Ten Unanswered Parenting Questions

Here are my top ten unanswered parenting questions at the moment.  I expect most of them are unanswerable, too, but I'll happily accept guesses left in the comments box...

1) Why do toddlers 'eat' pretend food (eg carrots) with relish when they wouldn't dream of touching it in real life?

2) What does "There a Christmas on the door to make music" mean?  The more words she learns, the less I understand what she's talking about!

3) What is the attraction of cold, muddy water with dead leaves floating in it?

4) Why do babies suddenly decide to stop falling asleep the way they've always done it, and try screaming instead?

5) What's so special about 4.30 in the morning that everyone has to be awake to see it?

6) Why do small children actually ask to watch 'Baby Jake', rather than running for the hills at the mere sound of the opening credits in order to avoid seeing the scariest demon baby in the world?

7) What's with the aversion to hats?

8) How do toddlers know which object in the room is the only one they're not allowed to touch?

9) Why do they make hollow bath toys with tiny holes so that there is no way of getting them dry?

10) When will I next wear matching socks and make-up?

Any more to add?

Hoovering the Hall the Robinson Way

Just in case anybody is secretly wondering about the state of my house at the moment, I thought I'd give you a glimpse of how to hoover a hallway the way that I do it.  In twenty simple steps...

1) Decide that the hallway needs hoovering.

2) Wait for three days while a large filing cabinet takes up residence in the hallway, waiting to be moved into the study.

3) Wait another couple of days until a day when it's pouring with rain and you have the whole day set aside for nothing other than hoovering the hallway.

4) Get up.  Feed the baby.  Have breakfast. Feed the baby.  Dress two children.  Give one of them breakfast.  Feed the other one.  Clear away breakfast.

5) Well done!  Now you have nothing else to do other than to hoover the hallway!

6) Change the baby's nappy.

7) Put a YouTube video of Momo's Rainbow Song on to keep children amused.

8) Look for the hoover.  Extract it from the cupboard under the stairs, where it is underneath several random things like toilet seats and pushchairs.  In doing so, find the toy hoover. Pull it out, break it, fix it, offer it to the toddler who will ignore it and demand more videos.

9) Find another YouTube video.

10) Look for somewhere to plug the hoover in.  Discover that the only electrical socket is behind a large piece of heavy furniture.  Spend about ten minutes manoeuvring the bookcase two inches away from the wall.

11) Go to put on another video. Discover that the toddler has got hold of a box of matches and emptied them all over the living room carpet.  Collect all the matches.  Discover that, once you've emptied a box of matches, there is no way to replace them all in the box so that it closes. Place pile of matches and box out of toddler's reach.

12) Switch the hoover on.  Begin hoovering.

13) Notice that the hoover is not actually picking anything up.

14) Try to fix the problem. Fail.

15) Have a break.  Feed the baby.  Change the baby's nappy. Put on another video.

16) Go upstairs, fetch a second hoover.  Put first hoover in cupboard.  Repeat most of the above steps until second hoover is plugged in.

17) Put on another video, build a train set and repair a toy car.

18) Change the toddler's nappy.

19) Hoover the hallway!

20) Put hoover away, replace furniture, go to prepare lunch...

The Mummy Reports 2

My Mummy has now been my Mummy for nearly five months.  It's time I gave her a progress report and highlighted the areas in which she could improve.  Here's how she scored in all the essential areas of Mummyhood:


Availability: 3/10
I have been very busy recently persuading Mummy that she must not put me down EVER.  Also, she must not ever hand me to anybody else except Daddy, and then only if I'm in the mood for being thrown into the air and shouting.  She doesn't seem to understand this at all.  She uses silly arguments, like saying that I can't be in the sling while she is carrying a large heavy pot from the oven in case I get burnt.  She should just hold it further away from me!  It's quite funny watching what she tries to get me to sit happily for a few minutes.  I have three different chairs, a pile of playmats, a thing with swingy fish hanging over it, and there's talk of a door bouncer, whatever that is.  I hate them all.  Daddy brought in a chair from the garage that swings back and forth.  Apparently my sister used to go to sleep in it. HA!

Food: 6/10
The milk is still pretty tasty, I suppose.  But why aren't I allowed to eat what they're eating?  My sister says that I wouldn't like it anyway, but it looks and smells pretty good to me.  My sister said I should tell Daddy.  She says that he used to sneak her tastes of things she wasn't allowed yet.

Physical Care: 4/10
I have no clothes.  Mummy says it is my fault for growing so much.  The other day, I ended up out in the garden wrapped in a blanket.  Honestly, a chap needs trousers and a coat in this weather however big he's getting.

Environment: 6/10
I've worked a few things out since I last wrote.  I can roll over and over, which is fun for avoiding those silly playmats.  I can go on my tummy for ages and get a proper look at the carpet.  And today I sat up for a little bit and thought it was OK.
We've moved house, too - maybe Mummy paid attention to my last criticisms, because this house is nicer and a bit tidier (not much!) and has a big garden, and I have my very own place in Mummy and Daddy's room which they call Jeremy's Cubby.  I don't much fancy sleeping in it, but it'll do for storing all of my stuff.

Entertainment Value: 10/10
Mummy is still very funny.  Last night she had a water squirter in the bath and she kept squirting me with it. Priceless!

Why doesn't prayer work on sleepless children?

God, why doesn't prayer work on sleepless children?
I mean, considering your flair with wine and water
your feeding of the five thousand
and the way you have raising the dead down to a T
I would have thought that settling this screaming baby would be relatively easy.

So why doesn't prayer work on sleepless children?
Because it really, really doesn't (I've tried over and over)
and although I've known prayer to work on sickness,
impossible tasks,
broken down vehicles
the weather
and lost property,
it never, never works on screaming sleepless babies.

Is it, Lord, because you were once a screaming, sleepless baby yourself?
Do you sympathise?
Do you remember what it's like to need something,
and not know what it is,
and not have any words for it
only tears?

I suppose this baby is praying too,
crying out to you in the only way he knows,
and you have answered his prayer.
You have given him me.
And you have equipped me for the task:
you have given me a body that can nurture him,
arms that can hold and rock him
a voice to sing to him
a scent that comforts him
and a heart that loves him
even at 3am
even though he is screaming and snotty
and that teaches me about the way in which you love me
which, in turn, leads me to tell other people about the way in which you love them.

In fact, this baby is your evangelist
your teacher and preacher
your intercessor
for me, at 3am

which perhaps is why prayer doesn't work on sleepless babies.
I suppose I should be thankful for that.

(But, God, if prayer can't work on sleepless children,
Please could it work on laundry instead?)

Amen.

The Oil of Unity

I'd love to do a long post about how moving house has gone, but I don't have time to write one.  I hope this brief snippet of a conversation from this evening will give you some kind of idea.

We are in the kitchen.  Jeremy is grizzling in his chair, Abigail is tipping cards from a random board game all over the floor, and I am cooking mince and trying to work out how to add frozen vegetables when they are so frozen that they are all stuck together in one large block.  Hitting it against the counter top doesn't work.  TheRev approaches.

TheRev: Look, I've cleaned this oil pourer.

Me: Oh? I put that in the pile for the jumble sale.

TheRev: I know, but it's really useful.  If you want to add just a little bit of oil.

Me: Oil comes in bottles for that purpose.

TheRev: Just think what you could do!  You could make your own special blend of oil with all the kinds of oil we have.  Chilli oil, and stirfry oil, and olive oil...you could mix them all together in here!

Me: Actually, I need some oil...what's in this bottle?

TheRev: I think that's vinegar.

Me: For goodness sake!  Where's the sunflower oil?  I don't need all this, I just need...oh help, where am I going to put this enormous tub of oil?

TheRev: You could decant it into my useful little oil pourer.

Me: Yes, but I'd still have to store the rest of the tub somewhere, wouldn't I?

Abigail:  Wanta juice on a cup please.

Me:  Abigail, please put the cards back in the box, darling.

TheRev: Or, you could use this for when you want people to serve their own oil.

Abigail: Wanta juice please wanta juice please wanta JUICE PLEEEEEEASE!

Me: In a minute Abi, when we sit down to eat...When will I want people to serve their own oil?!

TheRev: Or maybe balsamic vinegar? On salad? Like this (shakes the pourer from his wrist with a motion rather reminiscent of the original version of Cage Aux Folles)

Me: Look, if you really have to keep the silly thing as a serving implement, then it belongs down there in the cupboard on the right, with the salad bowls.  Please give Jeremy a cuddle, I can't hear myself think.

TheRev: Right!  OK!  (Strolls off.  Slight pause)  I think I've broken it.

Me: How did you break it?

TheRev: I sort of banged it...

Me: You sort of banged it?

TheRev: I'll put it in the pile for the jumble sale...

Scargill in pictures and a poem

Abigail loved her bed with the roof and the special light. She also quickly developed an obsession with eating marmalade straight from the little plastic pots with her fingers.

She actually ate on this holiday! But shhh, don't tell her we noticed...Seriously, though, she really seemed to blossom here in every aspect of behaviour and her speech as well.  I enjoyed her company so much.

"Oh, hello, sheep."  (Also, TheRev had just said something like, "I'll carry the umbrella.  Look! I can wear it like a sword...")

 Strait is the gate...especially if you are carrying a baby!

 In Kettlewell church, we said morning prayer; but we warbled the Benedictus rather loudly, apparently, as two walkers who came in later complimented us on our singing...That's me reading about David and Absalom, although at this point Jeremy seems to be doing more of the storytelling.

 This may be further evidence of my insanity, but looking at this view makes me want to lie down and roll down that hill.

 A new best friend for Jeremy and Abi

And another one...Jeremy was good at making friends.  Abi mainly befriended a large pink string puppet, but that's another story.

 Babies on the back

Scargill, 4am

I told myself I'd use this time to pray,

But my son's sleepy snuffling at the breast

Has lulled me to a semi-slumbering rest

And skims the rising bubbles of my prayers away.

Subjects occur to me, but never stay:

In the peripheries of my mind swim pleas and fears

That vanish, like a star which disappears

When looked at straight. The dawning of the day

Is nearly here. Birdsong. I sigh and yawn.

My reverent efforts having failed, my thoughts

Switch to toast and coffee: prayer leaves with no trace.

Yet somehow, in the meshes of the dawn

Around this prayed-in place, my prayers are caught

And every wordless word is heard with grace.

Pros and cons

I went to a 'natural baby fair' last Saturday.  I'm not entirely sure how I became a 'natural parent'.  My  first baby was in disposable nappies, was combination fed, slept in a cot in her own room from 5 months, was traditionally weaned and travelled in a mammoth-sized outward-facing pushchair.  My second baby was born at home, wears fluffy cloth nappies, is breastfed, sleeps in my bed, will eat solids when he's ready (hopefully!) and travels in wraps.  Evidently some kind of brainstorm happened to me between children.

The advantages and disadvantages of natural parenting are therefore clear to me, and are best expressed by two simple snapshots: me at the beginning and the end of a trip into town.

Here I am as I arrive in town with the two children.  I have the baby in a wrap on my front, cosy and contentedly asleep.  The toddler toddles eagerly by my side.  I am carrying a simple, light cloth bag on my back, containing some cloth nappies.  I haven't got any bottles of sterilised water weighing me down, and I don't need a bottle warmer, formula or a travel steriliser.  If I get caught out and spend longer in town than I meant to, I won't need to worry about running out of milk for the baby, or needing to wash up an empty bottle to use again.  I don't have to unfold a cumbersome pushchair.  I'm tripping along with a smile on my face and the wind in my hair. I am free!  I am happy!  I am a natural parent!

Now the second snapshot.  Here I am on my way back to the car with the two children.  I now have a baby in a wrap on my front, and a mardy toddler who lay down in the street and refused to move strapped to my back in a mei tai.  This leaves me without shoulders for my little cloth nappy bag, which is dangling from one elbow.  From the other elbow is hanging an extra wetbag full of heavy, soaked cloth nappies and wipes.  As I don't have a pushchair to put my shopping in, I'm also carrying three or four other bags.  Underneath the pretty wrap, my shirt is covered in a mixture of nearly every bodily fluid possible, including milk, regurgitated milk, dribble, sweat and some other as yet undefined dampness in the baby's nappy area that I shall have to investigate later.  I'm plodding along, alternating between my cross voice (aimed at the toddler screeching on my back) and my soothing voice (aimed at the baby waking up and grizzling on my front).  I look, smell and sound like a schizophrenic Cerberus.

By the time I've got back to the car and released my other two heads into their car seats, however, I'm a free and happy natural parent again.  I didn't have to spend half an hour finding the catch on the buggy and then pinch my fingers on it as I folded it up and tried to squeeze it into my car.  When I get home, I will need to ditch the wash bag into the washing machine, but I won't need to empty, scrub and sterilise lots of bottles or pour unused formula down the sink while pound signs flash before my eyes.  The smile is back on my face and the wind is back in my hair.

Just don't come near me until I've had a shower.