Things To Do With Your Summer Holiday

Mummy likes lists.  You might have gathered that over recent posts.  Her biggest problem is getting Daddy to use them.  He doesn�t like the calendar, he won�t write anything on the shopping list.

It looks like we�ll be opting for the Staycation this year, perhaps the odd night away here and there, or visiting relatives, so Mummy�s putting together a list of things for us to do in that time.

It�s not going to be like the list she has for things for Daddy to do, like mow the lawn, clean the gutters, paint the chicken coop.  No, it�s designed to make sure we don�t waste our time together discussing what we�ll do every day instead of actually going and doing it.  It�s not rigid (the holiday is meant to be fun, after all) so we�ll be able to assess the weather and how we�re feeling on any day.

The list won�t be a Must Do list, because we run the risk then of people being disappointed.  Rather, it�s a list of suggestions or �would-like-to-dos� so we have something to refer to when we�re stuck for ideas.  We read about lots of good ideas, or hear recommendations from  friends, but because we�re not on holiday at the time, we forget.  The List is a �working document,� and as it�s in its inception this summer, we�ll keep adding to it and referring to is as the time goes on.  I think it will really come into its own on the cold, wet days in the autumn.

Anyone is allowed to add to the list.  On the summer holiday, we�re planning to go to a butterfly farm (my idea), go kayaking (Daddy�s idea, and one that involves me and Mummy meeting him at a designated place) and join the teddy bear�s picnic at our local National Trust place (Mummy�s idea, believe it or not.)  It�ll have �regulars� like feeding the ducks, and I think they�ll already planning to take me to a carnival and a fireworks display this year � I was just too small last year.  And we already have panto tickets!

Mummy�s hoping we�ll be specific enough to avoid the usual weekend stalemates where we�ve agreed by 9am that we�ll go for a walk, but it�ll then take hours and lots of tears and huffs (just Daddy!) while we decide where that�ll be.  The Tourist Information Centre has lots of ideas for that sort of thing, with maps for walks and interesting things to look out for en route.  We�re collecting them.

We�re going to stick it on the fridge, so everyone can see it.  I just hope Mummy doesn�t make it too complicated, say if she tries too hard to categorise things � cheap outings, rainy day activities, things to do at home etc.  She�s getting excited about it already.  She has a book for me where she records all my �firsts� and little mementos of things I�ve done, but I have a feeling that might become a more accessible account somewhere in the kitchen, somewhere to remind us of the fun things we�ve done.

Today, we added visiting a soft play place and going to an aquarium, both on friends� recommendations.  No doubt you�ll hear about some of the things in the coming weeks!

Do let me know if you think there�s something I should definitely have on my list.

CB

Rock A Bye Baby

I’m totally traumatised today.  Like most babies, I have a lullaby CD that we sometimes listen to at bedtime.  Mummy and Daddy sometimes sing to me, but they don’t have a talent for it so I prefer the more tuneful version. So far, so what, I hear you say.  Well, today I actually listened to the lyrics!

Rock a bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

That’s horrific!  The very stuff of nightmares!  Just think of the poor child crashing down, being crushed under the cradle.  I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again!

I googled the origins and there seems to be some debate although the most popular explanation is that it dates from the 1700s and native American Indians, who used to hang babies from the trees so the wind could rock them to sleep.  That part makes sense.  The Scandanavians do something similar with hammocks and in fact I slept in one for the first few months, but it was cloth and the rocking was down to me, when I moved, not the wind that could gust and send me clattering to an unceremonious end!

So, over to you; what are the most distressing or disappointing lyrics you’ve heard when you’ve listened properly?

CB

What To Pack For Your Baby's Holiday

I think I need a holiday.  Moreover, I think Mummy and Daddy need a holiday.  Everyone we know seems to be planning something exciting at the moment, whether that’s in grown-ups’ eyes, or little people’s.  The problem is, we all seem to want something slightly different.  No, wildly different!  Mummy wants a beach and some heat, even if only for a couple of days, so she can just chill out and recharge her batteries.  Daddy’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie and wants “some action.”   As for me, I’m happy with some ducks to throw breadcrumbs at and maybe a spot of swimming. 

Given everything that’s going on with us at the moment , I suspect we’ll end up on a long weekend, maybe a week, somewhere in the UK.  Which suits me.  Pleasing one out of three ain’t bad, as long as it’s this one!

When Mummy and I went to France last year, she wrote a list of everything she needed to take for me, because she had such severe nappy brain.  Remember, this was the lady who’s left the house without the formula to make up a bottle and who’s left the change bag at home, so it was definitely a good idea.  She prints out two copies of the checklist whenever we go somewhere – one so we don’t forget anything on the way out, and one to make sure we bring it all home again.

I was only dinky last year so it’s aimed very much at very small babies.  It might be useful as it stands if you’re a new mummy, and if you’re an old hand at travelling with children, is there anything Mummy should add now she’s travelling with a toddler?

Travelling:

Car seat.  Very obvious is you’re driving, but perhaps not so if you’re flying.  Worth investigating if your hire car place have them to save you checking one in

Blanket x 2.  You never know when it’s going to get a bit nippy.  We always had a spare because I was a very sicky baby

Baby sling.  Mummy’s must-have item last summer when it was the only time I would sleep.  She walked miles.

Buggy wheels!  Mummy’s never going to forget these again after they forgot them on our very first outing.  Worth considering a lightweight, cheaper stroller if you need to put it in a hold

Eating:

Scarf.  Last year, I was still breastfeeding and Mummy felt more comfortable in some places being able to give us a bit more privacy – if the scarf was already part of her outfit, we blended in even more

Breast pump.  Mummy didn’t have enough milk to warrant the effort, but if you’re using one, don’t forget it!

Formula.  Take enough to last you (me!) for holiday in case your brand is not available.  Not likely to be a problem if you’re holidaying in the UK, but knowing how fussy some babies can be, it’s not worth the gamble.

Steriliser. If you read yesterday’s post, you’ll know we won’t be bothering with that this year.  In fact, we didn’t take it last year – Mummy boiled everything in a big pan every night – but if you’re in a hotel, it might be worthwhile

Snacks. For all of us!  Daddy and I share a special character trait whereby there is a complete meltdown if we get hungry.  Immediate food is the only cure.  Mummy packs emergency chocolate to calm her own nerves.

Food. Again, depending on where you’re going, it might be worth packing some jars or packets of food in case there isn’t always something suitable when you’re eating out.

Cutlery/Crockery/Cups

Bibs and wipes

Clothing:

At least 2 full outfits for every day you’re away.  Make sure the selection includes things with long sleeves and long legs to cover up if the sun’s really strong, and warm clothes because even hot countries can get pretty chilly once the sun goes down.

Hats. Whatever the weather, make sure you have an appropriate hat for your little one.

Sleepsuits

Cosmetics

Shampoo

Bubble bath

Flannels/sponge

Baby lotion

Nail clippers/file

Sunscreen

First aid kit

Calpol

Miscellaneous:

Nappies (including swim nappies) and associated kit, like wipes and nappy cream

Travel cot. (unless you know there will be one when you get there)

Sleeping bags/blankets.

Baby monitor, if you use one.

Blackout blind.  We didn’t have one last year, but Mummy wishes she’d had one and it’s on the list this year!

So, any hints for additions gratefully received.  Bon voyage if you’re off anywhere soon!

CB

Grubby Baby!

And so the baby/mud friendship begins!  I’ve been an amateur indoor gardener for a few months now.  We have a big plant in the bathroom that stands on the floor and just calls to me. 

“Chatty Baaaby.  Chatty BAAAABY!  Come and feel how crumbly my soil is . . .Check what happens when you dig your little fingers under the surface . . . Look how quickly Mummy moves when you throw compost across the room!”

It’s a game we play most mornings getting ready for the day.  Even when I think I’ve got away with a quick squeeze, she spots it.  I must practice my dexterity so I don’t rub it into my clothes.  That and remember to open my mouth wider so I avoid the tell-tale mud moustache that gives me away every time.  You don’t get that with dog food.

I was crawling in the muddy garden at nursery today.  What fantastic fun!  The ladies who look after us there were clever enough to change me before I hit the dirt so I didn’t ruin my good clothes.  I looked identical to how Mummy had left me in the morning. Except for my hands.  She has a thing about dirty fingernails and she clocked them as soon as she saw me.  Busted.

I know they don’t really mind me exploring mud, or sand, or puddles because they understand that babies and dirt go hand in sticky, mucky hand.  Mummy did draw the line this morning when I tried finger-painting with my dirty nappy – apparently that would have just been gross!

Mummy and Daddy laugh now at how obsessively they used to sterilise everything, boil my water and wash my hands.  Of course, they still wash my hands, but they’re not neurotic any more.  They know I learn by touching and tasting anything I can get my grubby little fingers on, so they tend to let me spread lunch all over my high-chair tray, or drink the bath water, and they don’t wince when they see me licking Hairy Dog.  Well, not much.

I prefer the word ‘fun’ to ‘mess’ and as long as there’s nothing poisonous, it’ll all come out in the wash!

CB

Writing Workshop - Big Kids

For those of you unfamiliar with the Workshop, it runs every week on Sleep Is For The Weak where everyone is prompted to write on a particular subject. We'll share them all next Monday.  This is a tricky one for me to write this week, so I’ve asked Mummy to guest write it for me.  If it’s rubbish, blame her!  Here she is:

Before I start this story, I’d like to point out that I had a great childhood.  I have a very loving, supportive family.  I think it’s worth stating that because my tale is not going to be one of innocently playing Pooh Sticks in the woods or picking flowers in a meadow (although I did both regularly.)

I’ve always been a picky, worry wart.  As I grew up, it has improved as I’ve learned to deal with what were often totally irrational thoughts. Irrational is really the only way to describe the fear in my eight-year-old head that something awful would happen to my parents, to the point that I would freak out if they went out together without me and my sisters.  To say I worried doesn’t come close.  From the moment they told me they were going out, I would worry until the moment they came back.  I paced around the house, desperate to find a distraction.  I paced around the garden, looking out for the car to pull up at the gate.  What would happen to us if something happened to them?  How would I look after my sisters?  How would I contact someone to help me?  Would people step in and separate us?  I howled and wailed and begged them not to go, and looking back now, I’m sure I ruined their social life.

I’m not a psychologist so my analysis is flawed, I’m sure.  I do know I like control though, and not being able to influence something is difficult for me. I like to know what’s happening and I like to feel that I have a firm grasp on things. That’s not to say that I always have to be in charge, I don’t, but if no-one else steps forward, I’m more than happy to do it.  Like many other little girls, I played with my sisters and our Barbies and Sindies.   The difference with us is that I introduced a whole social class system and a currency!

Fun?  Certainly for me.  Educational? Perhaps in a harsh life-lesson sort of way for them.  A little freaky?  I prefer unusual!  My dolls lived in the big houses, they had the good jobs.  One ran the bank, for example, and as all eight-year-olds know, money comes from banks, so my doll created the money.  One of my sisters carefully crafted doll toilets, but in my Doll Society, she couldn’t sell them direct to the dolls because mine owned the hardware shop so I paid her a pittance for them then charged her to buy them back from me!  Non-purchase was not an option for them – how many houses had they ever visited that didn’t have a toilet?  None.  All residents had to buy one.  Perhaps I should be on The Apprentice!  Or perhaps my entrepreneurial flair is in fact autocratic tendency!

The thing is, this order and process helps me deal with stress.  Another totally ‘nutty’ thing I did was start a library at home.  I labelled all our books and made my super-patient family sign them out if they wanted to read them.  And I’d fine them if they let their books go overdue!

I’m not a complete tidy-nut by any means, and most weeks we live in total CHAOS (Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome) but every now and then, I start getting stressed.  It gets me twitchy and I need to sort something.  I have a household organiser so I know when all the insurance policies are due for renewal, or when the dog needs his boosters, that sort of thing.  I have a calendar beside my front door where each member of the family has a column, with another one for all the things we need to remember, like birthdays. I don’t think either of those things is particularly wacky or off-the-wall – it strikes me that as a working mum, cook, housekeeper, general dogsbody, it’s just common sense.  Saying that, even the friends I would have considered super-organised have been known to ask me for birthdays or addresses to save blushes because they know I’ll have the information.

I save for Christmas every month so it doesn’t come as a big shock in December.  Not that it ever would, because I’ll be all done weeks in advance, of course!

I’m starting to get stressed now.  My job is at risk, and while I haven’t enjoyed it for a while, the uncertainty does make me a bit nervous.  I have every confidence in myself that I’ll be able to make a living somehow, but the fact that I don’t know that for certain is what makes me uncomfortable.  So this week, I am writing a household inventory, not just of everything in the freezer, but also of the cleaning products and the store cupboard.  And all Chatty Baby’s old clothes have been sorted into those that can be worn again (others can’t – I’ve posted about baby food staining before!) those that need to be passed on to another beautiful baby, all neatly labelled by age and season. 

Reading back through this, and the length of this post, I guess that there’s still a lot of that neurotic child in me, but I’m much better at containing the neuroses and channelling it into something more positive.  I’m so much better than I was!  My books haven’t been in alphabetical order for years and I can let it go now if someone reads my magazines before me, something which would have tipped the eight-year-old me over the edge.  But I can still tell from twenty paces if someone’s touched one of my ornaments!

I think worrying will always be something I do, compounded now by the eternal guilt one feels as a mother, but I don’t worry any more if I have nothing to worry about.  It’s less of an issue for me now because I know the difference between the things I can influence and those I can’t, so I just don’t bother with the latter.  Otherwise, I’m pretty much still me.

Thanks for reading this far! If I sound completely crazy to you, I’m not worried – nothing I can do about it.