Really? My Child?

Now that my firstborn is in full time school he frequently comes home with his jumper generously spattered with stickers in recognition of his good works and impeccable behaviour.

Obviously I always feel a smug glow of pride when he comes out adorned with stickers while other parents pick up their kids who aren't so beautifully decorated. (No doubt that'll be me next year picking up Eli, he's just not all that bothered about making people happy like our Thomas).

Of course in school I was always the model of perfect classroom etiquette (when I wasn't idly chatting to my classmates and ignoring the teacher of course) so I think Thomas is just following in my footsteps.

The other day as we were collecting his coat I enquired as to why he'd received a sticker of a dinosaur that said 'excellent-saurus'.

"I had the tidiest pile".

"What?"

"When we got changed for PE and had to leave our clothes tidy my pile was the very tidy one".

(Completely bewildered) "Oh, right!"

"Cos some of those kids just are not good at being tidy".

And that behaviour he did not get from me.

But I'm hoping it's contagious because my house would really benefit from a healthy dose of that.

(On a tangent I just barely got around to removing the 'your pregnancy' widget. Imagine my horror when I just checked it only to find I'd neglected it so long it was telling me I was 7 weeks pregnant all over again! I'd rather fracture my other shoulder than be pregnant all over again).

New evidence that nothing good comes from cleaning.

Imagine the scene.

A young(ish) Mother's first day with all 3 kidlets all by herself.

The 4 year old gets to school, clean, dressed and on time.

The 3 year old gets to nursery, somewhat clean, dressed and on time, albeit reluctantly.

The Mother delights in her efficiency and arrives home with 2 week old baby in tow feeling like maybe life isn't gonna be the chaotic existence she imagined after all.

She gazes at her sleeping baby and glances at her watch. She has time to quickly overhaul the house and get things all shiny clean and super tidy before the baby needs feeding then she can indulge in uninterrupted baby time before the 3 year old needs collecting.

Bliss, yes?

Until the part where the completely excellent Mother falls over who knows what bashing her head and fracturing her shoulder.

And that, friends, is why I'm never cleaning again.

(I wish I had it caught on camera because that tumble would be truly hilarious to watch I am sure, just saying!)

Welcome.....

...to the world Libby Mae.

Libby made her entrance into the world on 28/08/09 at 10:40pm.

Weighing a hefty 7lbs 3.5oz.

A real whopper by our standards.

Giving a Bit of Credit Where it's Long Overdue

For Father's Day this year we happened to be off by the sea enjoying some sunshine on our family Summer holiday.

On Thomas's last day of school before we left Rob wasn't working and so he went to pick him up. I tried to talk him out of it because I knew Thomas would be coming home with some top quality hand crafted card or gift and I had wanted to keep it as a surprise for the big day itself.

But Rob went nonetheless and really I should have just been grateful that someone else was doing the pick up for a change. Because really after the 212th pick up of the academic year the monotony really started to kick in.

Thomas came home with this card.

I knew right away what the drawing was. It couldn't have been more obvious.

It's Rob playing his Xbox. Priceless.

I looked at Rob, he seemed crestfallen, he said with a tinge of sarcasm, 'Oh it gets better!'

So I looked inside and there recorded by his teacher is what in the eyes of Thomas his dad liked doing the most in all the world.

Rob was both gutted and concerned that Thomas's teachers would have a far less than top notch opinion of his fathering prowess.

Behind a chuckle I tried to comfort him by suggesting that it could have been far, far worse.

After all It could have said my dad likes to play Grand Theft Auto or some Zombie killing game.

So should Thomas's teachers ever fill their spare hours randomly googling parents of their pupils for the record I'd just like to say what a fab dad Rob truly is (and that his Xbox generally only enjoys the wonder of electrical power when they kids are fast asleep in bed).

I don't give him nearly enough vocal credit (or probably non vocal credit either) and I don't devote nearly enough blog posts to him (really I should cos the guy has hilariously killer OCD and what's not entertaining about that?).

On Father's Day when he was well within his rights to demand a nap and maybe even breakfast in bed (which I'm pretty sure were my Mother's day demands) he was instead doing this with his two biggest fans.

Plus one things for sure you'd never catch me doing stuff like this with them.

I'm impressed I even went outside to take pictures of it.

Mummy's are for warm, indoor and clean activities only.

Oh and for the record Rob actually didn't even think the Xbox tennis was that special.

What a Difference 365 Makes

Yesterday Eli had his very first visit to Nursery School.

As we spent our hour there playing in very familiar surroundings (due to the fact that we drop Thomas off there every afternoon) I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to the same experience a year ago when I was doing the exact same thing with Thomas. (Though mercifully back then it was about 10 degrees cooler and I wasn't incubating what feels like a litter of puppies).

A year ago I was full of apprehension about my firstborn growing up too quickly.

This year I can't help thinking, Roll on September!

Last year I decided to send Thomas in the afternoons so that we could all enjoy lazy mornings in our PJ's together.

This year I realised that with 2 boys under 5 lazy mornings simply just don't exist so Eli will be headed to school at 8:40 with his brother every day and I'll have lazy mornings by myself (new baby permitting).

Last year Thomas cried for 30 minutes after leaving his visit to Nursery he was so enamoured.

This year, all year, Eli has cried and had to be wrestled out of nursery when we drop Thomas off on an almost daily basis. I feel ready for that particular brand of humiliation to end. 11 days to go and counting.

While Eli and I were visiting Thomas's teacher came over to tell me that she's thrilled to be getting Eli because it'll make it easier to say bye to Thomas. She expressed that it'd be like having Thomas still there.

A lovely sentiment.

But Eli isn't a bit like Thomas.

The main contrast?

Last year I remember being really concerned that Thomas would injure himself playing with their real grown up woodworking tools.

This year I'm far more concerned that Eli will bludgeon someone other than himself.