Because what the internet needs is more wittering about rubbish parenting



Sunday, 27 May 2012

The Not-So-Littl'un

I haven't written much about our day-to-day lives lately, and I am not going to do so now, because I still have some friends who are yet to reproduce, so, in the interest of the continuation of the species, I will refrain from telling you how many of the night-time hours I have spent awake, and how many of the daylight hours I have spent scrubbing wee out of my carpet, over the last couple of weeks.

I have decided, instead, to give you a bit of an update on The Littl'un. I feel a bit guilty actually. The first few months of this blog contain many posts about how proud I was that my baby could do a new thing, and how terribly exciting I found it all. With the poor neglected Littl'un, not only do I not have as much time to sit blogging about all her achievements, I don't even seem to pay as much attention. Part of it is that I stress about them less - I know that as they get older, you can't tell who did what and what age, so I'm not sitting waiting and wondering why my child is so rubbish compared to all the child prodigies out there. Another part of it is that I'm just a bit more dozy these days.

So here are some things that The Littl'un does/is/has:

  • She has 6 teeth. Two of which I just found in her mouth one day with no idea when they got there. I think she might be getting two more, but when I put my finger in to check, she tries to eat it.
  • She can stand up on her own. She's been doing this for a while, it's pretty cool to me, especially as The Toddler refused to lift her lazy bum off the floor until she was about 15 months old. The Littl'un likes to stand for a while, before lowering herself carefully back down when she's seen an interesting-looking piece of fluff on the carpet that she wants to eat.
  • She can climb up the stairs. Which she does, at every single opportunity, looking extremely pleased with herself. She also has a seemingly hilarious game in which she climbs on to the first step, then throws herself off it. Must get a new stairgate before she decides to take this, literally, to the next level.
  • She can say "Hiya". I think. Certainly something that sounds like it, and is usually accompanied by a madly waving arm. We also have "mumumumu" and ""DADA", sometimes even directed at the right person. Oh, and something which I think is meant to be "panda". (Not quite as random as it sounds, we read a lot of Maisy Mouse)
  • She can grab a spoon off me and feed herself. What she cannot do, is accept that when a yoghurt pot is empty, that it is empty, and that no amount of screaming will make it have more yoghurt in it.
  • She can walk using her push-along walker, getting extrememly enraged when she pushes it into a wall, and seems to think that if she pushes hard enough and shouts loud enough, the wall will suddenly cease to be there. It won't.
  • She can see right through all my attempts to distract her from playing with whatever The Toddler is not in the mood to share, and will wait until my attention wanders briefly (she never has to wait long) to go and try to play with the forbidden thing. She also, if The Toddler is to believed, discovered a way of communicating to her sister that she wants to go away and play with something else. Erm, I don't think she does, love. I think she wants to stand next to you and annoy you.
  • She likes to give kisses. They're beautiful. How could anyone resist the sight of a baby launching herself towards them with an open mouth, a face full of snot, and a slightly manic look in her eye?
  • She is obsessed with "Wind The Bobbin Up". Obsessed. I know that something is actually wrong with her, and she's not just in a mood, if she has not calmed down by the time we get to "pull, pull, clap clap clap". The Toddler has taken to launching into it the minute The Littl'un cries. It's like a reflex. 
  • She quite likes clapping too.
  • She likes to pull on various bits of faces. Eyes, noses, lips - she's not that fussy. She especially likes to do this at 3am. I especially do not like this.
  • She could do better at sleeping. That is all I can say on the matter without weeping.
  • She is mischievous, far too curious and very good at screaming. But she is also a big bundle of gorgeousness (well, a titchy one, she's only skinny), and I can't believe she is nearly one year old. I should buy her some of those present things.

Sunday, 20 May 2012

I Love My Kids..

I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids I love my kids.

Sorry. Just jotting down a helpful little mantra, for the next time I have a day like this one.

Thursday, 17 May 2012

Well That Was Fun

Both my children are finally in bed, and if not asleep, then at least happy and relatively quiet, after a spectacularly rubbish bedtime. It's nights like these that make me realise how utterly ineffectual I am sometimes.

It started OK. The Toddler has been horrifically tired all week, after a very busy weekend away in London visiting my sister, which she doesn't seem to have quite recovered from, so I've been hearing "Uuuurrrraaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuiwantthetellyyyyyyyyyyyyyuurrrrrrrr" pretty much all week. But by bedtime she seemed to have perked up a bit, and I was just about to read her second story, when she decided to purposely rip one of the pages of the book she had chosen. To be fair, the book was already broken, and the pages in question came loose long ago, but that is not the point. I let her get away with an awful lot that I probably shouldn't, but I do not take damage to property kindly, and especially not books. And especially not when it's the second page-tearing incident of the day. So I decided to resort to actually doing something about it, which as you may know, is not my strong point, and was possibly not the wisest move when all I really wanted to do was put her in bed and go downstairs and drink tea. Out came my best impression at being a Proper Parent who teaches their child about Consequences and Respect. I told her that if she couldn't look after her stories, then she wouldn't get to listen to them, so we would go straight to the toilet, song and sleep part of her bedtime routine. She thought about it, accepted the wisdom of what I was saying, and calmly proceeded to the bathroom.

Pahahaha.

Of course she didn't. She proceeded to have a massive tantrum, and I then floundered about at a total loss having not a clue how to deal with it. Because I, for reasons which are unclear to me right now, honestly thought that it would play out how I imagined it and described it above. Even though I KNOW my daughter is a stubborn and stroppy little madam who likes to have her own way at all times, I somehow thought that all that would happen would be that she would accept the consequences of her actions and all would be well.

It took me far longer than it should have done to realise why that was ridiculous, and when I did, it was like a mini-epiphany. The whole point of trying to teach her that her actions have consequences is that these actions, and therefore the consequences are Not Good Things. She is not supposed to be happy with the outcome, if she was, it would be a completely pointless exercise. I took away something she liked, and being a wilful, bad-tempered, nearly-three-year-old, she threw a wobbler.

I know, right? I'm a total genius. Seriously though, this has been a bit of a breakthrough for me. It might seem stupidly obvious, but I'm obviously a bit stupid. I've never really looked at it this way before. Well, maybe not NEVER, I'm not a complete moron, I just don't tend to analyse her tantrums in any way at all. I just dread them, because they always seem to come out of almost nowhere and seem completely disproportionate, and I never know how I'm supposed to deal with them, so I tend to do whatever I can to avoid them. But sometimes they're just expressions of rage, and that's really not the end of the world. As she gets older and wiser, she'll learn better ways of behaving in these situations. With any luck, so will I.

Monday, 14 May 2012

Soon...

.. I will post something soon, I promise.

Sunday, 29 April 2012

Why Won't She LISTEN?!

I'm about to throw myself off some kind building. I had to do tea-time on my own tonight. Not a fan of that. This is because The Toddler chooses the evening meal to showcase the very best of her being-a-total-pain-in-the-arse skills.

I can't even go into it all, because I have no wine to help me through the ordeal of re-living it. But it can basically be summarised thus: I ask The Toddler to sit and eat her tea nicely instead of messing about, she ignores me. I promise rewards if she eats her tea nicely and stops messing about, she ignores me. I try and praise her in the brief moments she eats her tea nicely and stops messing about, she ignores me. I tell her very sternly to eat her tea and stop messing about, she ignores me. I make some half-arsed threats about taking her tea away if she doesn't eat nicely and stop messing about, she eats nicely for about 5 seconds, then messes about. I chew on my lips to stop myself from bursting out with a yell of "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHILD EAT YOUR TEA AND STOP MESSING ABOUT BEFORE I THROW SOMETHING!!", she obliviously waves a piece of carrot in the air.

BLAAAAARRGGGHHHHHYYAAARRRGGHHHHFLLGGGGEENNNNNNRRRAAAARRR!

I'm feeling very ineffectual right now. I'm no good at this kind of thing. I have no idea how you're meant to go about trying to encourage a wilful toddler to do what you tell them to. This might surprise some people that know me (and particularly the people that have worked with me and have been told off for not completing their paperwork properly), but it turns out that I am not one of life's disciplinarians. I'm too lazy, and the most of the battles just don't seem worth fighting. And I'm never sure how much of toddler behaviour is mischief, and how much is normal high spirits and curiosity, and I don't want to stamp on the latter.

I can't go the other way either: the very fluffy style of parenting where it's all about being positive reinforcement and all that jazz. I can't keep my fake smile on for that long. I lack the patience, the energy, and the general perkiness this requires. I don't think it would work on The Toddler anyway. As my mother is fond of saying "She's not a pleaser!". She's right. The Toddler does what she feels like doing, whether I think it's a good thing or not. I am lucky that she seems to generally want to be fairly well-behaved, because when she doesn't, I am at a total loss.

So my strategy right now is to put it all down to her age, and hope that one day she will magically grow out of it and start listening to me, making a few lame and ineffective efforts to try and tell her to stop doing my head in. I know some of it's going in. I frequently hear her telling The Littl'un to "listen-a me. I talking to you. Listen. That's not nice". A few more sleepless nights and fraught mealtimes, and my addled brain is going to start believing that she's taking the piss.

Thursday, 26 April 2012

The Great Escape

Ah.

I don't really know what took her so long, but The Toddler has just made a discovery. It seems she has finally realise that her bedguard is actually just a piece of fabric running approximtely one-third of the length of her bed, and not, in fact some kind of extendable force-field keeping her incarcerated until one of her parents comes to release her. This morning, I heard a bit of crashing around, and went into her room to find her in her bed, but sharing it with a Fisher Price telephone which I'm pretty sure wasn't there when she went to sleep. And this evening, she came down the stairs to tell me that she couldn't find her monkey. I'm not entirely sure I'm happy with this new development. Granted, it's all been quite cute so far, but I can imagine it will get old quite quickly when I want her to go to sleep and she would rather run around rearranging her furniture or something. Still, this morning she put the clean pants that were on the chair away in her drawer (and very proud of herself she was too), so at least she's making herself useful.

That aside, today has been pretty much one long exercise in fail. I'm not sure I can even be arsed to go into it properly, but it involved a protracted bout of screaming from The Littl'un, followed by a bit of clapping and hair-pulling once I gave in and brought her into our bed, an argument with The Toddler over table manners (I would like her to show some, she is not keen), Husband being quite poorly with some kind of infected mouth thing, an enormous wee on the kitchen floor (The Toddler, not me), a crap attempt at chickpea soup (I don't even like chickpeas, God knows what I was thinking), and an awful lot of TV.

Ah well, they'll get looked after properly tomorrow. They're at Grandmas.

Friday, 20 April 2012

And How To Be The Littl'un...

...when teething.

Wake up.

Cry.

Look for Mammy.

Throw self at Mammy.

Cry.

Shove foot/fist in Mammy's ribs/throat/eye.

Cry.

Sleep for 30 seconds.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.