This week, our local Health Visitor Amanda came a-calling for Miss O’s 2-year check. If you have one coming up, here are my key takeaways from the experience!
1 – Despite knowing deep-down that this was a standard check on my child’s progress and not an examination of my parenting skills, five minutes before she arrived, I found myself casually laying out bowls of fruit and putting the CBeebies ballet on in a last-ditch attempt to look like I had my sh*t together (and cover up Miss O’s chronic addiction to Paw Patrol and Custard Creams).
So, I was Googling ‘Bing’ to prove to my husband that Coco is voiced by Topsy from ‘Topsy & Tim’ (because that’s the kind of important stuff we argue about these days) and it says that there are 78 episodes of this CBeebies stalwart in total.
In many ways, I envy all the mod cons of Miss O’s childhood; there’s no need for 30 rounds of ‘I Spy’ in the car when you have an iPad packed with Nick Jr episodes, and how about being able to catch up on your favourite shows WHENEVER you like, rather than hoping against hope that you Dad hasn’t recorded over the tape with the sodding snooker again?
BUT – after reminiscing with J the other night, I’ve realised just how many cornerstones of my youth she will never get to experience, and I’ve got to feel for her a bit!
Those of you who follow my Facebook page(the rest of you should totally come and join us by the way; it’s where all the cool kids hang out…) will know that Miss O recently turned two. And my God, don’t we know it.
The rage, the tears, that perpetual scowl that just screams “WHY ARE YOU RUINING MY LIFE?!” (and of course, plenty of actual screaming; she nearly deafened me yesterday when I suggested that her father’s pants weren’t appropriate headgear for nursery).
I thought I’d be a mum who took it all in her stride. But I wasn’t. I was a mum pushing a pram in the driving rain, crying my eyes out and wondering how on earth I was going to get through the next few weeks, let alone years.
I hoped I’d be a mum who’d say airily “oh, she’ll eat ANYTHING we put in front of her!” But I’m not. I’m a mum who’s seriously considering handing my food shop straight over to the binmen just to save time, and slightly concerned that Miss O will think ALL dinosaurs were made from turkey…
This blog is usually firmly rooted in the ‘toe-curlingly embarrassing parenting mishaps’ category, but I’m shaking things up this week with a post on something that actually went rather well!
On Monday, I took Miss O to an under 5’s cooking class. Technically, I was 7 days late, as I’d set off the previous week with the best of intentions but my Sat Nav dicked about for England, so we ended up turning back 45 minutes later and consoling ourselves with cake at home instead (OK, so not totally mishap-free…)
I’ve always enjoyed a good giggle at the horoscopes you get at the back of magazines – they’re so fantastically vague, and full of promises of fame, fortune and fabulous lovers winging their way over to you ASAP…
I have to say though, they seem even more unlikely these days!
Here are some of my recent faves:
“A tall dark stranger will ask you to dance…”
PAH!! Justin Fletcher told me to wiggle my bottom this morning, does that count? They certainly don’t get much stranger than him… Read more
Last weekend we attended our first family wedding since Miss O was born. Everything was lovely; the bride looked beautiful, the sun shone, the wine flowed…but bringing your toddler along for the ride really adds a certain something doesn’t it??
As we were staying away for 2 nights, we had to pack everything we owned, naturally, which turned loading the car up into an elaborate game of luggage Tetris. I then spent a hugely enjoyable 2.5 hours wedged between a cool bag, a travel cot and three Paw Patrol cushions watching 23,435 episodes of Bing (I thought we’d moved on from that whiny little fluff-ball and his bean bag chums, but every once in a while his popularity skyrockets again – he’s basically the Craig David of the kid’s TV world).Read more
And no, she’s not off to Manchester United for a record fee (although they should give it some serious consideration – she’s got one heck of a left kick and can throw herself dramatically to the ground with the best of them).
No, in a couple of weeks time she’ll be moving up to the big group in nursery; the group before pre-school, the ‘bloody hell when did she stop being a baba?!’ group. And even though I knew it was coming, I’ve been really emotional about it (or ‘grumpy and ridiculous’ if you favour my husband’s take on it…)Read more