An update on life as we know it

Me – I was shocked and slightly disturbed to find that all this blogging (which some may see as idle wittering) has earned me number 40 in the Top 100 British Parent Bloggers. It’s all very exciting and I don’t completely understand all the technical bits which got it there, but none the less I have told everyone (bar the monotone security guard on Friday) I have come into contact with over the past week.

I have had several broody moments this week. I keep seeing mothers with their bundles of joy out and about in the village. In my mind I would love another bundle of joy because the maternal lunatic which lives inside me has erased all the crappy/shitty/tear your hair out parts of having a baby. All I can remember are the good bits … swaying with my beautiful baby in the pitch black of night as I feed her/him for the third time in six hours. Bliss. What? Wasn’t I tired and vaguely psychotic through lack of sleep? According to the maternal lunatic in my head … nope, never. I blame the sudden bouts of sunshine this week which make everything seem très jolie.

Just for the record, the above paragraph is written in a special typeface that my husband can't read.

I am feeling fairly domesticated which is a vast improvement on my previous status of ‘definitely not domesticated, no sireee’. Not only have I ironed more than twice this week I have also bought a new Hoover and taken an interest in the garden. My new favourite hangout is the local garden centre.

Can I just mention that the highlight of the televisual year is upon us. The Apprentice is back on Wednesday. Personally, I can’t wait.

Husband – Doesn’t like the Apprentice and is more Alan Titchmarsh than Guitar Hero these days. Despite a bad back he has spent hours cultivating a vegetable patch. It started three weeks ago with a ceremonious bonfire (what is it with men and fire?) in the back garden to clear the way and now we have seedlings sprouting ubiquitously.

I keep having visions of him stepping onto a podium at the village summer fair to collect his prize for 'Yorkshire's Biggest Leeks'.

3 Year Old – Stealth Boy has struck again. Last week husband found a '3 year old sized soil angel' in his vegetable patch. This is hindering the above village prize giving vision.

I walked into the kitchen on Saturday morning to find it flooded. From what I can tell he had been trying to fill the dog’s water bowl. Unfortunately he had then spilled it and repeated the process around twenty times.

The grommet operation was a success, he can hear, his balance is better and he actually starts conversations with people where before he would stand and stare at them as if they were talking in Swahili.

We are growing his hair, I say 'we' but I am actually against this idea as his head is already on the large side. He now has ear flaps and as his hair grows, so does his head. I keep looking at pictures of him after his last hair cut and contemplating sneaking off to the barbers for a quick snip.

4 Year Old – She is in fine fettle. Parents evening made us swell with pride.

Her writing has become much clearer and she likes to leave messages, albeit phonetically, on my computer. Her latest offering was … ‘Ben ten is a hirobicoshiyfitswivpipl’. As you can see she needs to work on her spacing too.

Her class keep getting nit letters, every time I read one I start to itch. No nits yet and I am crossing my fingers that we shall avoid them altogether. Who am I kidding?!

On a recent trip (one of many) to the garden centre she caught us unawares and she had to have an emergency poo. Husband was mortified as he and the 4 year old emerged from behind a polytunnel. She looked relieved. Apparently it was huge. We just can't EVER go there again.

Luckily there are other garden centres in the area that we can visit.

Wedging 'Boy' in the play oven

For the first six months of his life she referred to him as 'boy', refusing to say his name. I think she hoped that after a couple of weeks he'd go back.

When he was in the moses basket she would often give him cuddles which involved laying atop him and covering all his air passages with her love.

Once, he was in his bouncy chair fast asleep, only a few months old, I went upstairs for less than five minutes. When I returned I found her playing with her kitchen and the bouncy chair ... empty.

He was lying in a little ball on the carpet sleeping soundly. I hoped that she had just wanted to include him in her tea party and had not attempted to wedge him into her play oven.

Recently they have started to play together more, communicating in pretend adult voices (with an American twang), as they pretend to be parents taking their child (our poor dog) camping to the beach (our hallway).

Sometimes they sit on the sofa snuggled up together watching TV, other times they sit there and argue about who is touching who, who has the most space and who has control of the remote (so they can accidently purchase a diamond encrusted shoehorn on QVC).

When a child gives out birthday sweets at the end of her school day she always gets two, one for him and one for her. When I tell her she's not supposed to get two she looks aghast ... "But he's my brother!"

Half an hour later they will be arguing again. Yet, if she is not there he always wants to know where she is and vice versa.

As I write this they are playing with Mr Potato Head and sharing ... that's right SHARING. If I had written this last week the 4 year old would have been hiding some of Mr Potato Head’s vital limbs so that the 3 year old can’t complete his ‘Tatie Head’.

I hope their relationship will continue to blossom and that as they get older they will still want to spend time with each other ... albeit still bickering.