Our first football ‘lesson’.

Hubs and I have a tendency towards couch potatoism. It’s not conscious it’s just we’re always tired and we like watching telly. We don’t, however, want to pass our potato ways onto the boy.

I want him to get involved in activities he’ll actually enjoy but I can tell you now I’m not going to be one of those parents who takes her kid to EVERYTHING. If the Bald Kitten wants to try something so be it. But I’m not signing up to everything just so I can have a pissing contest with other mums.

You see them boasting about all the groups little Tarquin goes to, how he’s so busy, how they go straight from school to karate, then an hour in the pool, not forgetting the private tutoring in the evening. Saturday morning is Rugby training, more swimming, photography club. Sunday morning football practice etc, etc, ETC!!

When does little Tarquin get to do his homework or play with friends? Would you need the tutor if you didn’t insist on exhausting the poor thing week in, week out?

Ask yourself: am I signing them up for this or for me?

Anyway, I digress. First football ‘lesson’. Hubs told the Bald Kitten he was going to play football. So that’s all I heard. All morning.

‘We play football today Mummy?’

‘Are we going to football?’

‘I’m playing football today Mummy’

‘Shall we go into the garden to play football?’

And whilst we were driving to the venue and I got a bit lost: ‘Mummy, are we going to play football today?’

When we finally found the venue (a smidge late) we hurried to the building. Well, I hurried until I heard a little voice say ‘Slow down Mummy you’re going too fast!’

The session was ‘unstructured’. It was a big room with 3 pop up goals, pop up tunnels and about 45 footballs. (I counted them). The man running the session was zipping around all over the place interacting with all the children.

The Bald Kitten was off! There were balls flying all over the place. He loved it! He was kicking balls all over the place. In his enthusiasm I did get an elbow to the nose and a football thrown in my face. Not quite sure he’s premiership material yet but he enjoyed himself and that’s what matters.

We did have a bit of a strop when the balls were put away, accompanied by a sulky declaration that he didn’t like football. He soon cheered up, and is looking forward to next week!

In other news:

I have had a lovely chat with the breastfeeding team. Feeling much better equipped to start boobie feeding.

Tried to have a relaxing bath today, was joined by the Bald Kitten who as soon as he was stood in the bath had a great big wee.

To make pregnancy EVEN MORE fun, I think I’m getting tonsillitis.


Simple Pleasures

I’ve had a lovely day today.

Well after all the rejection I suffered this morning! I heard the bald kitten get up at around 5.15am, hubs was fast off so when the boy staggered in I asked if he wanted to get in with Mummy. ‘No’ was his simple, swift and chirpy reply. I felt a tad put out so when I heard Captain miaow I felt smug as Captain is a mummy’s boy. Imagine how I felt when he blanked me and curled up on hubs! That stung. Furry little ball bag.

After being shunned by all the boys, we started with something festive, off to the garden centre to see all the Christmas decorations, the boy was good for a bit then put a swift stop to that and was SATAN for the remainder. I’ve made a large mental note of all the decorations I’m going to buy when I get paid.

After the morning fun/wrestling an angry and unreasonable toddler we dropped him at my parents. His cousin is there as it a ginormous crate of Lego. The boy has been finding all the wheels and scooping Lego up into a cup and pouring it back into the tub. I think he likes the sound. But it should keep him amused for a while.

We popped back home and got to do all the things we don’t really get to do on a weekend. I had a bath, a deep bath, with the bathroom door closed. No bald kitten to add a boat, then ducks. Then himself. Then make me put cold water in. And I’m pretty sure every time the boy gets in the bath with me he has a wee.

The real magic happened when I got out the bath, I read my book, in the middle of the day THEN I HAD A NAP! An actual nap. Without being poked in the face, jumped on or shouted at! There has been NO PAW PATROL on in this house this afternoon. I got ready to go out without a toddler gouging chunks out of my makeup. And applying brow powder to the side of my face whilst exclaiming ‘ahh, that’s better!’

I’ve had a full face of makeup on. I took full advantage of being able to do it uninterrupted and I’m pretty sure I’m wearing a little bit of every cosmetic I own. Probably look a bit OTT, but have no regrets. Then we went out, for a meal. At quarter to 8. Quarter to 8!! I can’t tell you the last time we left the house at this time! We ate with family. Not a single Fruit Shoot was ordered. Hubs and I hadn’t brought a single car with us. We didn’t have to ensure another plate of food was a suitable eating temperature before starting our own. There wasn’t that point when we had to leave early because a tiny human can’t and simply won’t sit at a table whilst grownups talk about boring crap that isn’t the Paw Patrol. Hubs and I ate safe in the knowledge that if anyone did a poo, they’d be sorting themselves out! No mid dinner bum changes for us! Huzzarh!

I’ll feel sad tomorrow though. I love the sound of his door opening and him coming in for cuddles. (Even if they aren’t for me!) When he decides it’s time to cuddle Mummy and wriggles his little bottom towards me, shoving Miaow Miaow into my face for cuddles too.

Hubs and I have work to do, so however early I want to retrieve the bald kitten, jobs first! We are clearing the soon to be nursery so it can be painted. Work that is quicker and easier without a two year old ‘helping’. The plan is Madre is popping round tomorrow and we’ll get it painted. The only thing to do after that will be brave Ikea to get the furniture. Then hopefully I’ll be feeling a lot more ready for Little Pea’s arrival. The Bald Kitten has been cuddling bump a lot recently saying ‘Hello baby, see you later baby!’ Hopefully he feels the same way when baby gets here…

In other news:

My innie is now an outie and I can’t tell you how much it freaks me out!

I have eleven weeks to go. (Shiiiiiiit)

Last night my MIL laughed so much she gave herself a nosebleed. Good times!

Caution! Lurgy house.

The Bald Kitten has tonsillitis. He has been prescribed penicillin for this particular ailment but trying to get that in to him is like tying to wrestle a screaming, crying squid. It’s horrible, hubs and I feel awful administering the meds but he has to have them. Would just get them down him easier if penicillin came in the form of Paw Patrol yoghurts.

As is that wasn’t fun enough, it seems he’s developed conjunctivitis too. I keep wiping bright green slimy nodules out of his eye and trying to mop up the abundance of snot that keeps pouring out of his nose before it gets wiped on his hand/the sofa/me. Or as I noticed earlier he just licks it away.

I’ve cracked out the Dettol. The house is starting to smell like a hospital. But my cleaning mission is being interrupted because the bald kitten needs lots of snugs! I have the fun task of boiling his flannel and pillow case and pretty much anything he’s touched before we’re collectively know as the ‘snotty eye family’ I’ve also been dodging a biscuit the boy keeps trying to shove into my mouth because Zeus only know what germs are lurking on it.

Speaking of food, he’s just not into it. Anything he asks for I give to him. Of the 70 million biscuits I’ve given him today (because he asks for them) he’s only eaten one. The others get locked, nibbled a bit and discarded. I may pick him up a Happy Meal tomorrow, he likes their chicken nuggets and I’m heartbroken to find his little round belly is not to round today.

Safe to say this week has not been fun. The boy gets upset in the very early hours and gets into bed with us. Daddy loses the most sleep because will like to cuddle him then start chatting or demanding he goes downstairs to get him a drink.

Fingers crossed the medicine suddenly works it’s magic and we get our little boy back, with all his exuberance, snacking and general ruling the roost!

In other news:

I have officially started my third trimester today.

The Nursery is still not decorated.

Staying awake all day is something I now rarely achieve.

Shopping Woes.

It’s official.

Shopping is now shit.

This is aside from the fact that there is naf all attire for preggos on the high street.

It’s the behaviour of my son. He is now a ball bag of monumental proportions anytime we go near anything that resembles a shop. For starters HE WILL NOT GO IN HIS PUSHCHAIR. I made the fatal mistake of putting him in one on Friday after a coffee with mum in Waterstones because a game of ‘Put the book back darling’ which in my head was a game of ‘put that fucking book back and finish your drink that I’ve just paid through the arse for!!’

(I’d like to point out we were nowhere near the children’s section, he’d pulled an anthology of poetry off the shelf and when I asked him to put it back he pouted and started bending the book. I took it off him so he didn’t damage it and I’d have to pay a tenner for a massive book of shit poems. Removing the book from his possession caused a screamathon. It’s fun when everyone stares.)

Anyway, I put him in his pushchair. He screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed. He started choking on his own tears. He threw Miaow Miaow on the floor then asked to be handed his beloved soft toy, only to throw the bloody thing on the floor again.

He tried getting out of the straps. I put them back on. More screaming.

Why not let him walk? I hear you cry.

That is indeed an option. But this issue is this: the boy doesn’t run away in shops, he stops.


And he




I coax, bribe, cajole, get firm, pretend to leave and nothing works. The little sod just stands there with his arms crossed frowning at me like I’ve just shit on a puppy. If nothing works I go and get him. I hate physically moving him but I’m not standing in boots for nine hours whilst he looks wistfully at the cover of a craft beer book. I take him by the hand and try to talk him into moving and OF COURSE he’s having none of it. He does that thing kids do and just drops like his bones are jelly. So I pick him up (he’s usually wailing by this point) but I’m pregnant I can’t carry him for long periods of time so the idea is to pick him up calm him down and get him in the pushchair.

Predictably he refuses the pushchair. Says wants to walk. I try to put him down and the kid contorts more than someone having an exorcism in an effort not to let ANY part of him make contact with the floor because he wants to be carried. We then get a repeat of the being put in the pushchair tantrum.

I can take people staring and I can handle the behaviour. But I don’t want to.

I don’t want to have to narrate the whole time, I get sick of the sound of my own bloody voice and exhausted at the same time.

We popped into a shop called Dunelm today. Daddy was with us and the boy performed again. Hubs got gradually more frustrated as behaviour took a nose dive and we left before we’d looked at everything we wanted to.

I get that the shops don’t hold a lot of pull for him, but am I selfish for doing something I want instead of swimming or soft-play for him? I don’t spend long in the shops, I just want to do something adult. I’m already dreading trying to get round the shops with two of them!

In other news:

Potty training imminent.

New bathroom should be finished TOMORROW. I can’t wait for there not to be strangers in my house!

Little pea kicked hard enough for hubs to feel it the other day.

18 weeks – feels remarkably like all the other weeks so far.

My belly is a now constant reminder that I have a little pea swimming about in my uterus. I’m starting to feel the swimming which is very reassuring.

Speaking of swimming, Will started lessons four weeks ago. They’re all about getting the little one used to water and swim ready. There are songs and games and LOTS of splashing. It’s quite a workout for us as there is a lot of throwing the boy around. One of the exercises is to hold a novelty float and kick the water as an adult holds and guides you across the pool. Except Will doesn’t kick. He shouts ‘Weeeeeeeeeeee!’ with his feet sticking out of the water whilst hubs does all the work. It’s funny as hell but a tad frustrating when you’re repeating ‘kick, kick, kick!’ in a high pitched forced enthusiastic voice whilst he has a half an hour rest in the water. Hubs does the lesson with him as I’m not quite in a condition to throw a toddler about. I use the time to swim a few lengths. It’s nice to feel weightless for a bit and will be more so the more massive I get.

Today was busy, I had a lot to contend with; young teenaged girls showing off for the lanky teenaged lifeguard. Families treating the pool like it was a resort fun pool and throwing balls all over the sodding place, lanky teenaged lifeguard not noticing on account of the girls who seemed to be doing a lot of spinning? One of said girls climbed out of the pool in a teeny tiny bikini then slipped over, got up and did the over theatrical hysterical laughing and loudly telling her friend that she had just fallen over, to let anyone who might have seen it happen that she wasn’t completely mortified. I’m frankly quite jealous, if I’d have slipped over like that there’s no way in hell I could have got up so quickly.

We’ve visited friends this weekend and spent Saturday exploring Hampton Court Palace. The boy was fairly well behaved. We had a couple of public meltdowns, he loved stamping his feel in the large wooden floored rooms because it made a great sound. I do feel for the tourists with the audio guides as they had our little foghorn to contend with. The boy doesn’t see a rope barrier as something to keep behind and we uttered several frantic ‘Will, come here!’ Before we were told off or ejected. Although I have to say he senses the desperation in your voice and the more panicked you sound, the less likely he is to come back. Such fun!

We had a long drive home (got to love the M25) so swimming was a welcome stretch after being cooped up. We also had a mega tantrum in the services because we asked the bald kitten to put back a wheeled George Pig book, he didn’t want to put it back, he wanted us to cough up the £8 for it. When it became clear that would not be happening he screamed blue bloody murder. We were stared at. And across the car park as the tantrum continued which only stopped once he was strapped in his car seat. ‘Stopped crying now’ was the sentence for the next few miles.

Swimming has worn him out so definitely an early night. I can’t imagine hubs and I will be up more later. Tomorrow I have my whooping cough jab to look forward to.

In other news:

Marms, the majestic hunter that she is has just tried to catch a fly that’s on the other side of the window pane.

I nearly fainted today, turns out I’m a bit of a fainter in this pregnancy…

Holiday countdown has geared up a notch so the pressure is on to make sure the clothes are clean tomorrow instead of spending the day drinking tea and eating biscuits…

Kids TV – pros and cons

The bald kitten is now taking more of an interest in kids tv. As much as it’s not something I want him watching ALL the time, it definitely has its benefits.

My darling son doesn’t nap in the day anymore. My golden time has gone, so ten minutes of distraction is my time to sit down with a hot drink. It’s also reassuring to know I’ve something to entertain him when I get a few weeks away from my due date. When I’m too massive to get down onto the floor to play with him and walking upstairs to the loo has the same effect as running a marathon. (Or at least how I imagine it feels to run a marathon…)

Popping on the tv means he’s distracted whilst I do the boring household things that need doing, cleaning the sink, bleaching the loo, stuff like I’d rather not do with a toddler around.

There are messages about friendship and kindness in kids tv programmes too. So he’s probably learning something…

The downside of kids tv:

It’s so frigging irritating.

Will’s current favourites are: Bing, Paw Patrol and Twirly Woos.

Twirly Woos- a family of weird round things that live in a boat and communicate through a series of annoying noises. There’s also some sort of pointy owl that I don’t understand the point of. They can sail a ship but concepts such and ‘up’, ‘down’ and ‘around’ are completely new to them.

Paw Patrol – a gang of anthropomorphic dogs with a pre-pubescent overlord. One of said dogs, Marshal, is adored by many but has zero coordination and causes many accidents. Not sure how he made the team. Don’t know why they trust him with a fire truck when he can’t walk into a lift without falling over. Evil mayor seems to persistently evade law enforcement. Evil mayor keeps cats fuelling outdated and inaccurate stereotype of cats being evil. Non evil mayor has unhealthy relationship with a chicken. So far none of the dogs have tried to eat said chicken.

Bing- a small rabbit that makes you fantasise about stabbing yourself in the eyes. Never. Stops. Whining. Lives with weird as yet unidentified creature called ‘Flop’. Flop is either a father figure or serial killer. As Bing is so bloody irritating I’ve been rooting for serial killer for some time now.

Of all the stuff he watches I detest Bing the most. I get he’s supposed to portray a toddler, but I have a toddler. I get listen to enough tantrums/moaning I don’t want a second dose from the tv…

In conclusion: kids tv has its place but: It. Will. Break. You.

If you need me I’ll be telling the boy that the TwirlyWoos, Paw Patrol and Bing are all sleeping so we can’t possibly watch them…

The terrible twos?

I took Will to the supermarket today. He had a total of three tantrums. Each getting progressively worse. The final involved laying down in an aisle wailing about apple juice.

Clearly two is a tough age. The boy is more prone to temper tantrums, he’ll start bashing his toys in anger, growl and then cry. You can see he’s bloody furious about something but hasn’t yet got the words to tell us exactly what. Most of these tantrums can be sorted with a cuddle. It’s actually amazing how many are settled that way.

He’s also very good at settling himself. If he’s crying, he’ll suddenly do a big sniff, wipe his tiny hands over his face, pushing the tears away and say ‘better’. That’s it. Tantrum over. I cried in front of him the other day, I was very frustrated (nothing to do with him!) and he came over, cuddled me, wiped my face with his hands and said ‘better Mummy’. Nothing like the maturity of a toddler to snap you out of feeling sorry for yourself.

Tiredness is a big thing too. Much like his Mummy, the bald kitten is hard to be around when he’s tired. (He won’t nap though, no matter how much I want him to, I miss nap club!) Last night was the worst we’ve had. Probably ever. He even got cross with hubs and wanted to be with me for his bedtime bottle (wanting to be with Mummy over Daddy is as rare as rocking horse poo!) as I cuddled my hot, cross toddler he fell asleep.

Are the twos truly terrible? There’s no doubt the boy is finding it all a bit tough at times but I struggle to make sense of the world and I’m 32. It can get a bit embarrassing when he kicks off in public, but that’s part of parenting, and he’s still better behaved in public than a lot of adults I know…

In other news:

The bald kitten is really getting into giving the cats treats. They are really in to completely ignoring him. After being blanked today he turned to me and said ‘sad now’. My cats are dicks.

Not long until our family holibobs, operation ‘keep the boy amused on the plane’ is in preparation. Hubs has also got operation ‘Don’t let Mummy go for (kill or maim) passengers who tut or make derogatory comments about the boy and get us banned from traveling’ to plan and prepare.

I *think* that I may be feeling movements from little pea!