We've had some more firsts this week.
On Tuesday evening, when I was feeling rather tired and a little lazy, I presented Joseph with a bowl of curried rice and a spoon. I popped back into the kitchen to get something, expecting to find a puzzled little boy and a bit of mess when I got back.
No indeed. He was sat in his booster seat, which I now put straight on the floor on top of a piece of plastic table-cloth. He was watching Chuggington.
He was also feeding himself. The spoon was picking up big lumps of the sticky spicy rice and they were making it into his mouth. He did not stop feeding himself until the bowl was empty. Now here I must add a few more details to the story to make it even more impressive. There was only a small amount adhering to the side of his mouth and only a little dropped in the bib. There was none on the tray in front of him and none scattered about on the floor. He had eaten pretty much the whole bowl himself, using the spoon. A little shocked, I then gave him his yoghurt and a spoon and he did the same thing.
That's a first. He's been showing signs of wanting to self feed with cutlery for a while now, but has generally got bored and given up half way through or hasn't managed to master keeping the food on the spoon for long enough to get it to his mouth. Of course, later in the week he hasn't been as good, but I'm still pleased. He's shown he can do it and we can work on consistency. It wont be long before he doesn't need me at all at meal times, my role will simply be to provide the food.
On Wednesday he was sat on his small push along car in the living room. Up until now he's only ever been able to make it go backwards, unless he gets off and then pushes it along. I looked at him sat on it and then I pointed further down the room and asked if he could go to where I was pointing.
He looked over and then began to slowly and bumpily scoot the car along the floor in a forwards direction! I gave him a lot of praise, he looked surprised and he hasn't done it since. No matter, at least I know he can do it. It was starting to worry me a bit, considering he's ahead of the curve in other areas. He's starting to put words together and he can do jigsaws on the tablet, but to not be able to make a sit-on car go forwards seemed.... perverse.
Perhaps it was just laziness. He knew that if he sat there and made noise at me then I'd eventually get up and push him along anyway. Also, it's not the only locomotive oddity he's had, when most children start crawling, he was getting about by doing a sideways roly-poly and he got quite quick at it too, he could roll all the way across the living room in a matter of seconds. He didn't crawl for all that long in the end, deciding that at one week past his first birthday - he'd rather walk.
We've had two new almost words - flower and "wowsers" which we think was him trying to say "trousers". We've not heard either of them since, adding to my idea that Joseph doesn't like to say a word out loud to us until he could say it properly. He never really said "Mama" or "Dada" it was pretty much straight to "Mummy" and "Daddy". There seem to be hardly any words that he does not understand, he can even work out the difference between "Where's Joseph's nose?" and "Where's Daddy's nose?" when you ask and give the corresponding correct hooter a good tweak. You have to say "Honk!" when he does, he finds that very funny.
Andy and I have concluded that when we put him down for the night and we hear him chattering away to himself in his cot, he's practising. He doesn't like anyone to hear, so he does it when he's alone. I'm imagining him up there right now going "Wowers - no. T... t... tousers - no. T... t... tr... tousers. Oh bother. T... t..."
It really wouldn't surprise me if he was, he's showing signs of being such a little perfectionist.
Thursday 30 August 2012
Saturday 25 August 2012
The Lonliness of the Long Distance Shopper
It occurs to me that I have written a blog post on this subject before, but it was a while ago now so never mind.
Yesterday Granny and I took Joseph to Ikea. We had decided that we'd do something with the day, my other half being away for the weekend on a camping trip with a friend. Whilst he was off enjoying camping, cream teas and fish and chips, I did not want to sit at home, alone and bereft. We initially thought we'd pop into town for a bit, but then we remembered that it was the time of the music festival and spending even five minutes in a public place full of those sorts of smelly weirdos did not sound like a good day to me. Public toilets are usually all closed and that's not good when you've a small child who needs his bum tending to on a regular basis.
We don't even get the same calibre weirdo that we used to. When I was growing up, in the late eighties and early nineties they used to put some effort into the weird, there were kooky off the wall costumes that looked like some actual thought had gone into it, even if they were odd thoughts that nobody else would understand. Nowadays we just get a mix of the usual tired and grubby hippy types mixed in with the teeny-bopper girly chavvy types who wear hot pants and big green wellies. I want to tell them they look so many shades of ridiculous, but I doubt they'd listen.
We decided to get far out of town instead and we went to Ikea. I didn't have anything specific in mind, but it's a fun place to browse. Thinking of the houses we had looked in, I wanted to look at potential storage ideas and I ended up coming home with a recycling bin system that beats what I had before (a box on the floor in the kitchen) a neat Swedish idea of two square buckets fitting inside a bigger bucket and lids. I can sort my recycling as I go and it's got proper lids and carry handles. I'm getting excited about recycling systems, how sad am I?
I did buy a new front door mat. The old one had got a bit damaged.
Joseph spent a long time in the buggy and seemed quite content to stare goggle eyed at all the nice furniture and things. In the restaurant he ate two and a half meatballs and quite a few chips. He even ate some of the berry sauce they put with them. He only got unhappy when we started eating our puddings and he was still on the mains. He doesn't like to feel he's missing out.
In the evening I got a Chinese takeaway, which I had been very much looking forwards to. When I got home I found that only half the starter I had ordered was in the bag. The trouble is, when that happens you're a bit over a barrel. What do you do? You can go back and complain but by then the food you have got has gone cold. Or you can just sit at home, eat what you have and feel annoyed. I was too tired to walk back. Joseph didn't help much, he didn't want his sesame prawn toast, he wasn't too keen on the sweet cabbage and he didn't like sweet and sour pork balls. He didn't even want any egg fried rice, something I know he's liked before. He didn't half cry this morning though, when I ate the left overs for breakfast and he didn't get any. I told him I wasn't going to waste good pork balls on a little boy who'd just squish them for a bit and throw them away. He still wasn't happy, but he did feed himself almost all of his banana and cereal breakfast without help.
He had oven chips for lunch and ate all of them and for his tea he had pasta with mushrooms, peas and cheese sauce. He not only ate a whole portion, but he was doing so well I gave him some seconds and he ate almost as much again. I was helping this time, he was too intent on watching Chuggington. Sometimes if I try and feed him he refuses and will only eat if he does it himself. Sometimes he's just lazy and will sit doing a baby bird impression with his mouth wide open and I have to put the food in. I didn't mind, he ate such a lot! I worry he's getting skinny you see, so when he's hungry I make the most of it.
I also watched a Disney film with him. You can't have a small child and escape the long, clinging tendrils of the Disney corporation, who have successfully managed to bottle and sell childhood innocence and fun and leave it feeling like the beef in a McD's burger - tasteless and bland. The film was "Homeward Bound II" and it was as cheesy (in a bright orange pre-processed kind of way) as I had expected, but Joseph loved it. He liked the dogs "Go da! Go da!" and he liked the cat "Go miaow! Go miaow!" and he sat on my lap totally transfixed for more than half an hour, the longest any programme has held his attention. He did give up eventually and decided to create Duplo sculptures worthy of the Turbine Hall, but never mind.
After that it was bath and bedtime. Usually, Andy does this as by the evening I like a little break, but today I enjoyed the privilege of giving the worlds cutest little boy a dip in the foamy water. He splashed and shouted and went to bed. I sang "Twinkle twinkle little star" and he laughed at me and then fell asleep in the pose I like to call "Stunned starfish".
Now it's my turn to go to bed and I fully intend to achieve the pose of "Comatose Mum" in fairly short order.
Good night.
Yesterday Granny and I took Joseph to Ikea. We had decided that we'd do something with the day, my other half being away for the weekend on a camping trip with a friend. Whilst he was off enjoying camping, cream teas and fish and chips, I did not want to sit at home, alone and bereft. We initially thought we'd pop into town for a bit, but then we remembered that it was the time of the music festival and spending even five minutes in a public place full of those sorts of smelly weirdos did not sound like a good day to me. Public toilets are usually all closed and that's not good when you've a small child who needs his bum tending to on a regular basis.
We don't even get the same calibre weirdo that we used to. When I was growing up, in the late eighties and early nineties they used to put some effort into the weird, there were kooky off the wall costumes that looked like some actual thought had gone into it, even if they were odd thoughts that nobody else would understand. Nowadays we just get a mix of the usual tired and grubby hippy types mixed in with the teeny-bopper girly chavvy types who wear hot pants and big green wellies. I want to tell them they look so many shades of ridiculous, but I doubt they'd listen.
We decided to get far out of town instead and we went to Ikea. I didn't have anything specific in mind, but it's a fun place to browse. Thinking of the houses we had looked in, I wanted to look at potential storage ideas and I ended up coming home with a recycling bin system that beats what I had before (a box on the floor in the kitchen) a neat Swedish idea of two square buckets fitting inside a bigger bucket and lids. I can sort my recycling as I go and it's got proper lids and carry handles. I'm getting excited about recycling systems, how sad am I?
I did buy a new front door mat. The old one had got a bit damaged.
Joseph spent a long time in the buggy and seemed quite content to stare goggle eyed at all the nice furniture and things. In the restaurant he ate two and a half meatballs and quite a few chips. He even ate some of the berry sauce they put with them. He only got unhappy when we started eating our puddings and he was still on the mains. He doesn't like to feel he's missing out.
In the evening I got a Chinese takeaway, which I had been very much looking forwards to. When I got home I found that only half the starter I had ordered was in the bag. The trouble is, when that happens you're a bit over a barrel. What do you do? You can go back and complain but by then the food you have got has gone cold. Or you can just sit at home, eat what you have and feel annoyed. I was too tired to walk back. Joseph didn't help much, he didn't want his sesame prawn toast, he wasn't too keen on the sweet cabbage and he didn't like sweet and sour pork balls. He didn't even want any egg fried rice, something I know he's liked before. He didn't half cry this morning though, when I ate the left overs for breakfast and he didn't get any. I told him I wasn't going to waste good pork balls on a little boy who'd just squish them for a bit and throw them away. He still wasn't happy, but he did feed himself almost all of his banana and cereal breakfast without help.
He had oven chips for lunch and ate all of them and for his tea he had pasta with mushrooms, peas and cheese sauce. He not only ate a whole portion, but he was doing so well I gave him some seconds and he ate almost as much again. I was helping this time, he was too intent on watching Chuggington. Sometimes if I try and feed him he refuses and will only eat if he does it himself. Sometimes he's just lazy and will sit doing a baby bird impression with his mouth wide open and I have to put the food in. I didn't mind, he ate such a lot! I worry he's getting skinny you see, so when he's hungry I make the most of it.
I also watched a Disney film with him. You can't have a small child and escape the long, clinging tendrils of the Disney corporation, who have successfully managed to bottle and sell childhood innocence and fun and leave it feeling like the beef in a McD's burger - tasteless and bland. The film was "Homeward Bound II" and it was as cheesy (in a bright orange pre-processed kind of way) as I had expected, but Joseph loved it. He liked the dogs "Go da! Go da!" and he liked the cat "Go miaow! Go miaow!" and he sat on my lap totally transfixed for more than half an hour, the longest any programme has held his attention. He did give up eventually and decided to create Duplo sculptures worthy of the Turbine Hall, but never mind.
After that it was bath and bedtime. Usually, Andy does this as by the evening I like a little break, but today I enjoyed the privilege of giving the worlds cutest little boy a dip in the foamy water. He splashed and shouted and went to bed. I sang "Twinkle twinkle little star" and he laughed at me and then fell asleep in the pose I like to call "Stunned starfish".
Now it's my turn to go to bed and I fully intend to achieve the pose of "Comatose Mum" in fairly short order.
Good night.
Wednesday 22 August 2012
Feeling Better
He's playing in the water feature again, that child of mine. If even the sit in toy car fails to amuse, the water feature does not. Simply turn it on and check to make sure that the water in it is still reasonably fresh. He'll sit there for hours if I let him.
Right now I'm tempted. I'm tired, quite tired. It's taken me ages to pull up from this stomach bug, probably due to the fact that one of its side effects has been to dramatically shrink the amount of food I can eat in one go. I have for a while been living on a reduced calorie diet, mostly because it aids my digestion, but this is something else. My main meal has become more of a light lunch and any attempts to cram more in there results in quite severe pain and nausea. If I eat till I feel full at lunch time then I stay feeling full the rest of the day and it's all I can do to manage a cup-a-soup in the evening. Since Sunday, when I started trying to eat more normal sized portions I doubt I've averaged much more than 1,000 calories a day.
Were I still overweight I'd go with the flow, but I'm not any more and it's beyond exhausting chasing after a mad toddler when you know you're low on fuel. Sometimes, at least, I have a trouble free nap time by dint of leaving the radio on low in the bedroom. If I know I've got a couple of hours in the middle of the day to totally relax and unwind then I do better. If Joseph feels I am neglecting him by not playing with him enough and just flopping on the sofa to watch something easy on the brain then he lets me know.
That's why I've given in and put the water feature on. I can clearly see him from the living room and he'll spend a long time poking little stones in the hole in the top to make the water spurt out in different ways.
He's coping quite well with people coming to view our house. Male visitors still make him nervous, but he doesn't cry on sight. Mostly he just gets a little shy and becomes very clingy. He will hand on tight when I stand up and he will be glued to my lap when I am seated. I don't mind, I like the extra cuddles. We've looked at a couple of places so far and I think at least one of them presents as a real possibility. It needs a bit of work, but we can cope with that.
Something did puzzle me, though. If you're trying to sell your house, what's the best thing to do?
Option one - thoroughly clean, tidy and de-clutter. Redo a little paintwork to freshen up and generally try and present your house as best you can.
Option two - don't do any of the above and leave stuff all over the floor, washing up in the sink and give the impression you can't be bothered.
Option three - rent out your house to the laziest, scummiest tenants in the world and never bother to check on them. Let them actually bash holes in the bathroom, ruin the carpets and generally destroy all the fixtures and fittings. If the house reeks of cooking, BO and other nasties, all the better.
We visited three houses and two of them thought options two and three were the way to go. I couldn't help but think that those tenants had probably knocked a good £20,000 off the asking price, if not more. Who wants to buy a house that you wont actually be able to move into for several weeks as you need to rip out all the carpets and replace them and also hire an industrial cleaning team. I saw things squashed onto the walls that do not bear thinking about.
Joseph didn't like it much in there either.
Right now I'm tempted. I'm tired, quite tired. It's taken me ages to pull up from this stomach bug, probably due to the fact that one of its side effects has been to dramatically shrink the amount of food I can eat in one go. I have for a while been living on a reduced calorie diet, mostly because it aids my digestion, but this is something else. My main meal has become more of a light lunch and any attempts to cram more in there results in quite severe pain and nausea. If I eat till I feel full at lunch time then I stay feeling full the rest of the day and it's all I can do to manage a cup-a-soup in the evening. Since Sunday, when I started trying to eat more normal sized portions I doubt I've averaged much more than 1,000 calories a day.
Were I still overweight I'd go with the flow, but I'm not any more and it's beyond exhausting chasing after a mad toddler when you know you're low on fuel. Sometimes, at least, I have a trouble free nap time by dint of leaving the radio on low in the bedroom. If I know I've got a couple of hours in the middle of the day to totally relax and unwind then I do better. If Joseph feels I am neglecting him by not playing with him enough and just flopping on the sofa to watch something easy on the brain then he lets me know.
That's why I've given in and put the water feature on. I can clearly see him from the living room and he'll spend a long time poking little stones in the hole in the top to make the water spurt out in different ways.
He's coping quite well with people coming to view our house. Male visitors still make him nervous, but he doesn't cry on sight. Mostly he just gets a little shy and becomes very clingy. He will hand on tight when I stand up and he will be glued to my lap when I am seated. I don't mind, I like the extra cuddles. We've looked at a couple of places so far and I think at least one of them presents as a real possibility. It needs a bit of work, but we can cope with that.
Something did puzzle me, though. If you're trying to sell your house, what's the best thing to do?
Option one - thoroughly clean, tidy and de-clutter. Redo a little paintwork to freshen up and generally try and present your house as best you can.
Option two - don't do any of the above and leave stuff all over the floor, washing up in the sink and give the impression you can't be bothered.
Option three - rent out your house to the laziest, scummiest tenants in the world and never bother to check on them. Let them actually bash holes in the bathroom, ruin the carpets and generally destroy all the fixtures and fittings. If the house reeks of cooking, BO and other nasties, all the better.
We visited three houses and two of them thought options two and three were the way to go. I couldn't help but think that those tenants had probably knocked a good £20,000 off the asking price, if not more. Who wants to buy a house that you wont actually be able to move into for several weeks as you need to rip out all the carpets and replace them and also hire an industrial cleaning team. I saw things squashed onto the walls that do not bear thinking about.
Joseph didn't like it much in there either.
Friday 17 August 2012
Sick
I can now safely state that Josephs little illness wasn't the result of him having an illicit nibble on a broken piece of plant pot in the back garden but was in fact a stomach bug.
How do I know this?
He gave it to me.
I've had stomach bugs in the past and this one was easily the worst. I was writhing in pain for most of Wednesday night and once the sickness started it just got worse. I spent all of Thursday either being sick or collapsed out in bed. It was lucky in one sense that I normally work on Thursdays so Granny was expecting to have Joseph for the day anyway, I'd never have coped with him at home. It was bad luck in another way as it was a work day and I'm pretty sure that I've now exceeded my sickness allowance this year. I'll get in trouble, but what can I say? I just keep catching things and there's not a thing I can do about it. It's not as if I can somehow magically stop myself from being ill, unless I spend my life in some sort of plastic bubble and that would make work rather hard.
Today I have been recovering. By that I mean I am no longer throwing up, but still feel pretty awful. I have eaten a little toast and have managed to keep down some cups of tea which means my lack of caffeine headache has gone away, but I still feel like I've gone several rounds with an invisible boxer. The kind of invisible boxer that puts you in illegal wrist holds and really does a number on your kidneys.
Today Joseph has been... well.... Joseph. When you're dog tired and just want to lie flat, you really don't want to be dealing with a bouncy toddler who keeps trying to climb on you and knee you in your very sensitive middle. He also refused to take any naps at all today, no matter how much coaxing, singing or other sorts of bribery I tried. You can say "Joseph - go sleep!" and he will giggle, lay his head down on the pillow and shut his eyes. This is great, but it only lasts for a few seconds. After that, he is up and bouncing and generally doing the best he can to act the part of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.
In the end I had to call in expert help. I called Granny.
Poor Granny, she must have had quite enough of me this week. I called her over when Joseph got chunder all over the bedroom on Tuesday. She came over on Wednesday afternoon to babysit whilst I went to the dentist (my teeth are fine and Joseph will be coming with me next time, he he!) and she had the little terror all of yesterday. I really needed help today, we had two different people coming to view our house this afternoon and I didn't want the house to have l'eau de sick person about it. You know what I mean, that disinfectant smell with an edge of something rather unpleasant that it's just not quite covering up. Kitchens can have a bleachy smell about them, it's a sign of good cleaning, but not bedrooms. Thank goodness for febreese!
Joseph quite liked the viewings. He smiled at the people and was generally cute without getting in the way. I take this as a good sign as he's usually terrified of people he doesn't know and screams at them. That, if you ask me, does not create a good first impression.
In the mean time, he's screaming now. He didn't want any of his naps in the day and he's been in his cot for more than half an hour. We've been up, we've played, made him laugh and sung to him. I'd feel sorry for him if I just had the energy.....
How do I know this?
He gave it to me.
I've had stomach bugs in the past and this one was easily the worst. I was writhing in pain for most of Wednesday night and once the sickness started it just got worse. I spent all of Thursday either being sick or collapsed out in bed. It was lucky in one sense that I normally work on Thursdays so Granny was expecting to have Joseph for the day anyway, I'd never have coped with him at home. It was bad luck in another way as it was a work day and I'm pretty sure that I've now exceeded my sickness allowance this year. I'll get in trouble, but what can I say? I just keep catching things and there's not a thing I can do about it. It's not as if I can somehow magically stop myself from being ill, unless I spend my life in some sort of plastic bubble and that would make work rather hard.
Today I have been recovering. By that I mean I am no longer throwing up, but still feel pretty awful. I have eaten a little toast and have managed to keep down some cups of tea which means my lack of caffeine headache has gone away, but I still feel like I've gone several rounds with an invisible boxer. The kind of invisible boxer that puts you in illegal wrist holds and really does a number on your kidneys.
Today Joseph has been... well.... Joseph. When you're dog tired and just want to lie flat, you really don't want to be dealing with a bouncy toddler who keeps trying to climb on you and knee you in your very sensitive middle. He also refused to take any naps at all today, no matter how much coaxing, singing or other sorts of bribery I tried. You can say "Joseph - go sleep!" and he will giggle, lay his head down on the pillow and shut his eyes. This is great, but it only lasts for a few seconds. After that, he is up and bouncing and generally doing the best he can to act the part of Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.
In the end I had to call in expert help. I called Granny.
Poor Granny, she must have had quite enough of me this week. I called her over when Joseph got chunder all over the bedroom on Tuesday. She came over on Wednesday afternoon to babysit whilst I went to the dentist (my teeth are fine and Joseph will be coming with me next time, he he!) and she had the little terror all of yesterday. I really needed help today, we had two different people coming to view our house this afternoon and I didn't want the house to have l'eau de sick person about it. You know what I mean, that disinfectant smell with an edge of something rather unpleasant that it's just not quite covering up. Kitchens can have a bleachy smell about them, it's a sign of good cleaning, but not bedrooms. Thank goodness for febreese!
Joseph quite liked the viewings. He smiled at the people and was generally cute without getting in the way. I take this as a good sign as he's usually terrified of people he doesn't know and screams at them. That, if you ask me, does not create a good first impression.
In the mean time, he's screaming now. He didn't want any of his naps in the day and he's been in his cot for more than half an hour. We've been up, we've played, made him laugh and sung to him. I'd feel sorry for him if I just had the energy.....
Tuesday 14 August 2012
Vomit
I made a mistake in my last blog. I mentioned that Joseph hasn't really been a sick child. When he was on milk he threw up a handful of times and his stomach has been well behaved since weaning.
Fate, it appears, does not like to be tempted and today... well I guess most other mums out there will be giving me an ironic smile right now, you're probably used to scraping piles of sick off the floor on a semi-regular basis. I'm not.
Joseph was sick today, very sick.
He was fine in the morning, he played about like he usually does. I let him have some fun in the garden and whilst he was running round and round on the lawn, I took a few minutes to tidy up in the kitchen and get a load in the dishwasher. When I popped my head round the door I saw him trying to eat a small piece of broken flower pot. This may have been what did the damage, or it might just be a bug going round.
Either way, he was ill. He ate his lunch like normal and had his afternoon nap as normal and woke up at about 2.45pm whimpering. I'd been having a doze downstairs and this is when I woke up. I headed upstairs and concluded that he couldn't have been crying for very long as he hadn't scattered soft toys all over the room, which is his standard response to being in his cot when he'd rather be out.
I picked him up, he still whimpered. A moment later it was my turn to cry out as Joseph let out what sounded like an almighty belch and my arm, part of my leg, some of our bed and a large patch of carpet became lost in a shower of projectile vomit. He'd had chicken sandwiches, cherry tomatoes and a fromage frais for his lunch. You could tell.
I gently sat him back down in his cot and tried to take stock and work out what to do next. Joseph would be safe in the cot, even if he was now quite unhappy. I could go and clean myself off, grab some cleaning stuff and go to work on the carpet.
Joseph had other ideas. He belched again, a damp and ominous noise that was the harbinger of an even bigger shower of sick covered himself and the cot. There were pieces of tomato in that as well.
Now what? I couldn't pick him up, he was so covered in sick! I couldn't leave the room, as soon as I did he started screaming and that was just asking for trouble. Stuck between a rock and a sicky place, I called for backup.
Granny came over, armed with a pile of old towels, something that is utterly invaluable when it comes to sicky children. They sick up on the towels and not the soft furnishings, much easier to clean.
Granny got the cuddles. Poor little Joseph, he was quite ashen faced. He had huge grey rings under his eyes and his lips were a pale white. We gave him a little cold water and the poor mite couldn't even keep that down.
Joseph was happy to cuddle Granny. I slunk back upstairs and set to the grim task of picking vomit off the carpet and cleaning it with washing up liquid and a special enzyme cleaner that actually for cleaning up cat mess, but it works on baby mess too. I cleaned myself, collected up all the grotty bedding including moving our full sized mattress to get the dirty valance sheet out. I gathered up all the ickyness in the cot together in its fitted sheet and then said a silent prayer of thanks that we hadn't been able to afford the proper sprung fabric mattress and had gone for the foam filled plastic covered one. Much easier to clean.
I changed sheets, scrubbed some more and did more washing than I care to think about. Joseph just got cuddles.
I think I've got it all out. The room doesn't smell any more and I don't think I do. By late afternoon Joseph had picked up enough to take some calpol (magic!) and some cool boiled water and a little dry toast. He hiccuped and then belched, causing me to start forward and lay him down on his side with an old towel ready to catch the explosion, but it was unnecessary. He was still under the weather, but there was no more sick.
He's gone to bed now, hopefully he will sleep. Hopefully there will be no more sick because it really is nasty. I really do feel for any mum who has this sort of thing on a regular basis, it must be quite tempting to get everything including yourself teflon coated to make it all easier to clean.
By the way, I've found all the pieces of the broken flower pot in the garden and got rid of them. I'm not taking any more risks.
Fate, it appears, does not like to be tempted and today... well I guess most other mums out there will be giving me an ironic smile right now, you're probably used to scraping piles of sick off the floor on a semi-regular basis. I'm not.
Joseph was sick today, very sick.
He was fine in the morning, he played about like he usually does. I let him have some fun in the garden and whilst he was running round and round on the lawn, I took a few minutes to tidy up in the kitchen and get a load in the dishwasher. When I popped my head round the door I saw him trying to eat a small piece of broken flower pot. This may have been what did the damage, or it might just be a bug going round.
Either way, he was ill. He ate his lunch like normal and had his afternoon nap as normal and woke up at about 2.45pm whimpering. I'd been having a doze downstairs and this is when I woke up. I headed upstairs and concluded that he couldn't have been crying for very long as he hadn't scattered soft toys all over the room, which is his standard response to being in his cot when he'd rather be out.
I picked him up, he still whimpered. A moment later it was my turn to cry out as Joseph let out what sounded like an almighty belch and my arm, part of my leg, some of our bed and a large patch of carpet became lost in a shower of projectile vomit. He'd had chicken sandwiches, cherry tomatoes and a fromage frais for his lunch. You could tell.
I gently sat him back down in his cot and tried to take stock and work out what to do next. Joseph would be safe in the cot, even if he was now quite unhappy. I could go and clean myself off, grab some cleaning stuff and go to work on the carpet.
Joseph had other ideas. He belched again, a damp and ominous noise that was the harbinger of an even bigger shower of sick covered himself and the cot. There were pieces of tomato in that as well.
Now what? I couldn't pick him up, he was so covered in sick! I couldn't leave the room, as soon as I did he started screaming and that was just asking for trouble. Stuck between a rock and a sicky place, I called for backup.
Granny came over, armed with a pile of old towels, something that is utterly invaluable when it comes to sicky children. They sick up on the towels and not the soft furnishings, much easier to clean.
Granny got the cuddles. Poor little Joseph, he was quite ashen faced. He had huge grey rings under his eyes and his lips were a pale white. We gave him a little cold water and the poor mite couldn't even keep that down.
Joseph was happy to cuddle Granny. I slunk back upstairs and set to the grim task of picking vomit off the carpet and cleaning it with washing up liquid and a special enzyme cleaner that actually for cleaning up cat mess, but it works on baby mess too. I cleaned myself, collected up all the grotty bedding including moving our full sized mattress to get the dirty valance sheet out. I gathered up all the ickyness in the cot together in its fitted sheet and then said a silent prayer of thanks that we hadn't been able to afford the proper sprung fabric mattress and had gone for the foam filled plastic covered one. Much easier to clean.
I changed sheets, scrubbed some more and did more washing than I care to think about. Joseph just got cuddles.
I think I've got it all out. The room doesn't smell any more and I don't think I do. By late afternoon Joseph had picked up enough to take some calpol (magic!) and some cool boiled water and a little dry toast. He hiccuped and then belched, causing me to start forward and lay him down on his side with an old towel ready to catch the explosion, but it was unnecessary. He was still under the weather, but there was no more sick.
He's gone to bed now, hopefully he will sleep. Hopefully there will be no more sick because it really is nasty. I really do feel for any mum who has this sort of thing on a regular basis, it must be quite tempting to get everything including yourself teflon coated to make it all easier to clean.
By the way, I've found all the pieces of the broken flower pot in the garden and got rid of them. I'm not taking any more risks.
Monday 13 August 2012
Growth Spurt
After having quite a lot of comments about Josephs size, including people vastly over estimating his age, I decided to measure him today and plot him on the little growth chart that can be found at the back of the little red book every new mum is given.
It's actually quite hard to measure a toddler, Joseph kept thinking that the tape measure was a toy and he got very upset when I decided that I'd got the best measure I could and the thing was going away.
Joseph is 89cm tall.
Actually, that's a lot. A whole lot.
He now sits just a hairs breadth below the 98th percentile line on the chart. That means that if you lined up 100 boys of his age then only two would be taller than him, and not by much. It means that he's a full 2cm taller than the average two year old. No wonder most people think he's older and it's no wonder I worry about his development. I see children the same size as him and they're talking in a coherent manner - because they're much older!
I'm a little gob-smacked, I have to admit. Why is my child, my lovely little boy, heading towards giant proportions? I'm average height, my husband is average height as are my parents and his. The only tall person in my family was my Grandad and he wasn't massive, just a bit taller than average.
Perhaps I should be pleased. He's perfectly healthy, astoundingly so. He's only ever had one doctors appointment since he stopped seeing health visitors at a few months old and that was the standard year old check up. The doctor all but said that I'd wasted his time bringing him in as there was nothing at all to be concerned about. He's had a couple of light colds, a couple of very short lived fevers and a very light touch of rotavirus. I've read about some other cases of that bug and to say that he got off lightly is an understatement. He's never needed any sort of emergency treatment, for health or injury. When he was milk fed he threw up about five times in total and since weaning he's never been sick at all, apart from a tiny little bit when he got rather excited.
Me worry?
Perhaps he's "too" healthy?
To be frank, a child that jumps from the 75th percentile in height to the 98th in a matter of months... is that right? I'm going to measure him again just to be sure.
If anything, I got his height a little short. He did stand still for me, he'd got an ornament off the shelf and was intent on turning it over and over in his hands, thus enabling me to sneak up behind him with the measure. I had it locked at the 89cm measurement and when I placed the square body of the measure on the back of his head, the tip did not quite reach the ground. If he's 90cm then that would shoot him up past the 98th percentile, but he'd still be on the chart, but only just. I'm going to go and weigh him now.
He weighs two stone. After a bit of head scratching, I remembered that there are 14 pounds in a stone and was able to use the conversion chart in the back of the book. I have never understood imperial measurements, 14 of this, 16 of something else, there are 12s and other measures too, none of which holds any logic to me.
28 pounds is roughly 12.72 kilos and that puts him...
Between the 75th and the 91st percentile lines. For a moment I thought he was too skinny, then I realised I was looking at the 2 year old line and not 20 months.
That means he's tall and thin-ish. I guess all those portions of chips and cake he ate on holiday haven't done him any harm. It certainly doesn't explain why he can still comfortably wear trousers designed for a 6-9 month old baby. They're fine in the waist, just short in the legs. On him they're cargo pants. A baby who actually fits in them must be a chubby, stubby thing.
Excuse me, but I have to go now. Joseph has just discovered how much fun it is to run his truck up and down on the top of our gas fire....
It's actually quite hard to measure a toddler, Joseph kept thinking that the tape measure was a toy and he got very upset when I decided that I'd got the best measure I could and the thing was going away.
Joseph is 89cm tall.
Actually, that's a lot. A whole lot.
He now sits just a hairs breadth below the 98th percentile line on the chart. That means that if you lined up 100 boys of his age then only two would be taller than him, and not by much. It means that he's a full 2cm taller than the average two year old. No wonder most people think he's older and it's no wonder I worry about his development. I see children the same size as him and they're talking in a coherent manner - because they're much older!
I'm a little gob-smacked, I have to admit. Why is my child, my lovely little boy, heading towards giant proportions? I'm average height, my husband is average height as are my parents and his. The only tall person in my family was my Grandad and he wasn't massive, just a bit taller than average.
Perhaps I should be pleased. He's perfectly healthy, astoundingly so. He's only ever had one doctors appointment since he stopped seeing health visitors at a few months old and that was the standard year old check up. The doctor all but said that I'd wasted his time bringing him in as there was nothing at all to be concerned about. He's had a couple of light colds, a couple of very short lived fevers and a very light touch of rotavirus. I've read about some other cases of that bug and to say that he got off lightly is an understatement. He's never needed any sort of emergency treatment, for health or injury. When he was milk fed he threw up about five times in total and since weaning he's never been sick at all, apart from a tiny little bit when he got rather excited.
Me worry?
Perhaps he's "too" healthy?
To be frank, a child that jumps from the 75th percentile in height to the 98th in a matter of months... is that right? I'm going to measure him again just to be sure.
If anything, I got his height a little short. He did stand still for me, he'd got an ornament off the shelf and was intent on turning it over and over in his hands, thus enabling me to sneak up behind him with the measure. I had it locked at the 89cm measurement and when I placed the square body of the measure on the back of his head, the tip did not quite reach the ground. If he's 90cm then that would shoot him up past the 98th percentile, but he'd still be on the chart, but only just. I'm going to go and weigh him now.
He weighs two stone. After a bit of head scratching, I remembered that there are 14 pounds in a stone and was able to use the conversion chart in the back of the book. I have never understood imperial measurements, 14 of this, 16 of something else, there are 12s and other measures too, none of which holds any logic to me.
28 pounds is roughly 12.72 kilos and that puts him...
Between the 75th and the 91st percentile lines. For a moment I thought he was too skinny, then I realised I was looking at the 2 year old line and not 20 months.
That means he's tall and thin-ish. I guess all those portions of chips and cake he ate on holiday haven't done him any harm. It certainly doesn't explain why he can still comfortably wear trousers designed for a 6-9 month old baby. They're fine in the waist, just short in the legs. On him they're cargo pants. A baby who actually fits in them must be a chubby, stubby thing.
Excuse me, but I have to go now. Joseph has just discovered how much fun it is to run his truck up and down on the top of our gas fire....
Saturday 11 August 2012
On the move
It's seeming now as if Joseph has shaken off his little adventure with the rotavirus without too much trouble. It was bad enough while it lasted, but even the nappy rash is all gone now. He seems calmer now, probably because he's not in discomfort any more.
We have some big news this week. Our house is now up for sale! It was put up on a property website only yesterday and we've already had one viewing, which I find encouraging. They seemed to like the place, but had lots more places to go and look at so I doubt we'll hear back from them, but you never know. It means we now have to start doing the same thing. I didn't want to look at places before we were ready to sell ourselves. Knowing me I'd see somewhere I liked, get my heart set on it and then we'd not sell quickly enough and we'd lose out.
Now we're on the market, it's time to bite that bullet and go look around a few places. I have to admit, I'm not sure how Joseph is going to fare with all this. We had two different valuations from estate agents and he took a little while to not be scared of the first one and he didn't like the second chap at all! When we discussed the matter afterwards we both preferred going with the first one. We were all three in agreement!
My main worry is that we'll have someone come round who is really interested in the house and Joseph will take a violent dislike to them. He was fine yesterday, a little clingy but he didn't cry. When I showed them the bedroom he was quite happy to bounce about on the bed while I showed them the lovely fitted wardrobe and the spacious airing cupboard.
I really can't help it, but I do keep picturing the worst case scenario! Five minutes before someone is due to come and view, our next door neighbours territorial tom cat decided to spray all over the front step, and the first impression they get is the strong sulphurous smell of cat pee. Never mind, inside we have a spacious living room where a small child has just upended a big box of duplo all over the floor. Still, it covers up the place where he tried to take the lid off his drink and there's a puddle of orange juice on the carpet.
In the kitchen we have a bowl of stinking cat food that half dragged out over the floor to match the scattered cleaning products the cat knocked over whilst trying to escape out of the window.
Never mind, on to the upstairs. The pungent smell coming from the bathroom is where the aforementioned cat got a little caught short and took a dump in the bath. There she is, curled on on the bed having a wash. It's probably best to ignore the stressed looking woman holding a toddler who is screaming fit to bust and generally trying to elbow her in the face. It's also good to keep your cool when the same toddler looks you right in the eye and says: -
"Daddy!"
All the above has happened on various occasions. To be honest, it's the cat I'm most worried about. At least I can strap Joseph into his booster seat and give him smarties to keep quiet. The cat is a whole other ball game, her food has an unmistakeable odour that has a whiff of baby poop about it and the crystals that we use to stop her using the lawn as a toilet smell almost as bad as the waste she leaves.
Oh, I forgot one thing. Knowing my luck I'll be mid nappy change on the floor when the viewers turn up. Now that's a sight that will leave a lasting impression, a woman scraping poop of a small child's backside.
We have some big news this week. Our house is now up for sale! It was put up on a property website only yesterday and we've already had one viewing, which I find encouraging. They seemed to like the place, but had lots more places to go and look at so I doubt we'll hear back from them, but you never know. It means we now have to start doing the same thing. I didn't want to look at places before we were ready to sell ourselves. Knowing me I'd see somewhere I liked, get my heart set on it and then we'd not sell quickly enough and we'd lose out.
Now we're on the market, it's time to bite that bullet and go look around a few places. I have to admit, I'm not sure how Joseph is going to fare with all this. We had two different valuations from estate agents and he took a little while to not be scared of the first one and he didn't like the second chap at all! When we discussed the matter afterwards we both preferred going with the first one. We were all three in agreement!
My main worry is that we'll have someone come round who is really interested in the house and Joseph will take a violent dislike to them. He was fine yesterday, a little clingy but he didn't cry. When I showed them the bedroom he was quite happy to bounce about on the bed while I showed them the lovely fitted wardrobe and the spacious airing cupboard.
I really can't help it, but I do keep picturing the worst case scenario! Five minutes before someone is due to come and view, our next door neighbours territorial tom cat decided to spray all over the front step, and the first impression they get is the strong sulphurous smell of cat pee. Never mind, inside we have a spacious living room where a small child has just upended a big box of duplo all over the floor. Still, it covers up the place where he tried to take the lid off his drink and there's a puddle of orange juice on the carpet.
In the kitchen we have a bowl of stinking cat food that half dragged out over the floor to match the scattered cleaning products the cat knocked over whilst trying to escape out of the window.
Never mind, on to the upstairs. The pungent smell coming from the bathroom is where the aforementioned cat got a little caught short and took a dump in the bath. There she is, curled on on the bed having a wash. It's probably best to ignore the stressed looking woman holding a toddler who is screaming fit to bust and generally trying to elbow her in the face. It's also good to keep your cool when the same toddler looks you right in the eye and says: -
"Daddy!"
All the above has happened on various occasions. To be honest, it's the cat I'm most worried about. At least I can strap Joseph into his booster seat and give him smarties to keep quiet. The cat is a whole other ball game, her food has an unmistakeable odour that has a whiff of baby poop about it and the crystals that we use to stop her using the lawn as a toilet smell almost as bad as the waste she leaves.
Oh, I forgot one thing. Knowing my luck I'll be mid nappy change on the floor when the viewers turn up. Now that's a sight that will leave a lasting impression, a woman scraping poop of a small child's backside.
Monday 6 August 2012
A sporting chance
Given the general sporting atmosphere of the moment it would seem a little mean to ignore it. I'm no big sports fan, although I have enjoyed watching the cycling. Just how do they go so fast and make it look so simple? I know for a fact I wouldn't even be able to keep up with the warm up.
Josephs sporting efforts haven't got much further than throwing a ball or trying to beat me up with a toy keyboard, but looking after him at the moment is proving to be something of an endurance event.
He's got rotavirus.
No, it's not some terrifying thing that needs urgent hospital attention and living in a hermetically sealed room for a month, but it would be nice.
Rotavirus is a common infection in small children, it causes a mild fever and... ugh... gastroenteritis. As far as the scale goes, with Cholera at the top end, then this is nearer the bottom, something akin to the after effects of having had a bad kebab.
I got all the information I needed from the Bounty website, a great resource if you can put up with the fact they hide all the really useful stuff away and you've got the patience to keep looking. You'd think they'd keep the information about fevers and runny poop a bit more accessible as they're common sources of worry in parent. (The worry, not the poop).
The news is that rotavirus isn't a problem for adults as we've all developed immunity by five or six. Small children however have to have the bug several times before getting full immunity, but it's not considered a serious illness, just a smelly one. Apparently there's no cause for concern unless he stops drinking and can't hold food down for more than 24 hours or if the "soft stools" continue for more than a week.
A week? Good grief! I might have to put up with this for that long?
For now I'm just up to my elbows in Olympic levels of nappy changes. There's a 10km run in the Olympics, and it looks easy compared to this.
So, if we were going to have an Olympics for parents (logo, five different coloured teethers, all linked together) what events would we have?
1, The babygro - it's an art form on a newborn, they don't fight back. All you've got to do is overcome the sleep deprivation to get all the poppers in the right holes. In a toddler, it's a little closer to a bout of judo - with added kicking.
2, The healthy breakfast - points awarded for getting healthy fruit into the child, but deducted for the amount spat out, thrown around and generally mashed into the carpet.
3, The nappy change - must be concluded in less than 60 seconds for true Olympic standard, but points are lost for any residual solid matter remaining, improper wiping, and the child escaping part way through. There's a specialist event called the Stealth Nappy where you change a sleeping child and don't wake them up. Points are also lost for gagging and calling the child Mr Stinky or Sir Stinks-a-lot.
4, The first endurance event - night time teething. Just how long can you endure the noise before grabbing the calpol?
5, Persuading a toddler to nap - it's more of an art than a sport. It can be made more interesting by people ringing the doorbell or the phone just as you've got them to calm down and shut their eyes. It can result in an unplanned martial arts event against the person at the door.
6, Another endurance event - the whinge. When the child wants something they can't have. How long till you give in?
7, Shopping - points are lost for uncontrollable tantrums and the number of things ending up in the trolley that you didn't actually want. Points are gained for being patient when your child calls the cashier "Mummy".
8, Unpacking the shopping - just how do you keep a toddler out of all those bags? Speed is a factor as are good distraction techniques, but points are lost of items damaged or mislaid and then found a week later squashed at the bottom of a toy box
9, Bath and bedtime - speed is not a skill here, simply the ability to brave the crying and over-exuberant splashing. Points are gained for inventive story telling and lost if you forget to clean anything or mess up the last nappy change. It's a little like the heptathlon as it contains several of the previously mentioned events.
10, Aftermath - a speed and endurance event. You've got to get all those toys put away, clean up the bathroom and all the other general mess and still sort yourself out with a sensible meal. Points are lost for saying "No, I'll leave that till tomorrow" and "Shall we just get a takeaway?"
None of these events are part of the Olympic games but maybe they should be. After all it's no less silly than a hop, skip and a jump.
Josephs sporting efforts haven't got much further than throwing a ball or trying to beat me up with a toy keyboard, but looking after him at the moment is proving to be something of an endurance event.
He's got rotavirus.
No, it's not some terrifying thing that needs urgent hospital attention and living in a hermetically sealed room for a month, but it would be nice.
Rotavirus is a common infection in small children, it causes a mild fever and... ugh... gastroenteritis. As far as the scale goes, with Cholera at the top end, then this is nearer the bottom, something akin to the after effects of having had a bad kebab.
I got all the information I needed from the Bounty website, a great resource if you can put up with the fact they hide all the really useful stuff away and you've got the patience to keep looking. You'd think they'd keep the information about fevers and runny poop a bit more accessible as they're common sources of worry in parent. (The worry, not the poop).
The news is that rotavirus isn't a problem for adults as we've all developed immunity by five or six. Small children however have to have the bug several times before getting full immunity, but it's not considered a serious illness, just a smelly one. Apparently there's no cause for concern unless he stops drinking and can't hold food down for more than 24 hours or if the "soft stools" continue for more than a week.
A week? Good grief! I might have to put up with this for that long?
For now I'm just up to my elbows in Olympic levels of nappy changes. There's a 10km run in the Olympics, and it looks easy compared to this.
So, if we were going to have an Olympics for parents (logo, five different coloured teethers, all linked together) what events would we have?
1, The babygro - it's an art form on a newborn, they don't fight back. All you've got to do is overcome the sleep deprivation to get all the poppers in the right holes. In a toddler, it's a little closer to a bout of judo - with added kicking.
2, The healthy breakfast - points awarded for getting healthy fruit into the child, but deducted for the amount spat out, thrown around and generally mashed into the carpet.
3, The nappy change - must be concluded in less than 60 seconds for true Olympic standard, but points are lost for any residual solid matter remaining, improper wiping, and the child escaping part way through. There's a specialist event called the Stealth Nappy where you change a sleeping child and don't wake them up. Points are also lost for gagging and calling the child Mr Stinky or Sir Stinks-a-lot.
4, The first endurance event - night time teething. Just how long can you endure the noise before grabbing the calpol?
5, Persuading a toddler to nap - it's more of an art than a sport. It can be made more interesting by people ringing the doorbell or the phone just as you've got them to calm down and shut their eyes. It can result in an unplanned martial arts event against the person at the door.
6, Another endurance event - the whinge. When the child wants something they can't have. How long till you give in?
7, Shopping - points are lost for uncontrollable tantrums and the number of things ending up in the trolley that you didn't actually want. Points are gained for being patient when your child calls the cashier "Mummy".
8, Unpacking the shopping - just how do you keep a toddler out of all those bags? Speed is a factor as are good distraction techniques, but points are lost of items damaged or mislaid and then found a week later squashed at the bottom of a toy box
9, Bath and bedtime - speed is not a skill here, simply the ability to brave the crying and over-exuberant splashing. Points are gained for inventive story telling and lost if you forget to clean anything or mess up the last nappy change. It's a little like the heptathlon as it contains several of the previously mentioned events.
10, Aftermath - a speed and endurance event. You've got to get all those toys put away, clean up the bathroom and all the other general mess and still sort yourself out with a sensible meal. Points are lost for saying "No, I'll leave that till tomorrow" and "Shall we just get a takeaway?"
None of these events are part of the Olympic games but maybe they should be. After all it's no less silly than a hop, skip and a jump.
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