In Da Club: The Youngest Turns Three

And just like that you are three.

Well to be honest you tell me you are nine (what with that being your favourite number) but the passage of time and my keen memory of the birthing process tells me that you are, in fact, three years of age. While we are on the subject of honesty, I have to unburden myself and tell you something that has been weighing on my mind. We lied to you. It was actually your birthday last Tuesday but I was the only one around and your sister had her swimming lesson so we thought it best to ignore the day and celebrate it (and you) the following Saturday. You would not believe how that one act divided opinions and my word, did people share their opinions! I do like to think that you are relatively unscathed by our deceit but I am sure you (and your therapist) will feed back to me in the fullness of time.

I like to use these annual punctuations to take stock of the person you are and the things that currently tickle your fancy so that I can cling to your infant state forever. So, if you are sitting comfortably we shall begin.

You are:

1, Charming
You have learnt the subtle art of flirtation and are using it to your advantage. People see you (your beautiful face makes sure of that) and they watch as you converse with your companion (be it person, animal or inanimate object) and tell them that “it’ll be okay. [Max] is here” before bestowing the most gentle of cuddles.

"It's okay. [Max] is here"

You have mastered a coy expression which you introduce to full effect upon meeting strangers but are also keen to display your ability to count, perform simple addition and inform them of your daily activities (generally accompanied by a nonchalant arm cross and worldly nod of the head.)

2. Frustrated
You get angry. A lot. We haven’t quite worked out the reason as your vocabulary is quite extensive despite often returning to a few key phrases:
“Good point Mummy!”
“Let’s talk about volcanoes”
“Mummy, I love you”
“You be Maxi and I’ll be Mummy”
“Can you make Sharky/Tiny Doggy/this random bath toy talk?”

In a one- on- one situation you are the best company and have the sweetest nature a persona which will continue so long as you have the other party’s full attention all of the time. If their attention were to be diverted for any reason (from meeting a casual acquaintance to saving a pot that had boiled over) you will go full gremlin and release an impassioned squeal that renders your veins bulging from your neck and your hands bundled so tightly that your fingernails almost draw blood. Laughing at this point does not help.

Sharing is so far beyond your remit that it is not even a speck on the horizon and at best is merely the notion that you might consider the concept at some less crucial point in your life and with something you never really owned in the first place (i.e. anything your sister is playing with.)

We are working on this.

Woe is you. 

3. Funny
You make us laugh, everyday and I mean genuinely howl with laughter. You seem to understand humour before we expected and will regularly use it to defuse a situation. Your routine move will be to bring out the “robot” dance where you employ a series of jerky movements and roll your eyes towards the back of your head.

You love to pretend to change roles and dissolve into giggles when we choose to impersonate you when consumed by one of your rages. With fists in armpits we lower our chins, gaze from beneath our upper eyelids, take a deep sigh and say “Mummy, don’t make me angry.” You just about end yourself, every time.

No words. 

4. Affectionate
I don’t know if this is a boy thing as frankly with only one of each of you to reference it could just be a you- and- your- sister thing but you cannot get enough physical affection. When your sister emerged from the womb she flatly refused to be put down right up to the point of walking but since mastering the ability to reach her destination independently she does not have time for physical affection. Frankly, she is too busy planning world domination (albeit through kind acts). You, on the other hand, may have to be surgically removed from me at some point. Your favourite thing to do is sit on the couch and read books so long as you get to sit on my lap and burrow in as far as the human form will permit. You cry if anyone forgets to give you a goodbye kiss and bask in people’s need to squeeze you when you say something sweet.

I love it.


Things you like:

1. Paw Patrol
Don’t you just. Paw Patrol seems to speak to your soul and Chase is your alter ego. We have all been given roles with your father being Ryder (the dog owner), Moomie as Rocky (because she fixes things), your Sister as Skye/Everest (storyline dependent) and myself inhabiting the role of Zuma (this involves a lot of swimming which also happens to be my least favourite activity so thank you for that). You seem to love the emergency service they provide to Adventure Bay and the hapless Mayor Goodway and seek comfort in the programme’s complete absence of peril (read “anything interesting happening whatsoever.”)

For six months you have been planning your Paw Patrol themed birthday party and I like to think we didn’t disappoint but if we could move on to something a little more stimulating in the near future I would be very grateful.

In fact, I beseech you.

Please.

Paw Patrol Hell

2. Sharky
After an impromptu (and rather successful) trip to sea world on the long journey south to visit your grandparents you were allowed to choose a memento from the toy shop. Where Your sister opted for the incredibly life like pink turtle with purple flowers on their head, you plumped for the tooth- baring, cuddly Great White. I made the mistake of bestowing voices and personalities upon the sea creatures as an attempt to entertain you when your sense of humour ran out at the end of the pilgrimage. This was a more successful diversion than I anticipated and now we frequently (if not daily) have debriefs with the crew about anything and everything; the more mundane and banal the better.

The Adventures of Sharky

3. Firefighters
Even at such a young age you have decided that your career as a firefighter is a foregone conclusion despite being absolutely consumed by terror at the sight of a candle.

The witching hour pre-bedtime is often spent running up and down the hallway in your firefighter pyjamas with your imaginary hose putting out a series of imaginary fires. This has made me broach the possibility of Fireman Sam as a viewing option but I was met with an adamant refusal (see your issues with peril, flame and forsaking the canine breed.)

Fighting with (his fear of) fire 

4. Anything your sister has
I mean anything. Were you sister to contract a hideously painful disease you would probably still want it and wail about the injustice of “Cha-lotte not sharing!” The issue we have is that she relents and will, more often than not, issue a shrug of the shoulders, a knowing look and bestow her possession upon you as she opts for the easy life. No one’s fault per se but not helping prepare you for life.

We are working on this.

You are in summary a loving, impassioned and complex character; a product of all of those around you and yet entirely your own person. We would not have you any other way.

All the love

Although if you were able to reign in the almighty rages we would be eternally grateful.

All my love

Mummy x

Secret Lives: The Mystery of Childhood

There have been times of late when I have felt that there has been an almost imperceptible shift in my family. It took some time for me to put my finger on precisely what had changed but I felt like I woke up one day and everything just seemed that little bit easier; that little bit less of a struggle. There was a little more time to put the dinner on, put the clothes away and get the hoover out. Fortunately, I managed to restrain myself from doing any of those things. Sure, I am still answering copious summons to the toilet where I am often greeted by a bare bottom being thrust in my direction thereby allowing me to “check” that the use of the first half of the toilet roll was sufficient but the other needs, whilst still plentiful, are not relentless in the way they once were. My children are discovering their independence and I am celebrating and lamenting in equal measure.

Where are you going? 

For the first born, the start of school has heralded a change in our relationship as she now spends the majority of her waking hours during the week away from me. I realise that the concept of school is not a new one and I probably should have been prepared for this but I don’t think I was ready for the her having a whole world away from me and for me to know so little about it. Don't get me wrong, I ask lots of questions, of both her and her teacher to try and gauge the pivotal moments from the day but the answers often just act to generate more questions. "Is she happy?", "Is she popular?", "Is she confident?" "Did she actually eat those peas she said she did at lunchtime?" I suspect I know the answer to the last one.

The school girl 

Meanwhile the youngest, while still having a temper like a bear with a migraine is, on occasion, to be found entertaining himself in his bedroom when his sister is not in the house. He can largely communicate to us what he wants (or "neeeeds") and whilst it may generally incur a negative parental response the resulting tantrum is half hearted and short lived. 

His two days at nursery are the highlight of his week but once again, due to his ability to mingle reality with a Paw Patrol storyline and his inability to understand the concept of time, his day often remains a mystery too.

He spent the day in a stab proof vest.
A STAB PROOF vest people!

It would seem that my babies are forging their own paths (albeit not too far away) and have elements of their own lives in which I am not allowed to partake. This theme seems to extend to their own sibling relationship. I longed for the day that I would take on the role of understudy; no longer being roped into playing pretend and having to act out multiple scenes from various Disney films but when I chance upon them playing together and hear the resultant peals of laughter I desperately want to join in. Unless, of course, it is Peter Pan then, quite frankly, they are welcome to leave me out of it.

The thing that I am struggling to define is exactly how I feel about it. I swing from the ache of a huge void that must be filled to relishing the freedom to pretend that I am doing the laundry when I am really scrolling down an Instagram vortex. Whilst I am (extremely) tempted to start the process all over again I am not sure one more child would ever be enough for me and that is ignoring the fact that with the life choices we have made we can barely afford the two we already have.

My friend once said that she often heard of someone with two children debating the third but rarely heard of the parent of three debating a fourth and therefore we must deduce that the third is one too far. However, she then went on to have a third so I don't listen to her anymore.

I think for now I am going to enjoy the minutes of freedom that their nugget of independence affords me and open a book or run an extra mile. I might just savour the relentless having relented even if only for a moment and spend a little more time choosing to ignore the housework rather than having to.

They still hold my hand... For now. 

Big Green Country: An Irish Holiday

Dear Papa

I just wanted to thank you for having us to stay at your farm. Ireland has a lot more sheep and tractors than I anticipated but they seemed to keep my little brother happy so I definitely wasn't disappointed. 

Mummy had warned me in the weeks running up to our visit that I should soak up the sunshine in Scotland (not something anyone has ever heard before) as it was likely to rain so I was well prepared for the daily downpour but to be honest I barely noticed as I tended to be wet from other activities and it merely gave me a chance to test the integrity of my wellies. Note of warning, I would shop Primark for style, not substance. 

The Green, green grass of your home

If I were to cover a few highlights of my week they would include (but not be limited to):

1. Culdaff Beach
Daddy said something about blue flags but I didn't see any. What I did see was our kites flying higher than anyone elses. I know Little Brother's stayed in the sky for longer but I really enjoyed when Mummy was in charge of my unicorn and she pretended to lose control and nearly take Moomie out. That was hilarious. Moomie's face was a picture. 

I also enjoyed the water. Daddy kept complaining about the temperature and mentioned something about the "Atlantic" and icebergs but I wasn't really listening, I was too busy chasing the waves and Little Brother was putting the sand back in the sea. He really was quite worried that there wouldn't be enough in there. 

I have always wanted to go to New York and Mummy said I was nearly there at one point, I grant you she didn't look too happy about it but I think that was because she stupidly waded in fully dressed to hold my hand. Next time!

Next stop: New York.

2. Horse Riding at Tullagh Bay 
I know that I said I wanted to ride a horse but I will let you into a secret: I was terrified! I couldn't understand why my parents would think someone who cannot sit through The Gruffalo would be contented sitting astride a mammal four times her size. They really are silly. The thing is though I actually loved it! My pony, Sally, was handpicked for me and had the loveliest temperament (until another horse sniffed her bottom, which is entirely understandable, I think.) Even Little Brother got a ride, which I was told he shouldn't have as he was so small but his petted lip was so prominent that they couldn't say no. That boy has skills!

That boy has skills

3. Beaver Spotting with Moomie
My Moomie is insane. Maybe that is why we called her something different. I swear she is three shades of crazy. She travelled in the back seat between my little brother and I ALL of the time and told us that we had to shout "Beaver!" everytime that we saw the first horse of the journey. In hindsight, I am not sure that Little Brother really understood as he seemed to shout it an awful lot at what Mummy said was "inappropriate" times. I thought it was hilarious! The priest didn't seem quite so amused. 

Lols 

4. Learning to Swim
The intermittent inclement weather merely gave me time to focus on my water sports. Mummy and Daddy had been molly- coddling me for too long. Two minutes with my Moomie and I was thrashing about like no one's business. Arm bands are for losers. Sure, Mummy thought I was drowning being that there was little coordination and more splash that Pavarotti doing a belly flop but I was on the move. Frankly Papa, I nailed it. Mummy now calls me Becky but says it is hyphenated? Adlington, that's it!


5. Driving Papa's Car
I know my brother's enthusiasm may have been exponentially more evident being that he spent most of his time on the farm being resident in your car, experimenting with the various knobs and buttons that you may not have known existed but I too loved every moment of driving through the fields. I am glad that the sheep remain in fine fettle as I was a tad concerned about the one who tried to leap head first through the fence on my approach. There was plenty of room, I swear! Survival of the fittest I say.

Toddler Driving: Sheep Beware!

All in all we had the best time and I will be telling all my friends about it. My Mummy says it is perfect for toddlers as they don't seem to notice frizzing of the hair? I don't know what she means, it seemed to work wonders for my curls!

Till next time Pappy

Lots of love

Bear x

Old Before I Die: The Four Phases of Parenting

The past week has been spent "en famille" in the south of France. When I say "en famille" I mean, the extended variety. My husband's father reached a grand 80 years of age in the year 2018 and to commemorate this, his beloved wife of "too many years to mention" decided to treat/subject him to a week of his children, their significant others and mutinous offspring in the delightful surroundings of the sunny Dordogne. As we sat around the dinner table, umbrellas in hand, raising a glass to mark, both, his being another day closer to becoming penpals with the country's monarch and the brief absence of our progeny (although, ever eager to employ their linguistic skills they later decided to translate "en vacance" as "late night party" for the duration of our stay) I realised that we were, as a family, clearly experiencing the four stages of the adult enduring parenthood.

Evolution of the Parent 

Stage One: Unlimited Potential
My husband's twin sister is currently on the brink of adding her first twig to the increasingly thick canopy of our family tree. In fact, so close is she to sending her first child down nature's water slide that the husband has been brushing up on his knowledge of the choreography of birth just in case the subarctic temperatures of the swimming pool induce any untimely activity. In hindsight, both she and her husband have excelled at their pre-procreational state; they have run marathons, learnt languages, travelled to numerous far flung countries and found time to give back to the community. Having achieved all these, rather commendable, feats they have now shifted their attentions to starting a family. With their progeny still safely ensconced in the womb they epitomise the limitless potential of parenthood; where the possibilities and aspirations are endless and when you feel that you merely have to choose the type of parent you want to become.

Stage Two: The Thick of It
We clearly represent this stage. With a four year old who never draws breath and a two year old who can spot danger a mile off and run straight into it, our aspirations have shifted somewhat. Gone are the days when we had the time to consider how best to parent, replaced by a mere need to survive; when the hours between sunrise (0434) and sunset (2147) are spent battling to keep them alive, fed and law abiding. 

Parenting Toddlers: The Thick of It

Stage Three: Learning to Live Again
The husband's brother and his lovely wife demonstrate this plateau in parenthood; also known as the "school years". Their children are now of the age where they can mostly entertain themselves given the right tools, balls, sporting paraphernalia and IT equipment necessary. No longer are the adults being called upon to pretend to be crocodiles and attempt to catch the toes of the passing prey, now they are able to look on and marvel at how their efforts are panning out whilst learning how to best employ their new found spare time (when they are not fetching, carrying and ferrying their brood from one extracurricular activity to another or fretting about the intricacies of their pre-teen social circles).

Mostly down to the fetching and carrying one day...

Stage Four: Liberation
The in-laws now occupy the hallowed ground of reduced responsibility. Sure, they continue to weigh in and rescue their offspring in their hour(s) of need and I am sure they continue to expend far more energy than can possibly be imagined agonising over poor life decisions that their progeny may make from time to time but to all extents and purposes the baton of guardianship has been passed down the chain. With three adult children who are (almost) entirely self sufficient, they have re-entered a period of freedom that we can only dream about and live in that perfect hybrid state of being able to take pride in their grandchildren's adorable natures and daily accomplishments whilst not being responsible for moulding them into upstanding members of society and, best of all, being able to pass them back.

One day, I hope that I too shall be celebrating a landmark age surrounded by my nearest and dearest as they battle to wrangle their spirited offspring while I look on, glass of chilled wine in hand, intermittently engaging them in a brief game or illogical conversation for then I too shall pass them back.