soul where the memory of that coffin will reside long after the day is over, perhaps until we too think and feel no more.

After the service I placed a red rose next to his coffin, my head empty of thoughts but my heart filled with sadness. It is only now as a write this that I realise that the symbolism of that act resonates deep in my body where there is a little rose I haven’t been able to lay down. 

As with all major events in my life, or things I have struggled to process, I find I need to write. Putting pen on paper, or rather fingertips on my keyboard, is my way of processing, reflecting and means of catharsis. My words on a page are a raw truth I can’t hide from myself. And with this in mind there is a secret in my heart of love and loss that I need to process. I’m not sure why certain losses are supposed to be secrets; unspoken and unshared, as though they are less significant. When to the person that loses it’s no less painful than any other loss. The grief no less real.

There is a little tiny coffin that exists only in my heart. No real wood on which to place a red rose. That little coffin in my heart is there to remind me how precious life is and how some lives are so fragile and fleeting. It’s there to remind me to cherish the life and love I have. To be thankful, to hold those I love close and to relish the joy of life, even when some joys don’t get realised. 

With many questions and so few answers I simply hold on to the fact that life is beautiful and I am so lucky to have the love that I have, and I hope to enjoy it for as long as I can.

To Katy, I miss your laugh more than I ever knew I would.

To Uncle Ken, wherever you may be I hope you felt the love we shared for you today, and always. I hope you’re smiling at Uncle Graham and Mum who are currently drinking your bottle of Whisky!

To my little blueberry, There are no words to describe the pain of losing you. You never got to feel my love from the warmth and comfort of my arms, but you will know it in the safety of my heart always.

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Loss

This photo of me and my grandad is one of my most treasured possessions. I have always loved it and after he died it became even more precious to me. I love that it has captured a moment between us and although I don’t actually remember this moment it seems to capture all that I felt about my grandad my whole life. My admiration for him, my love for him. I love the jumper he wears, so comforting to me as all of his jumpers looked similar to this. I love the Christmas hat he’s wearing, it brings back thousands of memories of Christmases spent with him and the way he would always cheers and say “Happy Easter” instead of “Happy Christmas” joking around as he always did, and how it has remained a family tradition to do this. 

Recently I have been trying to find a frame to put the photo in, it had been attached to a clip style photo holder from an Aquarium I went to in Hastings when I took my Young Carers group on a week’s holiday in 2009. After he died I realised how unsuitable the holder was and took it out, and since then the photo has been perched on my dressing table. I finally got round to buying a frame for the photo and Richie carefully created a mount, as the photo is an unusual size and doesn’t fit standard mounts. But it doesn’t look right and I need to start the search for a new frame. I doubt I will ever find one as deserving or special as the object it holds inside.

I have reached a place in my grief where I can now remember my grandad without feeling pain. I can smile and find comfort in memories. I still miss him, and at every family occasion his absence is still felt. 

Grandad moved into our family home when I was 11 and that meant that I had a closer bond with him than perhaps many people get to have with their grandparents. For a number of years before he died I literally couldn’t bear to think about the time when we would actually lose him. The older he got the more the thought pushed its way into my brain. I couldn’t bear to think of family life without him in it, of my parents’ house without him in it. How strange and awful it would feel to visit when he was gone. When the time came for his departure no matter how much I thought I had prepared myself it was still awful. We were all home to celebrate Easter when he became unwell. I got a vomiting bug and whilst lying in bed upstairs ill, I knew he was lying in his bed downstairs, dying. It was torture to not be able to be with him. 

When I recovered I went to his room and faced the awful image of someone departing the world. It was Grandad but he didn’t look like him, he was half still in this world, half already in the next. I’ll never be able to erase that image from my brain. I held his hand, his big shovel of a hand which I had joked with him millions of times about it being rhino skinned and fireproof, as he could pick up burning hot plates without flinching. His hand that he used to put on my neck when it was freezing cold after coming back from walking the dog whilst I ate my breakfast and he laughed gleefully as I screamed. Hands that I had watched shuffle a pack of cards ready for many games of Rummy which we had played for hours on end throughout my childhood, teen years and up until I left home for University. Holding his hand I said my goodbye in my head as best as I could, as it just didn’t seem real that I was saying goodbye forever. I hoped that he could feel my hand holding his, hoped that he could sense us all in the room with him and feel our love. I hoped that it gave him comfort. I hoped that he wasn’t in pain. And even though I’m unsure that the afterlife exists, I hoped that he could see my Nana and after all these years he could be with her again.

So many feelings, thoughts and memories of that awful week. At that point in my life I had experienced losses: death of pets, death of my Nana and my Grandma, ceasing of friendships, ending of relationships. But it was at that point, maybe because I was an adult instead of a child, I’m not sure, but it was at that point that loss and grief crept into me and became a more embodied experience. And even though Granddad was old and had lived a long life, it was still incredibly painful to lose him.

I am now experiencing a new and more shocking pain and loss. When someone old dies and has lived a long and happy life it is hard for those they leave behind but we can take comfort from knowing they had lived a good life. But when someone’s life is cut short too soon, there are no words for the pain.

I have really struggled to know how to write, or indeed if I should write about what has happened, as something too important and awful has taken place and my thoughts and feelings are insignificant in comparison. And my loss is nothing compared to the loss others are experiencing right now. But I feel that I couldn’t continue to write this blog without acknowledging the terrible darkness that has settled over my life, and I had to acknowledge that someone special has left this world. And maybe this is my own way of saying goodbye and writing is my only way of dealing with grief.  And whilst my words will never be able to touch on the tragedy and grief all I can do is share my feelings and hope I do justice to the wonderful person that has left us. 

When my sister was 16 she met Katy, they were performing in a local production of the musical The King and I. I remember being very young when she entered my life and thinking Katy was wonderful. So fun, cheerful and happy, she had such a positive energy. Ever since that time I can’t remember a family celebration or party that Katy wasn’t a part of. She was a hair dresser and had been doing my hair for me since I was about 13, up until I moved back to London for the second time in 2008. She did my hair for me on one of the most special days of my life, my wedding day. She was there for birthday celebrations, Easter Egg hunts, Boxing Days, all of our weddings. As a family we loved her and she felt like a part of our family. 

Katy died three weeks ago in a car crash. She died at the scene in such an utter, senseless tragedy. Her two children who were also in the car have been recovering in hospital and mercifully her daughter who was in a critical condition fighting for her life is now in recovery. 

Even as I write this now I still struggle to believe its real. I cannot make sense of what has happened. Of the utter devastation of this event for her children, her family and all of us who knew and loved her. The unbelievable tragedy for her, that her life is over. I cannot make sense of how someone can just be gone. So suddenly. so awfully.

The loss of my grandad was awful but this, this shocking end of a life too short is too much to bear. The grief bites chunks out of me, leaving gaping holes so that I don’t know what parts of me are left.

When I moved away I saw less and less of Katy, something that I now deeply regret. I didn’t know how much she really meant to me until now. She was always there, a part of my life since I was a child and I absolutely took it for granted. I didn’t make the effort I should have done to keep in touch. At Christmas I had intended to suggest meeting up as we had done the year before, but the week at my parents’ flew by and before I knew it I was back home and I hadn’t seen her, hadn’t even contacted her to make the suggestion. I cannot shake the remorse I feel for that now. Only a few weeks later and I will never get the chance to meet up with her again, and she never knew that I was thinking of her and wanting to see her. 

Katy was one of those special people who no matter how hard things were for her – and she had some truly awful times in her life – she always had a smile and a hug for someone in need of comfort. After a long term relationship of mine broke down and I was left heart broken she provided comfort and most importantly managed to make me laugh.

At my Grandad’s 90th party old family history was too much to deal with and I got upset and left; it was Katy who came running out down the street after me and gave me a hug and encouraged me to stay. I will never forget it. 

And when my Grandad died, Katy sent me a message saying how sorry she was and that she hoped I was okay. Always so thoughtful, always reaching out to others.

And what has now formed the first significant regret in my life, I never let her know how much I appreciated her acts of kindness and I did not do enough to repay that kindness. She will never know how special she was to me and the positive impact she had on my life. There is now a black blanket of regret wrapped around my heart.

The last three weeks have been a blur of shock and grief and replaying of the horrendous moment when my mum told me what had happened.  And waves of nausea as I think of her children and how they have lost their mummy. There are simply no words to describe the pain of thinking about their new reality.

I can’t really find any way of finishing this post. There’s no conclusion or meaning. Right now there is just grief and the inability to process such a pointless and cruel end to a wonderful person’s life. Next week will be Katy’s funeral where we will all gather together to say goodbye to her. My only hope for the day is that she can hear our words of love. 

I will share the words I wrote to Katy’s sister the week after she died. Raw words from my grieving heart.

“Although Katy was Leisa’s friend she became a friend to us all and we all considered her a part of our family as you know. Having known Katy since I was 13 I grew up with her cheerful energy and always loved how she could brighten any mood. I was drawn to her like a sunflower to the sun. I looked forward to and relished every visit or family occasion or girly weekend I shared with her. She was so funny and I loved how much she made my grandad laugh, he adored her.

I was so lucky to grow through my teens and into early adulthood with her positive presence. She was always listening, sympathetic and comforting.

I got to witness her find the ultimate happiness in the birth of her children and later share in that joy with her as I became a mother myself. And although I saw her less when I moved away and started my own family I still looked forward to a lifetime of having her a part of my life, and I cannot comprehend or bear the pain of knowing that I will not get to see her again.

I feel so lucky that I got to experience the wonderful joy it was to know Katy and utterly devastated that I’ll never get to hug her, giggle with her or chat about life or utter nonsense with her again.

She was the brightest light and the cheeriest voice in any room. How dark and awfully silent the world is now she’s gone.”

To Grandad and Katy, I hope you are both somewhere laughing together again.

(Grandad’s 90th Birthday Party. Katy and Grandad in the middle)

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

One

My lovely boy is now one. It feels like the fastest year of my life so far. We had a lovely birthday party for him with the sun shining and the swimming pond (as Squiggles calls it) out in the garden. His Peter Rabbit cake made by his Nana was amazing. We chose Peter Rabbit for his cake because the song has been his favourite for a long time now. He always smiles and giggles when I sing it. Squiggles knows that it’s his favourite song and she sings it to him too, or requests that I sing it to him if he’s upset. She also requested it especially for him in celebration of his birthday at a music class we go to.

I keep a list on my phone of all the things that I want to remember about Roosings and Squiggles with the intention of writing a blog post to share them with you. Obviously life is busy and I never get time to write, and when I do, the things I wanted to say are things that they no longer do, they have moved onto new interests, new skills and I feel like the moment has gone. But when thinking about summing up my first year with him I can’t not include all the things on the list. So here goes…

Roosings, I love the way you:

Giggle in your sleep

Used to pop your face millimetres from mine after a breastmilk feed in bed, a big smile on your face. When I smiled back you giggled and rocked back and forth on all fours.

Reach up and play with my nose, cheek and hair whilst having your bedtime bottle. More recently you like to play with my lips, pulling my bottom lip down. When you try to put your fingers in my mouth, I clamp my lips closed and giggle and your eyes smile at me.

Love to play with the toggles on your daddy’s hoodies

Used to stand at the coffee table and bang your hands or a coaster on it, or make squeaky sounds by dragging your hand across it.

Eat the coasters and leave them all over the house. When you are in bed daddy and I always laugh as we spend 10 minutes trying to find where you have put them. Last week I was hanging out the washing on the line and found a soggy coaster amongst the wet clothes.

Watch your sister being a loon. You think the she is the funniest thing on earth. She makes you smile and laugh so much and now you can walk you love to chase her.

LOVE to splash in the bath. Having a bath is one of your favourite things.

Giggle at yourself in the mirror. You did this from a very early age and still do it now and it melts my heart and makes me laugh with you every time.

Look at everything so intently, carefully turning objects over in you hand. One time you had a penguin animal card and you looked at it and turned it round and round for about 10 minutes. I just watched you, sitting with you in calm and contentment.

Love to watch the washing going round and round in the machine.

‘Help’ me with the clothes washing by taking all of the clothes out of the basket after I’ve just put them in. And when you pull the socks off the clothes stand after I’ve just hung them up to dry.

Look at your fingers moving, you like to do this when you are having a milk feed or when you are sat in the car.

Used to sit with a bemused look on your face as you watched me and Squiggles dancing to music in the living room. You used to bounce up and down and giggle and shake your shaker.

Love music. You have some amazing dance moves. You stand up and bob up and down, you shake your head, swing your arms and more recently do a wiggle. You absolutely love songs and music, and love going to your “Rucksack Music” class with me and Squiggles.

Love bananas and how you wiggle your arms and legs and smack your lips open and shut when you see one. More recently you do a little whimper when you want one and sometimes I think you might actually be saying “nana”!

Chat to yourself in the cot when you wake up in the morning

Look at shadows and try to catch them

Shake your shaker drum and maracas

Try to pull all of the bowls out of the cupboard. This one is actually really annoying as you do it every time I’m trying to cook, and I now have to put the big stool in front of the cupboard to stop you getting in. But I can still see the cute side of this.

Love to rip tissue and paper into tiny pieces.

Love books. You love the ones with textures you can feel, or flaps that you can lift, and you love the one with babies’ faces on that you got for your birthday

Dance to the Iggle Piggle song on your toy Iggle Piggle

Are already pretty much able to run when you’ve only just learnt to walk!

Always get Edgar from out of you cot and suck your thumb and snuggle him

Stood thinking your feet were cemented to the ground when you tried on your first pair of shoes, and how you walked like you were walking on the moon when you eventually realised you could lift your feet and move around.

Take my hand when you’re ready to go for a walk.

Edgar

There are so so many things I love about him and this is just a small snippet. I love this age, where he’s walking and able to explore so much of the world around him but I can’t help but feel sad that the baby days are behind us and that they flew by with unimaginable speed. It’s been a very busy time the last few months; we’ve been busy planning our big move out of London, and I’ve been doing a lot more training courses, coursework and case studies to develop and grow my business. I’ve been with Roo almost every day since he was born but I’ve been guilty of other things taking away the focus from him, so after the move I’m looking forward to having more time to just enjoy each other and the next phase of his precious life.

My little Roo, you are the cutest thing on the planet and I love you so so much, the kind of love that makes my head and heart explode! So to my darling boy I wish you a very Happy 1st Birthday. Nothing will ever touch my heart more than seeing your smile, hearing your laugh and feeling your little hand in mine. xxx

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Three

In September my gorgeous Squiggles turned three. THREE!!! I thought I’d share a bit about the little human she has become.

(Potty training!)

She is a feisty one! Since she was around two we’ve been dealing with tantrums, which have become more extreme the older she has become. She can have tantrums over many things, but essentially it all boils down to her not wanting to be told what she has to do and her need to rebel against everything and anything. Even if it is something she actually likes! In the past I heard so many other mums talk about their small children, saying things like “3 going on 15”, which I now fully understand! We’ve had bouts of extreme anger, general door slamming stroppiness and a fierce need to exert her independence, which makes it often feels like we’re dealing with a teenager. Whilst her behaviour has been challenging (understatement) there is a part of me that feels happy that she is this stubborn, determined, feisty girl! It will serve her well not to be a pushover.

At the same time she is also the sweetest and kindest little creature. Her level of compassion for others astounds me when she is only three years old. If anyone is hurt or sad she displays genuine concern and is quick to stroke, cuddle and kiss and say, “It’s okay mummy/daddy/Roo, I right here” and she will stay by your side until it’s all better. She regularly says to Roo “Shhh, it’s alright. Calm down,” - trying to soothe him when he’s crying.

She has always been joyful and continues to be able to see joy all around her and find fun in the most unlikely places/situations. One of her many expressions is “It’s citing! (exciting)” which she will say about, what I consider to be, the most unexciting of things, e.g. having to go to the supermarket! And she often says “fun day” either before we embark on our ‘adventure’ or after, and often we will have had a very mundane day but she clearly has had the best time!

She is a creature of habit and has certain little routines that she likes to do each day. She likes to have the same bowl and cup for breakfast each morning and likes to be the one to get everybody’s breakfast bowls out of the cupboard. She also likes to tell everyone what they should have for breakfast, “Mummy, you have puddit. (porridge)”

Before she goes up to bed each night she has to ride her little bike from the kitchen table to the stairs. She ‘parks’ it in the hallway and then likes to go upstairs by herself whilst either me or Richie waits at that bottom, and then when she’s at the top we are allowed to go up!

She has many delaying getting into bed tactics which include wanting to take various toys from the living room upstairs (we end up carrying various tea pots/cups/toy food etc up each night). Then she likes to put Daisy and various other cuddly toys to bed, covering them up with a blanket. She takes FOREVER to choose her bedtime story, and even when she is finally in bed she tries to trick you into singing a variety of songs (even though she knows she’s only allowed one.)

Her new favourite thing is wanting to play hide and seek, which, bless her, she plays with great enthusiasm, even though there are not many places to hide in her bedroom! She likes to tell you where she’s going to hide before she hides! Also, when she’s at the kitchen table and one of us comes downstairs she hides behind her hands and you have to pretend you can’t see her!

We bought her a scooter for her birthday (she had been wanting one since she was 18 months!!) and she loves to scoot everywhere now.  (“We need to go pickly (quickly), Mummy” she says as she bazzes along!) Which in one respect makes life easier, it’s much quicker than when she walked (incredibly slowly), but on the other hand is a pain when she’s not scooting because then I’m dealing with baby, pram, scooter, helmet, travel potty, nappy bag, change-of-clothes-in-case-of-accident bag, snack bag, and unruly toddler!

She’s going through a love and friendship phase and is always exclaiming that we are “all best friends forever ever ever!” “You my best friend, Mummy, and Roo, and Daddy.” Also some random kid at nursery who I’ve never met is her ‘best friend’ at the moment. My favourite is when she tells me she loves me, even though she sometimes specifies the amount, “I love you a tiny liccle bit”. Though the ‘tiny liccle bit’ is a phrase she uses for almost everything: “a tiny liccle naughty,” “a tiny liccle funny.”

Her number one phrase at the moment though is “All day long ….” “All day long I tell you I need juice.” “All day long I not want to sleep.” etc.

Since Roo was born I feel like she has suddenly grown up into a little girl rather than a toddler. Her language skills seem to have tripled in the last 7 months and she is so much more independent now. So much so that I’m glad I have another baby because I feel so sad that she is no longer a baby. She says “I a big girl now, I growed up (like Mummy), but I still your baby” (I obviously must say this a lot to her!) She likes to say what a big girl she is all the time and her new status as a big sister is one that she is very proud of. (She is such a lovely big sister - she always gets toys for Roo to play with and she comforts him when he cries.) Since Roo was born she has become quite fixated with what are baby things and what are big girl things. We had the following conversation last week:

“Let’s get you all snuggly buggly,” said whilst buttoning up her coat.

“No not snuggly buggly, I not a baby.”

“Oh, okay. Mummy just wants to make sure you’re warm before we go out.”

“Yes but not snuggly buggy cause I not a baby”!!

She is a huge chatterbox and I love watching her facial expressions and body language. She gets a very funny ‘serious’ look on her face when she thinks she’s telling me something extremely important! I also love it when she declares something is a “goodea” (good idea) as though her declaring that will make it an absolute certainty! For a long time one of her most asked questions was, “What’s that called?” and the constant use of this helped her to learn a lot of new words! This has been replaced with “Cause why?” asked on average about 50 times per day. Isn’t it a fun phase?!

Dancing still remains to be her all-time favourite thing to do. We are often instructed to watch her dance or all dance in the kitchen with her to the radio or Roo’s musical chair. She’s got some good moves! She loves to dance to the song from Sleeping Beauty, ‘I Know You,’ holding hands and gliding around the room. A couple of weeks ago she was dancing in front of the mirror in the bedroom and singing at the top of her lungs. I told her that whilse I was very much enjoying her singing and dancing could she perhaps do it a little less loudly to which she replied, “But I neeeeeeeed to dance,” and carried on!

When she turned three, the Disney princess obsession was flicked on like a switch. She had always loved Cinderella because we have watched this from when she was young. But suddenly her love of Cinderella turned into an obsession with all princesses and now she loves to dress up in her princess dresses and regularly requests hair in plaits like ‘Let It Go’ (Frozen) or a bun like ‘Cinderella party hair’! When she was younger, on one rare occasion when I was actually wearing lipstick, she asked what I was wearing on my lips and I told her I had colour on it. At that time she associated the word colour with ‘Colours of the Wind,’ the song from Pocahontas, and so she asked ‘colours of the wind?’ to which I replied yes, not knowing that it would stick! Now she thinks lipstick is called ‘colours of the wind’ and I know I should correct her but it’s too cute! “Mummy, Cinderella’s got colours of the wind.” The princess obsession invades all aspects of her life including bath time where she will swim like The Little Mermaid to the song, “Swim little mermaid swim swim swim” (to the tune of Sleeping Bunnies). And time in the car is usually spent listening to the Disney films compilation album, to which we are all ordered to sing along!

I was in the kitchen one day when I heard her chanting “Roosing’s a princess, Roosing’s a princess,” so I went to investigate and discovered this ….

Poor Roo. You can see a childhood of being bossed around and made to dress up by his big sister has begun already at the tender age of 7 months!

She is ‘a character’ as they say, and drives me crazy most days! But she is perfect to me and I could not possibly love her more. The other day when Richie got home from work she beamed with pride as she told him “Mummy’s really proud of me cause I did good waiting”. I am proud of her for many things; good waiting is just one of them!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Wow … said the mummy

My gorgeous baby boy, yes BOY was born in April, and I can’t quite believe that six months have gone by already. He was a newborn for about a minute and now he’s a rolling, two teeth owning, cucumber stick munching, commando crawler already! These have been the fastest months of my life. I thought the time had gone fast with Squiggles but this is all kinds of ridiculous fast.

Roo or Roosings is his nickname and he is an absolute delight. Before he was born I worried I wouldn’t have any more love for the new baby, it seemed impossible considering how much I love Squiggles. I need not have worried because it turns out that I have an infinite amount of love inside of me and Roo gets his fair share of it. I just don’t understand how it’s possible to love something this much!

Can you believe he’s a boy?! When he was born and it was announced I feel like I asked about 5 times for it to be confirmed because I couldn't quite believe it! My dad has waited for 40 years for a boy to be born and then two have come along in the space of 4 months. ‘Just like buses’ is now a running family joke!

Squiggles went through many different stages in the weeks following Roo’s birth. In the hospital on the day she met him she asked “baby out of mummy’s tummy?” and lay next to him looking both delighted and bemused. The next morning she helped daddy to change Roo’s nappy by passing him bits of cotton wool, looking at Roo, unsure what to make of him. In the days and weeks that followed she alternated from wanting to be helpful and showing an interest/liking/love for him, to completely ignoring him, to being jealous of him. There was one constant, and that was her being pretty peed off with mummy and daddy for many reasons. (The main one being we had completely changed her world!)

I tried and what felt like failed to navigate the very rocky waters of the toddler and newborn combo, and most of the early days ended up with Squiggles angrily screaming her head off, Roo screaming his head off and me crying in the garden in the rain with my slippers getting soggy. They were rough times—what can I say! I can laugh about it now but at the time it was pretty awful! Don't get me wrong: it was wonderful having a squidgy, cuddly newborn again but it was HARD being a mummy to a needy newborn and a very demanding and still very dependent toddler who was hitting the beginning of the ‘toddler behaviour’. The simplest of tasks seemed impossible: how do you cook dinner with a baby whose witching hour is timed to be the exact same time that you need to make dinner, which happens also to coincide with the time your toddler is at their most cranky and needy, “I NEEEEED you to play with me”?! You put the baby in the sling and jiggle whilst they scream at you and you sweat and try not to burn them on the stove or chop your fingers off with the knife, and you put the tv on for the toddler and try to ignore the intermittent demands of “I WANT ANOTHER TV NOT THIS ONE” (said every 3 mins) and try not to lose your mind. It’s not pretty but it gets the dinner done! And lets not talk about being out and about with a newly potty trained toddler and a constantly-needing-boob-feeds baby! The cry of “I NEED A WEE WEE” creating a sense of panic and a logistical nightmare all in one!

It was tough going, as any parent with multiple children will concur. This day to day struggle was not helped by the fact that 2 weeks after Roo was born I got a painful chest and bad cough that didn’t go away for 5 months! It was so bad that it kept me awake all night (very soul destroying not to be getting sleep even though the baby was sleeping,) with violent coughing fits which meant that I spent the night downstairs on the sofa because I didn’t want to wake the rest of the house, and popped up for night feedings. I seriously did not get any sleep, which was pretty awful! It also caused massive amounts of anxiety because I didn’t know what was wrong. I was ridiculously sleep deprived and after failed antibiotic attempts, a chest x-ray and many trips to the doctor without any clue as to what was going on, I could see no end to it. (I mean it did last over 5 months!!) All of which resulted in the worst panic attack I’ve ever had, and pretty bad post natal depression. I don’t want to talk too much about the depression because I don’t want it to overshadow how many great things were happening during that time. My gorgeous boy was growing, smiling, laughing and learning to roll and my gorgeous girl was being her amazing self and growing up into “a big girl”. And sibling love was blossoming before me. There was a lot of happiness, a lot of contentment, a lot of fun days, and a LOT of love. Eventually the cough got better (it turns out it’s asthma brought on by pregnancy/birth and I’m now on a preventer inhaler two times a day,) and the days where I experienced what felt like hours of black-hole type oblivion turned into fleeting moments of dappled shade. I’m happy to say that it has now been weeks since I felt any kind of low or negative feeling. Depression is a horrible beast, when you are in it you can see no way out but once you are out it seems surreal/impossible to believe you were ever there. Thankfully my people—or ‘peoples’ as Squiggles would say—are amazing (you know who you are!) and point blank refused to allow me to remain in the dark.

A couple of weeks ago Roo had a post milk cuddle/nap—sadly now a rare occurrence. I sat with him quietly sleeping in my arms, listening to his calm, steady breath, feeling his warmth, feeling his tummy pressed against mine and looking at the little soft fluffy hairs on his face and ears which were being illuminated by the sun coming in through the window, and I felt completely and utterly happy. I felt incredible gratitude that I won’t have spent my life not knowing what this feels like, to hold your baby and bask in your love for them. It’s so special, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world that I have got to experience it twice. I know now how quickly these baby days go and I already miss Squiggles’s warmth and her heavy limbs resting on me, the only time I get to really hold her now are when she’s upset or hurt or incredibly tired, the rest of the time she’s on the move and far too busy for cuddles! So with the knowledge of how fast it goes I’m trying so hard to hold on to Roo’s baby days, and I’m trying to absorb moments like those into memories that will stay with me so that when I’m old I can recall how it felt to hold him, remember his warmth, remember the sound of his breath and what his peaceful little face looked like—oh please let me remember.

Babies are awesome! I love his gummy smile and his belly giggles. I love his beautiful little face, his long, dark eyelashes and his big, brown eyes. I absolutely adore his dimples! I love his cute baby gurgles and his millions of facial expressions. I love watching him watch what is going on around him, I love the way he smiles when he sees me or Richie or Squiggles. I love his listening face. I love how Squiggles makes him laugh. I love the way he silently watches his hands in the dim early morning light as he lays next to me, he holds them up in front of his face and moves them around slowly and moves his fingers in a hypnotic dance. I love feeling his warmth next to me in bed and feeling his tummy pressed up against mine, breathing in and out as he feeds. I love that he plays with my hands while he feeds. I love how he reaches and grabs my face and hair and giggles. I love watching him explore everything around him now that he is crawling, slowly carefully, intently. I love how calm, quiet and chilled out he is, and his moments of loudness as he explores his voice and the cool sounds he can make! I love how his little arms and legs kick with excitement! I love how much he loves songs and how “Peter Rabbit’ is his favourite and that it makes him laugh every time! I love how curious he is about the cats. I love the way he sucks his thumb when he’s tired or unsure of new people/things. As you can tell I am utterly besotted with him!

Squiggles is such a brilliant big sister, it’s lovely how proud she is and how she tells everyone about her baby brother and displays him to them by pulling back the hood of the pram so they can get a good look! Apparently she talks about Roo all the time when she’s at the childminder’s. She likes to help to take care of him: one day last week she even got him to sleep by rocking his pram and shushing!  Whenever Roosings cries she tells me what he needs in a very matter of fact way!

“He needs milk/a nap/a cuddle”

“Does he?”

“Yes I think so”

She loves to give him kisses and cuddles and she loves to give him a kiss goodnight (VERY cute). She picks his toys up for him if he drops them and if he hasn't got any toys near him she will bring him some.  She likes to squeeze his cheeks and say, “You’re gorgeous”! I love the way she says ‘Roooooosssiiings’ loudly and cheerfully to get his attention.

My favourite is when we are sitting having a cuddle on the sofa and if Roo gets a bit cranky when he’s in his bouncy chair she says, “He wants to sit with us,” and I reply, “Do you think so?” and she says, “Yes, I think he wants a cuddle.” So I get him and we all have cuddles together and it’s super lovely. (Until he starts grabbing her hair or arms and then she gets annoyed!)

One of my favourite books that I read to Squiggles is Wow Said the Owl and my summary of life with two children is Wow, it’s bonkers hard sometimes, but wow, it’s also incredibly wonderful!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Second time around

It has been so long since I have written here, which is a sign of how busy life has been! My job, though only part-time, kept me very busy for much of last year. Running my own business meant that a lot of my ‘spare’ time was spent responding to emails, trying to attract new clients, developing my classes, materials, marketing and so on, on top of the actual time spent teaching classes and workshops. Not that I am complaining; I loved every moment and feel really proud of what I have achieved since setting up. However my job combined with having a toddler meant little time for writing, which is such a shame because so much has happened since my last post and there are so many things I have wanted to share.

For a start I have not yet written here that I am pregnant with my second baby! I am now 38 weeks and in the final stretch but have not had chance to write about it. Becoming pregnant one month after starting my baby massage business was tough going! Like my pregnancy with Squiggles my morning sickness was pretty grim. I struggled with all-day and all-night nausea and retching. With Squiggles it lasted for 4 and a half months; this time it lasted for almost 6 months and even now when I get really tired I feel sick. It’s pretty hard to live a normal life, take care of a toddler and run a new business when you feel that sick, but somehow I got through it.

After finally feeling less sick after 6 months I thought that the last 3 months would be a bit easier. Oh dear how wrong I was! For a start, being pregnant is generally harder second time round when you have a very active, very demanding, very dependant toddler - it is utterly exhausting. But from November onwards it has been one illness after another, me and Squiggles were locked in a cycle of her catching something, then I caught it, then with immune systems weakened, something else would be caught and the cycle went on and on. Between us we’ve had vomiting viruses, tonsillitis, colds, conjunctivitis... And just when I thought we were finally free of all the winter sickness the worst of all things happened, it really was the icing on a very bad tasting cake. I was prescribed antibiotics for a suspected bladder infection and had a reaction to it which resulted in an all-over body rash. It was like the worst sunburn you've ever had and it then turned into excruciating severe itchiness over my whole body which prevented me from being able to sleep. I had many trips to the hospital (each one lasting 5-6 hours), was prescribed a bucket load of creams but was ultimately told nothing could be done for me. It was a living hell where nothing relieved the itching - not even for one minute - and it seriously affected my mental health. It lasted for over 2 weeks and even now I am still experiencing itching on and off. It was so awful that I was on the verge of begging to be induced early so I could get some stronger medication that might work or at the very least sleeping pills to help me sleep. It was a pretty horrible way to end the pregnancy. A time where I had hoped to spend some time with Squiggles, enjoying the last few weeks of it just being the two of us. I had hoped to enjoy a few weeks after finishing work to rest and prepare for the arrival of the baby. But instead I was in and out of hospital, severely miserable and feeling gutted that this time was lost.

But it all could have been much worse and I am relieved and grateful that the baby was never in any harm.

Now at 38 weeks I’m trying to make the most of the time left and have a little time to get ready for the baby and to reflect on the pregnancy so far. I’m struck by the difference between first and second pregnancies. First time round I had many months to prepare and imagine meeting my baby. I used to talk and sing to the baby, Richie used to read to the baby at bedtime. I had time to massage oil into my bump every night and think about the lovely bundle of baby inside. We went to midwife appointments together and excitedly listened to the baby’s heartbeat. I spent time preparing for the labour by listening to hypnobirthing MP3s and practicing birth breathing with Richie. We excitedly bought baby bits and pieces and prepared the nursery. We discussed names and tried to imagine if we were going to have a boy or a girl. We took fortnightly photos of my growing bump.

This time, aside from the sickness, exhaustion and a growing bump, I’ve barely had time to think about the fact that I’m pregnant. I can think of a handful of times that I’ve talked to the baby. This baby has never been read to. I never have time to lovingly massage oil into my bump. I have gone to appointments alone, listened to the baby’s heartbeat on my own, spent many an hour in waiting rooms by myself. The preparation of baby stuff has been to get it down from the loft and just this weekend I hoovered and washed the crib and pram etc. Other than a handful of new baby sleep suits, the baby’s clothes consist of Squiggle’s old baby clothes got down from the loft and washed. There is no nursery for the baby as we only have two bedrooms. I have spent virtually no time preparing for the labour (because now I know there’s no point, haha!), other than listening to my hypnobirthing MP3s, which involves me falling asleep after 2 minutes and not hearing any of it! To say I feel guilty about this is an understatement. I know that none of this means that the baby is less wanted or less loved: it’s just that the reality of already having a toddler means there is just less time for all of that preparation. But I still feel guilty about it.

The other differences between first and second pregnancies include the rather comical fact that when pregnant for the first time people fuss over you: they don’t let you lift anything heavy, bus drivers wait for you to waddle to the stop, you are given a baby shower, people offer you their seat on the train, people tell you how great you look, you can rest when you need to and avoid food when you feel sick, people often ask excitedly about the progress of the pregnancy.

This time round you, on a regular basis, have to lift and carry a two and a half year who quite often is kicking and screaming and struggling to get out of your arms. Bus drivers stop really far away from the curb and you have to lift your toddler in their pram onto the bus (not an easy thing to do with a massive bump and no stomach muscles), no one offers you a seat, there is no baby shower, people don’t mention how you look because you look like absolute crap, you can’t rest and even though you feel hideously sick and ANY smell brings on the retching you still have to cook food for your fussy toddler who ends up not eating it anyway, people rarely ask about your pregnancy and sometimes seem to entirely forget you are pregnant.

First time round your bump is treated as a precious object and people are constantly telling you to be careful and give you lots of space. This time I have Squiggles, who doesn't seem to notice I have a giant belly (other than commenting “mummy big tummy”) and continuously launches herself at me at top speed and with her full weight, squashing the bump and spends most of the day clambering on it. Your toddler does not care one bit how huge you are, she insists that you chase her, carry her, get up and down off the floor many, many times, join in the entire dance class, plies and galloping included (seriously I was galloping around the room just today). She doesn't care how exhausted you are and that every step you take brings pain in your back and pelvis and feels like you have just run a marathon. In some ways I love that although my physical form has changed she still sees me as the same mummy and thinks I can still do all the things I normally do! Sometimes she does seem to notice my physical limitation as I'm struggling to get myself up off the floor and she gives me her hand to try to help me up! Bless her! Other times it works very much to her advantage as she runs away from me and she knows I’m going to struggle to catch up with her. Less cute!

It’s hard to know if Squiggles understands the massive change that is soon to occur. We’ve talked about the baby, of course, and she knows there is a baby in mummy’s tummy ( she used to get confused and think that she and Daddy had babies in their tummies too!) But I’m not sure if she really gets that the baby will soon come out and live in the house with us. We have tried to explain this to her and you can see her little brain trying to work it out, but to be fair it’s a pretty weird concept (even for me!). I think she knows something is changing, as the bits of baby equipment appear from the loft and mummy’s tummy gets bigger and bigger. She has felt and watched the baby move. On a few occasions she got a bit jealous and when I asked if she wanted to feel the baby kicking she said “no” and pulled my top down and asked for a cuddle. She’s also going through a phase of pretending to be a baby and saying “Squiggles mummy’s baby”, as though she knows she’s soon not going to be the baby in the house any more. Ugh, why is this parenting malarkey so filled with guilt? I feel sorry for the new baby who will have less of my time and attention than Squiggles had and I feel sorry for Squiggles who will soon be pushed out of her spot as centre of the universe and go through the pain of having to share me with her new brother or sister.

Second time round has certainly been a journey so far but as hard as it has been at times, I always know deep down that it is worth it and I can’t wait to meet my new baby and hold them and experience those precious moments together right after birth. I never forget how lucky I am that I am pregnant and that I get to be a mother to another baby. I am so, so lucky and so grateful. So for my last couple of weeks I will enjoy feeling the baby move around inside me and find some time to imagine those first moments together when they finally make an appearance. I’m also looking forward to be able to have proper cuddles with Squiggles again!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Two

My baby turned two last month and I have been wanting to write about this special time but words have failed me. I guess because I have so many emotions about it that it’s hard to figure them all out and write them into coherent sentences!

So where do I start? With the easy part - how we celebrated. We had a joint birthday party with her NCT buddies back in August which she thoroughly enjoyed; the party involved a slide and ball pit, present opening and cake! Squiggles spent most of the party monopolising a Thomas the Tank Engine ride-on toy (she had full blown tantrums anytime anyone else wanted to go on it!).

We then had a party for her at home with the grandparents, aunties, cousins and her friends. She spent the party eating crisps (something she is not allowed to eat normally) and getting cross when her friends played with her toys! She screamed her head off when we sang Happy Birthday but did eventually agree to blow out the candles on her amazing cake (made by Nana). We opened some presents... when I say we, mummy and daddy opened presents because Squiggles was more interested in playing with her cousins.

On her actual birthday, we went downstairs to reveal her new toy kitchen which she was delighted with and we opened the rest of her presents before daddy went off to work. We then had a quiet morning playing with her new toys and then daddy came home for a birthday lunch.

I had been so busy with the planing and celebrating that I had not had time to reflect on how I felt about my baby turning two. Now, three weeks on, I’ve had some time to think and will attempt to put into words how I feel!

I guess the obvious place to start is how fast the two years have gone, and in those two years monumental changes have occurred. She has grown from a tiny baby so dependent on me for food and the comfort and warmth of my arms to a independent human being who walks and talks and has her own thoughts and feelings. She is in that limbo of wanting independence and separation from me and a need to exert her own free will, but at the same time still needing me for comfort, reassurance and protection from all the things in the world that are new or she’s uncertain of. And in these two years I have grown and changed with her, in a parallel process. Whilst she has been developing into the person she is/will become I have been developing into a person that is still ‘me’ but is changed into a person who has more capacity to love than she could ever have imagined, that has more fun and who loves life in a way that is both terrifying and wonderful. I think when you love someone more than yourself and when you put their needs before your own then change is inevitable. Life goals change. The way you look at the world changes.

Like parents all over the world and throughout history I struggle to put into words the love I feel for my daughter. No words can do the feeling justice. Any words attempted only scratch the surface of that feeling that is so deep, so powerful. To feel love like that, it changes who you are and your perception of life.

Becoming a mother I have never had more fun or felt more love, and have never felt more connected to the world and all the people in it.

From the outside people may only see the exhaustion, the endless dirty nappies, the screaming tantrums, the frustration or the lack of freedom. We as parents are too quick to moan about these things! But what is not so easy to see or perhaps what we as parents find hard to describe are the moments of joy and love. The feeling of a little hand holding onto yours, the happy little face of your child when you come home, even if you’ve only been gone an hour or two. The request for cuddles, the songs sung together, the dances danced and the games played. New experiences and rediscovering happiness in the little things. The wonder as you watch them become a person that shows sympathy, kindness and compassion for others.

She is two already, and she will keep getting older and she will need me less and less and maybe a day will come when she doesn’t need me at all (a thought that threatens to destroy me!). And what have I learnt in these two years? I’ve learnt that it is only going to get harder! As I watch her at playgroup experiencing how other children can intimidate, push, snatch toys and exclude, my heart breaks any time she experiences these situations, any time she feels sadness, confusion or fear, any time her confidence is knocked.  Right now I can protect her but as soon as she goes to school I cannot be there to protect her and it’s devastating for me to know that she will experience horrible things and I can’t be there for her. The helpless feeling I’m guessing all parents feel knowing you can’t control what happens. Knowing you can’t protect them from fear and sadness, you can’t guarantee an easy happy life for them. But whilst it will get harder, the love will get deeper (if that is remotely possible!) and whilst I can’t control what happens, I can equip her with the ability to be able to deal with whatever comes her way and to be there for her at all times if she needs me.

I’ve said it before, that this time I have with her, just me and her, is so special and in the bigger picture will be so fleeting, that I am holding on so tightly to it and trying hard to not let time just pass by, but to savour every moment, to treasure who she is now before it all changes again.

So my darling Squiggles I want to wish you a Happy Second Birthday. You have given me undoubtedly the best two years of my life. The world is not perfect my darling; I wish so much that it was because I want nothing but a perfect world and life for you. But though it is not perfect, since you were born it has become the most wonderful place. You make it perfect for me and have given me everything I ever want. Every day my love for you grows and deepens. Every day you bring me so much joy and make me so proud. You are the most delightful, funny, loving, affectionate and compassionate little girl and I adore you. I will always be here for you. Love Mummy xxx

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

A week with Nana & Grandad

At the beginning of August we had a week at Nana and Grandad’s (poor Daddy had to stay at home in London to work and look after the cats) and although Squiggles missed Daddy, she had a lovely time.

We started the weekend with a sausage and cider festival which Squiggles thought was the most amazing fun. She danced her little socks off, played with a ball that was four times her size, watched—with serious face-not-looking-away-at-any-moment fascination—a Punch & Judy show, spent 30 seconds painting a wooden butterfly (Nana had to finish the rest!), went on a bouncy castle and enjoyed the spinning tea cups and the car ride (many, many times!). She had ridiculous amounts of fun and the day ended with her running and gleefully rolling around in a field as the sun was beginning to set on what had been a beautifully sunny day. Lovely stuff!

On Sunday we relaxed in the garden and Squiggles played on the swings and slide and threw herself around on the trampoline.

With Daddy back in London we started the week with a trip to Central Park (unfortunately not of the New York variety!), a very pretty park in town where Squiggles played in the playground and the sand pit with an empty paper coffee cup because we had not brought our bucket and spade. We then looked at the birds and had lunch in the café. A quiet afternoon at home playing with toys was followed by a FaceTime call with Daddy where she told daddy in her very sweet little voice all the things she had done “Swings, slide, see-saw, sand, birds!”

Next was a trip to the zoo where she decided that flamingoes and tortoises were the best and she almost refused to look at anything else (lots of excited encouraging “Ohh look at the …” didn’t help and eventually she just had to be dragged away, protesting loudly!). She conceded that Gibbons were also pretty cool and she giggled as they swung around the trees and ropes. The gift shop reunited her with her beloved ‘Dodo’ (a cuddly donkey which had been brought from the same zoo in January and lost a few weeks ago!) which she kissed, cuddled, stroked and sang to all the way home.

Wednesday was strawberry picking with Auntie L, her beloved cousins E and V and a whole gang of other (childminded) kids. Squiggles was a little confused at first as all we traipsed into the field, her face looked a little like, ‘Who are all these people and what are we doing in a field, Mummy?’. But Squiggles being the wonderful little person she is simply embraced it and happily followed along. When we arrived at the strawberries she had the important task of holding the punnet whilst Mummy set about picking the strawberries. She watched with intent curiosity and took almost no time in figuring out what to do and then began pointing the strawberries out to me. But before long she decided she would much rather do it herself and down went the punnet and in went her little hands into the leaves scrabbling around for the shiny red jewels. I had a bizarre cave-woman-like moment of pride as my little girl commenced her first go at foraging! After gaining a decent amount of strawberries, which considering it is the end of the season was pretty good going, we headed to the raspberries. Squiggles was offered a raspberry by her cousin, she obligingly opened her mouth the raspberry was popped in, a couple of chews, a frowny face and out popped the raspberry. No thank you very much, keep feeding me the strawberries instead. After this she exhausted her cousins in the playground by continuous goes on a very steep slide. We attempted a picnic but Squiggles said she was having far too much fun in the playground to possibly considering eating a bite of food.

On Thursday we went on the Nene Valley railway which was super cool. The little station at Ferry Meadows is mega cute and the train itself had the good style cartridges with your own seating compartment where you close the door. Squiggles loved it, she sat looking out the window waving the whole way. When we arrived at Peterborough we were greeted with our own arrival party consisting of Auntie L, cousins and lots of childminder children. We got off the train to say hello to them and then watched as the front of the train reconnected, at which point we ran back to our carriage and hopped on. When back at Ferry Meadows Squiggles did some solo log walking—her balance is incredible! Then we hopped on a mini steam train and at the other end played in the playground where she went on the biggest slide she has been on to date! Then we got back on the little train and had lunch in the café and a quick  goodbye to the ducks before heading home for a nap.

On Friday we went to Rutland Lake to play on a sandy beach with our bucket and spade and have a splash around in the lake. It was a beautiful day and a lovely setting. Squiggles adores sand at the moment so she was having the best time ever. She had a walk along the beach with Nana and made Nana sit down on some rocks, “Sit down, Nana!” We then all enjoyed a lovely picnic sitting looking at the lake—bliss :-)

An amazing week. Thanks Mum, Dad, L and the girls for making it so much fun! Squiggles had a wonderful time and was somewhat disappointed when we got back to London and we weren’t doing new and exciting things every day. She was happy to see the cats, though!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Favourite Things II

(Playing hide and seek!)

Quite a while back I wrote a post which listed some of my favourite Squiggles things. Since that post I had started making a list intending to write fairly regular ‘Favourite things’ posts. Then life got all busy and I ended up with a list of stuff that never got posted. So this list contains some stuff that she used to do a long time ago now! 

- Kissing monkey and cow puppets and now just any toy with a face - She likes to put monkey and cow puppet on her hands too - She kisses a lot now! - She sings, “row, row row,” when we do row the boat - Also “eyi eyi o” from Old Macdonald - When we leave the house she says, “go, go, go” - it must be something we say a lot! - She nods and shakes her head now and it’s mega cute - Cuddles: she has become so cuddly - it’s amazingly lovely - She can point to her nose, mouth, chin, ears and head - The fact that she runs all the time instead of walks - The way she says bird and bubble - it’s very cute - How excited she gets when we get close to the river, she randomly starts shouting excitedly when previously she had been silent! - The way she talks her own language, looking very serious and nodding her head as she chats away! - She says, “yeah!” - That she's a creature of habit and has the same routine when we go to childrens’ Ahoy Gallery at the Maritime Museum. Buttons on boat first, playing with the teapot, up and down the little steps, to the boat computer thing, the fish market, and then the rest of the time just up and down the stairs! - Cuddle time on ‘pop pop’ (kids tv channel Tiny Pop - cuddle time is a song they do in the evening which she always likes to have cuddles with) - Smacking her lips together when she's hungry or when she’s seen something she wants to eat - Waving and saying, “Bye bye.” - The “ahhh” we do together when we cuddle - Her singing voice - she joins in when I'm singing - Walking round on her tip toes - Taking books off the shelf and reading them in her cot when she wakes up from her nap - Hopping along to the song, “Hop Little Bunnies” - Shouting “BIRD!” at the top of her voice whenever she hears or sees one - Her new obsession with “choo choos” following a recent visit to Lappa Valley steam railway. - The way she runs with her arms spread out waving around - her ‘Phoebe’ run, as one of my friends calls it - She LOVES floating in the bath to the extent that I’m no longer allowed to wash her, she only wants to float! - Saying “Quick! Quick!” and running around like a lunatic - She loves to sing all the time - Twinkle twinkle, Old MacDonald and Heads, Shoulders Knees and Toes are her current faves. She often sings these to herself when she should be sleeping!

She is so awesome! I will hopefully soon tell you all the things that she’s currently doing!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Holiday, Yay

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to write about Squiggles which is a shame because her toddler antics are cute/hilarious/frustrating/adorable, and I have had many, many things I have wanted to share!

I have been seriously busy: I decided to finally get round to completing the Baby Massage Instructor Diploma I have been wanting do for a while and majorly underestimated the amount of work involved. So any spare minute was spent writing coursework, organising my case study group, preparing lesson plans and teaching classes. This didn’t really leave any time for writing the blog. But I am pleased to report that I have completed my diploma and have started my first paid teaching course. I hope that with the completion of all my coursework I will now have a little more time to write about the awesome Squiggle puff!

We had a very well-timed post diploma holiday, and it was amazing to get away, relax and spend time together.

We started the holiday in an Airbnb in Wiltshire staying in the home of a lovely couple, Fiona and John. The garden was gorgeous, it had a little stream at the bottom and views of the open countryside beyond. Ducks were regular visitors and John also kept birds and pigeons. Squiggle was in her element “Duck! Quack quack! Bird! Tweet tweet!” and enjoyed the evenings in the garden, though mostly up on Daddy’s shoulders far away from Charlie the dog. Charlie and Squiggles did not hit it off, let’s just leave it at that.

We visited Stonehenge on the first day, Squiggles spent most of the visit on Daddy’s shoulders because on the ground she just wanted to cut loose, and we didn't want to be the parents whose toddler had ran onto the stones and caused everything to be shut down. Didn't fancy that embarrassment, not on the first day of our holiday at least. The highlight for Squiggles was the bus trip to and from the stones and a large video projection of the stones. She didn't really seem to notice/be interested in the actual stones.

On the second day we went to Salisbury in the morning. Squiggles ran around the cloisters of the cathedral, and got cross whenever Daddy stopped her from running into the cathedral (it was Sunday and a service was on) or past a sign that read “don’t walk on the grass”. Mummy, rather selfishly, sat on a cloister wall enjoying the sunshine and left Daddy to wrangle Squiggles into walking in the places she was allowed to walk. Then we sat and had lunch in a cafe opposite the cathedral in the gorgeous sunshine. Squiggles played with gravel the whole time and was very happy. Especially when lunch ended with ice cream. We had a short work around some of the pretty streets of Salisbury (in a vain attempt to get Squiggles to nap in the pram). In the afternoon we went to Wilton House and walked around the beautiful grounds enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. We headed back to have dinner and a play in the garden.

On the Monday we packed the car, said goodbye to the ducks, birds, Charlie, and Fiona and John and headed for Longleat Center Parcs. Upon arrival we had sandwiches on a grass verge and then walked around to have a bit of an explore. Our apartment was lovely - tucked away in the forest with every window looking out onto trees. My (obsessed with trees) idea of heaven, obviously. Squiggles was VERY excited about her new surroundings and ran around from room to room for about an hour while we unpacked. In an attempt to calm her down we sat down to watch Shaun the Sheep (which has turned into her new favourite thing ever) and she did a very cute Shaun the Sheep dance along to the theme tune. After dinner we attempted an early night seeing as it had been a no nap day. But Squiggles had other plans, she decided to chat to herself for an hour or so in her bed instead - this is now her new thing.

The next day we went swimming in the morning which was the best thing ever according to Squiggles. She very much enjoyed a vertical drop toddler slide, which we thought might be a little too scary for her but she said it was the most fun thing she had ever done in her life, and ended each trip down the slide with a splash and a giggle followed by “more”. She also enjoyed the mini lazy river to the extent that she had a meltdown any time we tried to leave it.

The Center Parcs experience exceeded my expectations - it was all just very easy and relaxing. The fact that it is pedestrianised is the best thing because it was completely safe for Squiggles to run around which made her very, very, very happy.

During our Center Parcs visit we did a baby bollywood dance class, a toddler photo shoot, a few trips to the pool where mummy and daddy took turns to go on the water rapids and we spent time throwing Squiggles down scary slides and all floating together on the lazy river. We rode bikes around the lake and into the forest and tried to find routes that didn’t involve hills (impossible). We ate yummy pancakes in the pancake house, we had a trip to the nurse for a splinter that wouldn't come out, and generally enjoyed the amazing sunshine in a beautiful setting. It was a lovely relaxing week.

After Center Parcs we hooked up the iPad for playing Frozen in the car and set off to Cornwall.

Here Squiggles discovered a deep love of sand. Every morning started with, “Beach? Sand?”

“Yes darling we’re going to the beach and we’ll play with the sand”. So we had numerous trips to different beaches in all weathers. We also went to Padstow (where a seagull stole my ice-cream) and Newquay on the days that were a bit too rainy for the beach. (How un-British of me.)

We had Sunday lunch and then an evening dinner with friends who live in the next village. We were also kindly invited to visit an allotment and chickens by a neighbour. The allotment has an amazing view and we went in the early evening in lovely weather and Squiggles met the chickens - she was fearfully curious of them and she cried when we left because she wanted to stay and play with them!

Aside from the beach and sand I think the highlight for Squiggles was going to Lappa Valley steam railway which has since started an OBSESSION with trains “choo choo”.

An amazing holiday. Who needs to go abroad when you can have this much fun at home! (I won’t tell you about the ‘sunny Italian piazza with gelato in hand’ day dreams on the rainy days! Whoops I just did!) You can’t beat a British beach :-)

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Quiet London

I wake up at 5am to the sound of bread being delivered to the cafe across the road - a van pulls up, doors open, crates move, doors slam and then the engine starts up and the van drives away. Shortly after this a metal shop shutter is loudly opened. A little after this, if I’m lucky enough to have fallen back to sleep, I wake up again to the sound of cars and lorries driving past. Rubbish trucks, aeroplanes, helicopters, screaming teenagers on their way to school, people shouting into their mobile phones, builders drilling or banging, next door’s dog barking - all are part of my morning soundtrack. It’s not a great way to start the day. But all preferable to waking up at 3am to a freight train going past, which happened every night when I lived in Kensal Green 8 years ago. Those trains are so long that they thunder past for about 20 minutes! It drove me mad, but not as mad as then waking up a few hours later to my downstairs neighbour’s parrot squawking loudly outside my window! My first flat in London was on the A2 in New Cross and there was a wobbly drain that clattered every time a lorry drove over it, which was about every 30 seconds! I dreamed then as I do now of waking up to the gentle tweeting of birds, to wind blowing in trees or even better to silence.

This is not the way of things in London. You wake up to noise, you walk out the front door to louder noise and you go to bed to noise.

In spite of this I love living in London. Our daily conversations are probably similar to most other families currently living in London. How can we stay in London when we can’t afford a family sized house? Do we move into a different part of London where we will have to start over again, leaving behind our friends here? Do we stay in our small house and make it work for our family that will hopefully grow into a bigger family? Or do we leave London altogether? We talk about this Every. Single. Day. The reason we talk about it this much comes down to the fact that we don’t want to leave our London neighbourhood, which is a problem with no solution. So we keep going round and round in circles never finding an answer.

I’ve lived in London for 12 years, Richie for 16 - this is our home. The house we live in now - aside from the year we rented around the corner - is our first home together. We stripped paint from the staircase and from every skirting board, door frame and sash window, we sanded floorboards, and painted every wall of this house. We planned our wedding here, returned home from our honeymoon as newlyweds here, brought our precious Squiggles here from the hospital 2 days after her birth. It’s so hard to imagine ever leaving this house, let alone leaving this city.

Whilst I love London and don’t want to leave, I, like most other Londoners, I imagine, crave silence, peace, a place where there are no other people. Richie finds it amusing that I love London because in many ways my personality would suit a country life - amongst nature and away from people. I hate crowds, I hate noise and I love trees! And yet, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

Understanding my complex need for quiet and peace even though I choose to live in a large noisy city, Richie bought me this book for Mothers Day:

This is my dream book. I feel as though it has been researched and written just for me! It’s full of outdoor parks and gardens, cafes and shops that don’t play music, spiritual centres, restaurants and churches.

Where even my own home is not a quiet sanctuary to escape the frantic world outside my door, now I can discover places that will allow me the time and space to think in silence and actually hear my own thoughts! I often walk past a Quaker meeting house in Covent Garden where they do group silence meetings but I’m never brave enough to go in! Just seeing that this is something that exists proves that the need for silence is powerful. That a group of strangers choose to come together to not connect or communicate in any way shows how confronting London can be. You have no choice in your contact with other people. You literally cannot escape people or noise. It is relentless. But weirdly you get used to it. You get used to a constant background of noise in your life. You get so used to it that when you do actually leave the city and find silence it sounds weird, and it’s unnerving!

My days now have the added background noise of a Squiggles banging her toys on the wooden floorboards, gleeful squealing, crying and shouting when having tantrums and toys that sing.

Whilst I would love to go to every single place mentioned in my book, right now with a Squiggles in tow it’s not going to be possible! She’s too noisy! I’ll need to wait a few years and then go by myself. So instead I need to find and make the most out of the unexpected moments of peace that arise in my normal day-to-day activities. Such as getting to the playground early before anyone else arrives and sitting in the morning ray of sunshine whilst Squiggles plays in the sand pit. Half an hour to read a book during nap time - the words on the page filling my mind and drowning out the noise of cars and people passing by my living room window. Or making the most of 10 minutes after bedtime to sit quietly in my bedroom and do some yoga before heading downstairs for dinner. And although I’ll go to sleep listening to the sound of drunken people on their way home from the pub, and police sirens, I’ll hopefully still drift off peacefully and if I wake in the night maybe just then London will finally be quiet. But most likely not!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Friends

Two weeks ago I had dinner with two of my oldest and best friends. It was our usual 3-monthly ish (some of us would like it to be more often - some, not so much!!) meet up which consists of dinner, drinks and lots of conversation spiked with raucous laughter. I love it. It is a little dollop of feel-good splattered into my life.

Our conversation is the kind that is deeply satisfying in that it covers all kinds of weird, wonderful and serious topics; anything from spirituality and The Age of Aquarius (which left me with that song in my head for two weeks afterwards!) to the hotness of Ryan Gosling! The satisfaction comes from the fact that it is honest conversation - no pretension - and at times absolutely hilarious. It is a time where we can come together to have a lot of laughs and fun, but we can also come to share our worries and stresses. Where we can cry and say “it’s so hard with two children”. Where a marriage ends and we feel safe and comfortable enough to share the reasons why it is over and find the support and encouragement to start anew. Where, in each other’s company, we can feel like the old ‘me’ even though our lives have completely changed and in the day-to-day we have to be a different person. It is special.

So during one of our conversations I reached a realisation that can only come after a few glasses of prosecco, and an honestly with myself that can only come with being in the presence of supportive friends. The realisation being that my true passion lies in something that I don’t have the courage to pursue. My lovely friends encouraged me to put aside my doubts and just go for it. To put my time and energy into the thing I love.

My whole life I’ve been held back by my own lack of self esteem and self-confidence. I realised in a moment of deep sadness that I have the potential to pass this onto Squiggles. That she may follow in my footsteps and never think she’s good-enough to pursue her dreams. I don’t want this for her. I want her to have courage and belief in herself. But guess what? She’s only going to learn this from me. So with that in mind and with my friends’ words of encouragement, and Richie’s never-failing belief in my abilities, I need to be brave and crack on. Enough is enough!

I don’t like to think what my life would be like without the friends that I have. I don’t have hundreds of friends, but the handful or so that I do have I value and love dearly. We have friendships based on trust, honesty, support, respect and love. They are the kind of friends that maybe I haven't seen for a long time but if I call them and say I need to see you this weekend for emergency time away, they say sure and meet me at Brighton station with a warm hug. And throughout the day they listen with understanding. We sing and laugh, and I go home feeling happy, grateful and like me again.

I hope Squiggles finds friendships like this and I hope that if she does struggle to find the courage to follow her dreams, they will be there encouraging her to find her path and helping her find the strength to walk it. But most importantly I hope that if she finds these friendships she never takes them for granted and always gives her time and love to them.

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Mother’s Day

Richie gets cross when I call it Mother’s Day - “It’s Mothering Sunday!!”

I’ve been a bit neglectful of the blog recently because I’ve been starting up my business again and, as my friend L calls it, “hustling” for clients! It seems to be taking up all my time and emotional energy at the moment!

However, I did have some time out and a relaxing Mother’s Day this weekend. We celebrated Mother’s Day on Saturday because it was Richie’s birthday on Sunday! My day started with a very painful yet very necessary Deep Tissue Massage at 9am (a Mother’s Day treat to myself!). When I returned home, Squiggles and Daddy presented me with a card and gifts - 3 books:

Next was a trip to the supermarket to do the food shop - yes not very relaxing but it needed doing!

For lunch we went to the pub across the road which has recently been taken over by an Italian family and they serve amazingly delicious authentic Italian food. Yay, finally somewhere that does great Pizza! We had a lovely lunch in there, Squiggles ate a tonne of spaghetti bolognese! The only downside to the pub is no high-chairs but Squiggles is getting quite good at sitting on normal chairs now. (So grown up!!)

After lunch Squiggles had a nap which meant Richie and I could laze on the sofa reading books and drinking home made cocoa - absolute heaven!

In the evening Squiggles and I played with toys and cuddled up to watch ‘pop pop’ while Daddy cooked dinner. After Squiggles had gone to bed, we drank red wine and watched TV. A lovely relaxing day.

On Sunday (Richie’s birthday) we let Daddy have a little lie-in while we played in Squiggle’s bedroom and then got dressed. Once Daddy was awake we piled on the bed to open cards and presents.

We got ‘on-the-go’ breakfast (croissants from across the road!) and headed to the pier to get the boat to the Southbank. Squiggles used to hate the boat when she was little, she would scream every time we were on it! But she loves it now - we park her at the front and she watches the TV for the whole journey!

We went to the Royal Festival Hall so Squiggles could run around and climb up and down steps to her heart’s content. We then went to Ping Pong for Dim Sum and the waitress dropped the food tray and an entire pot of sweet chilli sauce into my handbag - great!

After lunch we took a slow stroll by the river hoping Squiggles would fall asleep, but as tired as she was she didn't give in, so instead we went to the Tate Modern and she had a frantic full-of-crazy-amounts-of-joy run around in the Turbine Hall.

Next was a grumpy, overtired boat journey home, followed by a nap when finally at home. Whilst she napped we ate birthday cake, drank Prosecco and watched Friends!!

More playtime and ‘pop pop’ after nap and after she had dinner and went to bed we had take-away, drank more Prosecco and watched TV.

A lovely, lovely Mother’s Day and birthday weekend.

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

Adjustments

Having a baby is a continuous flow of adjustments. Starting with your priorities -  the minute Squiggles was born she became number one priority. My priorities were no longer in relation to my own self goals or our goals as a couple. They became about Squiggles, what is best for her. Prioritising her happiness and well-being, and our happiness as a family, above all else.

Adjusting your needs - it turns out you don’t actually need 9-10 hours of sleep a night, you just really, really want that! But amazingly you can cope with less, much less.

Adjusting your wants - suddenly you want very different things. You want safety, security and health for your little family, you want more time, because it goes too fast. You want the toys to tidy themselves, you want a meal where the food doesn't end up on the floor. You don't want to go out drinking in bars and clubs anymore, you are too tired to even contemplate it. And after suffering 4 months of morning sickness you never want to self-inflict nausea and vomiting ever again!

Adjusting your expectations - you are not the always-calm-and-relaxed-earth-mother you thought/wanted to be. You are tired, seldom relaxed and at times get seriously frustrated. So you adjust, and instead of expecting to be perfect and the best mother every second of every day, you - after a serious reality check - accept that you will never be perfect, but you are doing your absolute best. And you throw your expectation of ‘earth mother’ out of the window and be ‘real’ mother instead.

You adjust your expectation that your lovely little toddler will listen to what you say and accept that mummy has rules for reasons. And instead expect her to completely ignore everything you say and then get very cross with you when you stop her from trying to climb onto the high stool/eating the cat food/pulling every book off the book shelf and trying to climb it/pouring milk all over the rug.

Adjusting to the ever changing (read ever elusive) new routine! So when do you want to have your nap now?!

Adjusting to your new reality - Life is no longer about just you. There are certain things you can no longer do. You can never just walk out of the front door alone and go get a hot chocolate if you fancy it. The reality is someone else must go with you. Someone else’s needs will always be more important than your own. 

It is a huge adjustment but one that happens quite easily and naturally. These adjustments are ones that I make willingly, because being Squiggles’s mummy is the best. A thousand times better than solo hot chocolate drinking - it tastes better with her sat on my lap and sharing one with me!

[biscuits-on-the-floor]

A Day in the life of Squiggles ...

We have never really had routines as such, rather just patterns that we have fallen into. These have been continuously changing patterns as she gets older, goes through different phases, drops naps etc. Our current days look a little like this …

Squiggles usually wakes up chatting around 7.45am. She is pretty happy in her cot these days and doesn't cry or shout out for us like she used to. When Richie goes in to her she is usually playing with Rita (her cuddly rabbit) and often in funny positions - lying on her back with her legs extended up the side of the cot, kneeling, standing, squashed in a corner, still on her front in the sleeping position she adopts with her knees tucked up underneath her. She springs up when Richie goes in and hands Rita to him for kisses, and is generally very excited to see him and full of energy ready to start the day.

Next is playtime in her bedroom, usually for 20-30mins, followed by nappy change and getting dressed for the day. Then we go down for breakfast and she usually stands shouting next to her high chair because she’s hungry and breakfast isn't being prepared as quick as she would like. Daddy goes off to work halfway through breakfast and once she’s done eating, she has a run around in the kitchen while I tidy up and prepare her drink and snack for later in the morning.

After that we usually go out (unless either of us are poorly). Mondays the morning activity can be: playgroup, food shopping - if it hasn't been done at the weekend - a walk in the park or playground, a different playground near the river or more recently swimming. Then we have a morning snack, either sat on a bench, in a cafe or if at home sat in ‘snack corner’! We used to then go home for a nap around 11:30am but now we do lunch first (Daddy often comes home to join us for lunch) and then a nap which starts anywhere between 12:15 and 2pm and ranges from one hour 30 mins to 3 hours. Tuesdays we usually go to Rhyme Time at our local library and then a walk in the park. Thursdays we go to a lovely music class called Rucksack Music in Blackheath. We usually have lunch in Blackheath after with friends and I try to keep Squiggles awake on the bus journey back so I can get her in bed at home before her nap! Friday we either go to a playgroup in Deptford or to a different music group called Boppin Bunnies. These are some of the typical things we do but if we fancy something else or want to meet up with friends we do that instead. It’s a flexible schedule! Some days it’s nice to get out of Greenwich and do something completely different. At the end of last year a couple of friends and I got the boat to the Southbank and took the children to the Aquarium - it was such a fun day out and we all agreed it was nice to do something different.

In the afternoon after her nap we go to the park or playground, or to the Maritime museum where they have a great children’s play area and a huge world map upstairs which she loves running around on (and when she was younger she loved crawling around on it!). Or we’ll have a playdate with friends and go to someone else’s house where she can play with different toys or have people over to our house.

In the early evening we head home, if we’re not there already, and we will play with her toys. When it’s time for me to make the dinner I put the TV on (the only thing that stops her from screaming the whole time while I’m busy making dinner!) and she watches ‘pop pop’ as she calls it. Tiny Pop usually has ‘Toby’s Travelling Circus’, ‘Strawberry Shortcake’ and ‘Mike the Knight’ on at this time of day and all the theme tunes are permanently stuck in my head!

We start dinner and Daddy comes home and we all eat together. After dinner it’s bath, getting into pyjamas, story time and then bedtime.

Most days are pretty tiring but wonderful. As she has got older she has been able to show me what she wants. She gets her shoes off the shoe bench and brings them to me or stands by the front door if she wants to go out. She picks up my slippers and makes me put them on if she doesn't want to go out! Or any time I happen not to be wearing my slippers! She points to the radio if she wants music on. She brings me the remote control if she wants the TV on - although she’s only allowed this on when I’m cooking dinner! She brings me the toys she wants to play with - the funniest one being a giant bag of plastic balls that is twice the size of her that she carries or drags over to me, wanting me to open it! I then spend 20 minutes after she’s in bed tidying up balls that have gone all over my living room! Knowing what she wants and doesn't want and being able to communicate it to me has given her an independence, and with that new-found independence has come tantrums! But they are worthy of a whole post in themselves!

Like all of us Squiggles has days where she is in the best of moods and is super joyful and fun-loving and then she has days where she is in a grump for no apparent reason and nothing goes right and she’s really short tempered and cross. Then she has days where she is up and down all day and seems to experience every emotion possible through the course of the day! At her age all her emotions are an extreme version or as I like to think of them - in their purest form - untainted/unrestrained by adult pressures/expectations!

You never know what kind of day you are going to have, you just have to learn to roll with it! Life with a toddler is full of surprises/frustration/anger/laughter/joy/contentment/love/confusion and many moments of bliss quickly followed by “STOP POKING THE CAT IN THE FACE!!”