Unwelcome guests

It's the time of year for visitors you don't want, isn't it? Great-Aunty Mabel who sits in the armchair smelling of Parma Violets and drinks all your Baileys, that bloke at the work Christmas party who doesn't drink all year, then gets steaming on half a glass of Chianti and starts being randomly rude to people, and germs.  We've had plenty of the latter this year, mores the pity.

We've also got some other unwelcome guests. Most bloggers seem to shy away from writing about this, maintaining their image as perfect, shiny wonderful people, with their pink lining change bags, designer maternity wear and perfectly coiffed hair. However, I am a real parent, with a real child, and so I'm going to come out and say it. We've got nits.  Head lice.  Visitors we really didn't want to welcome over the festive season. Lovely. Are you itching in sympathy yet? Coz I am.

I'll be honest, head lice aren't really a strong point in my parenting armoury. In fact, I asked my mum, and apparently I managed to avoid having them as a child (though I do remember having them in my teens when I worked at an out-of-school club, which I treated through copious applications of cheap hair dye), so I wasn't really sure where to start. A quick browse of the Internet left me more confused than ever, so I opted for my favourite way of dealing with minor health concerns. Went to the pharmacy, and asked for help. Much more effective than calling a doctor, and exactly what the pharmacist is there for. She helped me negotiate the dizzying array of treatments, and also gave me some advice about using tea-tree hair products to try and keep the little crawly buggers away after treating.  Which means I've got a shopping list now of new hair products to try out on a certain Squeaky scalp.

We all know that lice prefer clean hair, and that catching them is more a sign of a perfectly normal childhood than a judgement on the state of your child, home and parenting, but, ewwwww. Have you ever actually looked at a head louse? G to the R to the OSS.  Reminds me of the time our former cat had fleas. I had to fumigate my car for goodness sake! 

So we've bought the stuff, and applied it liberally to the Squeaky scalp. And I've literally gone through her hair with a fine tooth comb. One advantage of my job is that I have access to things like nit combs, so I already had one waiting in readiness.  I'm just hoping we caught them in time before they became too much of an issue. Itchy little buggers they are.  I've gone through my own hair with the self same fine tooth comb (having cleaned it out first, obvs), and am relieved to see that so far I'm only sympathy itching.  It's one blessing that Squeaky's hair is straight and fine, and not the coarse, curly mess that mine is. Makes evicting hitch-hikers so much more complicated when you can't actually get a comb through your hair.

Have you got any tips?  Or do you just want to add an EWWWWWW in sympathy?

As One Door Closes...

After a whole year of part time nursery class, Squeaky's broken up for the summer holidays, and is moving upstairs to reception full time in September.  While she knows the children and the teachers, and it's exactly where she goes to Breakfast Club every day, it's still a pretty big change, and she's been showing some anxiety about it all.  Clingier than I've seen her in a very long time, wanting to stay with me rather than go to activities and join in with other children.  Sometimes I think we forget how much our children know, and what seems insignificant to us can be huge to them.  Nursery is all the school she's experienced, so it must be pretty big.

In addition to moving upstairs, and going full time, there's more changes going on at school.  Rather than being the last remaining separate Infants school in the borough, the school is merging with the linked Junior school that pretty much all the Year 3's move on to.  The head of the Infants is retiring after over 20 years at the school, and both schools are getting a new name, motto and uniform.  It's quite the end of an era, as the Infants school has been there for 112 years.  Forget parents having gone to the school, we're talking Great Grandparents, and beyond!  That's something I fell in love with when we first visited, the real sense of history and place.

The new headmaster is doing a good job of involving parents in being an active part of the new school though.  We've been invited to make suggestions for the school name, logo and motto.  And I'm secretly more than a little bit proud that my motto suggestion has been adopted by the school, so we're already making our mark on the future.  You can dress it up any way you like, but it's still a tie-breaker competition, and my inner comper can't resist a good tie-break.

The challenge of full time school, for us, is going to be all about the food.  I'm confident Squeaky will cope with the hours and the work, but the big question is will she eat?  And if so, what?

We're trying our hardest to get her to expand her diet, with some small successes, but she's what can be politely described as a stubborn creature - it's the Capricorn in her.  I've looked over the school dinner menus, and over the three week cycle, she'd probably eat about 5 meals, and that's being optimistic.  The alternative, obviously, is packed lunches.  Again, a battle.  When she eats only a limited range of foods, I'm terrified of falling foul of the lunchbox police & having my marmite sandwiches and babybels confiscated.  I have enough trouble getting us up and dressed in time for school in the mornings, never mind making a packed lunch as well (as you can tell by the rubbish I eat in the office). And really, bento?  No offence to those who can, but this is my reality. I have neither the time nor inclination to make pretty garden scenes out of cress, carved tomatoes and pasta shapes.  Which will only get swapped for someone else's squashed jam sandwich anyway.  If I had time for that in the morning, maybe I'd have time to blog more often!

Teetering on the edge

It's the middle of August.  In just 16 days time, Squeaky will be facing up to her first day at Big School without Mummy or Daddy to hide behind.  There's big steps out into the Real World, and they're happening at a rate I can hardly comprehend.  I mean, she's 3 1/2, and barely 3 foot tall.  OK, it's only half days, and a very loose definition of half days at that, 2 1/4 hours a day for the first half term.  But my baby isn't a baby any more, she's on the edge of being a "schooley" - the word they use at pre-school for the kids who use the wrap-around service, or who come for the holiday club.  How is it even possible?  It only seems like five minutes since the longest wait of my entire life before a midwife finally handed my wriggling, but still silent baby to me, and persuaded her to latch on for a first feed.

And now she's teetering on the edge of a whole new phase of life.  A schooley.  Half of her uniform's here.  I've had an email today to say the rest has been shipped.  It's suddenly all so real.  I've got a proper grown-up girl, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.  She's still my baby. She still wants to play babies, and cwtch up in bed with me in the mornings, still looks for a cuddle and reassurance when she's facing something new & scary. But it doesn't get much new & scarier than school, does it?

She's smart. She'll love the stimulation, the input. the challenges.  It's more me, I'm sure.  I'm just not quite sure I'm ready to let my baby go out into the world quite yet.  If nothing else, I've got a whole lot of labelling to do in the next two weeks!

The Tooth Fairy

I can't remember if I mentioned it at the time, but about 2 years ago, Squeaky decide to test gravity, and flew from the top of a toy car face first into the metal frame of our sofa.  Cue lots of tears (from both of us), and a flying visit to the dentist, as she broke half her bottom front tooth off.  Not a lot could be done, and the tooth seemed relatively stable.  Earlier this year, it started to get wobbly, so another quick trip to the dentist, just for advice.  He said it would come out sooner rather than later, probably while eating an apple (the man clearly does not know my daughter!)

Fast forward to today. A perfectly normal day, filled with pizza, an artificial beach, and plenty of fun.  And then some wailing that her wobbly tooth hurt.  A quick peek in her mouth confirmed that the tooth was definitely on the move.  A big cuddle, some hushed adult conversation about how best to get the tooth out before bedtime, and then all of a sudden more wailing that her tooth had gone & she'd spat it out.  Cue five minutes crawling round on the floor & looking under the (new) sofa, only to find the offending tooth stuck to her t-shirt.

So now we're anticipating the arrival of the Tooth Fairy, in all her sparkly glory, and hoping that Squeaky is asleep enough to let her collect the tooth without disturbance.  (And then wondering how to hide said tooth and have a subtle conversation with the dentist as it appears the root had snapped.)  Squeaky has written a letter to accompany her tooth, and I'm lead to believe that the tooth fairy leaves a little "Well Done" card for the first tooth, as well as the customary £1 coin.

Learning to Lie

As our little ones get older, the milestones get less obvious. First tooth, first word, first step, we all know about them, but as they reach pre-schoolerhood the milestones aren't so easy to notice, and they can just pass you by if you're not paying attention.  I'm trying to keep an eye out, but it's difficult.  And I'm not 100% sure how I feel about our latest milestone.

Over the weekend, we spent the most of our time out in the garden, including having tea outside, as the weather's been so good.  I popped into the house to get something, and Squeaky followed me.  She asked for an ice-lolly.  I knew she'd just been at the table eating her tea, so I asked her how much she'd eaten (knowing she hadn't actually had much), she said "lots", so I said "what would daddy say if I asked him?"  Quick as a flash, she says "Don't ask Daddy!"  Hmmmm...

Ice Cream, motivation to lie

Image courtesy of nuchylee / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Then yesterday, Daddy & Squeaky went to the beach, while I was slaving away over a hot computer at work.  When I got home, she told me what they'd been up to, and the first thing she mentioned was a smarties ice-cream she'd eaten.  About an hour later, again she asks for an ice lolly.  I asked her if she'd had an ice cream that day, she said no.  Just like before I said "What would daddy say if I asked him?" And just like before, she replies "Don't ask Daddy!"

I know it's part of a wider stage of development, not just lying, but becoming aware that different people know different things, that she can know something I don't, and vice versa.  But when it comes in the form of lying, I'm just not sure what to do. I want to encourage her development, to learn independently and to enjoy that learning, but I don't want the whole motivation being more ice creams! And I certainly don't want to encourage her to expand her lying repertoire, at least right now she's not very convincing!

Sameness & Difference

After a fortnight of soaking up the Spanish sunshine (see, there was a reason for my silence!), I've noticed Squeaky's hit a milestone I'd not really thought that much about before - Questioning Difference.

A couple of (quite loud) examples from the last few days.  "Mummy, that little girl's got a brown face!"  Now, Squeaky's had plenty of contact with people from different ethnic backgrounds, and sees more again on TV.  And the little girl in question was Spanish with beautifully tanned olive-toned skin, so hardly a massive difference, but enough that *this* was the child Squeaky commented on, and enough to lead us into the whole "People are different, they can have different hair colour, eye colour & skin colour, but they're all just as nice" conversation.  She went back to fishing for seashells in the pool with that girl a couple of minutes later, so I'm chalking that up to successful parenting.

Then, the following day.  "Mummy, why's that boy got pictures on him?"  (The boy being a 30-something man with a shaved head & impressive tattoo collection)  Again, she's seen tattoos before, I've got one myself, but she's suddenly noticing things, and I'm finding myself in the middle of difficult conversations I'd rather not have in public.  The tattoo owner took it with good humour, and I think was secretly flattered to have been called a boy.

Same Difference. Not them.

As for me, rather than difference, I've been noticing similarities.  Our hotel seems to be quite popular with Spanish people as well as Brits, which has given me a bit of an insight into how little we actually vary.

• Old ladies the world over stop dead still in doorways, blocking everyone else's movements. And then give you nasty looks for trying to get by.
• 9 year old boys, individually, are shits. En-masse, they are truly a thing of nightmares
• Everyone ignores the sign saying you can't take food out of the restaurant, no matter how many languages it is written in.
• 3 year olds, given their own way, would all prefer to exist on a diet of chips. tomato sauce & ice-cream.  And know precisely how to time a tantrum for best public embarrassment. 

Going Potty!

The infamous Graco Potty!  It really does exist.

Yeah, I'm going potty, while Squeaky is considering the concept of going ON the potty.  We've been making slow, but steady progress over the last couple of weeks, and to be fair to Squeaky, she's doing really well.  As long as you remind her to go, that is.  She still hasn't mastered the art of telling you that she wants to go, and isn't quite recognising the cues herself.  If you ask her if she wants to go, she says "No", but if you insist she sits down, she'll go straight away 99% of the time.  It's a whole new challenge to me, as I have a cast-iron bladder, so I can't even use my own needs to remind her.  Daddy seems to be doing better on that count, maybe because he has the smallest bladder in the world!  (Don't tell him I said that, please!)

But we're getting there.  As I mentioned previously, we were away for the weekend (more on that later, maybe?), out & about, and generally having lots of fun.  It was quite liberating not to have to carry nappies, though I did have to carry (many) changes of clothes instead.  We plumped for using pull-ups, or Adventure Pants as we've christened them, if we were going to be out & about for too long, or if there was likely to be too much excitement, but honestly, over the whole weekend, there was only one accident.  And Squeaky managed to produce both number 1s and number 2s on the actual toilet, as well as on the potty!  It's amazing how exciting pooh can be!

Bribery? Of course!

We'd had a few false starts with the potty training over the last, ahem, almost a year, but finally we seem to be making progress.  Patience, encouragement, and a little bit of bribery in the form of chocolate coins & playing Happy Mrs Chicken on my phone seem to be having the desired effect.  Happy Mrs Chicken looks to be the best £1.99 I've spent in a long time (check your compatibility before you download, some people seem to have had problems with it)  Stickers, on the other hand, seemed to be a great big failure, which was a surprise.

I have to stop myself sometimes though.  In my job, blogging, and generally as a result of having Squeaky, I encounter a lot of people with similar aged children.  Some of whom seem to have mastered potty training overnight, before 18 months, without a single mishap, and their children poop nothing but pure rainbows.  It's hard not to compare myself, and Squeaky, with others, and the reality is, she ISN'T lagging behind, somehow I just only appear to compare myself against the people who have found it easy, and not those who are struggling.  I'm not really being fair on myself, I should compare against everyone, not just those who have done "better" than me.  And who's to say what is better anyway?  Being ready, to me, is better than being forced into a timescale laid down to suit the adults.  I try very hard not to be a competitive parent, but it's so hard.

Where I spend too much time

Well, anyway.  That's where we are.  We're weeing & poohing on the potty, at least some of the time.  The accidents are getting less, the successes are getting more, and my washing machine is being tested to the limit.  I'm learning to relax, again, before the next big competitive milestone comes along.  Reading? Writing?  What is next, anyway?

What potty training techniques worked for your little ones?  And what didn't?

This is not a sponsored post. I have not been approached by any of the brands shown or linked in relation to this post.  Links are provided for your convenience only,  I am not a member of any affiliate scheme, and will not receive reward for their use.

When Do I Get My Badge?

I was a prefect at school. It was a great day when my friends & I were handed that badge of power.  OK, only the power to stop 11 year olds from going to the toilet until the could name all the members of New Kids On The Block in order of fanciability, but power all the same.

Yes. I know.

Once we leave school, where's the badge of responsibility?  I have a work's ID card (in fact, I have two, one from my employer, and one from the owners of the building we work in, so I can get in the door), the only thing that gives me is 10% off in my local 'Spoons.  I have a bank card, all that gives me is petrol.  I have a driving license, and all that gives me is a worry that this is the month the speed camera van will finally catch me unawares.

But I have to be a proper grown up person.  Take today for example.  Aside from work, I have bought furniture polish, forgotten to put the bins out, filled in Squeaky's school registration forms (eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!), bought bird seed for the resident sparrows, registered with a new GP, took a healthy, home cooked lunch to work, and actually turned down the option of cake (OK, I might have had a doughnut earlier, but even so, there was cake & I didn't eat it!).

So, come on world, where is my Grown Up Badge?

Mortified!

We had a little adventure down to the wilds of Torbay last weekend. Any excuse, I know, but as Squeaky woke us up last week crying "I want to go on holiday, I want to go to a caravan", we couldn't really not take our latest £9.50 hol, could we?  I'll write a proper blog post about the trip another day, hopefully.

Not far away...

Today though, I wanted to share one of the finer moments of life with a 2 year old.  Picture the scene.  We've just been swimming, and are in the changing rooms of the holiday site's swimming pool, squeezed into a little cubicle.  Squeaky is dry and dressed, and giving her usual running commentary of every thought that passes through her head.  I am in the middle of getting dry.

Squeaky: Where's Daddy?
Me: In the boys changing room.
Squeaky: Boys smell of feet
Me: Yeah, ok, they do
Squeaky: You smell of feet
Me: Errr, THANKS, no I don't.
Squeaky: Incey Wincey Spider climbs up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sunshine and ... POPPED the spider out. Out came the sunshine and... POPPED the spider out. (Repeat this line 10+ times) Incey Wincey Spider climbed up the spout again

There are a few giggles to be heard in the changing room as Squeaky is not a quietly spoken child.  At this point, I breathe a sigh of relief, and continue getting dry.  I've just put my t-shirt on, and peeled off the bottom half of my swimming costume.

Squeaky: Mummy, what's that?
Me: What's what, darling?
Squeaky: THAT!  You've got a bit of hair on your bottom!
Me (thinking fast): Oh, so I have. Incey Wincey Spider?

There are now much louder giggles from the rest of the changing room, and I am looking for a hole in the ground to swallow me up.  I mean, WHAT do you say?  And is this one of those milestones I should be writing down for future reference?

Big Girl!

Today was a Big Girl Day in the Squeaky household.  We put on our Big Girl Trousers and went on an exciting adventure.  All the way to the hairdressers!

I deliberately booked the appointment for roughly naptime, as I needed my hair cut as well, and I figured she'd be more manageable well rested.  Then, typically, she refused to go to sleep in the car on the way there.  Never mind, into the Symbio, reclined, hood down, and a ten minute walk round town is enough to bore anyone to sleep.  She slept all the way through my trim, including the hairdryer bit.  Then woke up, perfectly refreshed & relaxed just in time to sit on my lap, for her First Ever Proper Haircut!  I've trimmed her fringe a couple of times, but it was getting towards the stage where a proper haircut was needed.

Here's the results - a proper Big Girl now!  I'm so proud, she was really well behaved (a Peppa Pig branded bag of mini eggs might have had something to do with that), and sat beautifully for the hairdresser, then got home and phoned Daddy & Grandma to say "Me hair done!"

One more milestone to tick!

The Potty List!

2. Baked a cake

We've all heard of the "Bucket List", ambitions to do before we die. Mostly, if you're on twitter, linked to the name of a seriously ill child who didn't actually want to trend on twitter anyway.  But there's something better than that.  I'm talking about the "Potty List".  This made the papers a couple of weeks back, but we were at the in-laws and I didn't get to read the whole thing til now.

4. Sung loudly in public

The Potty List is a list of 36 "Things to do before you're 3", one for each month of a toddler's life (though they're not necessarily going to do them at that rate).  It's all about the milestones of growing up, and the fun to be had along the way.  How many has your child done? And how many have you done yourself?  We've tried to work out how many we've achieved, and how many we've taken photos of.  (Don't panic, there's no picture of number 24!)

8. Made sandcastles on the beach

The 36 must-do activities that make up ‘The Potty List’ are:

1. Made a mud pie

2. Baked a cake

3. Finger painted

4. Sung loudly in public

5. Climbed a big hill 

6. Picked fruit

7. Danced with no inhibitions 

8. Made sandcastles on the beach

9. Been chased by a monster

15. Chosen a favourite book

10. Jumped in a puddle so hard the water went in mummy’s shoe too

11. Belly-flopped

12. Fed the ducks

13. Blown bubbles
14. Had a teddy bear’s picnic
15. Chosen a favourite book
16. Ridden on the top of double-decker bus
17. Visited a museum
18. Been on a train ride
19. Fed an animal
20. Grown cress in the shape of your name

21. Worn pants on your head

22. Ridden the tea-cups at the fair
23. Flown a paper aeroplane

24. Poo’ed in the bath

25. Stayed the night away from home
26. Ridden on daddy’s shoulders
27. Scribbled somewhere you shouldn’t
28. Cleaned your own teeth
29. Answered the phone
30. Mastered a party piece
31. Had a ‘first love’
32. Bought something in a shop
33. Set your sights on a future career (pirate, fairy or builder, perhaps?)

18. Been on a train ride

34. Told a fib

35. Made up an inappropriate nickname for someone
36. Broken something valuable

We've actually managed many more than the ones pictured, I can't find the teacups, I think that's probably just on video (I was on them too, so couldn't take photos), and you just don't think to take pictures of everything - buses, puddles and poo in particular!  It's inspired me though to take more photos of those everyday occurrences that will make up our memories, the little firsts.

The Potty List was inspired by suggestions from parents nationwide and endorsed by experts, including nutritionist Amanda Ursell, psychologist Dr Richard Woolfson and trends forecaster Sean Pillot de Chenecey.

It forms part of the Little One-ders’ Toddler Census, commissioned by Growingupmilkinfo.com, and has been designed to celebrate the extraordinary growth and development Little One-ders go through from one to three years.

19. Fed an animal

By no means exhaustive, it does however pinpoint some wonderful experiences for toddlers, from the fun to the fundamental.

Child psychologist Dr Richard Woolfson says: “As your toddler turns one and becomes a Little One-der their extraordinary growth over the next couple of years will amaze you. Toddlerhood is about learning, about development and about progress – it's also about pushing the boundaries a little.

27. Scribbled somewhere you shouldn't

“A growing child needs to be loved and to be happy, but fun activities play an essential part during the toddler years too, as now is the time they will master many of the skills that will set them up for life. Making a mud pie or jumping in a puddle has never been so important!"

Achieving all these ambitions, alongside all the growing and learning that takes place in the first three years of life takes an awful lot of energy.  Growingupmilkinfo.com nutritionist, Leanne Olivier, adds: “During this phase of amazing growth and development, relative to their size, toddlers’ energy needs are nearly three times greater than an adult’s. They require more than four times the amount of iron and vitamin C, plus about three times the calcium, zinc and vitamin A.

“Their stomachs are a lot smaller than ours, so they need to eat small amounts of foods often to give them energy and nutrients throughout the day, so they can make mud pies and climb hills.

“This means that they need three small meals with regular snacks in between to meet their very specific energy needs and each meal and snack needs to be balanced and nutrient-packed.” 

Cow & Gate Growing Up Milk are sponsoring me to attend the CybHer conference in May 2012.  The statistical data in this post came from The Toddler Census, a questionnaire answered by over 1000 parents in July 2011.

The Bottle Fairy's Visit

We've all heard of the Tooth Fairy, right?  Some of us have heard of the Dummy Fairy.  But have you heard of the Bottle Fairy, who paid us a visit recently?

The Bottle Fairy does a similar job to the Dummy Fairy.  She keeps an eye out for boys and girls who have grown up now, and no longer need baby things, in her case, bottles.  The boys and girls leave their bottles out for the Bottle Fairy, who collects them up and gives them to babies who need them, similarly to the Dummy Fairy.  If the boys and girls are very good, the Bottle Fairy might even leave them a special gift.

Well, as Squeaky turned 2 this week, we'd been expecting the Bottle Fairy to come and visit us for a little while, and had been talking about what would happen.  Squeaky finally accepted that milk comes in beakers about a week ago, so it was perfect timing for the Bottle Fairy's visit, so we didn't slip back into bad habits.

Oh! Look! I can edit, badly.

Squeaky helped me write a letter to the Bottle Fairy, which we left out on the sideboard with all her bottles, hoping that the Bottle Fairy would stop by our house on her rounds.

Lo and behold, the next morning, the bottles and the letter had disappeared.  In their place was a letter back from the Bottle Fairy (since destroyed, hmph), and a Chuggington book, as we're currently obsessed with the Choo-Choos (and Peppa Pig, Upsy Daisy, and Tang from Zingzillas)

I wondered, what fairies visit your house?  Are there any others we should be looking out for?

The weekend away

I said we'd had a weekend away, and Squeaky spent the weekend at my mum & dad's, running rings around them.

Well, in that time, she seemingly ate a lot of ice cream (no surprise there), rode on the miniature train round the sea front, threw herself down the slide a lot, threw herself off the slide & gave herself her first nosebleed (took about a minute to forget), disturbed my dad from his afternoon nap schedule, and generally created havoc & mayhem.

And then when we got back from Oxford, she had her first ever haircut!  Her fringe had gone beyond cute & straggly to messy & in her eyes, so now she has a proper little fringe.  And looks so much more grown up.  Photos when I can find magic string to join my phone to the computer, because they're on the phone not the camera.

Summer, summer, summer time.

Making the most of a brief burst of sunshine yesterday, Ms Squeaky & I (and then a bit later Daddy as well) headed off to Barry Island.  Fabulous first thing in the morning, before anyone was on the beach, but by lunchtime it was chaos.

Now I know she's a toddler, and asserting her tiny independence any way she can, but it's so strange to find that one day she hates something, and the next she loves it.  She was quite unimpressed with the beach on holiday for the most part, it would take her ages before she'd relax enough to play in the sand, and she really didn't like walking on it.  No such fears yesterday, the sand and the beach were the best things in the world (and yes, that includes eating sand, grrr).  I bought a cheapo set of stacking cups from poundstretcher, and we used them to build, dig, demolish, pass around, and whatever else it was she thought we were doing with them.

We also had a diversion into one of the amusement arcades - not Nessa's one, but one of the bigger arcades, where we spent £1 in the 2p falls, got back well over £2 in my "put it all in, count the winnings, put them all back, count, rinse & repeat" method of wasting money in slot machines, and no less than 2 pool ball keyrings.  I have no idea what I'll do with them, but I was most disappointed to run out of 2ps before I won the third keyring in the machine.  Squeaky also took the opportunity to demonstrate what a grubby little madam expert horse rider she is (no 50ps were harmed in the making of this photo, she's still too small)

And finally.  The BIG NEWS!  REALLY REALLY BIG!  We have a real & proper word that isn't Mama, Dada, Baba, Baboon, Abba or Asda.  And she actually knows what she's saying, and uses it appropriately.  The word?  BANANA!  Or 'Nana at least. Bless.  She actually really loves bananas, so it figures.

'Nana!

Going Potty?

Sometimes I think I might be, you know.

No, actually.  What it is is this... how do you start potty training? And when?  Squeaky's 17 months next week.  For quite a while now, she's waited until she's had a wet nappy changed before doing a poo.  And she's now telling us (sometimes, not reliably) that she needs her nappy changed because she's done a poo in it.

So. Where do we begin?  While the nursery are good, and will help in whatever way they can, I kind of feel like I need a week or so off work, so there's some continuity, at least to start with.  I'm also a bit wary of starting too soon.  With a lot of Squeaky's learned skills (cups, self-feeding, cutlery, etc) we've waited a bit longer than some of her friends, until she's been really ready for it, and then it's been a breeze.  Could the same happen here?  I don't want to delay her unnecessarily, but I don't want to push her too far too fast & create problems.

(When are they ever going to send me Squeaky's instruction manual?)

Weaning, woe!

Oh woe is me, woe indeed.  For my little baby girl is no longer a little baby girl, but a fully fledged toddling thing.  She's finally weaned completely off the boob, after 16 and a half months.  I don't know what to do with myself any more, apart from delight in the presence of underwires.  I'm proud of myself for having fed her this long, but it's only been a couple of days and I miss it already. There's nothing quite like a little warm snuggly body curling up for a feed.

WOE I tell you, woe.

WoooHoooo!

I kind of thought it would never happen, even though I knew it would.  Squeaky is officially walking!

She's only managing about 3 steps before she falls over - either leaning too far forward & faceplanting into the carpet, or just landing on her bum (hooray for nappies, the padding seems to help). But the point is, she's WALKING!!!  All by herself!

As soon as I can persuade her to perform on camera, I'll put pictures up.  But for now, I'm just excited & so proud of her.

Learning

For Squeaky's birthday, one of the things we bought her was a Waybuloo ride on thing. Like this. I'd said we wouldn't get a straightforward walker, while she likes them, they're such a short-lived toy, and we really don't have the space.  I justified this to myself because of the ride-on aspect, it should keep her interest even once she can walk unaided.  Anyway, she had it a day or two before her birthday, because we had the party the day before, and I wanted to have it at the party.  And I've got to be honest, at the time, I really thought I'd made a mistake.  All she was interested in was taking the little plastic phone off it, and throwing that across the room.

But what a difference in a couple of weeks?  Now, she'll walk behind it pushing it along, walk alongside it pushing it sideways, sit on it & ride back & forth, sit on it BACKWARDS and ride it as best as the stabiliser will let her, hide things in the seat, squeak the horn, and even let some of her other toys ride on it while she pushes it around.  Upsy Daisy seems to have been given that honour most, but that might just be because she sits better than the rest.

I don't know whether she had to get used to it before she'd consider playing with it properly, or whether she just had to figure out what to do with it, but it's amazing to watch how she's figured it out. She loves it now, and I'm so glad to have got it right.  As for the little phone on it, that she was so enamoured of throwing across the room? I have no idea where it is.  And she doesn't seem to care.

I am not an Amazon affiliates member, they just had the best picture I'd seen.  I have not received anything for this post, I'm just commenting on my observations.

Eeep!

Oh my.  I'm not sure if this is daft!  We've booked to go on holiday in May, a couple of weeks in Majorca.  I'm a bit nervous about it to tell the truth, but we chose Majorca because there've been tourists going there for longer than I've been alive, I can speak/understand enough Spanish to deal with anything major (in theory. Though the only Spanish I remember using in the hospital in DR were telling a nurse my age, and telling the anaesthetist that I was cold & deaf.  Both were true, I wasn't just telling him random things), and I figure we'll be able to find plenty of familiar baby kit out there if needed.

But of course babies have to have their own passports now.  Do you know how difficult it is to make a wriggly 1 year old sit in the right place in a photo booth, face the right way, and meet the super-strict criteria for passport photos?  Put it this way, it took 3 different photo booths, 3 lots of cash, and an awful lot of stress to manage it.  And if the passport people send it back, I'm going to have to go to Newport and SMASH them.  Or make them take the blinking photo themselves.

I'm looking forward to it, honestly, or at least I will be when the passport comes back!

Time Flies Like An Arrow, Fruit Flies Like A Banana

Somehow, and I don't quite know how it happened, Squeaky is 1!  Well, actually, she was 1 on Monday, and she's almost 1 and a week now.  Last Sunday we had a party in the village hall, with a lovely collection of her friends from the baby groups, plus other friends and their children.  Why didn't I realise how much hard work it would be to organise a party for a group of 1 year olds?  I wouldn't change it for a second, it was a wonderful day, and a perfect way to celebrate Squeaky's first year, but I'm STILL tired now, a week later.

 We had cake!  Look!  

 

I didn't get to take any other photos, and my video has too many other people's children on it to post online without a month of getting permissions, so you'll have to imagine a dozen rampaging 6-18month olds, plus parents, loads of buffet, Pass The Parcel & the CBeebies CD.

We're coming back to normality now, the buffet has all been eaten, and the toys we borrowed from the toy library have been returned, so the house is back to its usual level of chaos.

I can't quite comprehend where the last year has gone. It's positively flown by.  It only feels like 5 minutes since I was first handed this tiny little baby, with no idea what to do with her.  Now, she's desperately trying to walk, full of determination & personality, and makes me laugh a hundred times a day.  Her current favourite thing is playing tea parties with a singing tea pot she got for her birthday... I even caught her washing up the cups in her toy kitchen earlier.  I'm constantly amazed to see how quickly she learns, and to watch her figuring out something new.

Squeaky, I love you, little one.