A Sure Fire Way to Lose Your Parent Friends

Yesterday was the Baby’s birthday party. It went amazingly well. I was a bit worried the Baby would be somewhat overwhelmed by it all but apart from a few wobbles he loved all the attention. And the cake.

Another thing I was worried about was that we hadn’t really prepared any entertainment for the big kids who would be in attendance. Luckily the Dog was in the garden so they were busy playing with her for a while.

 

We had done all the hard graft and prep work beforehand  so the party went pretty smoothly. I even remembered to snap a few photos. I was doing so well but then stumbled at the last hurdle.

I had knocked up some DIY party bags last minute. I chucked in a little toy, some organic, sugar free biscuits and some rice crackers for the littles and a biscuit, a gel candle craft and a few balloons for the big kids. Then I found those new years bangers and party horns in a cupboard and chucked those in too on a whim.

Lesson learned. Do not, under any circumstances pump other people’s kids full of sugar and then hand them a party horn. Not if you want to remain friends with their parents anyway.  Guys, if you are reading this I’m very sorry. Especially to the family who had two ride in the car with two of their children in possession on these.

Oops. Next time I’ll stick to the crafts.

My Own Greek Goddess Moment

You know those painting of Greek gods lounging around while some someone feeds them peeled grapes? I’m wondering if the painter used some artist license.

I’ve never seen a painting where the grape feeder licks the grape first before giving it to the god though.

 

A One Year Old Smart Aleck

The Baby has learned to point. I thought this milestone would alleviate some of his frustrations as he found a way to communicate his wants and needs to us. Especially seeing as I never got around to opening that Baby Signing book.

‘What do you want, Baby? Water? Yes? OK, here’s some water.’

‘OK, not water. What do you want?’

‘OK, um…milk? Would you like some milk? Yes?’

‘OK, not milk. What else is on the table? Um… keys? Wipes? You need your nappy changed?’

‘Fruit? Are you hungry?’

Well at least one of us is less frustrated by this new found communication.

Like Mother, Like Son…Apparently

Every day the Baby gets a little older, a little more independent and a little more able. It’s really fun to watch him acquire new skills. What is less fun is the frustration which is appearing more and more rapidly when he is unable to do what he wants.

A increasing pitch of ‘nyeh, nyeh, nyeh’s which eventually make the short jump to full blown screaming, is a fairly regular background track at the moment. These mini fits of hysteria can be brought about by a multitude of occurrences, from being unable to reach something he wants to being unable to force a square peg into a round hole.

Upon our latest bout of this rage the Mummy informed me, ‘Yes, he’s definitely your son.’

I have no idea what she could be referring to….

It was like a cross between ‘Jurassic Park’ and ‘The Birds’

All was quiet in the Poop Rainbows house until the Mummy’s butt touched the sofa and the rustle of a plastic wrapper ripped through the silence.

Suddenly two pairs of eyes flashed toward the Mummy and the delight she had clutched her hand. She struggled to finish unwrapping her treat and push some into her mouth before they arrived. Her ears filled with a rapid succession of thumps and clicks as her two pursuers closed in on their prey….

Your begging faces need work, guys.

How to Survive a Holiday with a Baby

Despite our mega-journey we actually had a lovely holiday in Spain. Here are some top tips I’ve garnered to help you make the most of your vacation with your horror.

 

1. Go self-catered.

This one was key for me. We stayed in a lovely villa with my parents and two of their friends. We had a fully equipped kitchen for me to prepare meals and snacks for the Baby. Jetlag plus the fact that the little guy is a touch high maintenance means he is not always on everyone else’s meal schedules, especially not the southern Spanish’s. I’d have hated rushing round trying to find somewhere open not full of smokers in the 8 and a half minutes we have between the Baby letting us know he’s hungry and a full meltdown ensuing.

We also had an outdoor eating area and portable highchair so he could throw three meals a day on the floor without any waiters glaring at me.

An added bonus was our villa came with it’s own pool. No getting up at the crack of dawn to grab a sunbed. No carrying three million things to take the baby swimming for 15 minutes and then trying to remember to take it all back again. Bliss. Plus the mummies could jump in for a quick swim and cheeky cocktail during mojito time nap time.

We were lucky enough to have help with the accommodation from my parents  but house swapping and/or sharing a villa with friends is a great way to keep holiday costs down. Self catering is much cheaper than eating out for every meal for two weeks too.

2. Go with back up.

Lets face it, time spent with a one year old is not relaxing, and never will be. To combat this I recommend holidaying with other people who don’t yet know what spending hours and hours with a 1 year old is like. Top of my list would be grandparents who haven’t seen the baby for a few months and friends of a grandparent-ing age who don’t have grandchildren of their own and would like to borrow yours for a few hours. Gleefully hand him over and retreat inside for a siesta.

3. Go for a routine.

Ours came about naturally. He mostly had his meals at 7, 12 and 6. He napped around 9 and 1. He slept from 6.30-7.00pm. All these times were a little flexible and there were days where he missed naps but overall it made life easier. During the day at least. The little terror still hasn’t figured out sleeping through the night.

4. Go out and about.

Loads of fun things to do and explore in a new place. All that stimulation is bound to wear out your tot and bring cocktail hour (aka bedtime) on a little faster.

5. Go for it.

We’ve put off going on holiday for ages as I thought it would just be a struggle but I really enjoyed myself. Might even consider another little trip in the next few months…if someone figures out teleportation by then.

 What are your tips for enjoying a holiday with kids?

My 19 Babies

With a huge sigh of relief I am happy to report that our evacuation of our 19 embryos from Thailand was a success. Our future baby making prospects are safely out of the government’s hands, tucked in nicely to a freezer in Madrid.

A few people who I have told have teased me about us potentially having 20 children total. Can you imagine?

Um…yeah…nope. The more mathematically minded of you may have noticed I couldn’t even bring myself to draw 20 children.

Don’t worry, world. I am not about to inflict 20 of my spawn upon you. Even if reality TV has a sudden space in it’s scheduling.

The Mama and the Mummy’s Three Year Anniversary

A rare soppy one- apologies. Toilet humor will resume tomorrow.

 

To the Mummy,

When we met four years ago I don’t think either of us realized we were starting something big. I’ll bet you didn’t look at that too tall, drunk, Scottish girl and realize she was about to attach herself to you and follow you around for the rest of her days.

Judging by the shock on your face and the fact I had to repeat what I said a couple of times I’d guess you weren’t expecting me to propose after 6 months, or for us to be having a Civil Partnership ceremony at the British Embassy in Vietnam 6 months after that.

When we had that drunken first dance and I spent the whole thing trying to work up the courage to kiss you, you wouldn’t have imagined our baby would be born a few days after our second anniversary.

Here we find ourselves at our third anniversary. I didn’t know when we met that I had just met my best friend. The gorgeous Thai girl I thought was out of my league didn’t look like someone who I’d see every day for the next four years. I didn’t know yet how great a mum you’d be or that I wouldn’t want to share my life with anyone else.

I’ve never been as happy as I have in the last four years and I have you to thank for that. I love you so much and I’m looking forward to spending the rest of my life with you.

Love from the Mama

A Lesbian Mother’s Nightmare

 

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Who’s his real mum?

I don’t mind being asked ‘Who’s his mum?’. Maybe the questioner doesn’t realize we’re a couple. Perhaps they are surprised I could be so lucky as to wind up with such a hot woman to share my life with. Perhaps they think I’m a friend just tagging along to help my buddy with her baby.

I don’t mind people asking ‘Who’s his father?’ because they probably don’t know that we use the term ‘donor’ and again, people are curious. I am nosy about other people too…although I tend to wonder silently.

‘Who’s his real mum?’ is different though. I take it to mean that the questioner has understood there are two mums in this equation and is dismissing or downgrading one of us, purposefully or not. So here’s the response I’ve been working on for the next available opportunity:

What do you think?