We have now entered the world of no naps in the daytime. Always dreaded and never convenient when it arrives, it is a rite of passage that every toddler and mother will pass through. Oh, how I miss my 1 1/2 hour daily time to myself! But enough wallowing..... and onto more practical matters.
Having spent more time with Jonah over the last 2 weeks, I have actually discovered that I have a real little person on my hands. No longer the uncontainable, climbing up every shelf, emptying every cupboard, killing all the fish tiny toddler; he is now able to converse (ok, that may be taking it too far - witter is probably more accurate), follow instructions (as long as he approves them first) and concentrate for longer on planned activities. Far from being the nightmare that I expected, I have actually enjoyed my time with him in the afternoons. I have remembered all those little things that 2 and 3 year olds enjoy doing, and surprise surprise, he enjoys them! We have made cakes, put together puzzle after puzzle after puzzle after puzzle, played with water and been strawberry picking to name but a few activities. I have yet to get the paints out of the cupboard - I'm not ready for that!
I have realised that my baby is growing up, and I should treat him as an almost 3 year old instead of the 18 month old that I still think of him as. We have given the dummy away to the baby birds (yes, I know, I know, but he doesn't know that after he'd thrown it out of the window I quickly collected it and threw it in the bin. I doubt he will end up in therapy because of it.) and he is suddenly joining in more with family activities. He's not the 'add on' child anymore but he fully participates in the things we do. He 'helps' with jobs around the house and sometimes his help is actually helpful.
The last thing to tick off the list is potty training..... I cannot bear the thought of it. "Train a child in the way he should go and he will not depart from it" has not been too successful in the area of potty training and there has been alot of departing from where they should go. But my baby needs to grow up. (I really should stop calling him my baby, but I can't help it. He is so cute and winsome and cuddly and has lovely little bruise covered legs that poke out from the bottom of his shorts.)
Friday, 18 June 2010
Thursday, 10 June 2010
Friendship
I am very blessed (I do find that word incredibly cheesy, but sometimes no other word will do. "Fortunate" isn't the truth, nor is "lucky", so "blessed" will have to suffice.) to have some incredible friends. Not only are they friends who I can have a good giggle with and be myself with, but they are friends who walk with me through every step of my journey in life.
A true friend is one who supports, sacrifices and tells the truth instead of paying lip service. Imagine going shopping with a friend who agrees with you and tells you that you look good in everything you try on. When you arrive home you try them on and your family laugh as you parade around the room giving a "fashion show" of your purchases (am I the only one who does this?). You discover that actually all your lumps and bumps are accentuated and really those skinny jeans were not your best ever buy. True friendship has to have honesty as it's hallmark. Consider this rather wise proverb:
A true friend is one who supports, sacrifices and tells the truth instead of paying lip service. Imagine going shopping with a friend who agrees with you and tells you that you look good in everything you try on. When you arrive home you try them on and your family laugh as you parade around the room giving a "fashion show" of your purchases (am I the only one who does this?). You discover that actually all your lumps and bumps are accentuated and really those skinny jeans were not your best ever buy. True friendship has to have honesty as it's hallmark. Consider this rather wise proverb:
"Wounds from a friend can be trusted but an enemy multiplies kisses." Proverbs 27 v 5-6
We do not usually expect our friends to be the ones who wound us, but actually, if they don't speak the truth to us ("Yes, I did mistake your bum for the elephant's bum" might perhaps be taking it too far) we will never learn, grow or change. I am so grateful for friends who love me so much that they will be honest with me and pinpoint areas in my life that need a bit of extra work. Not only do they pinpoint those areas, but they then will stick with me as I work through them.
If you are my friend, and you fit this bill, thank you. Thank you for your honesty. Thank you for your commitment. Thank you for walking with me. I am truly grateful.
Now, enough of the sentiment...... toilets need de-weeing, toys need putting away and tea needs to be cooked.
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
Mealtime Mantra
A very wise King, who had a good deal of children, once wrote:
"It is better to eat a dry crust of bread in peace than to have a feast where there is quarrelling."
Proverbs 17 v 1
Our lovely family mealtimes have recently transformed into a stage where the boys compete to be the funniest, say the rudest words, have the most food, have the ketchup / honey / brown sauce / mayonnaise first, be the loudest, talk the most, make the most mess or generally shout above others. Where we once had almost intelligent conversation at the table, we now have "Fartface" shouted from Jonah and uncontrollable giggles from Toby and Max. Where we once enjoyed learning about everyone's days at school and work, we now just hear the rude jokes they heard in the playground. Where we once listened politely to one another, we now just say the same things over and over:
"Use your knife and fork; don't lick the plate; mind you don't spill your drink; lean over the table; watch your sleeve in the sauce; that's enough ketchup....that's enough ketchup... THAT'S ENOUGH KETCHUP!; stop tapping the table; stop whistling; sit down on your bottom; don't put your hand in the yoghurt pot........ Does anyone else have these mealtime mantras or it is just our family who are growing up in a barn?
This weekend, thanks to some very very generous friends who are having all 3 of our boys, we are going away for a night to celebrate our anniversary. We will be able to have 2 whole meals in peace. Would I rather have a dry crust of bread in peace than a feast surrounded by quarrelling? Absolutely. Hopefully though Jared will take me somewhere where there will be more on the menu than dry crusts of bread.
Thursday, 27 May 2010
The Case of the Missing Underpants
Perhaps this is fuelled by my underlying laziness, but I strongly believe that a family should be a team. No one person should do all the household jobs to keep everything tickity-boo. Everyone needs to play their part in making the house and family run smoothly. Like every other family (or are we really the only ones?) we go through phases of doling out jobs to our boys and phases of just getting on with it because it isn't worth the tumultuous battle.
Recently we have been in a 'jobs' phase. I realised that Toby (#1 son) is super organised and actually relishes the prospect of cleaning or tidying. It is never a fight to get him to do a job and he carries it out with careful precision. I also realised that because he is like this and Max (#2 son) is the total opposite, we never ask Max to do anything. Asking Max to clear the table and load the dishwasher would be like asking a pig to clean up it's own pigsty. Instead of cleaning, the mess would be spread more thoroughly around the room and the dishwasher would be loaded up so that it doesn't shut. You may think I exaggerate...... you should see his bedroom.
However, this is no excuse for Max not to learn how to help around the house. In fact, it gives us even more reason to teach him. He needs to learn to think of others. He, more so than Toby, needs to learn about planning and organisation and doing a few small jobs will help him with this. I do not want my boys to leave home without learning how to run a house. I do not want them to have to rely on another woman to cook for them, do their washing and clean up after them. They need to learn responsibility.
To combat this I decided to give Max the job of laying the table and putting his own clothes away after I have washed and (occasionally) ironed them. I leave them in his bedroom on a Monday morning, and on Monday evenings he puts them all away. Toby has been doing this for about 3 years without any hiccups. In fact, I think Toby privately enjoys the putting away process. The first week, I showed Max how to do it. The next week, I watched while he did it. Since then, he has done it without complaining and seems to enjoy the responsibility. This week, he even put away Jonah's clothes too.
Therein lies the problem. In putting away Jonah's clothes, he seems to have confused the process. I now find Jonah's shorts in Max's pyjama drawer and Max's socks in Jonah's t-shirt drawer. Not only that, but Max's underpants seem to have totally disappeared. We have looked through every drawer, on every surface and under every bed but the pants are not there. This leaves us with a dilemma. Whilst we want to encourage Max's brave attempts at organisation, we do not want to keep sacrificing essential items of clothing each week to the bottomless wardrobe of lost clothes. Perhaps they are with the odd socks that seem to magically disappear out of the washing machine. Do I go out and buy him more pants, only to find the old ones on my return, or do I keep searching?
We will continue with the uphill endeavours to teach our boys these important things. Despite lost clothes; dusting that spreads the dust instead of wiping it up; hoovering that misses out enormous chunks of a room; table laying that gives us back to front cutlery and folded clothes that get squashed up and squeezed into drawers only to become creased again; we will press on with our arduous mission.
Recently we have been in a 'jobs' phase. I realised that Toby (#1 son) is super organised and actually relishes the prospect of cleaning or tidying. It is never a fight to get him to do a job and he carries it out with careful precision. I also realised that because he is like this and Max (#2 son) is the total opposite, we never ask Max to do anything. Asking Max to clear the table and load the dishwasher would be like asking a pig to clean up it's own pigsty. Instead of cleaning, the mess would be spread more thoroughly around the room and the dishwasher would be loaded up so that it doesn't shut. You may think I exaggerate...... you should see his bedroom.
However, this is no excuse for Max not to learn how to help around the house. In fact, it gives us even more reason to teach him. He needs to learn to think of others. He, more so than Toby, needs to learn about planning and organisation and doing a few small jobs will help him with this. I do not want my boys to leave home without learning how to run a house. I do not want them to have to rely on another woman to cook for them, do their washing and clean up after them. They need to learn responsibility.
To combat this I decided to give Max the job of laying the table and putting his own clothes away after I have washed and (occasionally) ironed them. I leave them in his bedroom on a Monday morning, and on Monday evenings he puts them all away. Toby has been doing this for about 3 years without any hiccups. In fact, I think Toby privately enjoys the putting away process. The first week, I showed Max how to do it. The next week, I watched while he did it. Since then, he has done it without complaining and seems to enjoy the responsibility. This week, he even put away Jonah's clothes too.
Therein lies the problem. In putting away Jonah's clothes, he seems to have confused the process. I now find Jonah's shorts in Max's pyjama drawer and Max's socks in Jonah's t-shirt drawer. Not only that, but Max's underpants seem to have totally disappeared. We have looked through every drawer, on every surface and under every bed but the pants are not there. This leaves us with a dilemma. Whilst we want to encourage Max's brave attempts at organisation, we do not want to keep sacrificing essential items of clothing each week to the bottomless wardrobe of lost clothes. Perhaps they are with the odd socks that seem to magically disappear out of the washing machine. Do I go out and buy him more pants, only to find the old ones on my return, or do I keep searching?
We will continue with the uphill endeavours to teach our boys these important things. Despite lost clothes; dusting that spreads the dust instead of wiping it up; hoovering that misses out enormous chunks of a room; table laying that gives us back to front cutlery and folded clothes that get squashed up and squeezed into drawers only to become creased again; we will press on with our arduous mission.
Saturday, 22 May 2010
Frogs.... again...
Frog catching season has begun again in earnest. The hunter / gatherer instinct has kicked in, although thankfully we will not have to eat the catch. I know, for some, this may seem strange or even cruel, but actually this activity has unseen benefits for our boys. (And, from what Jared tells me, this is nowhere near as cruel as the things he used to do to frogs when he was younger.... Come on men, admit it, you all killed slugs with salt and burnt other insects with magnifying glasses in the sun...).
Frog Catching Reason #1
A selfish reason, yes, but they all go outside and they go for a long time!
Frog Catching Reason #2
For the whole time they are a-hunting, they do not argue. This means hours on end without silly squabbles and "I'm telling Muuuum". The reason for this is because they are all focused on the end product.
Frog Catching Reason #3
The teamwork they exhibit is second to none. I have never seen them work as a team in any other situation as they do when they are frog catching. They work together, they congratulate each other, they even , and this is your time to gasp, speak kind words to each other!
Frog Catching Reason #4
Believe it or not, they actually learn how to handle 'animals' (I know, for all you clever people, a frog is not actually an animal but for the purposes of this document....). They have to hold their catch gently (sometimes this is taking it too far for Max, but he does try) and they learn about the frog's habitat. They make little homes for them with water in so that they don't burn. I even caught Toby talking lovingly to one, but don't tell him I told you or his hard sought after macho image will be ruined.
Frog Catching Reason #5
It is fun, and boys enjoy it. There is nothing like a good hunt to get their adrenalin levels racing and when they have found one there is great rejoicing and excitement.
It is hard for me, as a girl and a mum, to actually let them do this, but I am now convinced of the benefits even if, when they present their finds to me, my insides churn and I cannot look upon the frog for too long without feeling rather queasy. It is in their nature to hunt and this helps them express it. Come on men, let me hear your frog (and other 'hunting') stories...
Frog Catching Reason #1
A selfish reason, yes, but they all go outside and they go for a long time!
Frog Catching Reason #2
For the whole time they are a-hunting, they do not argue. This means hours on end without silly squabbles and "I'm telling Muuuum". The reason for this is because they are all focused on the end product.
Frog Catching Reason #3
The teamwork they exhibit is second to none. I have never seen them work as a team in any other situation as they do when they are frog catching. They work together, they congratulate each other, they even , and this is your time to gasp, speak kind words to each other!
Frog Catching Reason #4
Believe it or not, they actually learn how to handle 'animals' (I know, for all you clever people, a frog is not actually an animal but for the purposes of this document....). They have to hold their catch gently (sometimes this is taking it too far for Max, but he does try) and they learn about the frog's habitat. They make little homes for them with water in so that they don't burn. I even caught Toby talking lovingly to one, but don't tell him I told you or his hard sought after macho image will be ruined.
Frog Catching Reason #5
It is fun, and boys enjoy it. There is nothing like a good hunt to get their adrenalin levels racing and when they have found one there is great rejoicing and excitement.
It is hard for me, as a girl and a mum, to actually let them do this, but I am now convinced of the benefits even if, when they present their finds to me, my insides churn and I cannot look upon the frog for too long without feeling rather queasy. It is in their nature to hunt and this helps them express it. Come on men, let me hear your frog (and other 'hunting') stories...
Thursday, 6 May 2010
Musings
My days have been so filled with mud, den-making, fires, filling hungry boy's stomachs, Electricity birthday parties (don't ask) and a busy-ness of life that I have not had alot of time to write recently. I have missed it. It does not even matter to me whether anyone reads my ramblings or not (go on... now is your opportunity to delete me from your list...), there is something in me that needs to write. I write to explore my own thoughts and feelings. I write to bring clarity to myself (as clear as the mud that Max rolled in after he had taken off all his clothes).
I have had a pensive morning. In between making mega-block houses for cows and dancing to The Wiggles, my brain continues to function on a different level. It churns over and over and, because I am busy creating Mr Potatohead's different faces, I cannot ever come to any proper conclusions to my thoughts until I can sit and write. I find it very hard to be in this situation when my brain is working overtime and yet my hands are tied to babywipes and runny noses.
Forgive me if I am making no sense. I am (yet again) deliberating my future and wondering what the next step will be once my littlest boy is at school. Whilst I am extremely grateful to have had the opportunity, having been at home with my boys for 8 years, I am more than bored of doing the same things over and over and need to find a way of expressing myself in a different way. When I look at women who work, I am overwhelmed by the adult language they use and the confidence that oozes out of them. I feel child-like in comparison and if I was ever to go for a job interview up against anyone like that I would not stand a chance. After all, I may be an expert at nappy rash, toddler tantrums and feeding a family on a budget, but this just does not seem to transfer to the world of work.
What is the hope for mum's like me who stay at home to give these years of their lives to their children? Which politician in today's election is going to support a mum like me who chooses to stay at home? While other women are advancing their careers, we are cleaning up puke and teaching children how to put their shoes on. When, finally, it will be my turn to enter the world of work, what will I have to offer them?
I know this is deep, and possibly fairly melancholic. As I have said in previous posts I do not wish to offend anyone, especially working mothers, whatever your reason for working. I know that everyone makes their own choices and I am not intending to put any guilt trips on anyone! These are purely my own thoughts and ramblings which I needed to write down!
Aaaah, that's better. My mind is almost clear again now. Back to sorting out the laundry then.....
I have had a pensive morning. In between making mega-block houses for cows and dancing to The Wiggles, my brain continues to function on a different level. It churns over and over and, because I am busy creating Mr Potatohead's different faces, I cannot ever come to any proper conclusions to my thoughts until I can sit and write. I find it very hard to be in this situation when my brain is working overtime and yet my hands are tied to babywipes and runny noses.
Forgive me if I am making no sense. I am (yet again) deliberating my future and wondering what the next step will be once my littlest boy is at school. Whilst I am extremely grateful to have had the opportunity, having been at home with my boys for 8 years, I am more than bored of doing the same things over and over and need to find a way of expressing myself in a different way. When I look at women who work, I am overwhelmed by the adult language they use and the confidence that oozes out of them. I feel child-like in comparison and if I was ever to go for a job interview up against anyone like that I would not stand a chance. After all, I may be an expert at nappy rash, toddler tantrums and feeding a family on a budget, but this just does not seem to transfer to the world of work.
What is the hope for mum's like me who stay at home to give these years of their lives to their children? Which politician in today's election is going to support a mum like me who chooses to stay at home? While other women are advancing their careers, we are cleaning up puke and teaching children how to put their shoes on. When, finally, it will be my turn to enter the world of work, what will I have to offer them?
I know this is deep, and possibly fairly melancholic. As I have said in previous posts I do not wish to offend anyone, especially working mothers, whatever your reason for working. I know that everyone makes their own choices and I am not intending to put any guilt trips on anyone! These are purely my own thoughts and ramblings which I needed to write down!
Aaaah, that's better. My mind is almost clear again now. Back to sorting out the laundry then.....
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
"STOP SHOUTING!"
I had a moment of revelation yesterday. It doesn't happen too often so when it does I have to make the most of it. The noise levels in our house and hideously high. We shout conversations from room to room, and often I have to shout to be heard above the bedlam. I am not (well, not often) shouting at them angrily, but because they make so much noise I shout to be heard.
You may think this is obvious (and lets be honest, it really is) but I realised that if I stopped shouting, the boys might stop shouting! I have been saying to them for weeks now "If you want to speak to me, don't shout me from another room but come and find me", only to discover that I am also guilty of that very act. Our house is extremely noisy and I am very grateful that we live next door to 2 deaf old ladies, but I still think we have room for improvement in the noise stakes.
If Supernanny came to my house she would be making me practice speaking quietly to my children. I am sure she would not approve of the 'fishwife's yell' that I have perfected over the last 8 years. Sometimes I stand at the back door bellowing their names, naively expecting that they will listen if I shout louder. Listen, they do not, and so I shout even louder. I have come to realise that I am inherently lazy (and this is probably obvious too) and actually what I should be doing is the simple task of putting on my shoes and walking the small distance to speak to them face to face.
So, this is my aim over the next few days. I will try to stop shouting, and I will try to bring some civilisation to my hullabaloo of a home.
You may think this is obvious (and lets be honest, it really is) but I realised that if I stopped shouting, the boys might stop shouting! I have been saying to them for weeks now "If you want to speak to me, don't shout me from another room but come and find me", only to discover that I am also guilty of that very act. Our house is extremely noisy and I am very grateful that we live next door to 2 deaf old ladies, but I still think we have room for improvement in the noise stakes.
If Supernanny came to my house she would be making me practice speaking quietly to my children. I am sure she would not approve of the 'fishwife's yell' that I have perfected over the last 8 years. Sometimes I stand at the back door bellowing their names, naively expecting that they will listen if I shout louder. Listen, they do not, and so I shout even louder. I have come to realise that I am inherently lazy (and this is probably obvious too) and actually what I should be doing is the simple task of putting on my shoes and walking the small distance to speak to them face to face.
So, this is my aim over the next few days. I will try to stop shouting, and I will try to bring some civilisation to my hullabaloo of a home.
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