Birth to five

Nacho Libre

BadDad — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 11:29:00 GMT

Quick update. In the last post I was concerned about my daughter's sudden displays of affection and clinginess. She's still affectionate, but I'm now struggling with a different kind of physicality: wrestling.

This past week or so she's hit the "Terrible Twos" (about 9 months early). We've had tantrums and meltdowns by the score, sleepless nights (again again) and so on. She's developed a series of underhand wrestling moves to get her way (wanting to walk when she's being carried, wanting to be carried when she's walking, wanting to play when she's eating, wanting to eat when she's playing, and so on ad infinitum). These are difficult to cope with and it doesn't help that I've been off-colour of late. These wrestling moves include the choke hold - a cheeky push in the throat to signal that she doesn't want to be carried any more, the face pinch, the nipple-twist (because she can), the nutcracker (because she wants to climb on daddy), and a whole series of bodyslams and eye gouges.

But I can't complain too much. The wife has to deal with this stuff far more than me. And it's not just me and the wife who are the victims of this tiny WWF wrestler - the other day I found her beating the cat with a wooden spoon.

Why won't they eat!!!?

JCR21 — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 15:13:00 GMT

If there is one major course of argument, frustration and irritation in the JCR21 household it's our boys' eating. Or lack of it. We just can't get them to eat normally. Properly. Like other children seem to. Or at least the neighbours children and the children of all our friends

Charlie (4) has always been a bad eater. As a baby it'd take him an hour to feed. Suck, suck, suck...pause....suck, suck, suck...longer pause. Would be the pattern. He weaned OK, but wouldn't eat much. Between 2 and 3 he ate nothing. I'm trying to remember what he liked to eat and think he survived on fruity pots, toast and yoghurt. Now, he's a bit better but still won't try new things. Not even pizza, sausages or burgers never mind sprouts, curly kale or cabbage. He also has the tiniest portions. I count out his chocolate wheatoes in the morning because I know he won't eat many. Finally, it takes him FOREVER to eat. A typical meal will take 45 minutes and his food is always stone cold while he's still got half of it left.

He starts school in January and we despair at how he's going to manage mealtimes then.

Theo (2) eats these things: porridge, rice pops, special k, bread/toast, pasta (with bolognese, non-chilli chilli or 'smooth' tomato based sauce), biscuits, cheese, fruity pots, yoghurt and custard. If he's hungry, he guzzles it down. Mostly, he doesn't. He's also started adopting Charlie's avoidance tactics (too tired and 'it's boring'). If he didn't drink (expensive) Innocent smoothies (not our home made versions) & eat fruity pots (but not our home made stewed fruit), he would get none of his 5 a day.

I know kids eat when they want to, that some aren't bothered, that you should offer little and often etc... All advice I've read boils down to 'they won't starve, just let them eat what they want'. But I have some other questions - should we spoon feed them if they won't do it themselves (including to 4 year old Charlie)? If they're not eating, should we offer another option? And is there anything at all we can do to get them to eat better?

I'm looking forward to your responses!

Why so affectionate?

BadDad — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 17:15:00 GMT

Why is BadDad's daughter so affectionate all of a sudden? There was an outbreak of hugs this morning which made leaving the house very difficult (physically, and yes emotionally a bit as well I suppose).
Was it anything to do with the fact that Mrs BadDad was ill all day yesterday (for the first time in about three years) and was unable to even make it to the playground? Is this just development? I don't know, and she won't say (although she did say "Upsy Daisy" the other day which was cute, but weird).

Cornered.

Milly Bernice — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 16:15:00 GMT

In the good corner-
P has discovered the joy of counting to ten. All except for the number 7. Which he abjectly refuses to entertain. But heck it's quite a while until he'll be 7 so it maybe isn't that essential for now.
He now can successfully self feed spoonwise. Although he did attempt to redecorate the sitting room with weetabix this morning. Which I'm less keen on.
He's also sussed out how to construct the little wooden train track that he's inherited from a cousin. I doesn't always go right, but his temper tantrums at the trains are almost worth the whole exercise. Railtrack better pray he's never in charge!
He has developed a passion for handwashing. I'm sure it won't last that long, but in the midst of cold season it isn't such a terrible habit to have. I only wish he was so willing to have his face washed.
Toddler dancing is officially the most amusing activity I've seen all year. There are two moves. One is seemingly inspired by the funky chicken, and the second is very much embarrassed bloke at the disco shuffle.

In the less good corner-
I've been learning the joys of attempting to wrangle P whilst being unwell. I'm not always winning this one it has to be said. It doesn't help that my unwellness is largely demonstrated by blacking out. Which in most situations is just embarrassing, when home with Mr Peskypants it does concern me a bit more. Roll on consult appt.
The tantrumy terrible twos are in full swing. Ah the joys.

Toddler suddenly afraid of everything

JCR21 — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 16:30:00 GMT

I was editing a few photos on the laptop the other night, including some fantastic action shots of 2 and a half year old Theo skimming down the slide in the garden into a paddling pool of water. He was loving it. Big smiles. All very gung ho. This was in balmy June. On our 'summer' holiday in July he must have gone down the little slide at Newquay's indoor pool, without exaggeration, about 100 times. Now, 4 months on, it strikes me how much he's changed. These days it's an ordeal to wash his hair such is his fear of the water.

And we're baffled. It started a couple of weeks after we got back from holiday. He was never that good in his swimming lessons but he got worse and worse, to the point where he wouldn't do anything beyond cling on. At the same time, he wouldn't let us lay him back in the bath to rinse his hair. This has progressed to the state now where he shakes with fear as we gently try to dribble the shampoo out. And if any goes on his face he turns purple with fear.

In general he's become more fearful too. He was handling the stairs with no trouble earlier in the summer. Now he won't set off from the top step. We have to get him down a few before he'll manage it himself. Or he'll just demand to be carried. He's generally more reluctant to try new things as well.

He's not become more timid otherwise. Far from it - he's well into 2 year old tantrums and is in most ways a typical boisterous toddler who also turns to us for a lot of affection (which is lovely). So we can't understand where his fearfulness has suddenly come from. Nothing bad has happened to him that we can think of. Our only thought is it's genetic. My mum is a worrier. I'm a worrier. I'm also a bad swimmer because of a deep-seated fear of the water. Is 'fearfulness' genetic? Has anyone else had the same experiences?

Where oh where has our sleeping/eating boy gone?

Mia Brock — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 21:45:00 GMT

Sleep at night was a gift from heaven at about nine weeks- sleepless nights did happen, but Luca has been quite a dreamer in the wee small hours and apart from sickness and night feeds he has always been a good sleeper until now. Why? Why is he waking very hour and a half? This is the list I go through mentally at whatever O'clock it is...: Hungry- offer water, offer milk? Wind- pat on the back? Nappy- is he wet? check Too Cold/Too Hot- check Bad Dream/Hit the cot/Noise- soothe and reposition. Has he got his muslin? Cold?Congestion? Teething? After checking and trying to settle him, we have had heart wrenching cries and sobbing to the point of exhaustion on both our parts and by day he suddenly refuses to have anything apart from Breakfast from a spoon. I was completely bewildered on the first day he did this as to what to give him to eat. In the end homous, vegetables and crackers saved the day. I stressed myself out and was so worried that he wasn't eating enough but in the end he guided me and almost two weeks later we have normal mealtimes again. But the sleeping or lack of it is worrying....now its more like every two hours, any ideas anyone...? I am running out of Touche Eclat far too quickly.

A mini Giraffe in our midst? and blanket prison...

Mia Brock — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 21:12:00 GMT

Playing with the bin or rather looking at himself in it and then licking it - eeeeek- after I detolled it at least three times- is the favourite thing to do in Mummy's Kitchen. He has escaped from the Conservatory ( there's quite a step which he manages to almost hand-stand off) and goes like an action man hero into the garden where he pulls leaves from the hedges to chew on and has sampled the windfall harvest of apples on the autumn grass. He is on the move and I am proud and terrified in equal measure of what he'll do next.

Inside locks are attached, corner stoppers and fire guards make our house looks dramatically different. The valuable books, china, glass etc, etc are gone and dump bins of cuddly baby things fill the space.

The best safety measure to date was a last minute 'oh god, he'll break his new tooth' and 'oh god, my beautiful Stokke Sleepi Cot now has been used as a teether and varnish and wood have been removed' fix. Yes our wee man is standing in the cot and grating his top and bottom nasher on the wood- so hard that the marks left look like I'd tied a small puppy to the cot and left him there for a bit too long! What could I do once I discovered the bare gouged out wood at Seven O' Clock? Use every muslin blanket I had to wrap and wrap some more around the top of his cot. Twelve muslin blankets twisted and knotted later there was no wood available for him to munch on so he sucked instead! I did spend the evening trying to find something to buy that would look a bit prettier and two days later I found a 'Prince Lionheart Cot Rail Teether'. Two packs purchased and now attached, poor Luca's cot looks like something from a mental hospital.... but we will save his teeth and tummy from ingestion of wood and varnish!

Being a lone parent for a few days

BadDad — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:09:00 GMT

Hello readers,

This week I am experiencing in a small way what it's like to be a lone parent for a few days while Mrs BadDad is off travelling for work. I can't say I like it very much and have a new-found massive respect for what single parents do.

Although I'd count myself as quite a "hands-on" dad (doing breakfasts, nursery drop-offs, bedtime milk and stories, etc), I cannot believe the overwhelming ceaseless responsibility you have when you are in sole charge of someone who's main life purpose appears to be:

To eat inappropriate things (cat food, fluff, headphones)
To pull inappropriate items off tables and out of cupboards (tins of beans, vases)
To find the nearest electrical cord to strangle herself with (laptop, lamps)
To cry within thirty seconds of being left without direct eye contact (except when In The Night Garden is on)

And that's after only 24 hours of it (minus time at nursery, minus time asleep). It requires patience, dedication and enormous bladder capacity.

What it's also taught me is that, although this is quite a new experience for me, this is what Mrs BadDad went through for most of her maternity leave and still does both of the days she isn't at work. Big respect to the mums!

Roll on Friday evening.

From crawling to cruising

alexis green — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 17:41:00 GMT

Chloe is 9 months old on tuesday, I can hardly believe it, have no idea where the time has gone. She is such a cheeky rascal, she knows when she is doing something she shouldnt be, but ignores all the 'no chloe, bad girl chloe, naughty' and beams at us with a huge toothy grin. She has been crawling for a few months now and is a proper speedy gonzales. She has found a new way to get around - if a sofa, bed, knee, table or walker is in reach then she is cruising for britain, very firm on her feet and the last few days has been standing up not holding anything for a few seconds so walking properly may be imminent, who know? Only she does. One problem is she keeps doing the splits where she slips on the wooden floor so I took her shopping for her first shoes, her feet were too tiny for the smallest pair of clarks shoes, and her feet were only just big enough for the tiniest pair of start-rites with plenty of room to grow, chubster had the widest fit though an H!

Sophie has been having a few bottom problems bless her, its been really sore like nappy rash but worse and different, ring like instead of all over the place. She had some steroid and antifungal cream which only succeeded in making it worse, so now she is off the steroids and instead on a different antifungal, this has not made any improvement either instead is making it red and taking the skin off, poor love keeps on about having a sore bum. So yet another trip to the doctor this week to ask for something else. She has had to stop wearing nappies too, to let the air get to it, few problems with this, yes she is potty trained to the extent she knows when she needs to go, but she has thus far been too lazy to get on her potty but the last few weeks have been pretty good, only had 3 accidents the rest of the time she has used the potty. Nearly died yesterday when I came in from the kitchen to find she had done a wee on the potty but forgotten to pull down her pants and had poo'd in her pants so hasty shower was called for and pants went in the dustbin!

Next week we have her first parents evening at nursery to fid out how she is settling in. Im both looking forward to it and dreading it in equal measure. Do I really want to know what she gets up to when I not there? Not sure I know the answer to that!

Babysitting

BadDad — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 11:10:00 GMT

How on earth do you find good, reliable babysitters?
Living in London 3 hours drive away from grandparents, rules them out.
Living more than 15 minutes from the tube and in Zone 3 rules out most friends.
Recent horror stories in the news me the jitters when considering virtual strangers.
Its a big conundrum as I'd like to go out with the good lady wife once in a while (haven't been to the pictures in about 14 months...in fact the last big screen film I saw was the dismal Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull). Any advice or useful websites anyone?

Nit-tastic

HelenJohnson — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 13:19:00 GMT

I'm a newby blogger on Choices, so forgive me if this isn't as 'chatty' as the other posts - i'll find my voice I'm sure!

I'm a mum of 2 girls (Jess, aged 7 and Nell, aged 3). As MD of my own business, juggling work, family and life is difficult at the best of times. However, three weeks ago with the appearance of NITS in our lives, it just got a whole lot harder!

Nell was itching like mad so I had a look and, sure enough, there they were - I've never seen them before so was quite shocked at how they looked...and how many there were

Every night for 8 days I wet combed, using tee trea shampoo and conditioner. To begin with the nits were small and in their 100's. But, then, a few days after it looked like they may have disappeared, they wer back with avengeance...and BIG!

So, I'm back to wet combing again - but have, last night, resorted to Hedrin. You only have to leave it on for an hour so not too much of a problem and they seem to have gone...hopefully for good!

What I don't understand is why my 3 year old had them (and had them bad!), but my 7 year old hasn't...weird. Anyway, I've told nursery and school so everyone is on alert and I'm now checking their hair (by wet combing) every week from now on - I just can't risk it gettin as bad as that again!

I found that the metal combs are better than the plastic ones (they just snap off) and Hedrin better than Full Marks, but then that's just us - may not be the same for everyone.

Touch wood they've gone for good - at least now I know what to look out for.

Watch out, she's escaping!

Tahbepet — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 07:48:00 GMT

As you may have guessed, the latest development in our house is that Ellie has learned to crawl. It happened about a week ago, when she saw the cat across the room, and decided to go and get it. My loud and proud exclamation of 'Good Girl!' was met with a definite 'What? Its not THAT big a deal, Mum!' expression... And now, I'm not so sure my elation was a good thing...

The living room is undergoing a rapid transformation, and we've had to do things differently in the evenings while getting diner on, etc, as someone always has to be on hand to police the baby while to other one cooks. But it's also opening up so many possibilities for Ellie as well. With her growing horizons comes a growing sense of frustration that she can't get to things, or things are being denied (The TV cabinet, or Daddy's DVDs, for example...). But there is also a sense of wonderful things being discovered - like lap-9(%top keys (ahem) and the cat's tail (which that cat has found VERY surprising, let me tell you...).

I was a little sad to see little bruises on her knees this morning where she's knelt on things in her many bids for freedom. I'm not sure why - I'm so excited to see her growing up. Maybe it's just that the end of a stage has come and I'm not quite ready for the next one. But I guess I'd better GET ready, quickly! Time waits for Norman, as my dad likes to say... (you have to think about that one for bit... :-P )

Now, where's that website with the cheap playpens???

Eyes stuck together and vomiting 2nd part.

Mia Brock — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 20:02:00 GMT

Luca is still under the weather as we head to the Lakes to see the Grandparents and whisk everyone away for an action packed weekend at Whinfell Centre Parks.

On Thursday at Mums and Dads, my mum or Granny (as she now must be called) has booked Luca to see the local GP as his cough is so whoopy and loud and takes his breath away. He is almost sick every time he coughs (probably trying to get that nasty green mess from his chest). The possibility that he might have a secondary infection is what I think. After being checked we are reassured and whooping cough could be what is bothering Luca. Steroids would the next advised step in medication, but I am reluctant to give these to Luca unless we really all know it is whooping cough. I suggest that we wait till Friday before we leave to Whinfell and perhaps go back if the cough develops. The Dr. kindly agrees.

He seems to improve as Friday comes. We have a great break, but as we get home on Tuesday, the hubby spends the night- every hour and a half (like clock work I promise)- in such a mess with vomiting and diarrhoea, and the next day. Luca has been sick too, but I think that it's the coughing. Bed time on Wednesday we are having a cuddle over the 'should have exploded by now, Hungry Caterpillar' and I lie Luca down when he coughs and coughs again. I help him sit up, and there is a moment of astonishment and fear as Luca's dinner and bedtime milk gushes like a broken water leak from his mouth, his body shaking whilst I try and help clear his mouth of sweetcorn and peas, and reassure him it's OK. It is the first time I have been really scared with Luca. He was deathly pale and silent. There was vomit everywhere, dripping through the cot on to the carpet and in a puddle on Luca's growbag. That was the start of four changes of nappies, vests, pyjamas, growbags, sheets, blankets and cuddly toys.

Darren and Luca down, Mummy still going. Until Thursday. I call NHS Direct again as I am worried that Luca is not keeping anything down and has constant diarrhoea and vomiting, he is lethargic, pale, not eating and quite dehydrated. We are invited to go to out of hours surgery on Thursday evening to get him checked out. He's OK(every thing's checked) and we are advised to just keep doing what we are doing- water/snacks/etc. As I drive home at almost 11pm, I can feel my tummy turn into a washing machine. I think that it's stress.

Home.

Sick, and sick again. Again. Again. Again, and like Darren, every hour running to the bathroom all night and part of the morning.

It is now Monday evening and we are still not quite better. We are in quarantine. And now know the reality of children, germs and as 'jcr' puts it our 'super spreader' around- we are all going to get the goodies now.

Toddler overboard

Milly Bernice — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 16:21:00 GMT

He might not ever have been terribly keen on sleeping, but at least he was pretty containable. Most of his attempts to escape his bed ended in him landing back inside it and squaling in frustration.

Now, however, baby Colditz has been breached. Instead of finding him sat in bed, discussing whatever it is that toddlers and stuffed penguins discuss, I found him stood at the room gate rattling the bars with his cup. And now he's out, the willingness to go back in understandably is lacking.

This afternoon's nap mostly consisted of me popping him in, him getting out, me attempting this four more times, and him escaping every one of those times. The rest of nap time being spent with him stomping around his room shouting "hello" and "goodbye" intermittently whilst I lay on my bed wondering how many nights of stomping I'm going to end up listening to before he gets bored of this new skill.
Which is not entirely helped by not being able to remember what very safe place the reamaining bits of his bed were put in to adjust it from cot to bed.

A less sleep depriving new found habit of his though is the game of "feed the mummy". Whereupon P demands a slice of bread and then bit by bit shoves (and I do mean shove) it into my mouth, and like the finest of hosts then uses his cup to sprinkle water on me. I don't think we'll be entering 'Come Dine with Me' anytime soon, somehow.

Blackening tooth anguish

JCR21 — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 08:56:00 GMT

We've just noticed this week that one of Theo's front teeth is a bit darker than the other. It's only noticable to us of course, but it's definitely there and darkening ever so gradually.

A month or three ago he toppled out of his grandparents front door, which has a pretty major step, and smashed his face into the concrete driveway. He split his lip and had some juicy grazes which all of course have healed. But we think he must have damaged a tooth now as well.

This pains me. Partly because I've got a morbid fear of chipping or damaging teeth (if I see anyone trying to open a beer bottle with their teeth I make a 'gnnnrrrrrr' sound and shiver uncontrollably) but mainly because he's so smiley and happy I don't want to see his beaming grin spoiled by a gammy tooth. Or a big gap!

My wife tells me there's no point in going to the dentist because he can't do anything. She's right of course, but I still disagreed (of course). At least it's his baby teeth I suppose.