Pat has a little blue iPod mini (...oooooh, pretty!) and has gathered together a selection of songs to play for Maia in the car. Here is what Maia is mostly listening to at the moment:
Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport Rolf Harris
The Court of King Caratacus Rolf Harris
Ning Nang Nong Spike Milligan
Hippo Rhinostricow Spike Milligan
Louie Louie The Kingsmen
The Monster Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Sing a Rainbow Patrick 'The Daddy' Cull
Colonel Hathi's March Jungle Book
The Bare Necessities Jungle Book
I Wan'na Be Like You Jungle Book
We try and time our entrance to the school car park so that we are blasting out Colonel Hathi's March (the elephant one from Jungle Book) on our arrival. Helps with getting her up the hill...
'Quick....MARCH! Hup two three four, giddiup two three four...'
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Monday, June 20, 2005
A Competitive Streak
Maia is into racing, or more accurately, winning at the moment.
'I'll race you to the top of the stairs!' is a great way to get her upstairs and motivated for a bath - her reluctance to leave whatever she was doing totally forgotten in the rush to be first.
'I'm going to win!' she gleefully shouts, as the grown-ups luxuriate in the fact that they are winning a bigger game.
This weekend we went for a really cool walk in the countryside. We saw sheep, cows and ducks, and then had a few rousing choruses of Baa Baa Black Sheep and Old MacDonald. We did a mini nature trail and learnt about stinging nettles (the easy way, no dock leaves required), searched for and found pinecones, picked buttercups and tested them against our chin.
After sausage rolls and ice-cream and oranges, we began to make our way back to the car. Maia was on the verge of fractiousness, and was demanding that we carry her. Instead (with a view to an early bedtime) we decided to race to the car. I was winning, and then Maia shouted in a stern, borrowed tone
'Stop, Mummy. It is not a race.'
Then she put on a dash of speed, overtook on the inside and got out in front.
She would have won anyway, but boy, she gets extra points for cunning.
'I'll race you to the top of the stairs!' is a great way to get her upstairs and motivated for a bath - her reluctance to leave whatever she was doing totally forgotten in the rush to be first.
'I'm going to win!' she gleefully shouts, as the grown-ups luxuriate in the fact that they are winning a bigger game.
This weekend we went for a really cool walk in the countryside. We saw sheep, cows and ducks, and then had a few rousing choruses of Baa Baa Black Sheep and Old MacDonald. We did a mini nature trail and learnt about stinging nettles (the easy way, no dock leaves required), searched for and found pinecones, picked buttercups and tested them against our chin.
After sausage rolls and ice-cream and oranges, we began to make our way back to the car. Maia was on the verge of fractiousness, and was demanding that we carry her. Instead (with a view to an early bedtime) we decided to race to the car. I was winning, and then Maia shouted in a stern, borrowed tone
'Stop, Mummy. It is not a race.'
Then she put on a dash of speed, overtook on the inside and got out in front.
She would have won anyway, but boy, she gets extra points for cunning.
Friday, June 17, 2005
Maia Meets Patrick
Patrick Balfe, a friend of my mother's from Nassau, stayed with us for a few days last week. Maia was slightly unsure of him for about 3 seconds, but after he complimented her enthusiastically on her lovely wellie boots, she warmed up.
So much so, in fact, that Patrick got a full introduction to both sets of wellie boots - blue and pink. He dutifully exclaimed their splendiferousness, and this spurred Maia on to show him her matching umbrella. Once all the ingredients for a game of 'It Is Raining Inside' were assembled, she tramped about the kitchen, wellies and umbrellas ahoy, trying to protect everybody from the rain.
A very successful visitor indeed. One breakfast-time he even let her try his (precious) Frank Cooper's Orange Marmalade. I think she really wanted to like it, and exclaimed how it was very nice, until the taste actually hit her. At which point it, and the toast it was on, was summarily ejected. Maybe next time.
So much so, in fact, that Patrick got a full introduction to both sets of wellie boots - blue and pink. He dutifully exclaimed their splendiferousness, and this spurred Maia on to show him her matching umbrella. Once all the ingredients for a game of 'It Is Raining Inside' were assembled, she tramped about the kitchen, wellies and umbrellas ahoy, trying to protect everybody from the rain.
A very successful visitor indeed. One breakfast-time he even let her try his (precious) Frank Cooper's Orange Marmalade. I think she really wanted to like it, and exclaimed how it was very nice, until the taste actually hit her. At which point it, and the toast it was on, was summarily ejected. Maybe next time.
Monday, June 13, 2005
Northern Sole
Well, it has begun. Maia's inevitable slide from the rounded, long vowels of Southern England to the flatter, shorter sounds of the Northern tongue.
We were in the park last week, being prevented from getting any speed up on the slide by her wellie boots. I suggested she take them off, and try again. This produced the expected speed and 'whhhhheeeeee'. So successful, that she padded up the stairs in her pink and purple socks to go again.
I heard her chattering to herself, and as I tuned in, I heard it.
'My socks will get all mooky. Mooky mooky mooky socks'
Not mucky (or mah-ky, I suppose) but 'mooky'.
Next stop glass, grass, bath and looove. The transformation has begun.
We were in the park last week, being prevented from getting any speed up on the slide by her wellie boots. I suggested she take them off, and try again. This produced the expected speed and 'whhhhheeeeee'. So successful, that she padded up the stairs in her pink and purple socks to go again.
I heard her chattering to herself, and as I tuned in, I heard it.
'My socks will get all mooky. Mooky mooky mooky socks'
Not mucky (or mah-ky, I suppose) but 'mooky'.
Next stop glass, grass, bath and looove. The transformation has begun.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Maia's Room In Pictures
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
'I Don't Beleeeeeive It'
To celebrate the sunshine - yes really, in Sheffield! - we had a barbecue and ate outside last night. Maia didn't really enjoy it that much. Never-the-less, she spotted that we were enjoying ourselves and in an effort to fit in, began exclaiming how lovely everything was.
'This is REALLY lovely' she said, her face betraying her true feelings. 'I really like this.' Then, rather bizarrely, she channeled Victor Meldrew and said 'I don't beleeeeeive it!' It was a really surreal moment. It was as though she was taking the piss. I looked at her for a beat, remembered she is only 2 1/2 and decided to think of it this way.
She is a very social little being, likes being around people. If she is unsure about a situation, she will take her cue from the people around her, like we all do. I suppose she is in the process of learning how to disguise her true feelings in order to fit in with the group.
Another possibility is that we do have a habit of talking things up...'Come on then Pickle, let's go and have a bath! It'll be really fun!' when she knows full well it really won't be as fun as the painting/drawing/running around that she was doing at the time.
Then again, she might just be the most sarcastic toddler ever. I will let you know.
'This is REALLY lovely' she said, her face betraying her true feelings. 'I really like this.' Then, rather bizarrely, she channeled Victor Meldrew and said 'I don't beleeeeeive it!' It was a really surreal moment. It was as though she was taking the piss. I looked at her for a beat, remembered she is only 2 1/2 and decided to think of it this way.
She is a very social little being, likes being around people. If she is unsure about a situation, she will take her cue from the people around her, like we all do. I suppose she is in the process of learning how to disguise her true feelings in order to fit in with the group.
Another possibility is that we do have a habit of talking things up...'Come on then Pickle, let's go and have a bath! It'll be really fun!' when she knows full well it really won't be as fun as the painting/drawing/running around that she was doing at the time.
Then again, she might just be the most sarcastic toddler ever. I will let you know.
Fear of Flying (Things)
Maia has developed a very real fear of Things That Fly. Despite my attempts to show her that they can't hurt her, she cowers when midges, flies, bees - pretty much anything winged and mobile comes her way. Spiders don't seem to phase her. Snakes she has only seen in books, but they don't seem to present problems. Just winged insects.
'A buzzy bee!' she says, as soon as she sees something approaching, and adopts a look of such fear that at first I thought she was joking. It was only as she cowered, hiding her head in her hands, that I realised that she isn't that good at acting.
A healthy respect for bees and wasps is a good thing, I think, but her fears seem to be getting to her even at night. She woke up a few days ago complaining of bees that stung her knees during the night. I tried to explain that it was a dream - a story in her head that didn't really happen. She looked at me, wide-eyed and affronted, and informed me that, actually it did.
Going to go and buy some books about friendly flies, and productive bees. Maybe I'll try and deflect her fear onto something useful like car filled roads, or sharp things. But for now we will have to keep ducking.
'A buzzy bee!' she says, as soon as she sees something approaching, and adopts a look of such fear that at first I thought she was joking. It was only as she cowered, hiding her head in her hands, that I realised that she isn't that good at acting.
A healthy respect for bees and wasps is a good thing, I think, but her fears seem to be getting to her even at night. She woke up a few days ago complaining of bees that stung her knees during the night. I tried to explain that it was a dream - a story in her head that didn't really happen. She looked at me, wide-eyed and affronted, and informed me that, actually it did.
Going to go and buy some books about friendly flies, and productive bees. Maybe I'll try and deflect her fear onto something useful like car filled roads, or sharp things. But for now we will have to keep ducking.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Weed On in Weedon
It was my own fault - I was excited to see Lisa, my friend from antenatal classes, and so forgot to offer Maia a pee after our journey down to Lisa and Austin's house in Northants.
Charlie and Matthew were getting christened, so Maia was in a lovely green Church-Church Party Dress. It had great big pink flowers all over it, and a really full swishy skirt. So, off we went, Maia to play in a playhouse in the garden, me to find Lisa to catch up. After a while, I joined Maia in the playhouse. Suddenly I heard a splashing noise, and saw the look of surprise on Maia's face as she got caught out. Ah.
Amazingly, due to the fullness of the skirt she managed to miss getting the dress wet at all. We had a quick shower, borrowed a pair of pants and socks from Charlie, put on the wellies that had been lurking in the car and we were good to go.
A more eclectic outfit than originally planned, but that often happens with Maia. I am sure God didn't mind.
Charlie and Matthew were getting christened, so Maia was in a lovely green Church-Church Party Dress. It had great big pink flowers all over it, and a really full swishy skirt. So, off we went, Maia to play in a playhouse in the garden, me to find Lisa to catch up. After a while, I joined Maia in the playhouse. Suddenly I heard a splashing noise, and saw the look of surprise on Maia's face as she got caught out. Ah.
Amazingly, due to the fullness of the skirt she managed to miss getting the dress wet at all. We had a quick shower, borrowed a pair of pants and socks from Charlie, put on the wellies that had been lurking in the car and we were good to go.
A more eclectic outfit than originally planned, but that often happens with Maia. I am sure God didn't mind.
Maia Says 'Knickers' to Boredom
Noonah, Maia and I went to Meadowhall on Saturday to buy some essentials for Noonah's holiday, a present for Charlie and Matthew's christening, and to return a skirt bought in haste and repented much.
Shopping with Maia is a bit of a trying experience at the moment. She is at the stage where she wants to do everything By Herself, and therefore resents general safety measures like holding hands in crowds. She is also a magpie, and will have colourful beads and knick-knacks if you don't keep a close eye.
Noonah gamely offered to look after Maia while she returned a skirt to Zara, while I ran off to do some SAS-style targeted shopping in BabyGap.
While talking to the shop assistant in Zara, Noonah bunched a bit of her long black skirt in Maia's hand and instructed her to 'Hold on'. This she did for a while. Then she got bored.
She decided to hold the skirt in her other hand...but that didn't hold any great excitement. She then decided it would be much more fun to dive under Noonah's skirt, and make a tent. Noonah figured it was as good a place as any - at least she knew where she was.
Then, bored of the SkirtTent, Maia looked up, grabbed hold of the knickers so conveniently placed within reach, and yanked.
This produced a much more satisfying result - suddenly she was the centre of attention again! Noonah swooped her out of the SkirtTent, and finished her transaction while trying to subtly rearrange her undergarments.
We are pretty used to Maia trying to get publicly naked at every opportunity, but she has never before tried to enforce it on any of us...
Shopping with Maia is a bit of a trying experience at the moment. She is at the stage where she wants to do everything By Herself, and therefore resents general safety measures like holding hands in crowds. She is also a magpie, and will have colourful beads and knick-knacks if you don't keep a close eye.
Noonah gamely offered to look after Maia while she returned a skirt to Zara, while I ran off to do some SAS-style targeted shopping in BabyGap.
While talking to the shop assistant in Zara, Noonah bunched a bit of her long black skirt in Maia's hand and instructed her to 'Hold on'. This she did for a while. Then she got bored.
She decided to hold the skirt in her other hand...but that didn't hold any great excitement. She then decided it would be much more fun to dive under Noonah's skirt, and make a tent. Noonah figured it was as good a place as any - at least she knew where she was.
Then, bored of the SkirtTent, Maia looked up, grabbed hold of the knickers so conveniently placed within reach, and yanked.
This produced a much more satisfying result - suddenly she was the centre of attention again! Noonah swooped her out of the SkirtTent, and finished her transaction while trying to subtly rearrange her undergarments.
We are pretty used to Maia trying to get publicly naked at every opportunity, but she has never before tried to enforce it on any of us...
Hannah Bannannah and the Pink Snails
Like royalty, or a sometimes benevolent tin-pot dictator, Maia dishes out the tasks of taking care of her to those around her. This weekend, the household (and therefore, Her People) included Hannah, who came to stay on Thursday night. Now, Maia already knows she likes Hannah. Hannah has a very natural way with kids - always crouches down to talk to them, and is interested in what they are doing without a hint of embarrassment or condescension.
During the day, Hannah and Maia spent some time playing in the garden...spotting spiders that jumped and deciding that snails weren't pink. Later that evening, Hannah was bestowed a rare honour. She was allowed to Read A Bedtime Story.
An honour indeed, probably of higher ranking than being allowed to accompany Maia while she pees. Maia took evident delight in the fact that Hannah really got involved with the story book (a task in itself, given Maia's insistence on a totally non-linear picture book that pretty much lists a series of animals under nigh-on arbitrary headings....'Noisy' 'Wild' 'Spotty' etc etc.) Then again, Hannah is an actress, so probably used to being asked to read odd things by people. Checkov, anyone?
Anyway, Maia enjoyed the experience so much that she tried to prolong storytime to well past the normal 20 minutes. In the end, I went in and swiftly brought proceedings to a close with a run through of Mog and Bunny. She settled down pretty quickly after that, and I hope she dreamt of pink snails.
During the day, Hannah and Maia spent some time playing in the garden...spotting spiders that jumped and deciding that snails weren't pink. Later that evening, Hannah was bestowed a rare honour. She was allowed to Read A Bedtime Story.
An honour indeed, probably of higher ranking than being allowed to accompany Maia while she pees. Maia took evident delight in the fact that Hannah really got involved with the story book (a task in itself, given Maia's insistence on a totally non-linear picture book that pretty much lists a series of animals under nigh-on arbitrary headings....'Noisy' 'Wild' 'Spotty' etc etc.) Then again, Hannah is an actress, so probably used to being asked to read odd things by people. Checkov, anyone?
Anyway, Maia enjoyed the experience so much that she tried to prolong storytime to well past the normal 20 minutes. In the end, I went in and swiftly brought proceedings to a close with a run through of Mog and Bunny. She settled down pretty quickly after that, and I hope she dreamt of pink snails.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Mission Impeccable Meets Match: Self Determination
Mission Impeccable is going ok - apart from that one (very public) failing to wear nice stuff, I have been doing pretty well. As has Maia.
Until now.
Self determination has hit, and that means she decides what she wants to wear. She really enjoys the process of selecting her clothes for the day, and if she looks somewhat eclectic, then who cares?
For example, today she went to school in a dark blue teeshirt with a picture of a monkey on the front, aqua shorts with a rather fetching seahorses print, and blue raindrop wellies. All pretty co-ordinated, but still a little odd. We have sent a change of clothes to school with her, but as Mrs Hunt seemed to be quite taken with the 'Summer Rainshower' look, I am not convinced she will come back in anything different.
Until now.
Self determination has hit, and that means she decides what she wants to wear. She really enjoys the process of selecting her clothes for the day, and if she looks somewhat eclectic, then who cares?
For example, today she went to school in a dark blue teeshirt with a picture of a monkey on the front, aqua shorts with a rather fetching seahorses print, and blue raindrop wellies. All pretty co-ordinated, but still a little odd. We have sent a change of clothes to school with her, but as Mrs Hunt seemed to be quite taken with the 'Summer Rainshower' look, I am not convinced she will come back in anything different.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
In Innocentia Veritas
Noonah and Maia went swimming yesterday at Pond's Forge. I took the opportunity to sit up in the viewing platform and read my book. In fact, I spent so much time laughing and clapping and showing proper appreciation for the splashing and jumping and kicking that Maia was doing in the pool below that I didn't really get anywhere with the book. Anyway, she loved it, and we are going to make it a regular weekly event. Next week, we have agreed that she will Put Her Face Underwater.
On the way home, Maia was chatting away, narrating our journey. On the turn into our road, the subject turned to Where She Lived.
"Upper Albert Road. Number 42a. Alec lives here. Mummy lives here. I live in Upper Albert Road" and so on... We turned into the drive and Maia said "Is Daddy here?"
"No, darling" I replied, "Daddy is in Barcelona at the moment."
"But he lives there" she said, insistently pointing forward.
Misunderstanding, I said, "No, sweetie, he lives here with us, he just visits Barcelona for work."
"No" she said, pointing at the garage, "He lives there!"
Now, Pat would be the first to admit that his garage-based music room has been seeing a lot of him, especially this weekend when his friend and Whatever's Clever bandmate, Steve, came to stay. However, although hobbies are important, when your kid thinks you live in the garage, it might be time to moderate the time spent on them...
On the way home, Maia was chatting away, narrating our journey. On the turn into our road, the subject turned to Where She Lived.
"Upper Albert Road. Number 42a. Alec lives here. Mummy lives here. I live in Upper Albert Road" and so on... We turned into the drive and Maia said "Is Daddy here?"
"No, darling" I replied, "Daddy is in Barcelona at the moment."
"But he lives there" she said, insistently pointing forward.
Misunderstanding, I said, "No, sweetie, he lives here with us, he just visits Barcelona for work."
"No" she said, pointing at the garage, "He lives there!"
Now, Pat would be the first to admit that his garage-based music room has been seeing a lot of him, especially this weekend when his friend and Whatever's Clever bandmate, Steve, came to stay. However, although hobbies are important, when your kid thinks you live in the garage, it might be time to moderate the time spent on them...
Friday, May 20, 2005
Arts and Crafts
This afternoon looked like rain, so our planned afterschool park expedition was cancelled. To make up for it (and for the fact that as soon as we had decided not to go, the sun came out, in a somewhat mocking manner) Pat and Maia sat down to some quality time with the new craft set. Now this is a craft kit to beat them all...it has feathers, glue, stickers, colourful foam buttons, glue and glitter. But most of all glitter.
I left them happily squidging away with glue and making nice colourful splodges, and I returned to a silver glitter explosion. Apparently, glitter, when poured onto the table when Daddy is looking at something else, creates an amazing picture. There was glitter on the table, all over her chair, on the floor, in her shoes, in her hair, all over Daddy, liberally sprinkled on the fruit bowl and her new monkey.
I got out the vacuum cleaner and began to hoover it up. After trying to wipe the glitter off Miss Maia and failing, I hoovered her too. She then took off all her clothes and ran about - twinkling away like a tiny Tinkerbell Godiva. I have a feeling this one will run and run.
I left them happily squidging away with glue and making nice colourful splodges, and I returned to a silver glitter explosion. Apparently, glitter, when poured onto the table when Daddy is looking at something else, creates an amazing picture. There was glitter on the table, all over her chair, on the floor, in her shoes, in her hair, all over Daddy, liberally sprinkled on the fruit bowl and her new monkey.
I got out the vacuum cleaner and began to hoover it up. After trying to wipe the glitter off Miss Maia and failing, I hoovered her too. She then took off all her clothes and ran about - twinkling away like a tiny Tinkerbell Godiva. I have a feeling this one will run and run.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Adventures with Alec and Sarah - Wella Fancy That!
Alec and Sarah had a dinner party while Noonah, Pat and I were away. Their friends Joel and Nikki came round. Apparently, Nikki was a HUGE hit with Maia Miss M.
The first thing Nikki said to Maia was 'Haven't you got lovely hair!'
Maia smoothed down her locks with her palm and said 'It is Goldilocks hair. You can buy it in the shops.'
Nikki now wants to come and babysit...
The first thing Nikki said to Maia was 'Haven't you got lovely hair!'
Maia smoothed down her locks with her palm and said 'It is Goldilocks hair. You can buy it in the shops.'
Nikki now wants to come and babysit...
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Spot On
After dinner, Maia sat down to do some colouring. Grabbing a pink crayon, she dotted the paper with spots.
'It is got chicken pox!' she said, eyes wide. Noonah and I laughed.
There was a notice on the door to the Beehive (her class) saying that another case of chicken pox has been reported. So we decided to ask Maia who else had chicken pox in her class.
'I have.' she said. 'Oh no you haven't.' we said 'You are all better now.'
'Umm...IsabelVerginty!'
'No...IsabelVerginty is back in school. It can't be her...who else might have chicken pox?'
'Ummm...Kate.'
'Ah ha.'
Later, after she had dotted the paper with a few more spots (blue, this time) Noonah said 'It is like Kate - she has chicken pox as well'
Maia looked at Noonah, eyes wide as if to say 'REALLY??'
Chinese whispers - toddler style.
'It is got chicken pox!' she said, eyes wide. Noonah and I laughed.
There was a notice on the door to the Beehive (her class) saying that another case of chicken pox has been reported. So we decided to ask Maia who else had chicken pox in her class.
'I have.' she said. 'Oh no you haven't.' we said 'You are all better now.'
'Umm...IsabelVerginty!'
'No...IsabelVerginty is back in school. It can't be her...who else might have chicken pox?'
'Ummm...Kate.'
'Ah ha.'
Later, after she had dotted the paper with a few more spots (blue, this time) Noonah said 'It is like Kate - she has chicken pox as well'
Maia looked at Noonah, eyes wide as if to say 'REALLY??'
Chinese whispers - toddler style.
Monday, May 02, 2005
A Saturday Spin in the Park
We had a group expedition to Meersbrook Park on Saturday. Maia had four of her peeps in attendance: Alec, Sarah, Mummy and Daddy. Everytime we go to the park, as soon as Maia sees the swings she starts yelling 'Hello Swings! Hello Slides! Hello Roundabouts!' It certainly makes for an entrance. This trip was no exception. There were lots more people in the park than our normal afterschool trips, so her precociousness was cool and mildly embarrassing in equal measure.
Maia loved having so many people to join in with her playground activities. She would holler 'Swings!' and then point to the person that had the honour of pushing her that time. As Alec and Sarah were heavily into the spinny things, it was mainly Pat that got to do the pushing.
She has figured out which of the eight spinny things is the Very Best (the yellow one) and makes a beeline for it as soon as we get through the gates. Some of the other kids also like the yellow one, and I have started a couple of 'Hellowillyoubemyfriend' conversations with their parents over the mild squabbling, grudging sharing and eventual bonding over the Yellow Spinny Thing.
This trip, there was a group of three friends (two women and a man) there, all with toddlers and tiny babies. I started up a conversation with a red-haired lady called Imogen, who had a tiny baby strapped to her front, and a toddler haring about getting his trousers filthy.
I suppose the strangest thing about it all (apart from the feeling that I have been transported back fifteen years, and am again the New Kid In School) is that the only thing that we have in common is that we have bred. We haven't met through work, or a hobby, or because we go to the same pub or bar or restaurant, but because we have managed to procreate. I am sure I will find some friends who have babies, and I hope some of them will come from meeting in the park. I just wish it was as easy as it looks for Maia. I need an adult equivalent of the Yellow Spinny Thing.
Maia loved having so many people to join in with her playground activities. She would holler 'Swings!' and then point to the person that had the honour of pushing her that time. As Alec and Sarah were heavily into the spinny things, it was mainly Pat that got to do the pushing.
She has figured out which of the eight spinny things is the Very Best (the yellow one) and makes a beeline for it as soon as we get through the gates. Some of the other kids also like the yellow one, and I have started a couple of 'Hellowillyoubemyfriend' conversations with their parents over the mild squabbling, grudging sharing and eventual bonding over the Yellow Spinny Thing.
This trip, there was a group of three friends (two women and a man) there, all with toddlers and tiny babies. I started up a conversation with a red-haired lady called Imogen, who had a tiny baby strapped to her front, and a toddler haring about getting his trousers filthy.
I suppose the strangest thing about it all (apart from the feeling that I have been transported back fifteen years, and am again the New Kid In School) is that the only thing that we have in common is that we have bred. We haven't met through work, or a hobby, or because we go to the same pub or bar or restaurant, but because we have managed to procreate. I am sure I will find some friends who have babies, and I hope some of them will come from meeting in the park. I just wish it was as easy as it looks for Maia. I need an adult equivalent of the Yellow Spinny Thing.
Friday, April 29, 2005
Here Comes the Sun
Maia came into my bed this morning, after waking up at 5.40am. She stumbled through, face and eyes puffed with sleep, and snuggled down, stealing my pillow and warm spot. She cracked open an eye and looked at me accusingly.
'Mummy, can you turn the light out please?'
'Sweet-pea, that is the sun, not a light. Close your eyes and it will be dark.'
'But can you turn it out please?'
'Close your eyes, baby, then it will be dark'
She closed her eyes for a bit. Then opened them again.
'Why can't you turn it out?'
Was now the time to discuss the limits of human endeavour and achievement? To talk about the sheer magnitude of the universe and our tiny part in it?
Nope, now was the time to make a tent with the duvet and make it dark for her. I may not be omnipotent, but she doesn't have to know that yet.
'Mummy, can you turn the light out please?'
'Sweet-pea, that is the sun, not a light. Close your eyes and it will be dark.'
'But can you turn it out please?'
'Close your eyes, baby, then it will be dark'
She closed her eyes for a bit. Then opened them again.
'Why can't you turn it out?'
Was now the time to discuss the limits of human endeavour and achievement? To talk about the sheer magnitude of the universe and our tiny part in it?
Nope, now was the time to make a tent with the duvet and make it dark for her. I may not be omnipotent, but she doesn't have to know that yet.
Mission Impeccable
I was away at the beginning of the month visiting Kiki (Dr. Kris' new and tres cool moniker) in DC and New York. While I was there, I decided, after two and a half years of looking a mess, I was going to make it my mission to leave the house every day Looking Presentable. Maia leaves every day in clean clothes, and mostly wears things that match. (Apart from socks - that is a challenge that even Hercules would shirk from.)
So, Mission Impeccable meant:
clean clothes - no food, or goo, or muck, or ooze,
a little bit of make-up,
and if possible, wearing something other than jeans ALL THE TIME.
Unfortunately, as soon as I got back, Maia got sick, so I spent a week pinned to the sofa in my jammies. Since she is now up and well (despite her pleas of 'But I have a little bit of chicken pox' when she doesn't want to do something) I have been sticking to Looking Presentable. I have been wearing jewelry. I have been matching accessories. I have even been wearing skirts and heels. All in all, pretty good.
That is, until the day before yesterday. I had to get her out early, and in the rush, managed to leave the house in track suit bottoms, the top I had slept in and without brushing my teeth. Of course, we got there at exactly the same time as all the other people who I have been steadily, secretly vetting as to who will be my Friends Who Are Also Parents. I wanted shout 'You should have seen me yesterday - I looked gorgeous!' but didn't think that would do my friendship prospects any good at all. Will have to try harder.
So, Mission Impeccable meant:
clean clothes - no food, or goo, or muck, or ooze,
a little bit of make-up,
and if possible, wearing something other than jeans ALL THE TIME.
Unfortunately, as soon as I got back, Maia got sick, so I spent a week pinned to the sofa in my jammies. Since she is now up and well (despite her pleas of 'But I have a little bit of chicken pox' when she doesn't want to do something) I have been sticking to Looking Presentable. I have been wearing jewelry. I have been matching accessories. I have even been wearing skirts and heels. All in all, pretty good.
That is, until the day before yesterday. I had to get her out early, and in the rush, managed to leave the house in track suit bottoms, the top I had slept in and without brushing my teeth. Of course, we got there at exactly the same time as all the other people who I have been steadily, secretly vetting as to who will be my Friends Who Are Also Parents. I wanted shout 'You should have seen me yesterday - I looked gorgeous!' but didn't think that would do my friendship prospects any good at all. Will have to try harder.
Your Cat Was Called What?
Yesterday, as I was helping Maia into her coat, Mrs Hunt popped her head around the door and, with a rather puzzled expression, asked me what our cats were called. I listed Beckett, Scotty, Harley and, erm...the late Manky Cat.
'Ah ha!' she said. 'I thought that is what she said, but then I wondered if I had misheard!'
The class had been talking about their pets that day, and while the names Beckett, Scotty and Harley were accepted without question, Maia managed to confuse everyone with the revelation that our last cat was called Manky Cat.
Mildy embarrassed, I explained. 'He really was called Manky Cat. He was called something else when he was little, but that was pretty soon superseded when he got a skin condition and went a bit, well, manky.' Mrs Hunt retreated into the classroom, laughing.
I just hope they moved on quickly enough so that Maia didn't get a chance to regale the other tots with the tale of Manky Cat Now Lives in a Box in The Garden.
'Ah ha!' she said. 'I thought that is what she said, but then I wondered if I had misheard!'
The class had been talking about their pets that day, and while the names Beckett, Scotty and Harley were accepted without question, Maia managed to confuse everyone with the revelation that our last cat was called Manky Cat.
Mildy embarrassed, I explained. 'He really was called Manky Cat. He was called something else when he was little, but that was pretty soon superseded when he got a skin condition and went a bit, well, manky.' Mrs Hunt retreated into the classroom, laughing.
I just hope they moved on quickly enough so that Maia didn't get a chance to regale the other tots with the tale of Manky Cat Now Lives in a Box in The Garden.
Sticking with Good Habits
Mrs Hunt (or the lovely Mrs Hunt, as she should be known) has a fabulous way of motivating Maia - stickers.
Maia gets a sticker when she is a good girl. She gets one when she plays outside without complaint, or goes to the loo at toilet time without crying. Mrs Hunt has a variety of stickers, ranging from gold and silver stars, to the characters from Finding Nemo.
I was a little worried that Maia might be monopolising the stickers and using up more than her fair share, so this morning I asked Mrs Hunt if I should bring in a packet or two to make sure that they didn't run out...Thinking about it now, I imagine it might come across as a bit of an odd thing to do. A bit like someone going to their lawyers and offering to buy them some ink cartridges as they seem to write lot of letters.
I can see now that stickers are a tool of the trade, not something exclusive and special to Maia. I suppose this is what comes of not having many other parent friends - not too hot on spotting what is exclusive to her, and what is a universal experience. Ho hum.
Anyway, I am wondering whether to introduce the Sticker Motivational Method at home. Thing is, I don't want to dilute their effectiveness. I think for the moment, we will just stick with the jellybeans.
Maia gets a sticker when she is a good girl. She gets one when she plays outside without complaint, or goes to the loo at toilet time without crying. Mrs Hunt has a variety of stickers, ranging from gold and silver stars, to the characters from Finding Nemo.
I was a little worried that Maia might be monopolising the stickers and using up more than her fair share, so this morning I asked Mrs Hunt if I should bring in a packet or two to make sure that they didn't run out...Thinking about it now, I imagine it might come across as a bit of an odd thing to do. A bit like someone going to their lawyers and offering to buy them some ink cartridges as they seem to write lot of letters.
I can see now that stickers are a tool of the trade, not something exclusive and special to Maia. I suppose this is what comes of not having many other parent friends - not too hot on spotting what is exclusive to her, and what is a universal experience. Ho hum.
Anyway, I am wondering whether to introduce the Sticker Motivational Method at home. Thing is, I don't want to dilute their effectiveness. I think for the moment, we will just stick with the jellybeans.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Making a Meal of Dinner
Noonah, Maia and I just went out for a meal at Nonna's, a really nice Italian restaurant along the Eccelsall Road in Sheffield. I thought they might have pastaandpesto, or something similar. Hmmm.
Maia was not in the mood for food. She was in the mood for jumping, shouting, falling on her knees, banging, screeching, lying down then jumping up and shouting 'Surprise!' All in all, not a cool, calm, collected restaurant experience. She didn't like the potato and pea soup. She didn't like the fish, or the linguine, or the salami, or anything we got because we thought she might like it.
Looks like we will be dining in The Happy Eater until she is 12. Grrr.
Maia was not in the mood for food. She was in the mood for jumping, shouting, falling on her knees, banging, screeching, lying down then jumping up and shouting 'Surprise!' All in all, not a cool, calm, collected restaurant experience. She didn't like the potato and pea soup. She didn't like the fish, or the linguine, or the salami, or anything we got because we thought she might like it.
Looks like we will be dining in The Happy Eater until she is 12. Grrr.
Adventures with Daddy - Dylan Eat Your Heart Out
I have been allocated space at the back of the garage. It’s become a metaphorical shed. A place that I can record and play music and also contemplate my navel and the yet to be answered eternal question, 'why is navel fluff blue?'
Erica and I have discussed putting Maia’s voice down on tape as a record for her when she’s older, so I brought her in to do a spot of recording. On the track, backed by a nice simple guitar sequence, she says 'Hello' to everyone she knows, sings ALL the words to Bob the Builder and ends with a very strange line which I think has something to do with cat pee. A future in showbiz is assured.
Erica and I have discussed putting Maia’s voice down on tape as a record for her when she’s older, so I brought her in to do a spot of recording. On the track, backed by a nice simple guitar sequence, she says 'Hello' to everyone she knows, sings ALL the words to Bob the Builder and ends with a very strange line which I think has something to do with cat pee. A future in showbiz is assured.
Adventures with Daddy - Balls Up
When Maia was born a girl (and not a boy with an incredibly small willy)
I told anyone who would listen that My Daughter would play for England. Rugby, of course. However, things might not go the way I'd hoped.
A couple of weeks ago Maia and I were playing outside in the garden, enjoying a rare moment of Yorkshire sunshine, when she suggested we play with a football. OK, I thought, not the right shaped ball - but definately a start.
I picked up an old plastic regulation black and white football and kicked it to her.
'No Daddy' she said, pointing at a multi-coloured ball with a picture of a Fimble on it. 'I want to play with the pretty one.'
I was ever so slightly crushed, but on reflection she has yet to see a rugby ball. There is still time, Lord, still time.
I told anyone who would listen that My Daughter would play for England. Rugby, of course. However, things might not go the way I'd hoped.
A couple of weeks ago Maia and I were playing outside in the garden, enjoying a rare moment of Yorkshire sunshine, when she suggested we play with a football. OK, I thought, not the right shaped ball - but definately a start.
I picked up an old plastic regulation black and white football and kicked it to her.
'No Daddy' she said, pointing at a multi-coloured ball with a picture of a Fimble on it. 'I want to play with the pretty one.'
I was ever so slightly crushed, but on reflection she has yet to see a rugby ball. There is still time, Lord, still time.
Thursday, April 21, 2005
The Importance of Being Aiden
OK, this happened a while ago, but I am only just now getting round to writing it out.
Maia was invited to a birthday party. An Incredibles invite came home with her from Collegiate Montessori, stating that Aiden would be 3 and could Maia come to the party being held on the blah blah blah. So, what do you buy for a 3 year old boy? Something with a superhero on it, of course. Girls get princesses, boys get superheroes. (At least they do if you buy toys at the end of the weekly shop with a toddler set to maximum frazzle. Arguments about childhood gender stereotyping are for seminars, not supermarkets.)
So, armed with a Spiderman lunchbox and drinking flask for Aiden, off we went.
Now, I haven't really met any of the kids or parents from Maia's school yet - there are a couple that I have a sort of 'smileandsayHi' thing going on with as we pass in the car park, but I don't know anyone. So, I don't mind admitting, I was kind of nervous.
We turned up at the house to find two girls, one a bit older than the other, both in fairy costumes. No boys. A little boy appeared after a beat or two. I said 'Is it your birthday today?' and he said 'No'.
Ah. OK. Well, I reasoned, Aiden must be in the other room.
Other guests arrived, and started to fuss over the smaller of the two fairies. Bugger. Aiden (not Aidenne, or Ayden, or Aydenne) was a GIRL. A girl in a fairy outfit.
I decided I would have to own up to the mother about the mis-gendered birthday gift.
'Oh, I knew this would happen!' She said. 'Don't worry! She loves Spiderman, and cars and trains and stuff. Same thing happened with her sister, Charlie.'
Well, I had to ask myself...which came first? The more masculine taste in toys, or THE BOY'S NAME???
Lesson learnt: Unisex presents from here on in. Buy up shares in Crayola, as every kid that has a birthday is getting crayons from us.
Maia was invited to a birthday party. An Incredibles invite came home with her from Collegiate Montessori, stating that Aiden would be 3 and could Maia come to the party being held on the blah blah blah. So, what do you buy for a 3 year old boy? Something with a superhero on it, of course. Girls get princesses, boys get superheroes. (At least they do if you buy toys at the end of the weekly shop with a toddler set to maximum frazzle. Arguments about childhood gender stereotyping are for seminars, not supermarkets.)
So, armed with a Spiderman lunchbox and drinking flask for Aiden, off we went.
Now, I haven't really met any of the kids or parents from Maia's school yet - there are a couple that I have a sort of 'smileandsayHi' thing going on with as we pass in the car park, but I don't know anyone. So, I don't mind admitting, I was kind of nervous.
We turned up at the house to find two girls, one a bit older than the other, both in fairy costumes. No boys. A little boy appeared after a beat or two. I said 'Is it your birthday today?' and he said 'No'.
Ah. OK. Well, I reasoned, Aiden must be in the other room.
Other guests arrived, and started to fuss over the smaller of the two fairies. Bugger. Aiden (not Aidenne, or Ayden, or Aydenne) was a GIRL. A girl in a fairy outfit.
I decided I would have to own up to the mother about the mis-gendered birthday gift.
'Oh, I knew this would happen!' She said. 'Don't worry! She loves Spiderman, and cars and trains and stuff. Same thing happened with her sister, Charlie.'
Well, I had to ask myself...which came first? The more masculine taste in toys, or THE BOY'S NAME???
Lesson learnt: Unisex presents from here on in. Buy up shares in Crayola, as every kid that has a birthday is getting crayons from us.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Chicken Pox Robs Alec of His Mojo
An unexpected consequence of Maia being a PolkaDot Princess is that, 3 days ago, she suddenly decided that Alec wasn't her favourite person anymore. She didn't feel like being tickled. She didn't want to laugh at fart jokes. In short, chickenpox stole his Mojo.
He was pretty gutted. From Godlike to 'I don't like you' in a day is a pretty steep drop. He joked that one good thing to come out of it was his removal from the post of Most Favoured Potty Person. But I don't think it was a great trade.
Now she is feeling better (but still spotty), he is in the process of being rehabilitated. Good thing too, as he is looking after Maia for 3 days all by himself in two and a half weeks.
He was pretty gutted. From Godlike to 'I don't like you' in a day is a pretty steep drop. He joked that one good thing to come out of it was his removal from the post of Most Favoured Potty Person. But I don't think it was a great trade.
Now she is feeling better (but still spotty), he is in the process of being rehabilitated. Good thing too, as he is looking after Maia for 3 days all by himself in two and a half weeks.
Resurrection
Hallelulyah! After what felt like forever of not being herself, Maia has reappeared. She woke up yesterday morning, demanding porridge and playtime for the first time in a week and a half. She was making jokes, her face was animated and she began to assert herself. Welcome back, baby!
Monday, April 18, 2005
Maia with Tribal Art, Courtesy of Daddy
Prior to becoming a Polka Dot Princess, Maia and Daddy decided to Make Some Art. I think they succeeded.
Posted by Hello
Posted by Hello
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Obedience
I slept in with Maia last night, to comfort, administer hugs and water, and calm her down when she woke up grizzly.
Her chickenpox has reached the very itchy stage, and she was scratching at the spots. I wanted her to stop, and we had this exchange.
'Maia, darling, don't scratch'
She stopped. She started again.
'Maia, darling, don't scratch'
'I am not scratching, I am wiping.'
'Ok, well don't wipe, that is a lot like scratching'
She stopped. She started again.
'Maia, darling, don't wipe'
'I am not wiping. I am stroking'
I figured any kid that can get round the rules so well deserves to scratch/wipe/stroke her itchy chickenpox.
Her chickenpox has reached the very itchy stage, and she was scratching at the spots. I wanted her to stop, and we had this exchange.
'Maia, darling, don't scratch'
She stopped. She started again.
'Maia, darling, don't scratch'
'I am not scratching, I am wiping.'
'Ok, well don't wipe, that is a lot like scratching'
She stopped. She started again.
'Maia, darling, don't wipe'
'I am not wiping. I am stroking'
I figured any kid that can get round the rules so well deserves to scratch/wipe/stroke her itchy chickenpox.
'Can I See in the Box?'
Well, we buried Manky Cat yesterday. I was in two minds whether to have Maia there or not, and had no idea how I was going to explain the whole thing to her. He had gone to cat heaven? He had just gone to sleep for a very long time?
I didn't want to get into the whole heaven thing, as we aren't planning on bringing her up in a faith, and I didn't want her to think that Cats That Go To Sleep get put in boxes and buried the garden.
So we just told her that he had died, and he wasn't coming back, and we were going to say goodbye to him now. She obliged, very cheerfully shouting out 'Goodbye Manky Cat!'
Unfortunately she followed it up with the somewhat less appropriate 'Can I see in the box?'
Although I was happy to introduce her to the vague idea of death, I didn't think we needed to go so far as a visual demonstration, so we made excuses and brought her inside for a glass of milk instead.
I didn't want to get into the whole heaven thing, as we aren't planning on bringing her up in a faith, and I didn't want her to think that Cats That Go To Sleep get put in boxes and buried the garden.
So we just told her that he had died, and he wasn't coming back, and we were going to say goodbye to him now. She obliged, very cheerfully shouting out 'Goodbye Manky Cat!'
Unfortunately she followed it up with the somewhat less appropriate 'Can I see in the box?'
Although I was happy to introduce her to the vague idea of death, I didn't think we needed to go so far as a visual demonstration, so we made excuses and brought her inside for a glass of milk instead.
Saturday, April 16, 2005
Manky Cat RIP
Well, it is surprise to us all - Manky Cat is indeed mortal. Or was. He died this morning, peacefully, after eating breakfast and finding a warm spot to snooze.
He was originally called Rumpit, but soon after he developed a skin reaction that made him a bit, well, manky, he was renamed Manky Cat. He will be remembered for his absolute conviction that he was human, not feline. For his gargoyle posing on the banister at 41 The Crescent during Mum's 50th birthday party. For his imaginative and extraordinary talent for finding new and interesting places to pee, most notably in the toaster and an upright bucket. Let me just repeat that - an upright bucket. That means he hopped on to the bucket, peed in it and dismounted - all without tipping the bucket over. No wonder we thought he was supernatural.
At dinner a few weeks ago, we were talking about the nine lives of cats. We came to the conclusion that the more wily and sarcastic, the more talented at opening fridges and performing feats of amazing agility to find high places to peer down upon his people, the higher up in the reincarnation chain they are. Manky Cat was universally agreed to be at the pinnacle of his lives. I hope he enjoyed spending his ninth life with us.
He was originally called Rumpit, but soon after he developed a skin reaction that made him a bit, well, manky, he was renamed Manky Cat. He will be remembered for his absolute conviction that he was human, not feline. For his gargoyle posing on the banister at 41 The Crescent during Mum's 50th birthday party. For his imaginative and extraordinary talent for finding new and interesting places to pee, most notably in the toaster and an upright bucket. Let me just repeat that - an upright bucket. That means he hopped on to the bucket, peed in it and dismounted - all without tipping the bucket over. No wonder we thought he was supernatural.
At dinner a few weeks ago, we were talking about the nine lives of cats. We came to the conclusion that the more wily and sarcastic, the more talented at opening fridges and performing feats of amazing agility to find high places to peer down upon his people, the higher up in the reincarnation chain they are. Manky Cat was universally agreed to be at the pinnacle of his lives. I hope he enjoyed spending his ninth life with us.
Friday, April 15, 2005
A Pox on All the Houses
Looks like Collegiate Montessori is much depleted of little peeps, as most of the group have been Struck Down with The Spots. Including IsabelVerginty. I think the Birthday Party is off. Never-the-less, I think I will still get her a present. Something spotty, of course.
A Pox on our House
Chicken, not small (obviously, otherwise you would be reading about this from a more established news source). Maia's week-long lethargy and sickness and grizzliness now has many manifestations - lots of red spots. They itch like crazy and mean she is grizzling with renewed fervour. Although at least she is now eating and keeping things down.
I phoned the school, to see if anyone else had come down with it, and sure enough it has been doing the rounds. It is majorly infectious, I know, and all kids have to go through it, but bugger bugger bugger!!
Unless IsabelVerginty is one of The Spotted Ones, party is definitely off this Saturday. I am going to try and find out who else is infected, and see if we can get the kids together to play with each other. Another week sat in front of bad kids TV (why is there no Sesame Street in the UK?) with a bored and ill child, and I might just come out in spots myself.
I phoned the school, to see if anyone else had come down with it, and sure enough it has been doing the rounds. It is majorly infectious, I know, and all kids have to go through it, but bugger bugger bugger!!
Unless IsabelVerginty is one of The Spotted Ones, party is definitely off this Saturday. I am going to try and find out who else is infected, and see if we can get the kids together to play with each other. Another week sat in front of bad kids TV (why is there no Sesame Street in the UK?) with a bored and ill child, and I might just come out in spots myself.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
Pluke in the Countryside
We decided it was time to attempt another Sunday Outing. We were headed for the park, so that Maia could run around and get some air in her lungs and some bounce in her legs. However, as soon as she got in the car, she fell asleep. She has a bit of a cold, so we were alerted to her sonambulent state by her gentle snores. Or earth-rattling groundshakers, more accurately.
So, we went for a drive instead. Through Bakewell (home of the tarts) but we could hardly see the scenery for all the wax jackets. We decided to stop off at a country bookstore that turned out to have far more in stock than horse manuals, Jilly Cooper novels and Dick Francis compendiums. A cool little tea shop (extra 'pe' optional) fed us a very nice sort-of-sausage roll, cake, gingerbread men and a pot of tea and then we set off home, fed, watered and content.
Or so we thought. On the way back, 20 minutes from home, Maia started coughing. She has a very particular sort of cough that heralds a pluke, and sure enough, by the time I had screeched to the side of the road, she had managed to cover herself and the car seat in second-time around tea shoppe fayre. Ick.
As soon as we got home, we bathed a grizzly Maia, washed the car seat, cleared out the car and got sorted. She was pretty easy to put to bed that night, which is not a good sign for the week ahead. Man, sick babies are no fun!
So, we went for a drive instead. Through Bakewell (home of the tarts) but we could hardly see the scenery for all the wax jackets. We decided to stop off at a country bookstore that turned out to have far more in stock than horse manuals, Jilly Cooper novels and Dick Francis compendiums. A cool little tea shop (extra 'pe' optional) fed us a very nice sort-of-sausage roll, cake, gingerbread men and a pot of tea and then we set off home, fed, watered and content.
Or so we thought. On the way back, 20 minutes from home, Maia started coughing. She has a very particular sort of cough that heralds a pluke, and sure enough, by the time I had screeched to the side of the road, she had managed to cover herself and the car seat in second-time around tea shoppe fayre. Ick.
As soon as we got home, we bathed a grizzly Maia, washed the car seat, cleared out the car and got sorted. She was pretty easy to put to bed that night, which is not a good sign for the week ahead. Man, sick babies are no fun!
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
IsabelVerginty and Fia
I think Maia may have found some friends! There were a few moments of concern that she hadn't found anyone at school to replace The Much Loved Lewis and Molly ('Trousers like Lewis, or tights like Molly today, Maia?') When I mentioned my concern to Mrs Hunt, I was told that, at this age, they play alongside rather than with other children. Hmmm. Maybe Maia was just playing alongside in a very together kind of way with all her other friends...
But fear not! To the rescue come IsabelVerginty and Fia. Or, as their parents would recognise them, Isabel McGinty and Sofia. Isabel is a gorgeous brown eyed, brown haired kid who looks like she has spark enough to power a household. She is 3 next month, and Maia's party invitation came through last week. (Honestly, Maia has a more active social life than I do). Sofia is taller, an almost willowy blond, and seems a bit calmer than Isabel. In a line, they look quite comical, with Maia a head and shoulders shorter than Fia, and blond and pale next to IsabelVerginty.
We mothers have hatched plans to start Friday afternoon swimming sessions with the three girls... so hopefully Maia's improved prospects for Sheffield friends will also be mine.
But fear not! To the rescue come IsabelVerginty and Fia. Or, as their parents would recognise them, Isabel McGinty and Sofia. Isabel is a gorgeous brown eyed, brown haired kid who looks like she has spark enough to power a household. She is 3 next month, and Maia's party invitation came through last week. (Honestly, Maia has a more active social life than I do). Sofia is taller, an almost willowy blond, and seems a bit calmer than Isabel. In a line, they look quite comical, with Maia a head and shoulders shorter than Fia, and blond and pale next to IsabelVerginty.
We mothers have hatched plans to start Friday afternoon swimming sessions with the three girls... so hopefully Maia's improved prospects for Sheffield friends will also be mine.
The Development of a Healthy Ego
Alec, Sarah, Pat, myself and Maia were sat down for a meal. Maia was at the head of the table, happily chomping into pastaandpesto, when she looked around the table, a thought clearly forming in her mind.
She pointed at Pat and said 'You like Mummy.' She pointed at Sarah and said 'You like Alec'. Then she pointed at each of us in turn and said 'And you like me, and you like me, and you like me, and you like me!'
With a big smile, she went back to her pastaandpesto while we all picked ourselves off the floor. I think her ego is coming along just fine.
She pointed at Pat and said 'You like Mummy.' She pointed at Sarah and said 'You like Alec'. Then she pointed at each of us in turn and said 'And you like me, and you like me, and you like me, and you like me!'
With a big smile, she went back to her pastaandpesto while we all picked ourselves off the floor. I think her ego is coming along just fine.
Maia Tells a Stinky Lie - Adventures with Daddy
Being "The Daddy" to Maia has at times been frustrating and stressful. But these times are counter-balanced by her seemingly effortless way of bringing me to my knees, head in hands, trying hard to breathe through the paroxyms of surpressed laughter.
Once, when the whole family were sitting in the lounge chatting, she released a bottom burp that completely shattered the nerves of the cat stood behind her. 'Oh my goodness! Did YOU do that, Miss Maia?' Erica asked her. She looked at us, a picture of wounded innocence, pointed at me and said 'No. It was Daddy!'
Once, when the whole family were sitting in the lounge chatting, she released a bottom burp that completely shattered the nerves of the cat stood behind her. 'Oh my goodness! Did YOU do that, Miss Maia?' Erica asked her. She looked at us, a picture of wounded innocence, pointed at me and said 'No. It was Daddy!'
Monday, April 04, 2005
The Nelson House Family Compound
They say it takes a village to raise a child - well, we have a family compound instead. In residence are:
Maia, Mummy, Daddy, Noonah, Uncle Alec (probably till June/July), Sarah (for holidays, weekends and whenever she can), Beckett, Manky Cat, Scotty and Harley (the cats). And some fish.
Everybody chips in. Alec recently graduated to Most Favoured Potty Person status... 'PEE!' Maia shouts, then surveys the available adoring adults to decide who will have the honour of accompanying her. I don't think he minds the pees, but he isn't all that thrilled about the poos.
She has a choice of people to sit down and have tea parties with. She has a choice of people who will watch the Incredibles, or Monsters Inc, or Finding Nemo with her (Pixar, I love you). She has lots of Her People at her size 5s, and that is wonderful.
We also have a guest room, so Her People who are not here (Papi, GrannyLonie, Patrick, Auntie Gen) can come and stay. You might even get to sit with her while she pees. If you are lucky.
Maia, Mummy, Daddy, Noonah, Uncle Alec (probably till June/July), Sarah (for holidays, weekends and whenever she can), Beckett, Manky Cat, Scotty and Harley (the cats). And some fish.
Everybody chips in. Alec recently graduated to Most Favoured Potty Person status... 'PEE!' Maia shouts, then surveys the available adoring adults to decide who will have the honour of accompanying her. I don't think he minds the pees, but he isn't all that thrilled about the poos.
She has a choice of people to sit down and have tea parties with. She has a choice of people who will watch the Incredibles, or Monsters Inc, or Finding Nemo with her (Pixar, I love you). She has lots of Her People at her size 5s, and that is wonderful.
We also have a guest room, so Her People who are not here (Papi, GrannyLonie, Patrick, Auntie Gen) can come and stay. You might even get to sit with her while she pees. If you are lucky.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Skoolz
For such a young child, Maia has had alot of different nursery experiences - 4 in almost 2 years.
Rainbow Nursery, in Dunstable, was her first. She started at 11 months, and it was the perfect starter nursery for slightly freaked-out mums. The baby room was very calm, very open and bright, with a separate sleeping area with beds and cots. It also had a huge picture window running the length of the playroom so you could peer in and check that your baby was happy. Of course, if you managed to slip out without said baby flipping out, they saw you make a guilty dash to the car. But the intent was good.
Rainbow documented EVERYTHING Maia did during the day. They wrote out how many nappies she had (and described the contents) who she played with, how she played, what she ate, how much she ate, if she slept, how she slept, when she slept. It was reassuring, and also a little odd.
Her next nursery was in Castelldefels, just outside Barcelona. It was in a row of shops, very bright and cheery, and the ladies there spoke absolutely no English - which is totally fair enough, seeing as they were Spanish. My rudimentary Spanish can extend to quite a few situations, but they don't teach you the phrase for 'My daughter's soft toy is called Cuddle Bunny ' in GCSE language class. We managed to establish a relationship based on Spanglish and smiling and pointing and mime. They may well have told me everything that Maia did during the day, which would have explained the Lots of Talking when I came to pick her up, but she seemed clean and happy at the end of her day there, so we were good.
After our return from Spain, Maia joined the fabulous Funny Farm in Bedmond, just near Mum's old house in Abbots Langley. The front garden was home to numerous ducks and chickens, some of whom occasionally felt bold enough to jump into the car. Ruby, a fabulously playful sheepdog pup, and Romany, a Bernese (?) mountain dog bigger than all the children, ducks and chickens combined, roamed the back garden. The Funny Farm was all about the social - not alot of book learning took place, but Maia loved it. She came home filthy, and you had to ask what she had been doing all day, how she ate, did she sleep all in the time it took to haul her over the half-door and track down her coat. Maureen called her 'In House' for all the entertainment she provided, and they were genuinely sad to see her go. So much so, that on her last day she came home laden with presents and kisses. A gem.
So I was pretty sure Maia would have no problems settling in to a new school once we got to Sheffield. I chose a Montessori school that offered the right hours for our work, and that also had the right feel about it. After the freedom of The Funny Farm, I felt Maia needed something more structured, more geared towards skill building, to prepare her for school. Now, she loves it. At the start, she hated it.
They like to gently introduce children to the school at Collegiate Montessori. Over the course of forever (ok, maybe a week) they start with an hour in the morning, then two, then a full morning, then possibly lunch, then an afternoon session, then morning and lunch, then a full day. OK. Now, I understand the reasoning. I recognise that a gentle introduction is better, so that the child builds up trust in the place and the people, and is not traumatised by a feeling of abandonment. But we had just moved house. We were all pretty ill. I had begun to experience Maia-Overload, and that meant she was not getting the fun and stimulation she really needed. She had to go to nursery and play with kids her own age who were not trying to entertain her while unpacking.
She yelled for her entire first hour. And, actually, most of her second. I was worried they were going to say that she wasn't suited to the school. I tried to help by saying 'Isn't Mrs Hunt lovely?' feeling horrible as I did so. Her reply was a clear 'No.' Towards the end of the week, she began to soften up a bit, relax a little, not howl when we left.
Now, we are lucky if we get a goodbye kiss. She shucks off her coat as soon as we are through the door, happily stomps in, says 'Hello!' to everyone and makes a beeline for the craft table. She comes home laden with art, baking and tales of new buddy IsabelVerginty. She agrees that Mrs Hunt is, indeed, lovely. And do you know what? She is.
Rainbow Nursery, in Dunstable, was her first. She started at 11 months, and it was the perfect starter nursery for slightly freaked-out mums. The baby room was very calm, very open and bright, with a separate sleeping area with beds and cots. It also had a huge picture window running the length of the playroom so you could peer in and check that your baby was happy. Of course, if you managed to slip out without said baby flipping out, they saw you make a guilty dash to the car. But the intent was good.
Rainbow documented EVERYTHING Maia did during the day. They wrote out how many nappies she had (and described the contents) who she played with, how she played, what she ate, how much she ate, if she slept, how she slept, when she slept. It was reassuring, and also a little odd.
Her next nursery was in Castelldefels, just outside Barcelona. It was in a row of shops, very bright and cheery, and the ladies there spoke absolutely no English - which is totally fair enough, seeing as they were Spanish. My rudimentary Spanish can extend to quite a few situations, but they don't teach you the phrase for 'My daughter's soft toy is called Cuddle Bunny ' in GCSE language class. We managed to establish a relationship based on Spanglish and smiling and pointing and mime. They may well have told me everything that Maia did during the day, which would have explained the Lots of Talking when I came to pick her up, but she seemed clean and happy at the end of her day there, so we were good.
After our return from Spain, Maia joined the fabulous Funny Farm in Bedmond, just near Mum's old house in Abbots Langley. The front garden was home to numerous ducks and chickens, some of whom occasionally felt bold enough to jump into the car. Ruby, a fabulously playful sheepdog pup, and Romany, a Bernese (?) mountain dog bigger than all the children, ducks and chickens combined, roamed the back garden. The Funny Farm was all about the social - not alot of book learning took place, but Maia loved it. She came home filthy, and you had to ask what she had been doing all day, how she ate, did she sleep all in the time it took to haul her over the half-door and track down her coat. Maureen called her 'In House' for all the entertainment she provided, and they were genuinely sad to see her go. So much so, that on her last day she came home laden with presents and kisses. A gem.
So I was pretty sure Maia would have no problems settling in to a new school once we got to Sheffield. I chose a Montessori school that offered the right hours for our work, and that also had the right feel about it. After the freedom of The Funny Farm, I felt Maia needed something more structured, more geared towards skill building, to prepare her for school. Now, she loves it. At the start, she hated it.
They like to gently introduce children to the school at Collegiate Montessori. Over the course of forever (ok, maybe a week) they start with an hour in the morning, then two, then a full morning, then possibly lunch, then an afternoon session, then morning and lunch, then a full day. OK. Now, I understand the reasoning. I recognise that a gentle introduction is better, so that the child builds up trust in the place and the people, and is not traumatised by a feeling of abandonment. But we had just moved house. We were all pretty ill. I had begun to experience Maia-Overload, and that meant she was not getting the fun and stimulation she really needed. She had to go to nursery and play with kids her own age who were not trying to entertain her while unpacking.
She yelled for her entire first hour. And, actually, most of her second. I was worried they were going to say that she wasn't suited to the school. I tried to help by saying 'Isn't Mrs Hunt lovely?' feeling horrible as I did so. Her reply was a clear 'No.' Towards the end of the week, she began to soften up a bit, relax a little, not howl when we left.
Now, we are lucky if we get a goodbye kiss. She shucks off her coat as soon as we are through the door, happily stomps in, says 'Hello!' to everyone and makes a beeline for the craft table. She comes home laden with art, baking and tales of new buddy IsabelVerginty. She agrees that Mrs Hunt is, indeed, lovely. And do you know what? She is.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Maia Breaks My Heart
About a week after the move, the house was in chaos, we were all still ill and a bit grumpy, including Maia. Mum and I were sat down to dinner with her (porridge - the only thing she felt like eating) and she looked up at me, eyes like a wounded Bambi, and said
'I want to go home'
Well, my heart broke. I stumbled through a garbled explanation that we were home, this was our new home, and that she would feel better soon, I promise. Then I gave her a jellybean to try and cheer her up, all the while trying not to cry (and feeling guilty about the sugar).
The weight of the responsibility was crushing. I knew she would be happy in this house, this school, this city but that it would take time. A big concept to relate to a two year old.
It is about six weeks since we moved, and she now feels that this house is home. In fact pretty much as soon as the cold cleared up, she cheered up loads. We drive up the hill and she shouts 'That is my house! Look! Not the white one!' and can recite '42a Upper Albert Road' when you ask her where she lives....usually followed by an unprompted 'Maia....Ani-Jo....Sunshine...PackingtonCull!'
So, she knows who she is, where she lives, and she likes both. I think we are doing pretty good.
'I want to go home'
Well, my heart broke. I stumbled through a garbled explanation that we were home, this was our new home, and that she would feel better soon, I promise. Then I gave her a jellybean to try and cheer her up, all the while trying not to cry (and feeling guilty about the sugar).
The weight of the responsibility was crushing. I knew she would be happy in this house, this school, this city but that it would take time. A big concept to relate to a two year old.
It is about six weeks since we moved, and she now feels that this house is home. In fact pretty much as soon as the cold cleared up, she cheered up loads. We drive up the hill and she shouts 'That is my house! Look! Not the white one!' and can recite '42a Upper Albert Road' when you ask her where she lives....usually followed by an unprompted 'Maia....Ani-Jo....Sunshine...PackingtonCull!'
So, she knows who she is, where she lives, and she likes both. I think we are doing pretty good.
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Mummy Ain't Vidal Sassoon...Again
So, Maia needed a haircut. What she didn't need was me, weilding kitchen shears, saying 'Oh for God's sake, it can't be that hard!'
Especially after she walked around for 2 months last time with a slightly wonky fringe.
It is not so much wonky now as "textured". She has two crowns, so her hair falls forward quite far, and the 'Hair Repair Artist' who fixed the last attempt told us to pin the back bit, well...back, and the fringe would then fall forward.
Whoever invented hairclips for two year olds does not have one. Or, has never been near one. Possibly never even seen one. As soon as I got the clip clipped in, Maia took it out. Ah ha.
Time to employ the Simultanious Distraction Technique. "Ooh, look, something shiny!" while clipping in the clip, then seamlessly moving her on to something fun to do that involved lots of Not Taking the Hairclip Out.
Later on, hairclip still in place, I told her she looked lovely. In fact, I think I actually said 'Your hairclip looks so lovely, Miss Maia!' Which of course meant she took it out to have look at it.
Oh bugger it, pushing hair out her eyes gives her some exercise...
Especially after she walked around for 2 months last time with a slightly wonky fringe.
It is not so much wonky now as "textured". She has two crowns, so her hair falls forward quite far, and the 'Hair Repair Artist' who fixed the last attempt told us to pin the back bit, well...back, and the fringe would then fall forward.
Whoever invented hairclips for two year olds does not have one. Or, has never been near one. Possibly never even seen one. As soon as I got the clip clipped in, Maia took it out. Ah ha.
Time to employ the Simultanious Distraction Technique. "Ooh, look, something shiny!" while clipping in the clip, then seamlessly moving her on to something fun to do that involved lots of Not Taking the Hairclip Out.
Later on, hairclip still in place, I told her she looked lovely. In fact, I think I actually said 'Your hairclip looks so lovely, Miss Maia!' Which of course meant she took it out to have look at it.
Oh bugger it, pushing hair out her eyes gives her some exercise...
Monday, March 07, 2005
At The Movies
We have two huge bookcases flanking the fireplace in the front room. Tack up a white sheet, and you have a perfect movie screen. Add a comfy sofa, a duvet and a selection of snacks from the kitchen, and voila! MovieTime at 42a.
Our first screening for Maia was Finding Nemo. She found him just fabulous. The added joy of having an illicit sitting room picnic of crackers and crab dip ('I'm having fish tonight!'), while watching the action on a big screen really excited her.
So far we have shown Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc, The Cat in the Hat, Shrek 2... There is talk of being able to connect the cable to the projector so we could have giant tv as well, but, given the quality of the programmes she enjoys, and we are forced to endure, I think we will stick to movies. 3 foot high Tweenies, anyone?
Our first screening for Maia was Finding Nemo. She found him just fabulous. The added joy of having an illicit sitting room picnic of crackers and crab dip ('I'm having fish tonight!'), while watching the action on a big screen really excited her.
So far we have shown Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Monsters Inc, The Cat in the Hat, Shrek 2... There is talk of being able to connect the cable to the projector so we could have giant tv as well, but, given the quality of the programmes she enjoys, and we are forced to endure, I think we will stick to movies. 3 foot high Tweenies, anyone?
Walking at the Weekend
It started well. Really, it did. We went and had lunch in a country pub (scampi and chips for me, steak for Pat, and whale shaped fish fingers for Maia. Don't think Jamie Oliver would have approved, but it was tasty and cheap).
Full, we started out to the car to go get ready to Go Walking. Our 'Pub Walks in South Yorkshire' book said this one was nice and easy, 2.5 miles around a reservoir with ample ducks and swans and other 'Ooh, look, Maia' opportunities.
Then it started to snow. Then Maia's very warm, but highly impractical Russian Real Bunny Fur hat kept falling off. Then her wellies came off. Then she didn't want to be in the backpack. Then she didn't want to walk. Then her parents started to snit at each other. Then one said 'Fine, you go bloody walking, and I'll sit in the car with Maia.' Then the other said 'Fine!' and stomped off. Then the other parent realised she didn't want to sit in the car for an hour and followed.
An uneasy truce, followed by about 20 minutes of really nice Family Day stuff (running from scary swans, pointing at funny looking cyclists) was shattered when a cold, tired, and frankly pretty pissed off child decided Enough Was Enough and howled the rest of the way back to the car.
Perhaps we will try again in the summertime.
Full, we started out to the car to go get ready to Go Walking. Our 'Pub Walks in South Yorkshire' book said this one was nice and easy, 2.5 miles around a reservoir with ample ducks and swans and other 'Ooh, look, Maia' opportunities.
Then it started to snow. Then Maia's very warm, but highly impractical Russian Real Bunny Fur hat kept falling off. Then her wellies came off. Then she didn't want to be in the backpack. Then she didn't want to walk. Then her parents started to snit at each other. Then one said 'Fine, you go bloody walking, and I'll sit in the car with Maia.' Then the other said 'Fine!' and stomped off. Then the other parent realised she didn't want to sit in the car for an hour and followed.
An uneasy truce, followed by about 20 minutes of really nice Family Day stuff (running from scary swans, pointing at funny looking cyclists) was shattered when a cold, tired, and frankly pretty pissed off child decided Enough Was Enough and howled the rest of the way back to the car.
Perhaps we will try again in the summertime.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Party Girl (on the Tixylix)
I would wager that our leaving party on Saturday was the most drug fuelled party ever held in the Crescent. Before Social Services are called, they were all legal - and totally neccesary. We were all suffering with VILE cold and flu symtoms that threatened to lay us low and stop all the fun.
Maia was dosed to the nines with Tixylix and Calpol, for anti-cough, anti-cold and anti-grump. All at carefully spaced medication times (for carefully spaced, read 'How about now, can she have some now? How about NOW?)
She managed to pass from one family member to another with grace and ease and happily circulated amongst the guests till she conked out around 10.30. Pretty good for a baby with a bunged up nose.
Maia was dosed to the nines with Tixylix and Calpol, for anti-cough, anti-cold and anti-grump. All at carefully spaced medication times (for carefully spaced, read 'How about now, can she have some now? How about NOW?)
She managed to pass from one family member to another with grace and ease and happily circulated amongst the guests till she conked out around 10.30. Pretty good for a baby with a bunged up nose.
ALEC!!!
I CAN keep a secret...I knew that Alec was popping over to see us, help us move, see Sarah and generally be about for a couple weeks. I was so proud of myself for not telling anyone. However, the surprise was somewhat lessened by Alec sending a text message that read
'Just landed - you better not have told Sarah that I am coming' as soon as he touched down at Heathrow. But he didn't send it to me....oh no...you guessed it, he sent it right to Sarah.
Anyway, Sarah had a day to get ready and tell the entire Law Department at Leeds Uni what a fabulous boyfriend she had.
The surprise wasn't totally destroyed. Mum got the shock of her life as she opened the door to him - she didn't even recognise him for half a beat by all accounts, just stared at him. Then again, we were all doped up to the tens with anti-cold stuff, so she can be forgiven.
The day that Maia saw him (a couple days after he got into the country, after he zoomed up to Leeds and came back down again...) she refused to let him out of her sight, and spent most of her time being limpet-like, forcing him to wear her like a rather large and wriggly necklace.
I hope 9 months lugging tanks has given him good upper body strength... He is coming to live in Sheffield in March, and I don't think Maia is going to let him put her down for a moment.
'Just landed - you better not have told Sarah that I am coming' as soon as he touched down at Heathrow. But he didn't send it to me....oh no...you guessed it, he sent it right to Sarah.
Anyway, Sarah had a day to get ready and tell the entire Law Department at Leeds Uni what a fabulous boyfriend she had.
The surprise wasn't totally destroyed. Mum got the shock of her life as she opened the door to him - she didn't even recognise him for half a beat by all accounts, just stared at him. Then again, we were all doped up to the tens with anti-cold stuff, so she can be forgiven.
The day that Maia saw him (a couple days after he got into the country, after he zoomed up to Leeds and came back down again...) she refused to let him out of her sight, and spent most of her time being limpet-like, forcing him to wear her like a rather large and wriggly necklace.
I hope 9 months lugging tanks has given him good upper body strength... He is coming to live in Sheffield in March, and I don't think Maia is going to let him put her down for a moment.
Papi as a Boy
When on a trip to Grannie and Granpa's down in Kent, Granpa told us a story of my Dad, Barry, as a young boy.
He was about 3, playing with his cousin Peter from South Africa, who was also three. While the grown-ups were in the kitchen, the boys were playing in the living room, and somehow Peter banged his head. He started wailing, which brought the grown-ups into the room toot sweet.
There they found 3 year old Barry with his arm around Peter, saying 'Don't cry, Peter...Soldiers don't cry when they bang their head - they say Damn and Blast!'
Barry was most put out that this brought remonstrations upon him, and defended himself with the line 'But that is what Pa says when he bangs his head!'
So we are covered for when Maia swears in front of her Papi, then...
He was about 3, playing with his cousin Peter from South Africa, who was also three. While the grown-ups were in the kitchen, the boys were playing in the living room, and somehow Peter banged his head. He started wailing, which brought the grown-ups into the room toot sweet.
There they found 3 year old Barry with his arm around Peter, saying 'Don't cry, Peter...Soldiers don't cry when they bang their head - they say Damn and Blast!'
Barry was most put out that this brought remonstrations upon him, and defended himself with the line 'But that is what Pa says when he bangs his head!'
So we are covered for when Maia swears in front of her Papi, then...
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Work/Family Life Balance... A Tug-of-War?
Maia has jetlag of quite spectacular tenacity and persistance. She cannot/will not go to sleep much before 10.30/11pm. To make matters worse, the central heating is bust so she is sleeping in my bed. Last night she woke up a couple times, and come 8.30 this morning I was somewhat reluctant to get out of bed.
Noonah to the rescue! Maia was coaxed out of bed with the promise of stars in her porridge (don't ask) and, once there, she happily tucked in. Then the phone rang. As it was by now 9 am, Noonah answered the phone as if it were a work call, which it was.
A particularly effusive German man that she works with called Wolfgang was on the phone hoping to discuss a thorny problem he had discovered with his database. Wolfgang tends to spend a great deal of time on the phone, and 10 minutes into the conversation, Maia was bored.
So she decided it was time for a pee. Still on the phone, Noonah instructed Maia to fetch the potty and do it All By Herself, like a Big Girl. This tactic worked very well, with Maia duly fetching the potty, taking her trousers down, having a pee, cleaning, pulling her trousers up. Mission accomplished, and Wolfgang was none the wiser.
However, then it was time to dispose of the pee. Maia knew that pee was to be flushed down the toilet, and was somewhat put out that Noonah was trying to prevent her from carrying a rather full potty across the room to the toilet. She pulled the potty. Noonah pulled the potty. Wolfgang chatted on. Fearing a rather damp conclusion to this drama, Noonah hit the mute button and explained that carrying pee was a Grown-Up job. Maia was not convinced.
Stand off.
After a good while and promises made to Wolfgang if he would just get off the phone, the call finally cane to an end. The potty was carried, by both Noonah and Maia, to the loo and the contents flushed.
Working from home has a certain rosy image in the corporate world of offices and boardrooms, but the reality can be far from glamorous.
Noonah to the rescue! Maia was coaxed out of bed with the promise of stars in her porridge (don't ask) and, once there, she happily tucked in. Then the phone rang. As it was by now 9 am, Noonah answered the phone as if it were a work call, which it was.
A particularly effusive German man that she works with called Wolfgang was on the phone hoping to discuss a thorny problem he had discovered with his database. Wolfgang tends to spend a great deal of time on the phone, and 10 minutes into the conversation, Maia was bored.
So she decided it was time for a pee. Still on the phone, Noonah instructed Maia to fetch the potty and do it All By Herself, like a Big Girl. This tactic worked very well, with Maia duly fetching the potty, taking her trousers down, having a pee, cleaning, pulling her trousers up. Mission accomplished, and Wolfgang was none the wiser.
However, then it was time to dispose of the pee. Maia knew that pee was to be flushed down the toilet, and was somewhat put out that Noonah was trying to prevent her from carrying a rather full potty across the room to the toilet. She pulled the potty. Noonah pulled the potty. Wolfgang chatted on. Fearing a rather damp conclusion to this drama, Noonah hit the mute button and explained that carrying pee was a Grown-Up job. Maia was not convinced.
Stand off.
After a good while and promises made to Wolfgang if he would just get off the phone, the call finally cane to an end. The potty was carried, by both Noonah and Maia, to the loo and the contents flushed.
Working from home has a certain rosy image in the corporate world of offices and boardrooms, but the reality can be far from glamorous.
Jet Lag Dragzzzzzzz
Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep Oh God Please Go To Sleep
We have discovered that Maia has a very strong internal body clock. She was ok going west (towards the US) but coming back has messed up her sleep patterns like crazy. So, the process that normally takes me two days (one day in a daze lost to napping and junk food, the next day late to bed, and the third back to normal) has taken FOREVER.
She now has the Mother of All Colds, which last night, gave me an excuse to medicate her.
Mmmm...Tixylix. She was asleep by 9.30, 2 hours earlier than was fast becoming normal.
There is a God, and she moves in mysterious ways.
We have discovered that Maia has a very strong internal body clock. She was ok going west (towards the US) but coming back has messed up her sleep patterns like crazy. So, the process that normally takes me two days (one day in a daze lost to napping and junk food, the next day late to bed, and the third back to normal) has taken FOREVER.
She now has the Mother of All Colds, which last night, gave me an excuse to medicate her.
Mmmm...Tixylix. She was asleep by 9.30, 2 hours earlier than was fast becoming normal.
There is a God, and she moves in mysterious ways.
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
Just Imagine the Insurance Claim - Holiday 2005
We managed to judge the amount of food we would need for our week-long stay pretty well. On packing up, we only had a few bits and pieces that we packed into a box to be donated as supplies for Alec.
Alcohol was another matter.
1 hour before leaving, bags full, nowhere to put it, we realised we were going to have to drink it.
We managed to nail a 1 ltr bottle of anejo, 10 beers and a couple of frozen drinks mixes.
So by the time we got on the ferry, we were pretty merry. We managed to get ourselves to the airport ok, to be told by BahamasAir that they could get us on the 2.30 flight (even though it was 2.15 now, and she was sat under a huge sign that said GATES CLOSE 45 MINUTES BEFORE DEPARTURE and a smaller, more disturbing one that said All Guns Must Be Checked.)
As we were about to go through to the gate, Mum realised that we had left the passports on the desk. I was mentally writing up the insurance claim as we boarded...
"Well, you see, it was like this. There was all this rum..."
Alcohol was another matter.
1 hour before leaving, bags full, nowhere to put it, we realised we were going to have to drink it.
We managed to nail a 1 ltr bottle of anejo, 10 beers and a couple of frozen drinks mixes.
So by the time we got on the ferry, we were pretty merry. We managed to get ourselves to the airport ok, to be told by BahamasAir that they could get us on the 2.30 flight (even though it was 2.15 now, and she was sat under a huge sign that said GATES CLOSE 45 MINUTES BEFORE DEPARTURE and a smaller, more disturbing one that said All Guns Must Be Checked.)
As we were about to go through to the gate, Mum realised that we had left the passports on the desk. I was mentally writing up the insurance claim as we boarded...
"Well, you see, it was like this. There was all this rum..."
Faster Captain Mummy! - Holiday 2005
Hope Town in the sunshine is truely GLORIOUS. The turquoise sea shimmers, the candy striped lighthouse draws your eye towards it, sweeping past the boats moored in the harbour. It really is picture postcard.
Our house was cool - two bedrooms, great open kitchen and living area with a porch outside. (www.seagullcottages.com - we were in Gully's Nest) There was a pool outside, although at this time of year it was best used to chill the beers. Best of all, we had a little 13' Boston Whaler to potter up the creek and into the harbour with.
Maia loved this little boat. We were totally paranoid about her going over the edge for the first few rides and clamped her to us fiercely. Once we had relaxed a bit (thank you Bacardi, thank you Kalik) we let her sit on her own next to us and even let her drive. (What she didn't know was that the wheel she was happily twisting and turning was not connected to the outboard.) She sat in the boat, wind rushing through her hair shouting 'Faster Captain Mummy! Faster!'
Hope Town was a dream. We ate (almost) once a day at Cap'n Jacks, where I ate the best cracked conch I have ever had. We found out that Vernon's Grocery has better stock than Harbour View. The Lighthouse Liquor Store has very reasonable prices, even for Nassau, let alone an Out Island.
I had a 'This is where I want to be' moment on the top of the lighthouse looking out over blue sky and turquoise seas and pretty little candy coloured houses. We zipped between the yachts in the harbour and found out that people sail down from Canada to be there. I am not at all surprised.
We went to see a house for sale, and got there by boat. The woman who rented us the house drove us in the boat to another island, called Lubber's Quarters, and Maia yelled and shouted and whooped and shrieked the whole way there.
A boat baby. How perfect is that?
Our house was cool - two bedrooms, great open kitchen and living area with a porch outside. (www.seagullcottages.com - we were in Gully's Nest) There was a pool outside, although at this time of year it was best used to chill the beers. Best of all, we had a little 13' Boston Whaler to potter up the creek and into the harbour with.
Maia loved this little boat. We were totally paranoid about her going over the edge for the first few rides and clamped her to us fiercely. Once we had relaxed a bit (thank you Bacardi, thank you Kalik) we let her sit on her own next to us and even let her drive. (What she didn't know was that the wheel she was happily twisting and turning was not connected to the outboard.) She sat in the boat, wind rushing through her hair shouting 'Faster Captain Mummy! Faster!'
Hope Town was a dream. We ate (almost) once a day at Cap'n Jacks, where I ate the best cracked conch I have ever had. We found out that Vernon's Grocery has better stock than Harbour View. The Lighthouse Liquor Store has very reasonable prices, even for Nassau, let alone an Out Island.
I had a 'This is where I want to be' moment on the top of the lighthouse looking out over blue sky and turquoise seas and pretty little candy coloured houses. We zipped between the yachts in the harbour and found out that people sail down from Canada to be there. I am not at all surprised.
We went to see a house for sale, and got there by boat. The woman who rented us the house drove us in the boat to another island, called Lubber's Quarters, and Maia yelled and shouted and whooped and shrieked the whole way there.
A boat baby. How perfect is that?
Bridge
A supremely complicated game with silly rules, for people who have too much time and too little to do.
Although, check back with me if I ever win a rubber...
Although, check back with me if I ever win a rubber...
BahamasAir - A Uniquely Bahamian Experience.
BahamasAir was late. Not a huge surprise, but you always hope that they will be able to take off on time, especially when we were booked on only their second flight of the day. Nassau - Marsh Harbour. So, delayed, we pottered about the one room terminal, got some grits and sausage to eat (they were out of corned beef - no fire engine!) and ran after Maia. Up and down, up and down, up and down.
We finally got called to the gate and made our way outside, only to be stood under the little covered walkway next to the plane for a while. Long enough for Maia to try and get naked anyway, which on this trip, means long enough to say 'Maia, no, not here!'. The line to the plane was moving pretty slow, while people put their bags away, swopped seats and generally buggered about. All this would have been fine, were it not for the darkening of the sky and the unheralded opening of the heavens. A fellow passenger, white Bahamian and pretty vocal, started to yell at people "God Damn People! We got a baby gettin soak here, hurry ya ass!!"
Finally we got on the plane, only to find people in our seats. Fetching your own seats for BahamasAir is not unusual, but our steward told us that we were supposed to sit in the numbered seats. Ok, then, everybody move. We got everyone out, start to settle down, when a rather large Bahamian lady plonked herself down next to Mum, in Pat's seat, and refused to budge. Wet, bedraggled and not in the mood for recalcitrant travelers, Mum demanded the woman's ticket and finally succeeded in moving her on. Throughout this, Maia was still trying to get naked.
We were just about to take off, when a tourist realized that they were on the wrong flight.
Ah, BahamasAir. It is the little things that make the difference...
We finally got called to the gate and made our way outside, only to be stood under the little covered walkway next to the plane for a while. Long enough for Maia to try and get naked anyway, which on this trip, means long enough to say 'Maia, no, not here!'. The line to the plane was moving pretty slow, while people put their bags away, swopped seats and generally buggered about. All this would have been fine, were it not for the darkening of the sky and the unheralded opening of the heavens. A fellow passenger, white Bahamian and pretty vocal, started to yell at people "God Damn People! We got a baby gettin soak here, hurry ya ass!!"
Finally we got on the plane, only to find people in our seats. Fetching your own seats for BahamasAir is not unusual, but our steward told us that we were supposed to sit in the numbered seats. Ok, then, everybody move. We got everyone out, start to settle down, when a rather large Bahamian lady plonked herself down next to Mum, in Pat's seat, and refused to budge. Wet, bedraggled and not in the mood for recalcitrant travelers, Mum demanded the woman's ticket and finally succeeded in moving her on. Throughout this, Maia was still trying to get naked.
We were just about to take off, when a tourist realized that they were on the wrong flight.
Ah, BahamasAir. It is the little things that make the difference...
On Becoming a Sand Monster - Holiday 2005
My Dad (Maia's Papi) is a very accomplished man. He is well read, funny, a whizz at cards, works hard and is very good at what he does. He is also totally immune to the 'eeeewww' factor when it comes to sand. As a kid, I remember watching in awe as he would flop, face first, into a huge pile of sand on Rose Island and happily sleep in its grainy embrace. He would emerge, an hour or two later, rising from the sand like a Japanese B Movie monster to go and wash it off, usually treading on my carefully laid out, religiously sand-free towel.
Anyway, Maia's inital reaction to sand was very much closer to my end of the scale than his. She, when placed feet first on the sand, retracted her undercarriage and demanded that her feet be cleaned.
Papi decided that this was Not On. Time to Impart some Wisdom. Time to reveal the Secret of Being a Sand Monster.
I don't know what was said. I don't know how he did it. But he took a kid who spent 5 minutes cleaning between her toes after each step and sat with her in the ocean wash, getting enough sand in her keks to build a moderate sized castle. And in the process, set up this lovely, lovely photo.
Anyway, Maia's inital reaction to sand was very much closer to my end of the scale than his. She, when placed feet first on the sand, retracted her undercarriage and demanded that her feet be cleaned.
Papi decided that this was Not On. Time to Impart some Wisdom. Time to reveal the Secret of Being a Sand Monster.
I don't know what was said. I don't know how he did it. But he took a kid who spent 5 minutes cleaning between her toes after each step and sat with her in the ocean wash, getting enough sand in her keks to build a moderate sized castle. And in the process, set up this lovely, lovely photo.
Maia Meets Lorla - Holiday 2005
I think her heart was won the moment Maia mispronounced her name. 'It has been a long time since anyone has called me Lorla.' she said, smiling at Maia, and that, I think, was that.
Maia and Laura got on famously. Even more so after Laura :
All the family politics and feuds and fusses pass right over Maia, as they should. They mean nothing to her, and maybe, if we look through her eyes, they will mean less to us too.
Maia and Laura got on famously. Even more so after Laura :
- took her to the park and pushed her on the swings for half an hour without trying to move her onto another, less labour intensive, activity.
- gave her a mountain of Christmas gifts including bubbles and plasticine, books and bath toys
- made her some homemade pesto
- introduced her to Prince Mulder and his kitchen kittens (who make stew, so I am told)
- cooked her pancakes
- played with her every morning we stayed at Papi's house when Mummy and Daddy were far to tired to play
All the family politics and feuds and fusses pass right over Maia, as they should. They mean nothing to her, and maybe, if we look through her eyes, they will mean less to us too.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Alpha Delta Baby - December 28th
Maia is a pretty seasoned traveller by now. She has been to the Bahamas, South Africa, back and forth to Barcelona a couple times, Devon...erm, Sheffield... you get the picture. Anyway, the trip over to Nassau was pretty good. We had a moderately uneventful 8 hour flight from Gatwick to Atlanta, a 2 hour stop over in Atlanta, then a 2 hour flight to Nassau.
Hurtling towards Atlanta, Maia made friends with the little boy in the seats in front of us (although only after failing to interest the doe-eyed Asian man behind us in playing with her playdoh) and we set up a play area by the emergency exits so they could sit and get jealous over their toys while his mother and I made small talk.
There was nothing suitable on TV (damn you, Delta, Shrek MUST be available for those little screens) but she watched a bit of Chinese kung-fu movie The House of Flying Daggers. All very pretty until they started cutting people's heads off, at which point I beagn to read stories with great verve and vigour. Even the Asian man behind us was impressed.
Arriving at Nassau airport was interesting. We had been saying the entire flight that we were Going To See Alec. 'If you don't put your seatbelt on, we won't be able to go, and then we won't see Alec!' 'If you go to sleep now, when you wake up, we will see Alec!'. So as soon as we arrived, Maia's tired eyes lit up and she attached herself to Alec with the glee of a limpet finding a piece of fresh rock in a nutrient stream.
Totally unaware that a Mitchell/Packington/Siddons family drama of pretty epic proportions was taking place around her, she lay her head on his shoulder and hugged like there was no tomorrow.
Unfortunately for Maia, Alec wasn't taking us home (Dad and Laura were). We then had the delicate job of removing a besotted toddler from her besotee and trying to interest her in sitting down AGAIN. The wail she let out was just heartbreaking, but we managed it.
A long day for a two year old, but she did pretty well.
Hurtling towards Atlanta, Maia made friends with the little boy in the seats in front of us (although only after failing to interest the doe-eyed Asian man behind us in playing with her playdoh) and we set up a play area by the emergency exits so they could sit and get jealous over their toys while his mother and I made small talk.
There was nothing suitable on TV (damn you, Delta, Shrek MUST be available for those little screens) but she watched a bit of Chinese kung-fu movie The House of Flying Daggers. All very pretty until they started cutting people's heads off, at which point I beagn to read stories with great verve and vigour. Even the Asian man behind us was impressed.
Arriving at Nassau airport was interesting. We had been saying the entire flight that we were Going To See Alec. 'If you don't put your seatbelt on, we won't be able to go, and then we won't see Alec!' 'If you go to sleep now, when you wake up, we will see Alec!'. So as soon as we arrived, Maia's tired eyes lit up and she attached herself to Alec with the glee of a limpet finding a piece of fresh rock in a nutrient stream.
Totally unaware that a Mitchell/Packington/Siddons family drama of pretty epic proportions was taking place around her, she lay her head on his shoulder and hugged like there was no tomorrow.
Unfortunately for Maia, Alec wasn't taking us home (Dad and Laura were). We then had the delicate job of removing a besotted toddler from her besotee and trying to interest her in sitting down AGAIN. The wail she let out was just heartbreaking, but we managed it.
A long day for a two year old, but she did pretty well.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Christmas...December 25th
Christmas started for us all when the next door neighbours Tony and Linda with their kids Gemma and Russell came round to exchange presents with Maia. Gemma brought the newest addition to her seriously impressive range of baby buggies. This one was in a radioactively shiny pink material with hearts all over it and contained a baby that moved its eyes and cried and took milk from a bottle. Maia was smitten. I was spooked. The grown-ups opened some champers and chatted as Maia pushed the buggy about and looked avariciously at the rest of the presents.
According to Pat, Christmas Day is about eating, laying about, drinking, laying about, presents, watching crap telly and having another drink. So he wasn't overwhelmed with enthusiasm at our plan to take Maia walking in Cassiobury Park. At least he was, until it was made clear that he would have to come too.
It was pretty cold, so we bundled Miss Maia up in coat, gloves, hat (her not-very PC-Russian-furry-one, no less) and all tramped and huffed our way through a lovely walk in the woods. We saw a very cool canal boat pass through a lock, got adopted by a yappy dog and got very muddy trousers.
Back home (oooh warmth!) we decided it was 5pm somewhere in the world, and therefore not too early for a sherry. Christmas drinking is great - you get to drink all these things that you would never normally (sherry, Baileys, port, Tia Lusso etc etc) and ridiculously early too...
Before dinner we made an assault on the present mountain. Maia took equal interest in the wrapping paper as the contents, which was up from last year's total focus on the crinkly shiny stuff that made presents interesting. Good haul for her this year - books, crayons, paints, puzzles, musical instruments, DVDs, more books, clothes, teddies, loads of stuff.
Anyway, dinner was produced (details are a bit hazy, I have to admit...) and was very tasty. Maia blew out the candles and we sang Happy Birthday. Maia was an angel, and went to sleep pretty well. Again, though, the details are hazy...Pat put her to sleep while TV put me to sleep.
Happy Birthday Jesus.
According to Pat, Christmas Day is about eating, laying about, drinking, laying about, presents, watching crap telly and having another drink. So he wasn't overwhelmed with enthusiasm at our plan to take Maia walking in Cassiobury Park. At least he was, until it was made clear that he would have to come too.
It was pretty cold, so we bundled Miss Maia up in coat, gloves, hat (her not-very PC-Russian-furry-one, no less) and all tramped and huffed our way through a lovely walk in the woods. We saw a very cool canal boat pass through a lock, got adopted by a yappy dog and got very muddy trousers.
Back home (oooh warmth!) we decided it was 5pm somewhere in the world, and therefore not too early for a sherry. Christmas drinking is great - you get to drink all these things that you would never normally (sherry, Baileys, port, Tia Lusso etc etc) and ridiculously early too...
Before dinner we made an assault on the present mountain. Maia took equal interest in the wrapping paper as the contents, which was up from last year's total focus on the crinkly shiny stuff that made presents interesting. Good haul for her this year - books, crayons, paints, puzzles, musical instruments, DVDs, more books, clothes, teddies, loads of stuff.
Anyway, dinner was produced (details are a bit hazy, I have to admit...) and was very tasty. Maia blew out the candles and we sang Happy Birthday. Maia was an angel, and went to sleep pretty well. Again, though, the details are hazy...Pat put her to sleep while TV put me to sleep.
Happy Birthday Jesus.
Children's Christmas Service...December 24th
Abbots Langley Children's Christmas Service has a real live donkey. I don't think they let it in the church, so it sits outside munching apples and bemusedly accepting congratulations for carrying Baby Jesus to Bethlehem from pious 4 year olds.
We, though agnostic/atheist, decided that the Mass would be good theatre and would let us introduce Maia to the joy (?) of carol singing. She seemed to enjoy the experience, although did pipe up and volunteer the information that the Baby Jesus was really Molly's sister Bethany. At the end, there was a candle-lit procession past the Nativity scene and out into the church yard to congratulate the donkey and shake hands with the vicar.
We ended up directly behind one of the Three Kings, and I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. I never ever go to church, and I wonder if being behind a Three King in such a high calender event is a bit of a coveted position. Don't know why - it is actually quite nerveracking, what with all the billowing robes and candles and kids. Feels a bit like the 'before' film in a 999 programme. Maia soon distracted me from such thoughts by singing Happy Birthday and blowing out my candle.
I am sure she came away with some fairly warped ideas about the Christmas Story, but it was fun none-the-less.
We, though agnostic/atheist, decided that the Mass would be good theatre and would let us introduce Maia to the joy (?) of carol singing. She seemed to enjoy the experience, although did pipe up and volunteer the information that the Baby Jesus was really Molly's sister Bethany. At the end, there was a candle-lit procession past the Nativity scene and out into the church yard to congratulate the donkey and shake hands with the vicar.
We ended up directly behind one of the Three Kings, and I couldn't help but feel slightly guilty. I never ever go to church, and I wonder if being behind a Three King in such a high calender event is a bit of a coveted position. Don't know why - it is actually quite nerveracking, what with all the billowing robes and candles and kids. Feels a bit like the 'before' film in a 999 programme. Maia soon distracted me from such thoughts by singing Happy Birthday and blowing out my candle.
I am sure she came away with some fairly warped ideas about the Christmas Story, but it was fun none-the-less.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Oh God, Not the Pink Marshmallows - December 23rd
A Lost Boy? What the hell does a Lost Boy wear?? In the midst of packing for Nassau and Christmas and house moving came the Funny Farm Christmas Party. The theme was Peter Pan, and Maia was instructed to come as a Lost Boy.
After the initial narrowing of the eyes (She is not good enough to be Tinkerbell?? Just look at that pretty little face! Look at those curls! That doesn't scream Tinkerbell to you??) followed by conscious effort on my part to save it for the casting director for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (see Funny Face from the Funny Farm), I constructed a costume using only a pair of pajamas, a dinosaur print teeshirt and a tie tyed sarong. So that is what a Lost Boy looks like...
Maia had a whale of a time and it was great to see her interact with all of her friends. Lewis and she spent a good deal of time chasing each other round and round the hall, squealing with delight. Lewis was dressed up as a pirate, which attracted alot of attention from the kids, as it seemed to be the one costume that allowed you to draw on your face. (Now, whenever Maia holds a pen up to her cheek and is told not to draw on her face, she says in a don't-be-silly voice "But I am being a pirate".)
Activities included musical lilypads, with everyone jumping like frogs from one green spot on the floor to the other until the music stopped, singing songs practiced during the year ("soggy semolina, soggy semolina, Ding Dang Dong, Ding Dang Dong") and dancing to very loud, very raucous music.
After a great deal of running around, and a moral dilemma for Pat ("But it feels wrong to drink beer at a kids party") the kids sat down to eat. Now, normally every morning at the Funny Farm, Maureen cooks up a batch of stew packed with chicken and veggies and good stuff. But this was Christmas, and that meant E Numbers with a sprinkling of colouring and a dash of sugar. Before we had even sussed out where she was sitting, Maia had whipped open the cracker containing the sweeties and was cramming them into her mouth with the look of a girl who knew she would lose them if she didn't eat them RIGHT NOW. By the time we reached her she had one slightly damp pink marshmallow left and I didn't have the heart (or the strength) to remove it from her vice-like grip.
We won something or other in the raffle, and emerged, dazed, carrying a tired and somewhat sugared-out Maia. Given that this is a girl that can make one jellybean last a good 20 minutes, I reckon her system is still recovering.
After the initial narrowing of the eyes (She is not good enough to be Tinkerbell?? Just look at that pretty little face! Look at those curls! That doesn't scream Tinkerbell to you??) followed by conscious effort on my part to save it for the casting director for Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (see Funny Face from the Funny Farm), I constructed a costume using only a pair of pajamas, a dinosaur print teeshirt and a tie tyed sarong. So that is what a Lost Boy looks like...
Maia had a whale of a time and it was great to see her interact with all of her friends. Lewis and she spent a good deal of time chasing each other round and round the hall, squealing with delight. Lewis was dressed up as a pirate, which attracted alot of attention from the kids, as it seemed to be the one costume that allowed you to draw on your face. (Now, whenever Maia holds a pen up to her cheek and is told not to draw on her face, she says in a don't-be-silly voice "But I am being a pirate".)
Activities included musical lilypads, with everyone jumping like frogs from one green spot on the floor to the other until the music stopped, singing songs practiced during the year ("soggy semolina, soggy semolina, Ding Dang Dong, Ding Dang Dong") and dancing to very loud, very raucous music.
After a great deal of running around, and a moral dilemma for Pat ("But it feels wrong to drink beer at a kids party") the kids sat down to eat. Now, normally every morning at the Funny Farm, Maureen cooks up a batch of stew packed with chicken and veggies and good stuff. But this was Christmas, and that meant E Numbers with a sprinkling of colouring and a dash of sugar. Before we had even sussed out where she was sitting, Maia had whipped open the cracker containing the sweeties and was cramming them into her mouth with the look of a girl who knew she would lose them if she didn't eat them RIGHT NOW. By the time we reached her she had one slightly damp pink marshmallow left and I didn't have the heart (or the strength) to remove it from her vice-like grip.
We won something or other in the raffle, and emerged, dazed, carrying a tired and somewhat sugared-out Maia. Given that this is a girl that can make one jellybean last a good 20 minutes, I reckon her system is still recovering.
Three in a Bath - 21st December 2004
Tanya, Tom and Charlotte came for dinner and a movie (Oh Shrek! Where would we be without you?) and some running about outside with Pat... (for Tom and Charlotte, of course, Tan and I stayed in the warm and drunk tea.)
Tom really enjoyed spending time with Pat - running about outside, popping bubbles and yelling and shouting for all he was worth. Charlotte and Maia were also outside for a while, but didn't partake so enthusiastically of the 'spin-me-round, no, throw-me-in-the-air, no, chase-me' games. They preferred to come inside and toddle about the place on the ladybird and bike trundle toys.
We did dinner in stages, with kids eating first, then grown-ups sitting down to the delicate strains of Shrek and mild squabbles from the other room. After dinner, it was bathtime for the three of them.
Maia was only slightly put out that there seemed to be FAR more people in her bath than normal, and soon was happily making introductions to all her bath toys, teletubbies and sponges. After a small spat over who would be washed with the ladybird (Maia) and who would hold Tinky-Winky (Charlotte) we hauled them out, dried them off and sent them downstairs for milk and cookies. After milk and cookies for the little ones and tea for the grown-ups we waved goodbye to the clan as they made their way home.
A good afternoon all round I think - loads of fun but MAN more than one baby is alot of work. I definitely have the utmost admiration and awe for people like Tan who have to manage TWO kids (or more) day in and day out. I would be run ragged. I think one baby is fine for me, for the moment.
Tom really enjoyed spending time with Pat - running about outside, popping bubbles and yelling and shouting for all he was worth. Charlotte and Maia were also outside for a while, but didn't partake so enthusiastically of the 'spin-me-round, no, throw-me-in-the-air, no, chase-me' games. They preferred to come inside and toddle about the place on the ladybird and bike trundle toys.
We did dinner in stages, with kids eating first, then grown-ups sitting down to the delicate strains of Shrek and mild squabbles from the other room. After dinner, it was bathtime for the three of them.
Maia was only slightly put out that there seemed to be FAR more people in her bath than normal, and soon was happily making introductions to all her bath toys, teletubbies and sponges. After a small spat over who would be washed with the ladybird (Maia) and who would hold Tinky-Winky (Charlotte) we hauled them out, dried them off and sent them downstairs for milk and cookies. After milk and cookies for the little ones and tea for the grown-ups we waved goodbye to the clan as they made their way home.
A good afternoon all round I think - loads of fun but MAN more than one baby is alot of work. I definitely have the utmost admiration and awe for people like Tan who have to manage TWO kids (or more) day in and day out. I would be run ragged. I think one baby is fine for me, for the moment.
Backlog! Bear With Me....
LOADS to tell you about, so I will do my best to post a post a day till we are up and current...
Monday, December 20, 2004
Maia Nets Some New Fans
Saturday afternoon Maia, Pat, Noonah and myself joined a Christmas friends and family get-together at Fish! in the middle of Borough Market organised by Hannah, a good friend of mine from University.
There were supposed to be 12 of us, and the table was duly laid for 12. However (as always happens at these things) more people turned up, and the atmosphere quickly got very friendly as everyone squished up and re-organised tables and chairs to make room.
Hannah instantly endeared herself to Maia by presenting her with a set of plasticine blocks and cutters. The grown-ups joined Maia in making shapes and models with great enthusiasm and creativity...which almost bordered on Taking Over. Highlights were Andrew's lobster effort and Maia's pizza for Hannah.
During the meal, Maia sat at the head of the table and behaved brilliantly, chatting to the people around her, colouring in, playing with her plasticine and purloining most of the chips meant for the top half of the table.
The plan for the lunch was that, part way through, we would all get up and swop places. This provided the perfect opportunity for Hannah's mum, Sue, to get a vicarious grandchild fix. Sue was smitten, while Hannah and her brother Dominic sent her warning, Don't-Get-Any-Ideas glances.
Later on, Dominic's gf Becky entertained Maia by taking pictures of her, and letting her take pictures of the table and herself and Mummy and Andrew and herself and Andrew's Dad and herself.
At dessert, Maia spurned apple crumble and custard to cherry-pick the blueberries, grapes and strawberries from Noonah's fruit salad while supping milk that arrived in a perfectly Maia-sized jug. Subsequently, Noonah's coffee was blacker than she normally takes it, but she didn't seem to mind too much.
Hugely full, and a little merry from the wine and good conversation, we hopped on the train to get home. Maia's enthusiasm for the tube train brought a smile to the face of our fellow passengers, and our extended trip back (cancelled train) included a taxi ride. Sharing a cab with another couple who were also going to Kings Langley was made far less awkward by the fact that Maia chatted ALL THE WAY THERE. We heard about her day, what she did last weekend (see cheetah story...) that she didn't like loud banging noises, that monkeys and lions are her favourite animals. She even gave them her bestest meercat impression.
I think a future in entertainment is beckoning...
There were supposed to be 12 of us, and the table was duly laid for 12. However (as always happens at these things) more people turned up, and the atmosphere quickly got very friendly as everyone squished up and re-organised tables and chairs to make room.
Hannah instantly endeared herself to Maia by presenting her with a set of plasticine blocks and cutters. The grown-ups joined Maia in making shapes and models with great enthusiasm and creativity...which almost bordered on Taking Over. Highlights were Andrew's lobster effort and Maia's pizza for Hannah.
During the meal, Maia sat at the head of the table and behaved brilliantly, chatting to the people around her, colouring in, playing with her plasticine and purloining most of the chips meant for the top half of the table.
The plan for the lunch was that, part way through, we would all get up and swop places. This provided the perfect opportunity for Hannah's mum, Sue, to get a vicarious grandchild fix. Sue was smitten, while Hannah and her brother Dominic sent her warning, Don't-Get-Any-Ideas glances.
Later on, Dominic's gf Becky entertained Maia by taking pictures of her, and letting her take pictures of the table and herself and Mummy and Andrew and herself and Andrew's Dad and herself.
At dessert, Maia spurned apple crumble and custard to cherry-pick the blueberries, grapes and strawberries from Noonah's fruit salad while supping milk that arrived in a perfectly Maia-sized jug. Subsequently, Noonah's coffee was blacker than she normally takes it, but she didn't seem to mind too much.
Hugely full, and a little merry from the wine and good conversation, we hopped on the train to get home. Maia's enthusiasm for the tube train brought a smile to the face of our fellow passengers, and our extended trip back (cancelled train) included a taxi ride. Sharing a cab with another couple who were also going to Kings Langley was made far less awkward by the fact that Maia chatted ALL THE WAY THERE. We heard about her day, what she did last weekend (see cheetah story...) that she didn't like loud banging noises, that monkeys and lions are her favourite animals. She even gave them her bestest meercat impression.
I think a future in entertainment is beckoning...
Thursday, December 16, 2004
Lewis the Horse, and It Ain't Every Day You Get Sniffed at by a Cheetah.
Pat, Maia and I went down to Covent Garden to meet up with Aunty Jellybean on Saturday afternoon. Maia loves going on trains, but was less sure about the crush of people who also decided that Covent Garden on a Saturday was a good idea. Gen instantly endeared herself to Maia by giving her a colourful, and fabulously noisy, tambourine to keep her occupied. Oddly, our reaction was slightly less keen...
After a while chatting to the various Bahamians who tipped up, we decided to go and see if we could seek out some street performers to show Maia. We found a lady singing opera very loudly, and a couple of performers who had a Charlie Chaplin/mime/balloon manipulator thing going on. She wasn't desperately impressed.
However, all that changed when we discovered the carousel. Our timing was perfect, as the last go round was coming to an end, so Pat and Maia hopped onto the first available horse, paid their pound and cheered as they started to go round. Maia waved enthusiastically each time she spun round to where I was standing, and had a great time. When they dismounted, I noticed that her horse was called Lewis. As Lewis at the Funny Farm is 'her favourite', she thought this was fabulous, and remarked on it quite a few times.
Sunday was a bit of a grey day, and as is rapidly becoming tradition, we decided to take Maia to a zoo. The (rather optimistically named) Paradise Wildlife Park in Broxbourne was our choice.
I am sure in the summertime the Paradise Wildlife Park is a pretty inviting place to be, but on a cold winter Sunday, it is actually ever-so-slightly sinister. It was very quiet, as most people were sensibly doing Inside Things. We saw a parrot display where the parrots outnumbered the audience, and at times wondered if we were the only people in there.
However, all this did mean we had no competition for the best spots to view all the animals up close and pretty personal.
There are lots of cats at PWP, lions, tigers, cheetahs, ocelots - you name it, they've got it - and they are displayed in large enclosures with glass viewing windows cut into the cage. When we came to the cheetah enclosure, two of the cats were right up against the window cleaning each other. Maia was just tall enough to stand by herself and see through the glass, and as soon as she arrived the cheetahs looked right at her, and sniffed at her through the glass. She thought this was truly wonderful.
We disturbed a bundle of meercats and showed them our bestest meercat impressions, then ruined all the good feeling generated by screeching like eagles so we could watch them scatter. We saw lions being fed ex-bunnies (full of life lessons, these trips) and got snorted at by a camel. After some hot chocolate, a ride on a fire engine and a plate of chips, it was time to go home.
On the way home, Maia decided that the lions were her favourite. Closely followed by the monkeys. And the meercats...
After a while chatting to the various Bahamians who tipped up, we decided to go and see if we could seek out some street performers to show Maia. We found a lady singing opera very loudly, and a couple of performers who had a Charlie Chaplin/mime/balloon manipulator thing going on. She wasn't desperately impressed.
However, all that changed when we discovered the carousel. Our timing was perfect, as the last go round was coming to an end, so Pat and Maia hopped onto the first available horse, paid their pound and cheered as they started to go round. Maia waved enthusiastically each time she spun round to where I was standing, and had a great time. When they dismounted, I noticed that her horse was called Lewis. As Lewis at the Funny Farm is 'her favourite', she thought this was fabulous, and remarked on it quite a few times.
Sunday was a bit of a grey day, and as is rapidly becoming tradition, we decided to take Maia to a zoo. The (rather optimistically named) Paradise Wildlife Park in Broxbourne was our choice.
I am sure in the summertime the Paradise Wildlife Park is a pretty inviting place to be, but on a cold winter Sunday, it is actually ever-so-slightly sinister. It was very quiet, as most people were sensibly doing Inside Things. We saw a parrot display where the parrots outnumbered the audience, and at times wondered if we were the only people in there.
However, all this did mean we had no competition for the best spots to view all the animals up close and pretty personal.
There are lots of cats at PWP, lions, tigers, cheetahs, ocelots - you name it, they've got it - and they are displayed in large enclosures with glass viewing windows cut into the cage. When we came to the cheetah enclosure, two of the cats were right up against the window cleaning each other. Maia was just tall enough to stand by herself and see through the glass, and as soon as she arrived the cheetahs looked right at her, and sniffed at her through the glass. She thought this was truly wonderful.
We disturbed a bundle of meercats and showed them our bestest meercat impressions, then ruined all the good feeling generated by screeching like eagles so we could watch them scatter. We saw lions being fed ex-bunnies (full of life lessons, these trips) and got snorted at by a camel. After some hot chocolate, a ride on a fire engine and a plate of chips, it was time to go home.
On the way home, Maia decided that the lions were her favourite. Closely followed by the monkeys. And the meercats...
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
My Birthday Strikes a High Note
It was my 28th Birthday on Monday (ack ack ack feel old!).
It was a pretty good haul this year - I got a beautiful burgandy cashmere poncho from Pat, a fabulous waterprint suitcase from Mum, Dad and Alec and a wire palm tree to sit in the fruitbowl from Maia. However, I didn't really get to open any of these myself. Maia appointed herself Chief Present Unwrapper and did a fabulous job. I suspect no-one in the house will be opening their own presents this Christmas.
However, it was when it came time for cake and candles that she really outdid herself. Drawing on her extensive experience from her own birthday, she serenaded me with a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' that was so high in the middle that only dogs and very specialized CIA/MI6 equipment could pick it up. Watch out Tiri Te Kanawa, my kid's got range like you wouldn't believe.
It was a pretty good haul this year - I got a beautiful burgandy cashmere poncho from Pat, a fabulous waterprint suitcase from Mum, Dad and Alec and a wire palm tree to sit in the fruitbowl from Maia. However, I didn't really get to open any of these myself. Maia appointed herself Chief Present Unwrapper and did a fabulous job. I suspect no-one in the house will be opening their own presents this Christmas.
However, it was when it came time for cake and candles that she really outdid herself. Drawing on her extensive experience from her own birthday, she serenaded me with a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' that was so high in the middle that only dogs and very specialized CIA/MI6 equipment could pick it up. Watch out Tiri Te Kanawa, my kid's got range like you wouldn't believe.
Thursday, December 09, 2004
Toot & Puddle
Mog is favourite no more. We have a new set of books that are requested time and again (and again.) Ladies and Gentlemen, a round of applause for Toot & Puddle.
Toot & Puddle are pigs who live together in Woodcock Pocket. Toot is adventurous and thrill seeking (one story sees him travel to Provence on a whim, where he finds a little place called CouCou Poche) while Puddle prefers to stay home, cook, go ice skating, walk in the woods and do home stuff. They are best friends, and the books celebrate difference and friendship.
They are beautifully drawn, sweet without being sickly and, more importantly, NOT BORING TO READ!!!
Hurrah and deepest thanks to Dr Kris and Kathy for sourcing books that can be enjoyed by parent AND child. Trust me, it is a rare feat.
Toot & Puddle are pigs who live together in Woodcock Pocket. Toot is adventurous and thrill seeking (one story sees him travel to Provence on a whim, where he finds a little place called CouCou Poche) while Puddle prefers to stay home, cook, go ice skating, walk in the woods and do home stuff. They are best friends, and the books celebrate difference and friendship.
They are beautifully drawn, sweet without being sickly and, more importantly, NOT BORING TO READ!!!
Hurrah and deepest thanks to Dr Kris and Kathy for sourcing books that can be enjoyed by parent AND child. Trust me, it is a rare feat.
Maiasaurus!!
With thanks to Google Images...and HarperCollins, and anyone else I have to thank to not get shouted at for copyright stuff...
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Wednesday, December 08, 2004
The Ballad of Angel Mouse, by Pat
If you’re in trouble and you need a friend
Angel Mouse is just round the bend
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
If you’re having trouble when you’re trying to play
And a little boy called Louie keeps on getting in the way
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
When the Rowly Monsters are out to play
Angel Mouse will chase them away
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
If supper's horrid - the worst you’ve ever seen
Angel Mouse will bring you a JellyBean
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
And when it's time to have a doze
Angel Mouse will tickle your nose
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
Now you’re asleep it's time, I think
For Angel Mouse to bring me a stiff drink
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
Angel Mouse is just round the bend
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
If you’re having trouble when you’re trying to play
And a little boy called Louie keeps on getting in the way
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
When the Rowly Monsters are out to play
Angel Mouse will chase them away
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
If supper's horrid - the worst you’ve ever seen
Angel Mouse will bring you a JellyBean
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
And when it's time to have a doze
Angel Mouse will tickle your nose
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
Now you’re asleep it's time, I think
For Angel Mouse to bring me a stiff drink
Just call Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
She’s small but strong and haven’t you heard?
She growls like a tiger and flies like a bird
It’s Angel Mouse, Angel Mouse
A Ranking of SuperHeroes, According to Maia
When one is dealing with Rowly Monsters - whether they be Things that Lurk in Dark Corners or Mummy pretending - it is neccesary to have a means of defense.
Maia's method is pretty cool. She flings out her hand, palm outwards and shouts "Spiderman!" or occasionally "Batman!" and the Rowly Monsters cower, disappear, or at least burst out laughing.
At lunch last Sunday, while Maia demonstrated her technique, Jenny G noted the gender bias in this tactic. What about WonderWoman? Couldn't she help? Agreeing that Maia should have a strong female superhero to defend herself with, I have enthusiastically encouraged her to shout "WonderWoman!" when confronted with the Rowly Monster. I have little to report in the way of success.
Matters were further complicated this morning when Noonah decided that "Dangermouse!" would be a good call. Maia looked at us quizzically and said "Angelmouse?"
She is right...In the grand scale of SuperHeroes, Angelmouse is pretty far down.
Perhaps we will stick with Spiderman and Batman for the moment. At least until someone develops a proper female superhero. Maybe she objects to the whole 'saving the world in hotpants and bangles' thing that WonderWoman has got going on... Who knows.
Maia's method is pretty cool. She flings out her hand, palm outwards and shouts "Spiderman!" or occasionally "Batman!" and the Rowly Monsters cower, disappear, or at least burst out laughing.
At lunch last Sunday, while Maia demonstrated her technique, Jenny G noted the gender bias in this tactic. What about WonderWoman? Couldn't she help? Agreeing that Maia should have a strong female superhero to defend herself with, I have enthusiastically encouraged her to shout "WonderWoman!" when confronted with the Rowly Monster. I have little to report in the way of success.
Matters were further complicated this morning when Noonah decided that "Dangermouse!" would be a good call. Maia looked at us quizzically and said "Angelmouse?"
She is right...In the grand scale of SuperHeroes, Angelmouse is pretty far down.
Perhaps we will stick with Spiderman and Batman for the moment. At least until someone develops a proper female superhero. Maybe she objects to the whole 'saving the world in hotpants and bangles' thing that WonderWoman has got going on... Who knows.
Monday, December 06, 2004
Making Choices, The Song
We were in a rush and Maia wouldn't choose which shoes to wear, Jumping Boots or Purple Butterflies. So (in an effort to distract/hurry things along) I decided to teach her the classic choosing song Eeny Meeny Miny Mo. She decided to make it a little bit more personal to her.
Her version:
Eeny Weeny Maia Mo
Catch a Tiger by the toe
If it hollers, let it go
Eeny Weeny Maia Mo
In the end, she wore the Purple Butterflies. And took the Jumping Boots with her...
Her version:
Eeny Weeny Maia Mo
Catch a Tiger by the toe
If it hollers, let it go
Eeny Weeny Maia Mo
In the end, she wore the Purple Butterflies. And took the Jumping Boots with her...
Thursday, December 02, 2004
(One In The) Eye For Fashion
Maia is becoming more willful (more? oh man...) and one way that this is being expressed is in her clothing choices.
Yesterday morning we left for the Funny Farm in:
a yellow, pink and dark blue dress (from Dr Kris and Kathy)
stripy tights of yellow, pink, blue, red, green and white
raindrop print blue welly boots,
clutching her pink, purple, white and yellow flowery handbag.
At least we know she won't get lost...
Yesterday morning we left for the Funny Farm in:
a yellow, pink and dark blue dress (from Dr Kris and Kathy)
stripy tights of yellow, pink, blue, red, green and white
raindrop print blue welly boots,
clutching her pink, purple, white and yellow flowery handbag.
At least we know she won't get lost...
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
The Importance of Learning a Language Early, According to the Funny Farm
I am very keen that Maia starts to learn another European language early - probably French or Spanish. So imagine my delight when she came home from the Funny Farm and started to sing Frère Jacque.
I was imagining summers in Paris, visiting her while she was en vacances from her diplôme at the Sorbonne when I tuned back into the song.
Frère Jacque,
Frère Jacque,
Dorme vous?
Dorme vous?
Jammy semolina,
Jammy semolina,
Din Dan Don,
Din Dan Don.
Hmmm. Aucun problème, nous avons assez de temps.*
*with thanks to BabelFish
I was imagining summers in Paris, visiting her while she was en vacances from her diplôme at the Sorbonne when I tuned back into the song.
Frère Jacque,
Frère Jacque,
Dorme vous?
Dorme vous?
Jammy semolina,
Jammy semolina,
Din Dan Don,
Din Dan Don.
Hmmm. Aucun problème, nous avons assez de temps.*
*with thanks to BabelFish
Sunday, November 28, 2004
A Trip to London Zoo, After Which a Lion Was Renamed.
Sunday afternoon was a bit rainy, a bit overcast and rather cold. All in all, a very British November day. A day for sitting under a duvet and supping hot chocolate. Or a day to troop about London Zoo, trying to spot the few animals daft enough to be out in the cold and wet. Zoo it was!
Part of the reason for the trip to the Zoo was to tie in with a rather special present, brought all the way from Washington DC for Maia. Dr Kris and her mum Kathy had found a Lion. Not just any Lion, but a thoroughly resplendent feline, all tufty caramel fur topped with a rather 1970s ginger mane. For some reason, prior to his introduction to Maia, Dr Kris and Chris had decided that Bartholemew was, in fact, gay. So, on this rainy Sunday, outside London Zoo, Maia was introduced to Bartholemew The Gay Lion*.
As soon as she saw him, Maia was smitten. A huge cuddle, followed by much affectionate face squeezing cemented the friendship. This was one very loved Lion. However, she struggled somewhat with the name.
Our zoo tour took in the giraffes ("One, two, three!"), some red bush pigs and piglets ("Babe!") monkeys, capuchins, a skunk, a Lesser Spotted Shrew ("That is a mouse"), a sloth ("We should leave him alone. He is tired"), some mangrove fish in mud ("This is not my favourite")... In fact the phrases "This is not my favourite" and "We should leave him alone" came up rather alot. If this makes it sound as though she didn't have a good day, it is not meant to - she really did. She just appreciated the animals, then decided it was time to move on to the next ones.
Dr Kris and Chris decided that a spotty cat called a servin was their favourite, while I went for the giraffes. I think Maia decided that her favourite was the elephant. Odd, given that we didn't see any elephants, but if she wants the elephant as her favourite, then she can have it...
Throughout the day, BTGL (forgive me, but Bartholemew The Gay Lion takes SO LONG to type!) was perched in the puchchair wearing various coats cast off by Maia and, later, Maia's Princess Rabbit tiara.
We rode on a roundabout, stopped for milk and cookies (Maia spent most of the time flirting with Chris and eating the majority of his crisps), coloured in a paper butterfly or two, bought a Nemo balloon and were almost the last to leave.
Maia kissed Dr Kris and Chris goodbye, was helped into her carseat, grabbed BTGL and promptly fell asleep.
When she woke up, I asked her what her lion was called. She replied "Barf-on-you". And so he is duly renamed.
A great day.
*I would like to point out that we are, after all, equal opportunities stuffed toy owners. Some of our best friends are man-made fibre, not suitable for under 3s.
Part of the reason for the trip to the Zoo was to tie in with a rather special present, brought all the way from Washington DC for Maia. Dr Kris and her mum Kathy had found a Lion. Not just any Lion, but a thoroughly resplendent feline, all tufty caramel fur topped with a rather 1970s ginger mane. For some reason, prior to his introduction to Maia, Dr Kris and Chris had decided that Bartholemew was, in fact, gay. So, on this rainy Sunday, outside London Zoo, Maia was introduced to Bartholemew The Gay Lion*.
As soon as she saw him, Maia was smitten. A huge cuddle, followed by much affectionate face squeezing cemented the friendship. This was one very loved Lion. However, she struggled somewhat with the name.
Our zoo tour took in the giraffes ("One, two, three!"), some red bush pigs and piglets ("Babe!") monkeys, capuchins, a skunk, a Lesser Spotted Shrew ("That is a mouse"), a sloth ("We should leave him alone. He is tired"), some mangrove fish in mud ("This is not my favourite")... In fact the phrases "This is not my favourite" and "We should leave him alone" came up rather alot. If this makes it sound as though she didn't have a good day, it is not meant to - she really did. She just appreciated the animals, then decided it was time to move on to the next ones.
Dr Kris and Chris decided that a spotty cat called a servin was their favourite, while I went for the giraffes. I think Maia decided that her favourite was the elephant. Odd, given that we didn't see any elephants, but if she wants the elephant as her favourite, then she can have it...
Throughout the day, BTGL (forgive me, but Bartholemew The Gay Lion takes SO LONG to type!) was perched in the puchchair wearing various coats cast off by Maia and, later, Maia's Princess Rabbit tiara.
We rode on a roundabout, stopped for milk and cookies (Maia spent most of the time flirting with Chris and eating the majority of his crisps), coloured in a paper butterfly or two, bought a Nemo balloon and were almost the last to leave.
Maia kissed Dr Kris and Chris goodbye, was helped into her carseat, grabbed BTGL and promptly fell asleep.
When she woke up, I asked her what her lion was called. She replied "Barf-on-you". And so he is duly renamed.
A great day.
*I would like to point out that we are, after all, equal opportunities stuffed toy owners. Some of our best friends are man-made fibre, not suitable for under 3s.
Thursday, November 25, 2004
Adventures with Noonah and Alec - Princess Rabbit
The Parmiter's Craft Fair (Fayre?) has been a staple in the Mitchell/Mitchell-Packington/ Packington household for years. Each year, Mum goes along and returns (a little tipsy from the mulled wine) with some homemade cakes, a knick-knack or two and having seen all the people she used to teach with.
This year, Alec, Sarah (his fabulous gf) and Maia accompanied Mum on her trip.
Maia took to the mulled wine and mince pie stall with gusto, demolishing a mince pie in record time. She didn't seem to notice that her mulled wine was suspiciously water-like, or if she did, she didn't mind.
Wandering around the various stalls brought out the magpie in her, as she went for every shiny, silvery, sparkly thing that caught her eye.
Next, she spotted the face painting stall. Enthralled, she demanded to have her face painted. Did she want a flower? No. Did she want to be a tiger? No. She wanted to be a rabbit.
"A rabbit? Are you sure? Ok then..."
So, very patiently, she sat still until the transformation was complete.
Later on, her magpie eyes spotted a fabulously shiny, silvery and sparkly tiara. For only 10p she was transformed into Princess Rabbit, and would answer to nothing else all day.
This year, Alec, Sarah (his fabulous gf) and Maia accompanied Mum on her trip.
Maia took to the mulled wine and mince pie stall with gusto, demolishing a mince pie in record time. She didn't seem to notice that her mulled wine was suspiciously water-like, or if she did, she didn't mind.
Wandering around the various stalls brought out the magpie in her, as she went for every shiny, silvery, sparkly thing that caught her eye.
Next, she spotted the face painting stall. Enthralled, she demanded to have her face painted. Did she want a flower? No. Did she want to be a tiger? No. She wanted to be a rabbit.
"A rabbit? Are you sure? Ok then..."
So, very patiently, she sat still until the transformation was complete.
Later on, her magpie eyes spotted a fabulously shiny, silvery and sparkly tiara. For only 10p she was transformed into Princess Rabbit, and would answer to nothing else all day.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Maia Makes Sandcakes
While Mum was away in Portugal, I was making dinner for Maia and myself. Stupidly, I had decided to make something that required full attention was paid so that it didn't burn/go gungey.
So I set Maia up with a tape player (playing Mog, of course) and got on with making dinner. Maia soon tired of Mog and pottered about, keeping herself amused. She had been quiet for about 2-3 minutes when I got suspicious.
"Maia darling, whatcha doing?"
"Playing with sand"
"sand?"
I went thorugh to the room by the kitchen (passing an open kitchen cabinet on the way) to find Maia, the floor and a cat or two covered in flour.
Well, we have now discovered that flour doesn't make good sandcastles, but it makes a great mess!
So I set Maia up with a tape player (playing Mog, of course) and got on with making dinner. Maia soon tired of Mog and pottered about, keeping herself amused. She had been quiet for about 2-3 minutes when I got suspicious.
"Maia darling, whatcha doing?"
"Playing with sand"
"sand?"
I went thorugh to the room by the kitchen (passing an open kitchen cabinet on the way) to find Maia, the floor and a cat or two covered in flour.
Well, we have now discovered that flour doesn't make good sandcastles, but it makes a great mess!
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
***PICTURE!***
OK, I know it is a really old one (from our Bahamas trip in March 2003) but I just rediscovered it, and damn, it's cute! So here you go..."Maia with Improvised Hat"
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Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Adventures with Daddy - Butt of the Joke
Maia and Pat were playing on the bed.
Pat playfully smacked her on the bottom, saying "I'm smacking your bottom! I'm smacking your bottom!"
Maia ran through to me (in the other room, folding laundry) and said "Daddy was smacking my bottom!" in a hilarious faux-outraged voice. So I said "If you don't want Daddy to smack your bottom, then go through and say 'That's not nice, Daddy. Don't smack my bottom." She did.
Pat then pinched her bottom, all the while saying "I'm pinching your bottom! I'm pinching your bottom!"
Again, Maia ran through to me. "Daddy is pinching my bottom!". So again I said "If you don't want Daddy to pinch your bottom, go through and say 'That's not nice, Daddy. Don't pinch my bottom." She did.
Then she looked at Pat sternly and said
"Kiss it. Kiss my bottom!"
Through tears of laughter, he did.
Pat playfully smacked her on the bottom, saying "I'm smacking your bottom! I'm smacking your bottom!"
Maia ran through to me (in the other room, folding laundry) and said "Daddy was smacking my bottom!" in a hilarious faux-outraged voice. So I said "If you don't want Daddy to smack your bottom, then go through and say 'That's not nice, Daddy. Don't smack my bottom." She did.
Pat then pinched her bottom, all the while saying "I'm pinching your bottom! I'm pinching your bottom!"
Again, Maia ran through to me. "Daddy is pinching my bottom!". So again I said "If you don't want Daddy to pinch your bottom, go through and say 'That's not nice, Daddy. Don't pinch my bottom." She did.
Then she looked at Pat sternly and said
"Kiss it. Kiss my bottom!"
Through tears of laughter, he did.
Feline Dissent
It appears that it is not just the grown-up humans in the house who have had enough of Mog.
I discovered, last night, that a suspicious liquid had soaked through the (well thumbed) pages of Mog the Forgetful Cat.
Perhaps we will have to write our own series. Suggestions on a postcard please.
Here are some to get you started...
Manky the Revengeful Cat
Scotty the Inconitnent Cat
Beckett the Avenger
Narley Harley...
I discovered, last night, that a suspicious liquid had soaked through the (well thumbed) pages of Mog the Forgetful Cat.
Perhaps we will have to write our own series. Suggestions on a postcard please.
Here are some to get you started...
Manky the Revengeful Cat
Scotty the Inconitnent Cat
Beckett the Avenger
Narley Harley...
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Through Gritted Teeth...
Mog?
Again?
Are you sure you wouldn't like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Or The BFG?
Or ANYTHING else?
No?
Definitely Mog? Not Postman Pat, or Mr Cheerful, or Giraffes Can't Dance, or Commotion in the Ocean, or Dinosaur Roar?
OK then. Here we go again..
"Once there was a cat called Mog..."
Again?
Are you sure you wouldn't like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Or The BFG?
Or ANYTHING else?
No?
Definitely Mog? Not Postman Pat, or Mr Cheerful, or Giraffes Can't Dance, or Commotion in the Ocean, or Dinosaur Roar?
OK then. Here we go again..
"Once there was a cat called Mog..."
Thursday, October 14, 2004
New Boots
We bought Maia some really cool Clarks boots - little lace up desert boots in suede. She loves them, and stomps about in them quite merrily.
However, they are NOT:
Super Boots
Great Boots
Dancing Boots
Running Boots
Funky Boots
Cool Boots
or any other descriptive term you can come up with.
This is because Maia has decreed that they are Jumping Boots. To refer to them as anything else will earn you a serious telling off.
However, they are NOT:
Super Boots
Great Boots
Dancing Boots
Running Boots
Funky Boots
Cool Boots
or any other descriptive term you can come up with.
This is because Maia has decreed that they are Jumping Boots. To refer to them as anything else will earn you a serious telling off.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Funny Face from the Funny Farm
I got quite a shock this afternoon, picking Maia up from the Funny Farm. In order to pass the time on a grey, rainy autumn day, a box of face-paints had been produced and used to full effect.
On my arrival I was greeted by a bright pink faced Maia, with heavy blue eyebrows, looking for all the world like a rather small, PeptoBismol coloured Oompa Loompa.
I think the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is being filmed in Leavesden, just down the road... Off to go see if anyone from central casting is interested.
On my arrival I was greeted by a bright pink faced Maia, with heavy blue eyebrows, looking for all the world like a rather small, PeptoBismol coloured Oompa Loompa.
I think the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is being filmed in Leavesden, just down the road... Off to go see if anyone from central casting is interested.
Adventures with Noona - Maia Knows Me Well
It is a sunny, clear, cool Autumn morning and Maia and I have just enjoyed an early breakfast of banana and strawberry smoothie followed by brown toast and egg. Now it is time to go to the Funny Farm. Maia mostly dresses herself, with a little help from me. She then sits happily playing with the 'talking book' (Pappy's Birthday present to her).
I tell her I am going up stairs to get dressed. She nonchalantly looks up and appraises me and says 'Put on a skirt and a stripy top and have some wine'
I do follow her orders but leave out the wine for the moment, 8am is too early even for me.
I tell her I am going up stairs to get dressed. She nonchalantly looks up and appraises me and says 'Put on a skirt and a stripy top and have some wine'
I do follow her orders but leave out the wine for the moment, 8am is too early even for me.
Monday, October 11, 2004
New Catchphrase
We have bought Maia a tape and book set of Mog The Forgetful Cat, her first of the classic series by Judith Kerr.
In the book, Mog, a rather dim-but-lovely tabby cat, gets herself and her family into adventures and scrapes, with everything working out well in the end. However, during these adventures and scrapes, the Thomas family (owners of Mog) regularly say "Bother that cat!"
Maia thinks this is a wonderful phrase and enthusiastically joins in whenever the phrase appears in the book or tape. She is so enamored of it that she even shouts it out when book and tape are nowhere to be seen or heard. One slight problem is her inability to properly enunciate the "th" sounds....so the phrase sounds somewhat ruder than it should. Bother that lisp.
In the book, Mog, a rather dim-but-lovely tabby cat, gets herself and her family into adventures and scrapes, with everything working out well in the end. However, during these adventures and scrapes, the Thomas family (owners of Mog) regularly say "Bother that cat!"
Maia thinks this is a wonderful phrase and enthusiastically joins in whenever the phrase appears in the book or tape. She is so enamored of it that she even shouts it out when book and tape are nowhere to be seen or heard. One slight problem is her inability to properly enunciate the "th" sounds....so the phrase sounds somewhat ruder than it should. Bother that lisp.
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