Monday, 22 November 2010

Grace 35 months, Daisy five months

So Grace is almost three, and I am hoping this means the terrible twos are almost over, but I have a sinking feeling they are not.

I don't even think these are "terrible twos" tantrums. They are more mature than that. She has already mastered the art of looking round me to still see the TV when I am telling her off and stomping up to her bedroom when she does not get her own way. This is not behaviour she is going to grow out of. I know this because I am almost thirty and I still do both on a regular basis, especially when James' credit card bill comes through.

Luckily at the minute (thanks to Mary Poppins) the rudest word Grace knows is supercalifragilisticexpialidocius, which she shortens to 'calidocius' and shouts at you whilst waving her hand in your face, a bit like she is casting a spell. All very sweet now, but we live next to a high school and I don't hear anyone citing Julie Andrews at playtime...

Daisy is no better. She is only five months old and has already learnt to laugh when Grace is being told off. This greatly annoys Grace and results in Daisy having all her toys taken away from her. Nothing winds Grace up more than seeing Daisy having a PNT (perfectly nice time). I often set Daisy up on her mat with an array of "stimulating" toys, and come back five minutes later to find they have all been slung far from her and she is left looking at the algae on the conservatory roof instead. She does not seem to mind too much, being at that age where she regularly forgets and then rediscovers, with great delight, the fact she has hands and feet.

It's been a busy month for us. We went on holiday for a week while our new kitchen was being installed and our floorboards sanded.
You are probably thinking I am a bit of a show off.. well, you know the week before last when all it did was wind and rain day and night with no break for a single second? That was the week we went on holiday, in a caravan, to Norfolk...

We got there just before the rain started. By the time we had finished our meal in the Harvester* (I know, name dropping again!) the sky had turned pitch black and the wind was howling. That was on the Monday at about 3.30pm and it did not get light again for five days.

The only thing to do was go shopping, alot. The holiday turned into a tour of TKMAX outlets. We would spend all day in one, drive back to the caravan hampered by the pouring rain and massive bags of discount goods, and after sliding about in the mud bath that led up to the door, we would lock ourselves in for the night to play Scrabble, trivial pursuit and being fish finger sandwiches in very small beds.

(I was fine, but James had to sleep diagonally. He obviously found it very comfortable because he has continued to do it since we got home, much to my annoyance.)

Work was still not finished by the time we had to vacate the caravan, so we went for a luxury weekend retreat to the Premier Inn on Bourne End bypass near Hemel. Initially we were delighted at being given a room on the bottom floor near the restaurant, but by 6am we were sick of hearing pots and pans being clattered about so James opened the door and shouted "Shut up" very loudly down the corridor.

Minutes later we heard knocking, then a voice said"Fire brigade, let me in." Thinking it must be some kind of joke, James opened the door and asked "Are you a stripper?"
"No Sir, I am a fire brigade" came the response. It seems a pipe had burst somewhere in the hotel and the banging we had heard all night was Mr "I am a fire brigade" checking the rooms for leaks.

The Premier Inn very kindly said that we would not be charged for the room and that meals would also be free for the duration of our stay, which is just as well because the restaurant was closed.

Even when it was open it was pretty rubbish. After being shown the specials board and advised to have the delicious curry, which we both promptly ordered, we were immediately told, by the same person, that there was no rice. We could have curry and chips though. We did not want curry and chips however. How about curry in a jacket potato then? advised the waiter, who then told us they had no jacket potatoes. Or steak. Or chicken Cesar Salad, or anything else on the specials board he had bought over to show us.

We thought it would be a relief to get home, until we got there and saw that every single possession we owned was hidden under a thick layer of orange dust. "Don't worry" said James, on the Sunday night " We can blitz this together in no time" and then he promptly spent the whole of the next week in London from about 7am to 9pm.

He did babysit Daisy for me for the first time ever while I went and had my hair done in a super snazzy salon though, and he paid for it. (In a bid to try and stop expensive impulse buys, I put a picture of James looking very sad next to my copy of his credit card in my wallet. It did not work and I also came home with every single product the hairdresser used on my hair.)

Daisy is getting along marvellously. She had her third set of jabs today and smiled the whole way through.

She can already hold her own in a fight. She grabs hold of Grace's hair with her teeny tiny fingers and has her pleading for mercy. I have been weaning her for a while now and she eats anything that is put in front of her with great gusto and a comical mouth lunge.

Her giggle is a delightful snigger which you find yourself doing more or less anything to achieve. I think she will be OTM (On the move) soon. She can already hold on to the side of the swimming pool unaided which is pretty amazing to see.

I can't believe she is almost six months old. Where has the time gone and why has the last of my baby fat not gone with it? James says I look great, but he signed me up for a half marathon when he went to the nursery committee meeting last night so obviously he is just saying that.

I could not go as it clashed with kiddie bedtime, so I sent James to represent me with specific instructions to only put my name down for very easy things. He spent the whole night being flirted with by all the mums instead. When he came back he was all "Isn't Kim a great laugh?" and "Doesn't Fleur have a nice coat?"

Grace has been dictating her letter to Santa for me to write "Dear Santa, how are you? I am good. For Christmas I would like a Wizardaboz castle, a toy kitchen like my friend Matilda has and some princess slippers. Daisy does not want anything. Thank you"

She said she wanted a princess and pirate party for her third birthday, but she is going to go as a witch and turn everyone into "toad in the road" (toad in the hole). I have to dress up as a tiger and daddy as a silly sausage. I can't wait to see James dressed up as a giant Christmas poo.

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