Little Aussie Poms

Bzzzzz

This is Alex's climbing frame.  It's a rather lovely climbing frame.  We like it.  Alex likes it.  Oliver is rather keen on it too.

Hmmm.  Whatever could Steve be looking at with such interest and his gimmicky electric fly swat in his hands?  We'll come back to that.

Recently Alex has become a complete nancy when it comes to anything small and buzzy.  The world's smallest fly could innocently wander into the house and Alex will start doing peculiar dance moves and run away shrieking that, "it' s a bee!  A waspy!  It's coming to get me!"

So when he crawled into the tent of his climbing frame this morning and seconds later emerged yelling that there was a vicious wasp inside we shrugged our shoulders and more or less told him to get over it.  He was insistent however, so Steve took a little peek inside.

GAH! 

Not only was he right about the vicious wasp, she was acting vicious for a damn good reason. 

THIS is what has been lurking in my children's den.  It was full of many eggs and I don't even want to think about the consequences had it not been discovered before the eggs hatched.

Note to self:  ALWAYS listen to the child.  They are rarely wrong, especially in matters of the vicious wasp.

The sun is shining and the sky is blue....

... and we feel happy, happy all through.

If you've ever gone to Tick Tock, I defy you not to be humming that RIGHT NOW.

Wierdly in the space of a week we have gone from winter coats to shorts and sandals and sun, sun, sun.  That is to say Alex has gone from winter coats to shorts and sandals.  As Ollie's feet grow so rapidly I wasn't brave enough to buy him "just in case" sandals a few weeks ago when we bought Alex's, with the result that when we suddenly morphed into summer with no warning, Ollie has been forced to wear shorts, teeshirts and his great big clod hopping winter shoes with socks.  All the poor kid needed was a knotted hankie on his head and a string vest and the sight would have been complete.

This is not a look I am keen to perfect on my child, so off to Clarks we went this afternoon and home we came with these super cute new summer shoes. 

As an added bonus, they came with matching sun hat and sun glasses.  Ollie is not a hat fan, but we can work on that.

He wasn't a fan of the sunglasses either ... until I gave them to Alex.

At which point he decided maybe he did rather like them after all.

So yes...

... the sun is shining ...

... and the sky is blue ...

... and we feel happy ...

... happy all through. 

Biker Boys

On Tuesday afternoon the sun came out and so did the bikes. 

So did Oliver's spoon.  Well, you just never know when bonus food might appear.

Riding anywhere at the moment is a slow, slow process.  Alex can  pedal brilliantly, as long as he's on a flat surface and doesn't have to turn corners or go around anything.  If there is even the slightest hint of a slope he comes to a grinding halt and whimpers until you come to his aid.  At which point he will yell that he's a big boy and doesn't need help.   Still, we eventually made it over to the park where Oliver proudly displayed his new climbing frame/slide abilities. 

He was so proud of his new found mountain goat abilities that after another tortuously slow pedal home  ("don't touch me! I can pedal by myself!!!") we went out in the back garden for some more climbing.

Roll on summer, bare feet and much MUCH more climbing.

Listen and Learn

This morning Alex told me to, "get out of the way, you STUPID woman". 

My GOD!  Where did my sweet son learn such words?  I racked my brains and pointed many fingers at various people.

When the punishment of some time out in his bedroom was over and he'd apologised, I asked him who says such a terrible thing.

"YOU, Mummy, when you're driving and they pull out in front of you."

Ah.  Yup.  That would indeed be me.

Fishy Fiesta

Since the miscarriage, I've needed (REALLY needed) something to focus on.  With Alex's birthday imminent, I found my release in the planning of his birthday party.  I poured my heart and soul into it and although on the day it was completely bonkers, I think it worked in all the ways it was meant to.  Having said that, inviting nine small boys and three little girls into your house for two hours of sugar fuelled mania in one go is not just a bit daft, but bordering on insanity.  Alex was insistent on many boys this year, seeing as, "I don't like gewls, they wear pink and they're yucky".  Except apparently for Millie because, "Actually, I don't mind Millie ... she's ok".

And who could not love the lovely Millie, who not only graced us with her presence, but did it all wearing bonus bunny ears.

But I digress.  Alex decided it was to be an underwater birthday party this year, and the conservatory became our fishy palace.  What kind of idiot spends hours the previous evening decorating the conservatory and then completely forgets to take photos before the room gets trashed?  That would be me then. 

I am in awe of the amazing destructive talents of some small boys.  By the end of the afternoon, only the schools of fish hanging from the ceiling remained intact.

At least I had the presence of mind to photograph the enormous whale cake just before one of the said small boys decided to poke a sticky finger in it.  It's the biggest cake I've ever made and I had to do it in the roasting tin, in the absence of a cake tin big enough.  I have a suspicion it may have tasted faintly of roast beef, but no-one seemed to mind.   

Last year the weather on the day of Alex's party was so fabulous everyone managed to play outside. This year I'd planned on sending them all outside once more for a fishy treasure hunt.  In my head this was a truly fabulous idea.  By the time they'd had a couple of rounds of pass the parcel and pin the tail on the whale, then all put their shoes on, hunted for the many fish we were going to stash in the garden and come back inside, it would be time for tea.  Unfortunately much drizzle and a soggy garden put paid to that cunning plan and we were faced with the prospect of finding more ways of entertaining hoards of children In The House. 

I found myself with a rather large glass of wine in my hand and as my resistance to alcohol is still impressively woeful, it didn't take long for me find my happy place.  Steve found a stash of easter eggs in the garage and the children had a treasure hunt anyway. 

Suddenly it was tea time and the boys all wanted to play waiter and serve each other.  We let them. 

As a grand finale, they gutted a rather startled looking fish.  Steve held it up ....

... then quickly ran away before his limbs were mistaken for something that could be stockpiled and shoved into a party bag.

 

All in all, it was two hours of mental mayhem.  Children seemed to multiply before my eyes as my house visibly shrank.  But, I'll gladly do it all again next year.  Except maybe with a few less boys....

And then he was 4

Alex's birthday festivities this year should have started with a bang but very nearly commenced with a whimper.  Having made the decision to get him a big boy bike this year, we got him a funky yellow bike from the very big toy shop on the retail park in Stevenage.  It came in a box and we foolishly left it until the night before to try and assemble it.  Unsurprisingly, the funky yellow bike would NOT assemble no matter how much Steve swore at it and our vision of Alex coming downstairs to find the bike waiting for him fizzled swiftly out.  But hey!  He still had a funky purple helmet for his birthday.  Just no bike to wear it on....

Thanks to the miracle of Paul's Bikes in Hitchin, Alex still got a funky bike on the day, but it kind of lost it's impact a little.  Well, it did for us, Alex wasn't bothered in the slightest.  Fuelled by a Happy Meal, he was just excited to be riding up and down the driveway.

 

As if the bike riding wasn't exciting enough, we headed off to Gambados in Milton Keynes for the afternoon, which is currently Alex's most favourite place, followed by birthday tea at his Nana and Grandads. To top it all off, when we got home there was a message on our answering machine (never to be deleted as long as there is breath in my body) of our lovely Mabel singing Happy Birthday to Alex.

   

And THAT folks, is the genuinely happy smile of the birthday boy.  Could life get any better?

Birthday Boy

My goodness.  Has it really been a year since Baby Annabel made her appearance and declared she was in fact Baby Oliver?  I'd almost forgotten the Baby Annabel story.

Cards were opened first thing this morning with bonus drool. 

Presents too were opened, but not by Oliver.  In an calculated display of brotherly solidarity Alex explained that as Oliver is still only a baby he is unable to open his own presents and Alex was willing to provide his services.  He also spent the day generously making sure all Ollie's presents are in good working order and familiarising himself with them all, presumably so as to be able to help Ollie play with them when he eventually gets a look in.

After a spot of cake, we headed over to the farm.  It was one of Ollie's first outings as a newborn and it seemed fitting to take him back on his birthday.  The weather was so cold I wanted to weep, but in true Oliver style he beamed at everything anyway.

   

In fact it was so cold we were virtually the only people mad enough to venture out. A fact better described by the next photo.  The tractors are usually my personal hell as it is survival of the fittest trying to get one to ride.  Today however there was only this solitary little fellow, doggedly trying to pedal.  Alex does love those tractors.

We rounded off the day with a phone call to our lovely Mabel across the sea who Ollie shares a birthday with.  Hearing her infectious giggle at Alex singing Happy Birthday to her nearly broke my heart and Alex's birthday won't be the same this year without Mabel batting her eyelids at grandparents.

I leave you with an enduring Ollie image.  Behold the love affair with the raggedy and somewhat stinky blue bunny.

Happy Birthday Ollie.  We love you.

Breaking News

Oliver takes first steps just days before his first birthday.  Wobbly and somewhat wonky, but steps nevertheless.  Woo hoo!

Why bibs were invented

Tissues were also invented for the purpose of wiping enormous bogies off noses.  Sadly we forgot about those that day as well.

Reasons to keep smiling.....

Reason number 1:  Trying to get Alex to smile naturally when confronted with "the grimace".

Reason Number 2:  Watching Oliver experimenting with his food with the kind of gusto only an 11 month old could muster.

We go up, then we go right down...

In early January, I found out to my absolute horror that I was pregnant again and I couldn't believe just how irresponsible Steve and I had been.  But, I am a firm believer in fate, ever since February 1999 when my ever so gay friends Allan and James convinced me one night to go cruising on the Central line with them.  This took me out of my way and forced me to catch the Northern line home from Bank station, instead of Tottenham Court Road.  There on the platform at Bank Station, ginger, unshaven and rather drunk, was Steve.  And yet, I still gave him my number after he followed me onto the tube, talking at me about Star Wars and the path my life was to take was set in motion. 

So, I figured fate had sent us this unplanned baby.  He or she had come into our lives for a reason and who were we to question that?  We mentally rearranged the house to accommodate a third child, made plans for a bigger car, made arrangements to borrow cots and discussed double buggies.  And every day fell a little bit more in love with the new life growing inside me. 

Except that all started to fall apart when I went into hospital a few weeks ago for an unrelated procedure which meant having an early scan.  The scan showed a pregnancy less advanced than I had calculated going by my dates.  Many warning bells started clanging in my head, but I was assured it looked like a "viable" pregnancy.  The next day I was back in the gynae ward after having some bleeding, but after much poking around and an even greater loss of dignity, it was decided the bleed was due to the biopsy I'd had the previous day near my cervix, and not a miscarriage.  I was then made to wait three weeks for another scan and we spent three weeks in limbo, unsure if I was still pregnant, yet unable to grieve for a baby I had not yet lost.

Unsurprisingly, the scan showed what I had known since the first scan, but had not wanted to completely admit to myself.  In reality the baby had never made it past about five weeks, but my body believed I was still pregnant, hence no miscarriage.  But whilst the reality of the pregnancy was no baby, in our heads, that child had become as real as Alex and Oliver and having our worst fears confirmed was one of the biggest blows I have ever suffered.  I was offered the option of waiting to miscarry naturally which I was assured would happen eventually.  But we'd waited long enough and as the alternative was to have it surgically removed there and then, that was the traumatic option we took. 

I am, as ever, humbled by the love, support and hugs of my dearest friends.  I'm also saddened and a little hurt by how quickly those I am not so close to chose to spread the bad news.  I was amazed to find out that in less than 24 hours after I'd had surgery it was a source of conversation.  Everyone wants to be first with the news I guess. 

And most of all, I'm finding it hard to figure out what exactly fate had in store for us with this.  I'm sure there must be a reason.  I just can't think of a good one right now.   

Jack's Back

Alex and Jack have shared a special relationship over the years.  Jack loves unconditionally, as long as there is food involved.  Oliver too quickly discovered that if you ply Jack with food, you get to wrestle with the big furry lump of cuddlepuss to your heart's content. 

So you can imagine our horror when the lard bucket suddenly went off his food.  For a while we tried to convince ourselves he was on a self imposed diet.  But the weight rapidly fell away and then one morning we woke up and found he'd turned a rather nasty shade of yellow. 

I took him to the vet and that's when I discovered the pet insurance hadn't been renewed.  Never neglect the pet insurance.  Ever.  We were warned at the vet that there was a distinct possibility he wouldn't be coming home again.

I'm realistic about the animals, and I know at some point you have to draw the line and say enough is enough.  But this was JACK.  Our cuddly, placid, loving Jack.  Jack who should have been a dog.  Jack who would curl up on my tummy when I was pregnant with Alex so much that we joked Alex would come out purring.  Jack who guarded Alex from the very beginning.  Jack who can't catch a mouse to save his life, but goes for butterflies, moths and the occasional leaf.  Jack who used to comically manipulate himself through the cat flap in our old house with difficulty but dogged perseverance to get to his food bowl.  Jack who only moves when he has to, but who has been known to scale the fence when being chased by a gang of eager toddlers.  And here was our beloved Jack, attached to a drip, with a hideously diseased liver. 

It was a traumatic week but just as we were thinking the credit card could take no more, he rallied and he came home.  Shaved and gaunt, but home. 

Alex was overjoyed.  So was Jack.  Here is where he spent his first night at home.

That is one contented cat and he is back in every way.  I never thought I'd be so pleased to see the greedy git scavenging food from every source again. 

New York New York

This time tomorrow I'll be sitting on a plane with my lovely lovely girlfriends about to do this all over again.  To say I'm excited would be an understatement of magnificent proportions.  And not only do we get to gallivant in New York for a weekend, we get to see our lovely lovely Rebecca again as well.

I am taking two suitcases, one of which is virtually empty, and Steve's credit card.   Ho ho ho....

"Mummy, this room is REALLY stinky"

Apparently my lot in life is to be permanently covered in my children's puke. 

Alex has always been a sicky child, it doesn't take much to induce him to vomit and Oliver apparently is the same.  On Thursday, whilst nestled in my arms, freshly bathed and in his pyjamas, he hurled without warning down my front, all over my clothes and as an added bonus, all over the top of Alex's head as he innocently stood by my side.

We had bath number 2 together and that was the end of that sorry little story.  Until tonight.

Alex complained after his tea that he had a poorly tummy.  I am a Bad Mother and ignored his pleas, thinking it was just a ploy to delay bath time.  Once he was bathed and in bed he guzzled water (that should have been a clue, but I still put it down to delay tactics) and had Steve and I up and down the stairs every five minutes complaining that he couldn't sleep.  Just when I was at the point of getting Really Cross he half sat up in bed.  Somewere in the back of my head a little warning bell starting ringing but sadly it didn't clang quite loudly enough.  Ever seen the Exorcist?  Worse.

As I moved toward Alex he moved towards me and then the hurling frenzy started.  It coated his bed, his beloved elephant and the wall.  It sprayed all over the carpet, all over his favourite books and yikes!  The library book from preschool.  Then as I knelt down, he turned towards me in slow motion.  It went in my hair, in my left eye and down my favourite bra.

After that he felt much better.  He sipped his water, cheerfully munched an apple and helpfully issued me with instructions as I cleaned up the vom-fest.  Not to mention pointing out that yes, his room was really, REALLY stinky.

Wishing life was really like this

While Steve is working away, bedtime in our house has become less of a gentle winding down time and more of a military operation.  We are ruled by the clock, tea, bath, story and BED.  NOW.  No discussion, no negotiation, one story only.  It's not much fun for me, Alex or Ollie but it works and it's the only way for me to survive this period of Steve being too very far away across the sea.

Last night however I almost felt, dare I say it, relaxed and a little content.  While I pottered around tidying up after tea time, I didn't have to resort to plonking the boys in front of the telly.  Alex sat cuddled up to Uncle Michael playing on his computer and Ollie sat happily waving his maracas and a drum stick on my dad's lap.

Bathtime followed and it was actually fun.  There was laughter as Alex, Ollie and my Dad squirted water and bubbles at each other.  There was also a minor tantrum after Alex squirted Ollie in the eyes one too many times but we'll gloss over that.  As I got Ollie into his pyjamas, Alex was on his bed having cuddles, and stories made up about him by my Dad.

After Alex had gone to bed I sat in Oliver's room giving him his last milk of the day and I could hear the soft sounds of scrabble and conversation between my dad and my brother floating up the stairs.

It was a perfect way to end a day spent in the very pleasant company of my family.  Having made the decision to move myself to a different hemisphere to my family I shouldn't really complain that I don't see much of them.  But for one night only I was able to pretend that it was perfectly normal to have my dad and brother in the same house, helping me with my children.  And it was good.