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First blog!

Toddlers and Toys

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Toddler Confiscation.
As if it isn’t hard enough for a nearly 3 year old to be knocked off his perch by a new baby, it sadly meant that some of his favourite toys had to be slowly and discreetly disposed of due to the choking risk. It all started when baby 2 began crawling and somehow swallowed what can only be described as a large Mickey Mouse shaped piece of plastic confetti, only discovered when it emerged from the other end of her. So, anything smaller than a Ford Fiesta is now finding its way to the bin, much to the confusion and dismay of said toddler (who is still coming home with new foraged treasure daily anyway) ‘But why does she put things in her mouth?’ They ask me, ‘your oldest never did that.’ The answer is, I don’t know. She seeks out tiny particles on the carpet and devours them with a speed I’ve never witnessed before. My eldest never did it because he didn’t have a sibling who was obsessed with snail shells and broken buttons. He fills his pockets when out walking with granny and if I don’t check them, every washing machine load sounds like a castanet solo in full swing.
‘She’ll grow out of it’ they say. Yes,I’m sure she will, but the thought of her choking on a tiny plastic parrot in the meantime is sometimes too much to bear.

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Coffee!

Good morning! How are we all? Recovering from the nightfeeds? Balancing the baby breakfast on one knee and a toast smeared toddler on the other?
Nowadays,when I wake up in the morning my first thought generally is ‘I can’t do it today. I can’t do 12 hours of dirty nappies and tantrums’,and then I remember….COFFEE!
I didn’t start drinking coffee until I was 30 and my second child was born. I bought my husband a coffee machine for Christmas (well,he bought it himself and I lovingly transferred the funds into his account,because that’s how adults do Christmas once kids come along.) Anyway, I love it. It gives me enough power to enthusiastically dance along to Justin’s house,whilst allowing me a come down that means I can ‘sleep when the baby sleeps’ if the toddler is at Pre School.
Hooray for caffeine!

When 3 became 4…

Bringing a second child into the world was a magical experience. I had a planned C-Section (tsk tsk) following an emergency Cesarean with my first baby. All went swimmingly this time round,in and out in 36 hours and home to the lovely bubble that I’d been fantasising about for 9 months.
All went well initially. The toddler took to the baby beautifully. He adored her. Actually he does still adore her,it’s my husband and I that are getting the backlash. The tantrums started. I thought we’d breezed through the ‘terrible twos’ with little lasting damage. He was toilet trained and reasonably self sufficient by the time his sister arrived but something had changed,and he didn’t like it.
Probably due to the massive upheaval of a new sibling,coupled with having just started at Pre School, my son decided that he wanted to be nowhere but by my side. Helpful friends and family would come to take him to the park for a couple of hours,or for an ice cream. No. He wasn’t going. He started to dread Pre School and my heart would begin to race as we approached the gates,knowing that one of the kind,smiling assistants would have to wrench him off me,getting kicked and scratched in the process.
He’s better now than he was. But there are new challenges. Now that the baby is crawling she’s more of a threat where toys/food is concerned,and we’ve had several ‘This Is Sparta’ moments where he’s kicked her off the edge of a sofa she was casually leant against.

Let them choose!

Last week,walking past a corner shop,my 3 year old son piped up that he wanted ‘a treat’. This happens about 5 times a day so I was steeling myself for the ‘no you can’t have a Kinder egg’ speech when he announced ‘I want a lemon.’ I slowed the buggy down and explained that he couldn’t eat a lemon,but apparently that was fine,so in we trotted and a lemon we bought. He was delighted,carried it everywhere until it went a bit soft and mysteriously disappeared (into the kitchen bin). The following week we did the same walk,past the same shop,but this time he demanded an orange. ‘Fantastic’, I thought, as he could actually eat this treat! No. No.No.No. The orange was to be treasured like the lemon,carried to pre-school in his bag and accompanied home by 3 new plastic oranges that he’d nicked from the pre school play kitchen.
Anyway,this week it’s an onion. I’m just hoping he gets fed up with it before Monday so I can throw it into whatever freezer based meal I can summon the energy to create.

Baby Gate Hell

Baby Gates. Because nothing makes a new mama feel even more imprisoned and claustrophobic than tiny locked doors all over your house.
Now,I have to say,I found it completely necessary to install baby gates when my son started crawling. He was up and down,in and out, something I’m sure most mums can relate to. But why,oh why,do they have to be so difficult to operate? If someone comes to babysit my kids, I prioritise a lesson in baby gate function over lectures about bedtime routines.
Can’t ‘they’ (I love that,as if the all knowing ‘they’ will sort it for us) come up with some kind of swipecard entry system? Or fingerprint recognition?! The only benefit (apart from the obvious) is that I can ‘lock’ myself in the kitchen and inhale toast in the morning without either of my children being able to get to me.
On that note I’ll finish,one child has just hit the other in the face…with the baby gate.