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The Holiday

Last week we went on holiday. It was really quite pleasant to get away from the humdrum of everyday life and have mum and dad's full attention for the week; although we got off to a shaky start on the first day. Mum and dad were running around the house like headless chickens trying to pack all of our things into the car. I tried to help by stacking all my toys by the front door but was told I could only take one small box of toys. What with all Jecca's paraphernalia there wasn't even room in the car for dad's bodyboard, although I'm baffled as to why he thought I was going to allow him time to use it anyway.

When we finally set off on the road we hadn't got very far when dad stopped the car and looked quite distressed. He got out and starting taking things out of the roof box. I noticed there was blue sticky stuff oozing out of it and dad was trying to mop it up with anything he could find, including mum's towel. It was raining and he was getting quite wet. This was all a bit stressful so I decided to join Jecca in the land of nod and hope that when I opened my eyes we'd be at our holiday.

Sadly not.  I woke up to the sound of Jecca screaming and looked out of the car window to see we were in a traffic jam. I was not happy and started demanding some of mum's drink, which looked tasty. Unfortunately, when I tried to drink from her special grown up bottle, it spilt all over me. Mum and dad said they couldn't change my clothes because it was dangerous to get out of the car in the middle of a traffic jam. So, I spent the rest of the journey in soaking wet clothes. I really needed a holiday after all this stress.

Finally, we reached our holiday. Our new house was very small and had a distinct lack of toys. As we had a good look around I clung to dad and answered "no" every time he asked if I liked it, I think the message sunk in eventually. My new bedroom had two beds in it, one for me and one for daddy. Mum and Jecca took the room with the big bed. Rude.

That evening mum and dad took me out for some chips. While we waited for them to be cooked we sat and watched a giant fox prance around on a stage. Mum asked if I'd like to go up with the other children and meet him and I clung to her for dear life. Crazy woman. When they started playing a game called 'What's the time Mr Wolf' I agreed to join in, but only if mum held my hand. I don't know why nobody else's mum or dad wanted to join in. Dad had to hold Jecca who was screaming. I think she wanted to play but she's too little.

To be honest, after this rather underwhelming start to the holiday, things could only get better. The next day we discovered there was a swimming pool in the big building where the fox and the chips lived. This was great fun. Even Jecca liked it, as long as mum was always holding her. Sometimes mum would try and trick Jecca by secretly passing her to dad and then swimming underwater to get away. She had to come up for air eventually though and inevitably Jecca would spot her and scream until she was in mum's arms again.

We sampled many beaches during our holiday. Beaches are basically giant sand pits with lots of paddling pools and an absolutely massive swimming pool called the sea. I found lots of jellyfish in the sand at one of them and I enjoyed making dad pick them all up with my spade and put them back in the sea. Another of the beaches we went to had a giant play park next to it and dad went on the bouncy castles with me. We went down the bouncy slide together and he got a giant wedgie. Mum managed to catch this special moment on camera and laughed so much her eyes leaked.

Each day when we got back from the beach we would go in the swimming pool. On one of the days we were the only people in there. This man called a lifeguard kept bringing out different toys for me to try. He even brought out a scary toy for dad to play with that propelled him underwater at great speed. The lifeguard asked if I'd like to try it and I gave him a look of utter contempt, silly man.

On our last day, as we drove to yet another beach, mum and dad told me it was their wedding anniversary. They tried to explain but I still didn't get what they were going on about. Something about a lighthouse. Anyway, the beach we went to was cool. It had some smelly caves and lots of rocks. Dad pointed out lots of different things on the rocks including sea enemies which he said you could squeeze and they squirt water. Mum was a spoilsport though and wouldn't let him demonstrate this.

As we paddled in the rock pools mum suddenly looked at her watch and announced it was time. Time for an ice cream? Sadly not. Time for mum and dad to stand in the sea and read words off a piece of paper to each other. This was totally boring and I made my feelings known by pulling at dad's arm whilst he tried to read his silly words. Something about making sure mum always has chocolate. Jecca wasn't happy either and demonstrated this by screaming so loudly that I don't think dad could hear whatever mum was reading. That'll teach them to try and have ten minutes doing something they want to do.

After some lunch at a beach cafe, which was quite pleasant, we went back to our holiday house and went swimming again. Once we got into the pool I decided to inform mum and dad that Mr Poo was trying to get out of my bottom. The panic on their faces was quite something. Dad immediately whisked me out and took me into a little room with a toilet.  I screamed at the top of my lungs and refused to let him take my swimming costume off. The only way to get out of this predicament was to tell him that Mr Poo had decided he didn't want to come out anymore.

I was taken back into the pool but it was no good. Mr Poo did want to come out and there was no denying it. Once we were back in the pool I loudly announced Mr Poo's impeding arrival. Dad quickly removed me from the water while mum glanced nervously at the lifeguard and our fellow swimmers. This time dad decided to take me back to the holiday house. He removed my swimming costume and, despite my protests that Mr Poo had decided to climb back into my bottom, sat me on my potty.

Dad made me stay on the potty by tempting me with various sweet treats until Mr Poo made his escape. I was rewarded with a couple of smarties and then taken back to the pool where mum was waiting with baited breath to hear what had happened. "I did a poo!" I announced loudly and proudly, making sure everyone in the vicinity could hear. Once back in the water, mum quietly quizzed dad about the size and shape of Mr Poo. Dad started to describe in detail how he'd coaxed it out of me. I got bored and began to dunk him underwater every time he tried to speak.

So that was our final swim and the next day we left our holiday house for good. I was sad to leave the new best friends I'd made there: A heater and two Buddha cushions. We said our fond farewells while dad packed up the car. We left that place with pretty much the same amount of junk as we'd taken. However, we did have just enough room to take home my collection of shells and stones, a cuttlefish, half a tonne of sand and, of course, some very fond memories.

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The Paddling Pool

This morning at breakfast I was lost in my thoughts as I tucked into my Shreddies. My ears pricked up, however, when I heard the words "paddling pool". How refreshing I thought, looking out of the window at the sunshine. So I ran with the idea.

"Is the paddling pool ready?" I asked mum as she got Jecca out of her highchair. "In a minute." She replied. She says this a lot and I can tell you from experience that a minute is a really, really long time.

As mum got Jecca dressed and gave her some milk I asked again, "Is the paddling pool ready?” Mum explained that she had a few other things to do first and that before we could have any fun she needed to put sun cream on me. Now, she may be able to fool Jecca that she's giving her some kind of relaxing massage while she's slathering this stuff on, but I'm not falling for that. I made a run for it.

"Either you have sun cream on or we play inside. It's up to you." Mum said. It took me a moment to weigh up my options carefully. Play inside, I decided. Mum sat down with a sigh and picked up her cup of tea. "PADDLING POOL!" I screamed. Mum put down her cup of tea and explained, over my cries, that the paddling pool lives outside. So, begrudgingly, I decided to go with the cream.

By the time I was ready to go outside Jecca was screaming the house down. Mum put her in the pram and began to push it up and down the garden. I helped by chasing her for a bit but as Jecca's cries began to subside I decided I wanted to go on the swing. Mum stopped pushing the pram to fasten me into the swing but by the time she’d finished, Jecca was screaming again. Mum resumed her march up and down the garden pushing Jecca, stopping to swing me each time she passed. I heard her mutter something about saving money on a gym membership.

Once Jecca was finally asleep I asked whether the paddling pool was ready yet. Mum told me that she had a few more things to do as she emerged from the house with the washing basket. My question: "Can I go in the washing basket?" was met with a stony stare. Mum looked busy hanging wet clothes on the tightrope but I wanted to go on the slide and there were cobwebs all over it. I politely suggested that mum may like to clear them away.

After de-cobwebbing the slide, Mum played about in the kitchen for a bit until finally, she got the pool out and started to fill it. At last I was splashing away happily. Mum looked happy too, pointing her phone at me and asking me to smile. After a while Jecca woke up and joined me for a few rounds of ‘throwing toys over the side of the paddling pool and getting mum to retrieve them’. Jecca then had some milk while I had fun alternating between the paddling pool and the sandpit. Sand and water is such a winning combination.

Soon it was time for lunch. We weren’t allowed in the pool while mum made lunch so I played on the kitchen floor and Jecca was put in her jumperoo, which she doesn't seem to like much. I tried to make it more fun for her by bouncing her up and down whilst mum repeated the word "gently".

After lunch Jecca was so caked in food that mum abandoned the wet wipe idea quickly and decided to just pop her back into the paddling pool. The afternoon passed pleasantly enough, although I'm disappointed to report that mum spent way too long pushing Jecca around the garden in the pram and then cleaning the high chair. Someone needs to tell her that these are both completely pointless ways to spend your afternoon.

As the afternoon drew to a close, me and Jecca decided to have one last dip in the pool. We were playing quite happily until suddenly mum gasped and removed Jecca, ordering me to get out too. Jecca started crying and I was not very amused either. It turned out that Jecca had done a poo which mum was now chasing around the paddling pool trying to catch.

Once mum had fished it out I asked "Can I go back in?" over Jecca's wailing. Mum grabbed her phone and did a quick straw poll among her friends to check whether it was acceptable for me to go back into the poo pool. "As long as you don't drink the water" mum said eventually. As if I would, how uncouth would that be? Jecca was also returned to the water. I definitely saw her trying to drink it but mum seemed to decide it was OK for her to eat her own poo.

After all the commotion I decided the paddling pool needed a top up. I could wait for mum to do it "in a minute" or I could just do the job myself. Wee is water, right? Unfortunately mum did not appreciate my ingenuity and it was game over.

So that was my day with the paddling pool. It was great fun. If anyone wants to join me for my next pool party please do not hesitate to get in touch with my mum. Don't all rush at once.

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Night Owls

This morning over breakfast I had a pleasant chat with Jecca. "How was your night last night?" I asked her, shovelling another piece of toast into my mouth. As soon as mum stopped trying to get the spoon of slop into Jecca's mouth and concentrated on her own cereal, Jecca saw her window of opportunity and began to speak: "Well my dear friend..." she began. "I'm glad you asked." And she went on to explain just how things went down after I'd gone off to sleep in my usual manner.

In case you're wondering, at this juncture, my usual manner of going to sleep is a pretty straightforward affair. It starts with the pyjama wrestle followed by milk; a short cry about milk being over; the toothbrush dodge game; kiss mum and Jecca goodnight; get into bed with my daily choice of random plastic toy; two stories (no more, no less); a little moan because I want a third story; kiss dad goodnight; lights out; talk to dad about the day's events while he lies on the floor next to my bed holding my hand; and a few rounds of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star until I eventually conk out and dad sneaks out.

Whilst this is all going on mum takes Jecca off to her bedroom to start the process of getting her off to sleep.  Jecca is so lucky she gets to sleep in mum's massive bed. Dad does too, until I wake up at around 2am and demand he sleeps with me in the spare bed.

So in mum's room the cat gets removed from her slumber on the bed and shut out in the hallway. Jecca is then placed into her sleeping bag and mum reads her a story. Jecca said she had Dear Zoo last night and she found it most enjoyable trying to rip the flaps off and eat them. "I don't know why she bothers with the book" she tells me, "just skip to the part where I get the milk".

Book away, lights down low, it's time for the good stuff. Now depending on how tired Jecca is she'll either fall asleep whilst drinking milk or she'll have her fill of milk and then lie on the bed next to mum, wide eyed and squawking, whilst trying to grab the shiny phone in mum's hand. Last night, Jecca explained, she went for option number two.

After a few minutes she stepped the squawking up a notch which had the desired result of dad popping his head around the door to check everything was OK. Mum asked dad if he'd fancy taking her place lying next to Jecca for a bit. Jecca said she liked it when dad got into bed next to her but when she realised that mum was leaving the bed, she made her feelings on the matter known by increasing the squark to a full on scream.

Mum quickly returned to the bed and dad decided to leave them to it. Mum gave her more milk and Jecca said she began to drift off. The next thing she knew she woke up in a completely different place! She said it was like a wooden cage, or prison if you like. I asked her to describe it a bit more. "Jecca," I explained. "I think what you're describing to me is something called a cot."

Well, she was not happy I can tell you. And to make matters worse she was alone in the bedroom now. She could hear the faint sound of plates and cutlery clanking in the kitchen and the radio on. So she cried a bit until mum appeared, scooped her back into the king size bed and produced more milk.

Ahhh. Soon enough Jecca was back in dreamy land but keeping her wits about her this time, to make sure she'd wake up the minute mum tried any funny business, like moving her into the cage again or leaving the room.

Mum either stayed there next to her this time or she waited a decent amount of time before sneaking out, because the next time Jecca awoke she had not been moved into the cage and mum and dad were sleeping either side of her in the bed. She let out a few squawks and milk magically appeared in front of her. Ahhh. She had a lovely drink and fell back to sleep.

She woke up again a couple of hours later, in the mood for a bit more milk. This time dad was no longer in the bed so mum did a bit of a reshuffle onto his empty side. Jecca intensified her squawks to make mum aware that she didn't appreciate being kept waiting and she would wake up properly if milk wasn't produced soon.

After a while she drifted off into a milky coma again for another couple of hours. When she next awoke it was lighter and the birds were singing loudly outside. She said she wasn't quite ready to wake up yet but would only keep her eyes closed if she could be provided with a constant supply of milk until a reasonable hour. Luckily mum also wanted to keep her eyes closed until a reasonable hour, so she obliged.

Jecca was coming to the end of her tale when she spotted the spoon of slop coming towards her again and she clamped her mouth shut. Mum sighed wearily and got up to find a pouch of fruit puree to try instead. Jecca looked at me with a glint in her eye as we smiled knowingly at each other. Sleeping through the night. It's just not our style.

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Mum's Meeting

Five minutes before the meeting begins, mum gives me a bowl of blueberries and asks me to give her some space while she cleans up the masterpiece I have created for her on the kitchen table. I'm quite upset that she's cleaning this away as it's my best work so far: "Weetabix, banana and milk on plastic table cloth". But I know she means business because she's stuck a few M&M's in with my blueberries. It's two minutes before the meeting starts but more importantly it's time for my morning poo. I've lulled mum into a false sense of security by using the potty for my last few bowel movements, it's time to shake things up a bit and do it in my pants. Then I can hang onto mum's leg while she cleans the kitchen and see how long it takes her to smell it. She's smelt it. I love seeing her try very hard to keep her cool as she changes the entire bottom half of my outfit whilst glancing nervously at her watch. Just changed and the doorbell rings. It's nice lady number one, who helps mum finish clearing the table while I munch on my M&M's. I think they want to sit at the table and have their meeting but personally I think they'd have much more fun playing in the living room with me. Nice lady number two arrives. She has a chat with me whilst the realisation dawns on mum that my face and hands are stained blue by M&M's. Goodie, time to play the dodge the wet wipe game. Did I mention that so far mum has been doing all this whilst holding my baby sister? She doesn't like it when mum puts her down and she goes properly ballistic if mum steps outside a 30cm radius of her. This is a game I liked to play when I was a baby too. All good fun. Nice lady number three has arrived. Mum's got my hint and decided to usher everyone into the living room to watch me play. Mum goes to make everyone a hot drink whilst I entertain our visitors with my latest talents such as jumping, standing on one leg and attempting to do somersaults, which are much more impressive when done from the arm of the sofa. Mum brings the drinks in and they start to talk. I wait until mum is in the middle of the first sentence she's had a chance to say and then I decide to do a wee in my pants. Of course I know my potty is over in the corner, mum likes to remind me every five minutes, but now she's distracted I think I need to teach her a lesson not to take her eye off the ball. Mum changes my entire outfit this time. Good. I wasn't keen on the dress I was wearing before. I tried to make my feelings known earlier today by screaming and wriggling around while she was trying to put it on. Back in the living room mum decides to try and join in the conversation. She's feeling so ambitious she even puts the baby down on the floor with some toys (although she's not crazy enough to try and move out of the 30cm radius) and she takes a few sips of her tea. I get out my monster trucks. "Can the monster truck talk?" I ask mum. She doesn't seem to hear me so I repeat it a few times until she finally makes it talk to me. Oh dear, the monster truck has a cough. I inform mum but she doesn't seem to quite grasp the gravitas of the situation. We need a doctor and we need one fast! She asks me to go and find the ambulance, which I know is a ploy to buy her some time to look at a piece of paper one of the ladies has given to her. I go on at her until she finally gets up to help me look for the ambulance, which incidentally she knows the exact location of. Why didn't she just save precious time and get it when I first asked? We have a sick monster truck here! Now I want a story. Mum is trying to listen to what the ladies are saying whilst reading Mog in the Fog. When we get to the end she suggests I go and find The Three Billy Goats Gruff and I'm off into my bedroom to unearth this treasure of a book that I make her read to me at least ten times a day. It's buried deep so it takes me a while to find but when I return with the book she's talking to the ladies again and feeding the baby. She decides now is the time to call in the big guns and out comes her phone. Great, I love watching that video about the singing red bus. This'll keep me occupied for five minutes. I'm getting lost in the music, thinking how talented that red bus is, I even start to do a little dance when OUCH!!!! I've stood on a dinosaur! It's unfortunate that my baby sister is having a lovely sleep on mum's lap but I need a cuddle and a chocolate button to make the pain go away and I need it NOW! Somewhere in amongst our joint screaming, mum and the three nice ladies decide to adjourn their meeting. Any other business? Yes, it's lunch time and I want to create another masterpiece on the kitchen table!

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A message from my mum

I'm not going to lie to you. I love being a mum. It might not be everyone's cup of tea but hands down it's the best job I've ever had, and trust me, I've had a lot of jobs. It's also the hardest job I've ever had, both mentally and physically. Sometimes it's hectic, sometimes it's boring; sometimes I'm crying with laughter, sometimes I'm fighting back tears of frustration. 

Like any job, I have good days, I have bad days and I have downright ugly days. Unlike most jobs though I don't get paid, I have two absolutely relentless line managers working me to the bone 24 hours a day and I don't get any breaks or holidays.

I've learnt a lot about myself since becoming a mum. I've learnt that I can go through the whole range of emotions in the space of ten minutes. I've learnt that having a clean and tidy house is overrated. I now realise how difficult it is to learn how to go to the toilet, eat with a knife and fork and go to sleep (and that in extreme circumstances it is actually possible to do these three things in the space of ten minutes).

I'm well aware of all the cliches along the lines of; these early years will go so fast and enjoy every precious moment. Personally I think my favourite cliche I've come across is this one: "The years are short but the days are long". My children are still very young so I'm currently in the eye of the storm but already these words seem to sum it up perfectly.

So after a particularly long and trying day looking after a toddler and a baby, in between running in and out of the bedroom trying to get my baby back to sleep (and my obligatory daily treat of watching Neighbours with a gigantic slab of chocolate), I've discovered the best medicine for me personally is to sit down at my laptop and recount the day's events through the eyes of my children. It helps me to see the funny side. 

I don't know if anyone but my closest family and friends will be interested in reading this, but maybe one day my two girls will be proud that they were probably the youngest people in the history of the world to write a blog. It may also be interesting for me to read back on one day. One day when I've got all the time in the world to clean my house and faff about on the internet. It will hopefully remind me of this blur of forgotten and sleep deprived years that whizzed by so quickly. It will help me to remember when I'm looking back on this time through rose tinted specs that these halcyon days were amazing and tough in equal measures.

So over to you Pip (and Jecca when you're old enough to type).