Category Archives: First times

It’s been a year of firsts and we’re not done yet, end of year teacher presents, what to get? When I saw boxes of matchmakers in the shops for a quid each I thought “Oh yes brilliant, a couple of boxes of them, who doesn’t like matchmakers?“ But when I spoke to some other mums they definitely turned their noses up at the minty sticks so I got all paranoid, went to the off-licence and got a couple of bottles of wine.

It was a little embarrassing walking to school pick up with a gift bag vino in each hand, but I doubt it would be as embarrassing as sending a five-year-old to school with her bag clinking like she’s got some alcohol problem.

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Oh I’m such an earth mother!

I have to admit I did get a little nervous when my 5 year old announced she’d learnt a new word at school. Which expletive would it be? So my relief was palpable when she came out with “Namaste”!

It really made me feel like I’d made it as a parent! I had visions of her going to play dates at other people’s houses and coming out with the greeting at the door, the other parents thinking that I’m all earthy and organic and that we dress in hemp clothing and eat lentils, when the truth is we wear onesies all weekend, watch tele and eat chicken nuggets.

Football and the kid life balance

Parenting dilemma for this week centred around the big football game against Columbia. Do I stay home and put her to bed at 7, also kick off time (for the players, not my daughter) or take her with me to a mates house so I’ve at least got someone there to moan about the ref to. I had planned to leave at half time, go home, get my 5 year old into bed and watch the rest on my own, but it felt like I might be tempting fate if I changed anything about the circumstances.

So we stayed until full time, by then of course we had to go to extra time. I shimmied my girl out the door as quickly as I could and chased home, got her into bed and listened to a tele in the other room whilst I read the Gruffalo.

Penalties were watched all alone in my bedroom in near on silence as I jumped up and down, cheering England in the goals, whilst trying not to wake my girl. It’ll be much easier at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. C’MON ENGLAND!!!

How do you tell a child their pets are no more?

It broke my heart yesterday to have to tell my young daughter what happened to our pets, the tadpoles. We’ve had 100 of these things, they’ve all got names even though you can’t tell them apart, swimming around a bucket in the garden for a couple of months now. They’ve taught her life cycles and she’s enjoyed feeding them every day and watching them grow. But at the weekend I noticed that their numbers had diminished somewhat, with only 10 of them left.

From watching out of the window and seeing birds sat on the side of the tub I realised that when they come up to get some food our feathery friends were having them for lunch.

How do you tell a kid that their pet is no more? It’s awful. I tried to justify it with the circle of life, saying the baby sparrows we’d seen also needed feeding, but she was gutted, I was gutted too. We just want to see those funny little things grow into frogs and hop off. Maybe we’ll try again next year, but I don’t know if I can go through it again.

The art of communication…

From a very early age we learn how our kids communicate. When they’re babies we note distinctive cries for food or sleep. I’ve found this continuing through my daughter learning to speak, having to repeat the noises made to pick out words.

And then recently, a story she wrote, it’s a definite bestseller, but only if you speak what I like to call Loish (her name’s Lois).

Here’s the story……

Once upon a time, there was 3 little hatchimals, was going to the shop, the end.

Watch out JK Rowling!

What are Dads for?

I often wonder if my daughter misses out with not having a father around at all, she has strong male role models all around her, but recently a couple of things have come up that I see as ‘dad’ jobs, the first is gross and the second I’ve just got on with.

Farting, letting out wind, blow offs, I think every kid goes through a stage of finding this super super funny, being obsessed with bottom burps, trumps, pops. I, on the other hand do not find this amusing, in fact it made me feel sick when traveling along the motorway my sweet innocent 5 year old asked if I “could smell that?” Euurrrggghhhh! See, she’s missing someone who’ll find it hilarious when she starts whafting the air from her bum after the loudest noise that’s ever come out of her!

The second act I’ve always seen as something the Dad would do and funnily enough did see lots of dads do, the day we went to the park with her new bike with NO STABILISERS! As we got crash hats, handlebars and knee pads out of the car a little boy whizzed past on two wheels, with his pop right next to him, his mum 10 meters behind, filming the proceedings. So it’s just me and her, I’ve got to play both parents, so it’s a case of holding on, chasing beside and trying to film at least 3 seconds on my phone. Would you believe it, after 2 tries and a lot of me reminding her to keep pedalling, she only went and nailed it! My heart jumped out of my chest with joy and pride, I did that, I’ve made the most wonderful, amazing bike rider, now I’ve got to teach her to stop.

Is it about the winning or the taking part?

I like running, good for the body, good for the mind and all that, but I’m having to take it more seriously now. I may not know an exact date, but I know there’s a good chance that my kids sports day will come up in the next few weeks and I want to be ready.

Yes I know it’s her first year at school and it’s not about the winning, but it would be amazing to cross the finish line as champion of the parents race wouldn’t it? Not that I’ll have a speech ready for the podium medal ceremony. No, it’s not about that at all. Are you allowed to take supporters to cheer you on and chant your name?

So I’m going to train like Mo Farrah, get lots of miles in the legs and do speed training on the track in preparation for the day of glory.

N.b. I’m almost certain, none of this will happen, I’ll get scared on the big day and not even make it to the start line.