I have always been in favour of little ones watching the telly - in moderation of course. If you pick the right programmes, it can be educational and entertaining, it gives them a cultural connection with their peers and it can give mummy some much-needed rest time. The little man has learnt to read numbers by watching Numtums and I love the gentle moral message that comes across in Postman Pat - everyone helps each other out and hasn't a bad word to say about anyone (perhaps I need a couple of days living in Greendale).
However, lately we have noticed that the little man is perhaps watching a little too much. I had fallen into the deadly habit of letting him watch YouTube clips of his favourite programmes on the iPad while he had dinner, something that never sat right with me and always filled me with guilt everytime I did it. As our son is very French in the way he eats - he takes ages - we started to tot up the hours he was spending in front of the screen, adding telly time as well, and decided it was getting a bit out of hand. Plus, he was spending a lot of time reciting scripts of his most-watched programmes and he had got into the habit of demanding TV everytime we returned home which was very wearing.
So we decided to go cold turkey. I might add the little man's daddy managed rather skillfully to time the launch of this screen-ban with a "very important meeting" taking him away from home and leaving me to face what seemed like a daunting uphill battle. But his job is with numbers and mine is looking after our telly addict so it was only right really that I face the challenge.
In actual fact, the new regime was remarkably easy to implement. Day one he asked for the usual programmes and "the little laptop" for dinner. I didn't say no, just distracted him and he was fine. Day two he asked once or twice. By day three he had forgotten all about them. Instead, he started doing puzzles again, and reading books - something he had loved doing but that had gone by the wayside as the telly took over. We sat and read book after book. He mastered a 20-piece puzzle, then a 24-piece. He started playing more with his cars and train set. It was more hardwork for me entertaining him (although the beauty is he started entertaining himself more) but the results at the end were just so rewarding it was completely worth it. We could see our little boy coming on leaps and bounds and not once did he ask for the TV. Yesterday he was ill and asked for Postman Pat so we cuddled up and watched it together - I am not a complete dictator.
I don't envisage a future without telly, and I wouldn't want that as I feel he would be missing out, but as far as I can it is going to be a limited passtime to make room for others. Well, let's see how it goes. Now, where did I hide the remote?
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Bump envy
Well my bump is coming on a treat I have to say. I'm 29 weeks now and it seems to erupt a little more every day. My inny tummy button is a distant memory, applying varnish to my nails has become a logistical nightmare and I am left more than a little breathless when I reach the top of the stairs - I think baby has taken more than its fair share of the room where my lungs should be.
What I have noticed this time around is how much attention seems to be being paid to how big the said bump is. Perhaps it is because last time I was pregnant I was surrounded my officeworkers and now my colleagues are fellow mums, often also pregnant themselves, but there is definite eyeing up and comparing being done (by myself included). Some fellow mums coo at how neat my bump is. Others have the opposite view, like my ever-tactful brother-in-law, whose wife is due exactly one month after me and on seeing me guffawed loudly: "Blimey, you are enormous" while looking at his other half's teeny tiny baby bulge. My friendly local butcher, upon discovering I am due the same time as his girlfriend, spent the next five minutes of our conversation casting glances at my belly and exclaiming how much smaller she was than me. Even my sarcastic "Well thanks for that" didn't seem to put him off. That's the last time I buy a sirloin steak from him - well this week anyway.
The other night I went out for drinks and was introduced to a friend of a friend who is also expecting. I cast a quick glance at her tummy and calculated I was at least two months ahead of her, judging between our sizes. She is due two weeks before me. It is her first though, a thought I comforted myself with as I waddled over to the bar to buy a lemonade and lime. You are always smaller the first time around - although I did see a profile shot of my taken just before the little man arrived into this world and was aghast at how big I had actually got.
One friend, due four weeks after me, always greets me with a friendly smile then groans at how big she is compared to me. Funnily, I think the exact opposite - I am sure I am bigger than her, as I should be.
All this comparing and constrasting I take with a very large pinch of salt (and some handcut chips and fish knowing my appetite at the moment) as I am loving having a bump again. I take great delight seeing baby number two stretch and kick about under the surface and it is fun discovering my old maternity wardrobe again. And when I stroke my burgeoning belly, I remember how, a few months ago, I had longed for this to be happening and what so many of my childless friends struggling to fall pregnant would give to be in the position I am now - although perhaps not my most usual position heaving to get off the floor after clearing up toys left by child number one. I must teach him to tidy up after himself before it's too late and I am left helpless like a tortoise on its back, waiting for my husband to come and pull me upright again.
What I have noticed this time around is how much attention seems to be being paid to how big the said bump is. Perhaps it is because last time I was pregnant I was surrounded my officeworkers and now my colleagues are fellow mums, often also pregnant themselves, but there is definite eyeing up and comparing being done (by myself included). Some fellow mums coo at how neat my bump is. Others have the opposite view, like my ever-tactful brother-in-law, whose wife is due exactly one month after me and on seeing me guffawed loudly: "Blimey, you are enormous" while looking at his other half's teeny tiny baby bulge. My friendly local butcher, upon discovering I am due the same time as his girlfriend, spent the next five minutes of our conversation casting glances at my belly and exclaiming how much smaller she was than me. Even my sarcastic "Well thanks for that" didn't seem to put him off. That's the last time I buy a sirloin steak from him - well this week anyway.
The other night I went out for drinks and was introduced to a friend of a friend who is also expecting. I cast a quick glance at her tummy and calculated I was at least two months ahead of her, judging between our sizes. She is due two weeks before me. It is her first though, a thought I comforted myself with as I waddled over to the bar to buy a lemonade and lime. You are always smaller the first time around - although I did see a profile shot of my taken just before the little man arrived into this world and was aghast at how big I had actually got.
One friend, due four weeks after me, always greets me with a friendly smile then groans at how big she is compared to me. Funnily, I think the exact opposite - I am sure I am bigger than her, as I should be.
All this comparing and constrasting I take with a very large pinch of salt (and some handcut chips and fish knowing my appetite at the moment) as I am loving having a bump again. I take great delight seeing baby number two stretch and kick about under the surface and it is fun discovering my old maternity wardrobe again. And when I stroke my burgeoning belly, I remember how, a few months ago, I had longed for this to be happening and what so many of my childless friends struggling to fall pregnant would give to be in the position I am now - although perhaps not my most usual position heaving to get off the floor after clearing up toys left by child number one. I must teach him to tidy up after himself before it's too late and I am left helpless like a tortoise on its back, waiting for my husband to come and pull me upright again.
Monday, 15 April 2013
Can I have a wonderful birth too?
A few months ago I was at a party and one of the other mums there was telling me how wonderful the birth of her baby daughter had been. Yeah right, I had thought. Thinking back to my experience, I found it hard to imagine how anyone could find giving birth wonderful. Life changing yes. Momentous. Totally worth it. But wonderful?
Another mum there had also had a similarly positive time with her children and I found myself returning home that evening with a copy of Hypnobirthing by Marie Mongan.
The cynic in me sighed wearily at the thought of ploughing through the book but pretty soon I was hooked and with each page turn, I began to feel that maybe, just maybe, I could have a wonderful birth too.
The idea behind hypnobirthing, if you haven't come across it before, is not, as you might imagine, to hypnotise yourself or be hypnotised so you are in a trance-like state during labour. Rather, it is about learning breathing and imagery techniques to keep calm and relaxed. The theory goes, you only feel the pain when you are scared of feeling the pain. While the muscles in the uterus do their work shuffling the baby down and out into the world, any additional tension caused by fear makes all the muscles spasm against each other and this is the pain we feel. I have watched YouTube clips of women giving birth quietly and calmly. Sometimes these mothers are so horizontal in their approach, their midwives are convinced they cannot be in full labour until suddenly a baby appears.
So I have enrolled in a four week course, starting tomorrow with a lovely woman called Rose. I don't know whether it will work or not but it seems to me certainly worth giving a go. What's more I have a commission from an editor to write about my experiences which feels such a positive thing to do because, if it does work, I will be wanting to shout about it from the rooftops. Watch this space.
Another mum there had also had a similarly positive time with her children and I found myself returning home that evening with a copy of Hypnobirthing by Marie Mongan.
The cynic in me sighed wearily at the thought of ploughing through the book but pretty soon I was hooked and with each page turn, I began to feel that maybe, just maybe, I could have a wonderful birth too.
The idea behind hypnobirthing, if you haven't come across it before, is not, as you might imagine, to hypnotise yourself or be hypnotised so you are in a trance-like state during labour. Rather, it is about learning breathing and imagery techniques to keep calm and relaxed. The theory goes, you only feel the pain when you are scared of feeling the pain. While the muscles in the uterus do their work shuffling the baby down and out into the world, any additional tension caused by fear makes all the muscles spasm against each other and this is the pain we feel. I have watched YouTube clips of women giving birth quietly and calmly. Sometimes these mothers are so horizontal in their approach, their midwives are convinced they cannot be in full labour until suddenly a baby appears.
So I have enrolled in a four week course, starting tomorrow with a lovely woman called Rose. I don't know whether it will work or not but it seems to me certainly worth giving a go. What's more I have a commission from an editor to write about my experiences which feels such a positive thing to do because, if it does work, I will be wanting to shout about it from the rooftops. Watch this space.
Tuesday, 9 April 2013
My pre-baby to-do list
As my due date looms in the middle distance, approaching at an alarming rate it feels to me, I am conscious there is a list of things I want to tick off before our family expands from three to four.
To start with, I must, must sort our photos. After much prevaricating, I have managed to mount the little man's first year in an album and was rather chuffed with the end result - so much better than flicking through images on a screen. But what about the next year and a half that follows? I must get this beautifully categorised and presented before I become absorbed in night-time feeds, endless winding and all the 24/7 caring that comes with a newborn. Reading back, this makes me sound as if I am dreading the prospect which I am not. Quite the reverse. We have longed for a second child and know how lucky we are to be having one - it's just this bloomin' list that is causing the trouble.
Next - I must hunt down all the teeny tiny baby things we have put away in storage, then work out how they can share space with a toddler's bits and pieces. Which reminds me, number 27 on the list - find a beautiful, groaningly big family home (with huge garden, next to a park ideally but still in the catchment for our local excellent schools) as we will find our current domestic arrangement somewhat squashed, as much as we love it. Practically speaking, this won't be until next year and that's fine so I'II put that to one side for the minute (although that won't stop daily scouring of Rightmove).
The biggest 'to-do' on my list is deciding on suitable transportation for the children. I still use a buggy for the little man when we walk into town as he doesn't like to walk or hold hands, but prefers to run full pelt. I can't imagine being able to keep proper, safe control of him while at the same time pushing a pram with a newborn in, so does this mean investing in a tandem buggy? Or perhaps a buggy board might work out (I am borrowing one from a friend to try out next week)? Or can I pop him in the stroller as usual and carry baby in a sling? All possible options which I am investigating by visiting shops, trawling websites and talking to fellow mums.
Thankfully, I have managed to tick off the big one - booking a family holiday. After asking your advice a few posts ago, for which many thanks, we have found a great little cottage on a farm in Cornwall that is run by parents Melanie and Mike and is specifically designed to entertain kiddies, with an indoor pool, play equipment, stairgates, baby monitors etc. They even ask how old your children are and promise to fill the cottage with age-appropriate toys. We will be going in just over a month and cannot wait. It will be our last break away the three of us. Now, number 56 on the to-do list - holiday shopping...
To start with, I must, must sort our photos. After much prevaricating, I have managed to mount the little man's first year in an album and was rather chuffed with the end result - so much better than flicking through images on a screen. But what about the next year and a half that follows? I must get this beautifully categorised and presented before I become absorbed in night-time feeds, endless winding and all the 24/7 caring that comes with a newborn. Reading back, this makes me sound as if I am dreading the prospect which I am not. Quite the reverse. We have longed for a second child and know how lucky we are to be having one - it's just this bloomin' list that is causing the trouble.
Next - I must hunt down all the teeny tiny baby things we have put away in storage, then work out how they can share space with a toddler's bits and pieces. Which reminds me, number 27 on the list - find a beautiful, groaningly big family home (with huge garden, next to a park ideally but still in the catchment for our local excellent schools) as we will find our current domestic arrangement somewhat squashed, as much as we love it. Practically speaking, this won't be until next year and that's fine so I'II put that to one side for the minute (although that won't stop daily scouring of Rightmove).
The biggest 'to-do' on my list is deciding on suitable transportation for the children. I still use a buggy for the little man when we walk into town as he doesn't like to walk or hold hands, but prefers to run full pelt. I can't imagine being able to keep proper, safe control of him while at the same time pushing a pram with a newborn in, so does this mean investing in a tandem buggy? Or perhaps a buggy board might work out (I am borrowing one from a friend to try out next week)? Or can I pop him in the stroller as usual and carry baby in a sling? All possible options which I am investigating by visiting shops, trawling websites and talking to fellow mums.
Thankfully, I have managed to tick off the big one - booking a family holiday. After asking your advice a few posts ago, for which many thanks, we have found a great little cottage on a farm in Cornwall that is run by parents Melanie and Mike and is specifically designed to entertain kiddies, with an indoor pool, play equipment, stairgates, baby monitors etc. They even ask how old your children are and promise to fill the cottage with age-appropriate toys. We will be going in just over a month and cannot wait. It will be our last break away the three of us. Now, number 56 on the to-do list - holiday shopping...
Tuesday, 2 April 2013
Thank you grandma and grandpa
Grandparents - what would we do without them? I thought this as the little man's daddy and I took a wonderful early morning walk through a park just the two of us. We held hands, chatted about this and that, pointed out houses we liked the look of. We gazed at the snow covered fields glistening in the sunshine. Everything, in short, we wouldn't be doing had we had a toddler in tow.
While I did glance sadly at the play park we passed by, feeling the aching pull of my maternal heartstrings, it was so nice to have some time out as a couple again. And this was all thanks to my parents, who had kindly agreed to babysit for us while we went to a friend's wedding in Birmingham over Easter.
The support I get from having family close by is so important. I am able to work, go away for weekends occasionally or visit the shops solo if I need to. We can pop round for a quick coffee or all head out for the day together. It just makes life so much easier and I know how lucky I am to have that near. Which is why I decided to write a feature on grandparents and the extraordinary help they are giving the young mums of my generation, featured *shameless plug* in this month's The Green Parent magazine.
Around 50 per cent of working mums rely on their parents when they go back to work after maternity leave. Almost one in five British grandmothers provide at least ten hours of care a week, according to an ongoing study being carried out across Europe by researchers at King’s College London. That's a good chunk of their retirement being taken up with nappy changing and spoon feeding, and I did begin the piece wondering if I would be confronted with unlying bitterness or resentment at the time being given up by these women who more than likely had been stay-at-homes mums all those years ago. In the end, I found no such negativity, in fact the complete opposite, and ended up writing an uplifting and hugely warming insight into the close ties that come when grandparents look after children, with one granddad admitting this time was the best in his life.
I know my parents love being with their grandson and I love the relationship that has flourished from this one-to-one interaction they have each week. I can only hope their enthusiasm continues when baby number two arrives on the scene!
While I did glance sadly at the play park we passed by, feeling the aching pull of my maternal heartstrings, it was so nice to have some time out as a couple again. And this was all thanks to my parents, who had kindly agreed to babysit for us while we went to a friend's wedding in Birmingham over Easter.
The support I get from having family close by is so important. I am able to work, go away for weekends occasionally or visit the shops solo if I need to. We can pop round for a quick coffee or all head out for the day together. It just makes life so much easier and I know how lucky I am to have that near. Which is why I decided to write a feature on grandparents and the extraordinary help they are giving the young mums of my generation, featured *shameless plug* in this month's The Green Parent magazine.
Around 50 per cent of working mums rely on their parents when they go back to work after maternity leave. Almost one in five British grandmothers provide at least ten hours of care a week, according to an ongoing study being carried out across Europe by researchers at King’s College London. That's a good chunk of their retirement being taken up with nappy changing and spoon feeding, and I did begin the piece wondering if I would be confronted with unlying bitterness or resentment at the time being given up by these women who more than likely had been stay-at-homes mums all those years ago. In the end, I found no such negativity, in fact the complete opposite, and ended up writing an uplifting and hugely warming insight into the close ties that come when grandparents look after children, with one granddad admitting this time was the best in his life.
I know my parents love being with their grandson and I love the relationship that has flourished from this one-to-one interaction they have each week. I can only hope their enthusiasm continues when baby number two arrives on the scene!
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
Table manners
I hate to admit this but I still spoon feed the little man. There, I have said it.
As you reel back in horror - he is two and a half after all - let me explain. He is more than capable of lifting a spoon or fork to his lips and shovelling in the food, the thing is he just doesn't want to. He has no interest. I know a lot of tiddlers are very independent (and he is in so many other ways) but he likes someone else to do the hard work at meal times. And because if I plonk the food into his mouth, he ends up clearing a plate and I know he has had a good meal and got all the right nutrients a growing boy needs, it seems the better, okay the easier, option. It is also much less messy.
It isn't all food. He munches crisps, biscuits, sandwiches, Humzingers (fabulous dried fruit sticks if you haven't heard of them before) etc solo no problem. It's cereals at breakfast and main meals at dinner where he becomes the baby again.
But I know I must break the cycle. I can't pop round to his school every lunchtime to spoon in whatever the dinner lady serves up as if he were royalty. He had a playmate over last week and while I was giving them lunch (she feeding herself, me surreptitiously poking savouries into his mouth so as to not ruin his street cred) she spotted what was going on and asked, quite reasonably, why I was feeding him. It was a bit embarrassing. I was made to feel red-faced by a not even three-year-old.
So I have decided to toughen up and tackle the problem. I will be patient and encouraging. We will try to have more dinners together despite finding his early mealtimes just that bit too early for us - I can find myself reaching for a bowl of cereal ravenous at 10pm if we do eat with him.
There's no hurry, no pressure to get it sorted which is nice so hopefully in our own time I will have my own little independent feeder at the dinner table. Now, if I can just sort the potty training...
As you reel back in horror - he is two and a half after all - let me explain. He is more than capable of lifting a spoon or fork to his lips and shovelling in the food, the thing is he just doesn't want to. He has no interest. I know a lot of tiddlers are very independent (and he is in so many other ways) but he likes someone else to do the hard work at meal times. And because if I plonk the food into his mouth, he ends up clearing a plate and I know he has had a good meal and got all the right nutrients a growing boy needs, it seems the better, okay the easier, option. It is also much less messy.
It isn't all food. He munches crisps, biscuits, sandwiches, Humzingers (fabulous dried fruit sticks if you haven't heard of them before) etc solo no problem. It's cereals at breakfast and main meals at dinner where he becomes the baby again.
But I know I must break the cycle. I can't pop round to his school every lunchtime to spoon in whatever the dinner lady serves up as if he were royalty. He had a playmate over last week and while I was giving them lunch (she feeding herself, me surreptitiously poking savouries into his mouth so as to not ruin his street cred) she spotted what was going on and asked, quite reasonably, why I was feeding him. It was a bit embarrassing. I was made to feel red-faced by a not even three-year-old.
So I have decided to toughen up and tackle the problem. I will be patient and encouraging. We will try to have more dinners together despite finding his early mealtimes just that bit too early for us - I can find myself reaching for a bowl of cereal ravenous at 10pm if we do eat with him.
There's no hurry, no pressure to get it sorted which is nice so hopefully in our own time I will have my own little independent feeder at the dinner table. Now, if I can just sort the potty training...
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
No nappies? It's enough to drive me potty
The day is coming, very slowly, but I'm pretty sure it's coming when I am going to attempt to potty train.
The signs are all there. He can wake up from a night's sleep dry (occasionally), he tells me when he is going, but not before unfortunately. He takes his trousers off once he has gone, and his nappy if I don't get there first. He loves his "big boy pants". The only problem is he doesn't like sitting on the potty.
I tried putting him in just pants for a day but by the end he was so distressed when I asked him to go on the potty, I knew I was doing more harm than good so we went back to nappies.
I have read all the books, talked to other parents, bought a soft leather seat to fit inside mummy and daddy's toilet - I am ready even if he isn't. Ideally, if I could get him out of nappies before I have another little one in them, that would be great, but I won't let that be a benchmark. He is two and a half so there's still plenty of time.
But how to make the potty a pleasure rather than a pain? None of the books really address this issue which is rather frustrating. Perhaps I could use a book, or even the telly, to encourage him to sit, but I don't want to dig myself into a hole. I reckon once he has got the hang of it once or twice, he will be away but it's this initial hurdle we have to overcome.
For now, I will continue as we are, talking about the potty, explaining how things are done, and hopefully one day it will click. In the mean time, any ideas fellow mums?
The signs are all there. He can wake up from a night's sleep dry (occasionally), he tells me when he is going, but not before unfortunately. He takes his trousers off once he has gone, and his nappy if I don't get there first. He loves his "big boy pants". The only problem is he doesn't like sitting on the potty.
I tried putting him in just pants for a day but by the end he was so distressed when I asked him to go on the potty, I knew I was doing more harm than good so we went back to nappies.
I have read all the books, talked to other parents, bought a soft leather seat to fit inside mummy and daddy's toilet - I am ready even if he isn't. Ideally, if I could get him out of nappies before I have another little one in them, that would be great, but I won't let that be a benchmark. He is two and a half so there's still plenty of time.
But how to make the potty a pleasure rather than a pain? None of the books really address this issue which is rather frustrating. Perhaps I could use a book, or even the telly, to encourage him to sit, but I don't want to dig myself into a hole. I reckon once he has got the hang of it once or twice, he will be away but it's this initial hurdle we have to overcome.
For now, I will continue as we are, talking about the potty, explaining how things are done, and hopefully one day it will click. In the mean time, any ideas fellow mums?
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