Baby Bore
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Saturday, April 2nd, 2005[picture removed]
This is my little fella giving it his all at the piano. I just KNOW he’s going to be a musician when he grows up (no pressure Littlie!).
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Baby-Bore: not quite the mother he hoped for
Tuesday, March 29th, 2005Harry, my discerning three year old, knows just how to make me feel like I’m not quite the perfect mother he has obviously read about in the parenting manuals.
While he has had a cold, I have left a drink and a tissue by his bed so that he doesn’t scream “Mummy I need a tissue, I NEED A TISSUE” first thing in the morning, thus allowing me a few precious moments to open my eyes in peace.
When I went in to dress the boys this morning, he tells me earnestly “Mummy, I had a drink and blowed my nose this morning.”
Busy with William who was biting my bottom - this is his new game, and I have to say I really don’t care much for his idea of fun games when they involve my bottom, or biting, or in this case, both - Harry clearly wasn’t impressed with my response. Which was a cursory nod and “Okay”. I mean I do multi-tasking and all that, but until the first cup of coffee the multi-tasking, multi-response, multi-eyes-in-the-back-of-my-head and so on is, well, limited.
After a short pause, perhaps while he was waiting for a more considered response, I hear an indignant “Mummy!”
“Yes, baby?”
I look up to see Harry poised with his drink in one hand, tissue in the other.
“You watching now Mummy?” he remonstrates.
I nod.
“Right. Then let me do it again for you,” he sighs.
Oh yes, he knows just how to make me feel like I’m not quite the mother he had in mind.
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My son, the Mafioso
Tuesday, March 8th, 2005Eldest Son, Harry, my tall, strong, handsome three year old has entered big brother mode. By which I mean throwing his weight around, figuratively and literally. Second Son, William, my tall, strong, handsome 21 month old tries to defend himself, particularly when I am otherwise occupied with minor details, like preparing their food, or feeding the dogs or some other necessary triviality. It hasn’t escaped Eldest Son’s notice that sometimes my back is turned and that this is a good time to launch an attack on his little brother.
Often I just hear the resulting crying and come running in, trying to establish what has happened. There is usually a period of outright lying, followed by Harry contritely admitting that he has hit, kicked, pushed or thrown something at William. A forced apology ensues, along with a promise not to do it again (until the next time).
Today, however, Harry mis-timed his attack. I saw him hit his little brother. He saw me see him hit his little brother. There was no way he could pretend anything else had happened.
But before I can say anything, he turns to me and says, completely guilelessly, “Don’t worry, Mummy, it’s just business.”
And he’s never even seen The Godfather…
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Not quite the teacher I hoped I was
Saturday, February 26th, 2005This morning, as I do every morning, I told my children what the ‘theme of today’ is.
God, how boring am I?
This week we have had ‘Be Kind’ Day, ‘Be Nice to Bubby (your brother)’ Day, ‘No Shouting’ Day (that includes me too) and ‘No Hitting’ Day (which never works between two fighting brothers).
So today for about the seventh time this month it is ‘Good Manners’ Day. We’ve been practicing Good Manners for months now. After every request or acknowledgement poor Harry has to repeat the phrase he has just said, this time including ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. I think I’m teaching it to him too young though, because HE JUST DOESN’T GET IT. EVER.
That doesn’t stop me though. (Of course it doesn’t!)
So today I say to Harry and William, “boys, today is Good Manners Day.”
William looks completely nonplussed at this announcement. Harry just has an exasperated looked on his face.
I persevere. “What does that mean, Harry?” Hoping he will say “milk please, Mummy” I ask, “it means that at breakfast you have to say ‘I would like some more….?” And then I pause.
Without skipping a beat Harry replies, “money, Mummy. I would like some more money.”
Who cares about the manners, he makes me so proud!
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You little bl*gger, you
Sunday, February 20th, 2005Eldest Son has become accustomed to me blogging. As soon as Second Son goes down for his afternoon nap (and I feel my heart beating a little faster just at the thought of the freedom that goes with nap time), I settle Eldest Son with some fascinating activity, like dusting my TV, and I whip out my laptop as if it were some sort of drug that I have been craving all day and start to blog.
I tell my son that “Mummy needs to do some work.” The poor boy is going to grow up thinking that mothers work from home and the work they do involves looking at other people’s websites and quite often laughing out loud at the stories they read. Quite how he will imagine I earn money from this I have yet to think about. However it is a step up from what he probably thought Mummy used to do: when Matthew used to have difficulty putting the boys to bed while I was in the house (”I WANT MY MUMMY”) I used to put on my coat, kiss the boys goodbye and pretend to go out. You can just imagine what Harry might have said in class if I had still been doing that when he was five or six. “Mummy goes out at night and she comes back in the morning when I get up. And she’s usually really tired in the mornings.”
As a result of Mummy needing to do some work, quite often Harry turns to me seriously and says “Mummy, I need to do some work. Let’s put compooter on.” And I’m a little ashamed to say that he does indeed have his own computer, but my husband is a geek and, by God, if our babies weren’t going to be computer literate before they could even sit up.
But the cat is out of the bag. The word ‘blogging’ is not often mentioned around the house because it is usually only discussed after husband comes home from work after the children are in bed, and also because it sometimes feels like a bit of a sin - nothing such fun could be anything but illicit, surely - and therefore it is rarely mentioned around the children.
But today after tea Harry turned to his father and said earnestly “Daddy, put compooter on. I need to update my blog.”
And so just for today I sit here updating my blog next to my son Harry, who’s three and who is updating his blog.
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