Wednesday 20th March 2013

It's back and this time it's here to stay...

No. I'm not talking about the snow and the crap weather (By the way mam, didn't you once say that March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb? If that's the case, why did it come in like a very cheesed off rhino who couldn't find a free spot in the swamp to bathe and will probably go out like an incredible angry baboon at the zoo because everyone is taking the mick out of its red arse?).

No, no - I'm talking about the lurgy: Voice gone; chest like Deidre Barlow's is back and the humidifier is going full blast in the night. On the plus side, it seems to only have infected me. Fortunately, the bairns and hubby are at present, lurgy free (fingers crossed).

I don't think it's a coincidence that I'm back on the Sudafed, paras and Hot Toddies at the same time that I have gone back to work. My hands are perfectly shriveled from the amount of antibacterial gel I keep applying before I open doors, touch books, take back pens that I have given out to the kids etc, etc...I mean, the teenagers I work with are lovely, lovely people but let's face it, they are teenagers who, when institutionalised in a school environment, spread the lurgy quicker than Twitter spreads litigation.

Being tired and feeling so crappy has made me feel even more guilty about leaving Beth and James on a Monday and Tuesday; I mean, by last night, I literally walked through the door and keeled over; I had absolutely no energy. Bethan came running up to me saying, "Mummy! Mummy!" and my heart melted. She followed the statement through with, "Mummy's got the Cinderella phone!" (the iPad) and the nanny put even more salt into an already large, open wound by saying, "Oh, she has been so funny all day saying that 'Mummy will bring the Cinderella phone home!". In my delirious state I wailed to Rob whilst in the kitchen (out of the children's sight of course), "My child has missed an Apple product more than she has missed me!".

Again on the plus side, looking at the iPad whilst sitting on the potty has meant that Bethan is weeing like a trooper and setting off the music which tells us she has done a number one. She happily sits there either reading the Cinderella story or watching 'Falling Overs' on the ITV player app. Talk about giving a new meaning to reading on the toilet.

I find it ironic that it is a product from the deceased Steve Jobs that helped Bethan gain the confidence to relax whilst on the loo and not the 101+ other tips that we have been given on our intrepid potty training journey. There is even a Potty Training app but she isn't at all interested as she is so fed up of being shown what to do that we now just leave her to it. We're still not there yet but it's miles better than it was because we are a lot more relaxed about it.

Anyway, I'm offsky to bed now and hoping to watch the programme "16 and Counting" on 4OD. A good friend of mine recommended it to me and I am finally getting round to watching it. Just hope I can keep my eyes open long enough to watch it all.

Here is the Peppa Pig plaster
that I had to use tonight after chopping
through my thumb with a pair of scissors.
I actually prefer them to the fabric ones that
we have. Firstly, they are bright and secondly, they
keep water out unlike the fabric ones; you don't just end
up with a sore thumb but a sodden one too!

Sunday 3rd March 2013

Considering the fuss in getting there and the fact that we were late, the ballet dancing went well, I think. The teacher said she was fine and Bethan seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole thing. When she came out into the waiting room I asked her what she had done to which she replied, "dancing" and then for the next 10 minutes she started wittering on about "Falling Overs (aka 'You've been Framed').

Despite my earlier prejudices about the class and what it involved in terms of being an Alpha Mum, everyone was absolutely lovely. Ok, to begin with it felt like a film called "Attack of the Pink Clones". However, they all looked very cute but more importantly, they seemed to be very proud of what they were wearing and what they were doing. One mum must have seen me waiting anxiously and staring fervently into my phone as I wrote my blog trying to avoid eye-contact with anyone else. After the class she asked me how Bethan had got on and  I started to feel like I, Liz Hillier, could be part of the waiting room posse. I was cross at my juvenile feelings of insecurity and not being able to 'fit in' when really we are all in the same boat. I'm a bugger for judging situations as soon as I become part of something new; sometimes I get them right and other times I get them wrong, like today for instance.

The one thing thing that we parents all had in common as we were sat in the waiting room was the fact that we want the best for our children. I know Bethan loves to dance and yes, it is a blinking bother getting from a to b on a Friday afternoon but I really wanted her to have a go to discover if she enjoyed it or not.

This is then followed by swimming lessons on a Saturday afternoon which are expensive (Rob said to me, "How much?! At least Dick Turpin wore a bloody mask"), on the other side of town and a real hassle to get us all there fed, watered and changed before we all sing a rousing chorus of "Splish Splash" around the pool.

Swimming is important to us because Rob and I aren't particularly strong swimmers and we want the kids to feel confident and safe in the water. Plus, the ritual after the lesson as we head back to our home is that we start rubbing our egos and commenting on how swimming makes us spend quality time together; just the 4 of us, doing something which is (for all of my moaning), good fun.

Why all this justifying????

Well, as ever, I was reading something on the BBC news app on my phone (on the toilet as this is the only time I get to read anything or text anybody without being interrupted; well, usually anyway), and I could feel my hinds rising up from the toilet seat.

Tory MP and advisor to the PM, Claire Perry, has "criticised parents for filling children's lives with too many organised activities". In an interview she gave to 'The Times', Ms Perry says that "we've created a treadmill"  and that "it's usually the mother that is orchestrating...and doing all the driving" (metaphorically I assume because I don't literally do all of the driving as I am a crap driver and worry for my children's safety).

Controversially, the MP who is a working mother of 3 (I really hoped she hadn't have been because then I could have had a real go at her like I do with Gina Ford) says that, "we worship this feminine motherhood thing and I don't think our children have benefited actually. They're babied a lot".

Crikey! That's scathing and made me feel like squirming into the toilet bowl on which I was sat.

This was written the same weekend when American parenting author Pamela Druckerman, who lives in Paris, has been publicising her new book, "French Parents don't give in" (damn it, another working mum; why oh why can't Gina Ford have written something this weekend for me to moan about?). This book is the sequel to "French Children Don't Throw Food". Morally I don't want to but I can't help it, I've already ordered it from Amazon. I'm keen to know what makes my children want to throw their fruity toast when a French child doesn't want to launch a piece of bread across the room.

To summarise: not a good weekend to be a British Alpha Parent; according to the experts, we're all crap.

Tuesday 19th February 2013

I know I'm going to sound like a right old whiner but, have you seen the price of batteries nowadays? I think they cost more than the toys in which they belong. You need to buy decent ones too because if you get the cheaper supermarket ones or those 'bargain' ones from the pound shop, then you might as well throw them away as soon as you take them out of the packet because they're crap.

Also, I would definitely be wary of those recyclable batteries. My parents have them and they have nearly led to the end of 49 years of marriage. This is because when my mum does the ironing in the boxroom (my old bedroom), she takes out the thing which holds the batteries, from the plug socket, so that she can plug in the iron. However, when she has finished ironing she always forgets to plug the thing back in and you can hear my dad shouting, "For crying out loud Alice, you know my digital radio runs out of batteries quickly. How am I going to listen to Talk Sport now?". The other thing about these recyclable batteries is that the quality of them is like the cheaper supermarket and the pound shop ones; crap. When we were at the Sacre Coeur we were about to take a beautiful picture and all I could see was the zoom lens retreat back into the camera. My mum was like, "This camera takes great pictures when it's working. It's always broken. Darn it!" and I said to her "It isn't broken, it's those rechargeable batteries you use in them; they're crap!".

Anyway, Rob and I listed all of the toys where the batteries had run out (or at least the ones we knew about) because the kids were just looking at them as if to say, "Is that it?". Unless these things burst into a pan pipe version of Twinkle Twinkle or have some child singing Wind the Bobbin Up in a high-pitched voice whilst the lights are flashing more than they do at an illegal rave, they are just not interested. They (the toys that is, not the kids) are like a soulless hard piece of coloured plastic. And Rob, he doesn't want to know either. Years ago I bought him a Scalextric and as soon as the batteries went in those gun shaped remote controls, he just wasn't bothered. Or maybe it is just my kids and Rob that aren't interested in dormant toys (I feel like I should have shares in bloody V-tech). Fortunately, James is now at an age where he is more happy with the box that the toy comes in as opposed to the toy itself but this box phase doesn't last forever.

It transpired that we had a number of toys (and they were the ones that we knew about) that had run out of batteries; these included two pretend hairdryers (which still terrify Bethan even though we try to reassure her that they aren't real); a Dyson...yes, you heard correctly, our daughter has a mini Dyson that actually sucks. I remembered when I had hours of fun with my Gran's Eubank. I would run around her living room with it and it left more dust than it picked up but at least it was electric-free. There was also a walker; a keyboard; a till that calculates, recognises bar codes and has a tannoy system built in (it also takes your hand off like Arkwright's till) and lots of other plastic fun stuff.

When we finally listed the batteries we needed, Rob went to the Coop and came back saying that because we needed so many batteries of different sizes, the bill came to £25!!!!!! What the...???? It would take years for us to raise that amount in Coop Dividend vouchers. After a whole year of having 'shares' in our local shop we are lucky if our divvy vouchers come to the price of a bottle of bog-standard Soave.

It's funny though that amongst all of the 'must-have' electrical toys and gadgets, James is happiest playing with an empty box or bashing a wooden spoon on one of my pans. Bethan's favourite thing in the world is when she is reading or being read to.  Rob is happiest when he is watching 'The Professionals' or telling me about a steam train that ran out of steam 150 years ago or something like that (I do try to listen).

However,  I think that the most popular toy for toddlers at this particular moment in time is the 'Little Tykes' red car. You know the one. It's red and got a yellow roof. No? It's the one where the toddlers inside have to move around in it with their feet; a bit like Fred Flintstone's car. Whenever I have been to playgroups or parties where that car is, all the toddler parallel playing stops when the red car is present. All of a sudden, the toddlers become aware of each other and start fighting and crying because they want to drive the car with their little size 6 1/2 G fitting feet around the hall.

Bless them.

Friday 15th February 2013

Last night was...

A SUCCESS in the Romantic stakes!

Initially I thought it would be as successful as Gwyneth Paltrow's 1998 Oscar speech. The 'fresh' peppercorn sauce, that was in a sachet, burst everywhere in the shopping bag. I found James eating the hard cat food which meant that he was coughing and spluttering everywhere whilst soaked in the cat's water as he had pulled her drinking bowel over (I'm convinced that baby James is either a. from the planet Krypton or b. preparing himself to be the next Usain Bolt).

However, the thing that made me cry, even more than Gwyneth did in 1998 if that's possible, was the fact that the two children slept for over 2 hours on Valentine's Day afternoon. Ordinarily I would be over the moon as it is extremely rare that I get two hours to myself on any day. I have already planned what I would do if I had a free two hours one afternoon...nothing! I would sit on the sofa, close my eyes and maybe, just maybe if there was time, listen to the afternoon play on Radio Four (with my eyes shut of course).

I spent most of the two hours I had free yesterday afternoon panicking. I was panicking because I knew that this would mean the children would not go to bed until later than usual which would spoil the romantic itinerary I had  planned.

Following James' attempt to try baby-led weaning with a packet of Iams, I then panicked about forgetting what to do if I found my child choking. Then, I spent the rest of this free time reading the 'the new edition of 'First Aid for Babies and Children Fast'', analysing the 'What to do if your baby chokes' chapter. This was quite difficult because I was using Bethan's My First Tiny Tears as a model whilst trying to keep the book open. I suppose it would be 'Fast' if you were practicing with someone else. Finally, I found their website which is amazing. They have these short YouTube videos embedded on their website showing you what to do in a whole host of emergencies. So, for the final 15 minutes of my unexpected free time, I could sit down with a cup of tea and a Hobnob, watching what to do if my baby was choking, as many times as I liked on my laptop! I have now put this website as a 'favourite' on my tool bar.

The day was certainly picking up.

Ok, so we ate at 09:30 that evening and we watched Question Time after. In fact drunkenly discussing and having a heated debate on politics with my husband on Valentine's Day is almost a tradition  for the Hilliers now. Except last time I got thrown out of the restaurant with it's 'special Valentine's Day' £45 per head a la carte menu (that didn't even include drinks) because I was rather loudly saying how much I disliked Tony Blair.

However, it is the fact that we love discussing politics and watching re-runs of the superbly Laurence Olivier narrated 'World at War', that Rob and I know that we are made for each other. We have been through so much together and are still passionate about the things that matter to us. Passion, hmmm...well, I was tucked up in bed by 11:15pm; desperately counting on my fingers how many hours sleep I would get before the children woke up. I missed the end of the increasingly annoying debate about who's to blame for the horse-beef meat fiasco but Rob stayed up to watch the drama unfold under the watchful eyes of David Dimbleby and filled me in this morning, over a cup of tea.

That's love, that is.

Tuesday 12th February 2013

I've given in and decided to take the second lot of antibiotics that I have been prescribed since January 1st (note to self: maybe I need to state on next year's New Year's Resolution List that I need to try to limit the number of antibiotics taken to 1 dose, before the end of February).

It's not my Roman Catholic sympathies that make me want to suffer without the aid of medication. No, it is a report that came out by Dame Sally Davies last week which said "there was risk that within 20 years people going for simple operations would die of routine infections because we may ‘run out of antibiotics’ that work.

The Daily Whale (sorry Mail) put their spin on the report by gleefully basking in what they described as an 'apocalyptic scenario'. I'm not sure what is more shocking; the headline or the fact I was reading The Daily Whale (sorry Mail). Apparently, "Penicillin is no longer effective for staphylococcal wound infections, ampicillin (a form of penicillin) is no longer used for infections of the urinary tract and ciprofloxacin (a synthetic antibiotic) is now useless in treating gonorrhoea. Many more are under threat". Now, I'm not sure what all of that means but it doesn't sound too good to me.

Between exhausting coughing fits, I recited this to Rob. He in turn tried to reassure me that I wasn't becoming 'allergic' to antibiotics and he would be extremely worried if I suffered from the list of infections stated in Dame Sally Davies' list; especially the last one.

He's right.

I'm in no position to be mulling this over in my weakened state. I have two very young children who need a mum who can run around and look after them; not a woman who sounds like she smoked twenty fags by the time she gets to the bathroom (the downstairs one). I've realised that being a mum is a full-time job that doesn't allow for any sick days so you just need to get the help where you can. I just hope in 20 years that I don't get any "staphylococcal wound infections...(or) infections of the urinary tract" otherwise, I'm buggered!

I often think that this bitterly cold weather isn't helping either. I was watching my second favourite programme, 'ITV Weather', (a close second behind 'Home and Away'), which rouses more anger in me than a debate on the Welfare State in The House of Commons. However, I am shocked that the ITV Weather programme is now sponsored by 'Seven Seas Vitamins: How to get Pregnant'. I mean, how random a sponsorship is that? I would understand if, at this time of year, it was 'Seven Seas Vitamins: How to get rid of your Bloody Cold", but helping you to get pregnant?

Maybe people look at the weather report and figure that they can't go out anywhere because the weather is too crap and decide that they might try for a baby instead. I'm not entirely sure they do but I am really trying to get inside the head of a top ITV executive there.

Thank God it isn't a sponsor of The Jeremy Kyle Show. Every cloud and all that...

Saturday 9th February 2013

Bethan is like the Queen...she gets two birthdays!

We had her party today at the local soft play company (named after a 1950's board game) and considering we've been plagued with illness and had a certain amount of worry with regards to the competence of the aforementioned company, it went extremely well. Even the 16 year old Party Hostess wasn't too bad. No Fizbo the Clown but still she managed to stop the CD at the right time and cut the cake perfectly. It's a shame Rob didn't realise that the party bags were named and had gender specific toys in them when he handed them out, but then again, who cares?

The main thing was all of the children seemed to have lots of fun and enjoyed eating the party food and cake. Although we still have to explain to Bethan the rules behind pass the parcel as she still insists on holding the parcel when she gets it and the music stops!

It was really lovely to see everybody and my gorgeous girl had a fantastic time.

She partied hard and then crashed out on the sofa whilst watching Toy Story 2 (again!).

Thursday 7th February 2013

The dreaded lurgy has hit chez Hillier again - we keep passing it to each other like a stick of dynamite as if to say, "I don't want it, have it back!". No voices have been lost this time but the four of us sound like we've smoked 20 Woodbines in one sitting.

Running out of ideas fast as to how to create damage limitation so that we can break the lurgy cycle. At this point in time, we will try anything as we have already gone through the staples such as: Calpol, Calbufren, Junior Olbas Oil, Hot Toddies (for the adults), Vicks, Karvol (capsules and plug-in), Calpol Plug-In, Steamy bath, ginger...the list is endless. I relented and looked to see what other Alpha Mum's are doing on an Alpha-Type Mum website and among the whole range of remedies, herbal and pharmaceutical, somebody mentioned a Humidifier. We are so desperate that we feel we have already become share-holders in the respective children's medicine companies, so we have forked out 80 quid (please don't laugh) on what can only be described as a big tank of cold water that then lets out cold air. They do provide you with a medicated pad to put in but they only last 8 hours. We have searched high and low for refills but they are all bloody sold out! This makes me feel a little bit better as I know I'm not the only person who has resorted to buying a cold water tank for £80 to help us all breathe a little better.

When I told my mum our latest plan she said, 'Oooo, I'd love one of them!".

"Really?", I asked puzzled as the 1930's house I was brought up in has plenty of air in it as opposed to this 2013 Barratts House that is so well insulated I understand how a beef joint must feel when it's in the oven. We are the only house on the estate that insists on having the windows open in the Winter.

"Oh yes", she replied, "Carol the Cleaner, from the Club, has one and she says it's magic".

"Oh that sounds positive", suddenly I am not feeling so stupid at our purchase.

"Yeah, she says it's fantastic for drying your washing".

Suddenly the misty veil that has been this conversation lifts.

"I think you mean a de-humidifier mam" I tell her.

"What's the difference?" she asks, shocked.

"Well one puts cold air in the room to help you breathe and the other helps to get rid of the condensation in your bay window".

"Well I never" she says "You learn something everyday".

To be fair, I said this as if I had always known the difference when actually I had no idea until I Googled it prior to reserving it on Argos.

Only time will tell if this humidifier has been worth it but for the moment we are sharing it as there is no way we could afford to have one in every room. We have to ascertain each day which of the four of us is feeling the crappest and that bedroom gets to keep it.

____________________________________

Question to self, "Why do I insist on sterilising everything when I found the door stop to the lounge in James' mouth today as well as him crawling and then falling onto the cat's tail?".

Wednesday 16th January 2013

Fed up of being ill and having no voice. Fed up of Rob seeming to be happy with this new status quo. Fed up with trying to explain to Bethan via hand gestures why she has been put on the naughty step. It's like Give us a Clue but with more angst and noise.

I'm most fed up about not being able to speak to my friends without a) It hurting or b) Sounding like Deirdre Barlow. So I've done the fatal thing in the desperate hope of hearing some adult conversation without having to verbally answer back and been reading through parent forums on some well-known parenting websites.

I can feel my brain screaming at my finger as it's about to click on the "what can I feed my child?" link: "DON'T DO IT!!! YOU ALREADY FEEL LIKE CRAP!!!"

(Side thought - I've often thought about what type of response I would get if I wrote, "well, I give my two LO (that's 'little one' in parenting forum speak) deep fried Mars Bar, chips, gravy and a side of common sense").

Seriously, if you are a first time parent and you looked at this link, by the time you've read the advice in the discussion which was about 10 pages long and involved about 50 mothers, you would think, "Right, I'd better feed my child nothing". Every food group or suggestion was undermined or came with a health hazard at one point.

I know the worries of weaning; especially when your child's lost the end of her bowel and you've been told by consultants that she might not ever do a solid poo or run out of Vitamin B12 by the time they are 7.

I credit Annabel Karmel with making sure that 99.9% of my daughter's poos are solid and admire how her own journey to being a paediatric nutritionist began. When I finally got to meet her at a mother and baby show, I started crying; I hugged her and said, "This must be how a teenager feels when they meet Justin Beiber". At which point the burned tyre tracks from the double buggy were evident outside the AK stand. Rob and the kids did one; they were nowhere to be seen.

Monday 14th January 2013

Walking up to the door...

Hand in hand...

Just the two of us...

At Woodbridge Road Surgery...

Have finally conceded and gone to the doctors.

The things Rob and I do to get some alone time together.