Do you want to Build a Snow Man (exhausted remix)

Do you wanna build a snow man?
Or learn the lyrics to this song?
I really only know the title line,
It makes it hard if you are trying to sing along!
I think I've got the tune down,
But the words won't stick,
No matter what I do!
Do you wanna build a snow man?
What is the next line I don't know, man.
How 'bout you?

Taste the Rainbow!

Arya perfects her selfie face.

Poor Arya has been running a bit of a temperature this weekend. It's probably just a teething thing, but that doesn't make its outward manifestations any less terrifying. She would drop to a normal baby temperature through the day, and then spike to almost 40 degrees (centigrade, for any Americans worried she was in danger of flash-freezing) at night. This meant that she didn't sleep through, and nor did we.

On Friday night she... um... You know what, I actually can't remember most of the details of Friday night. Erm... Right, okay; I took her to bed and she struggled. She wanted more milk. She wanted Pajanimals (we'd skipped her usual watch, so I obliged in case routine would help) and then she stood at the bedroom door, pointing at the handle and saying: "Door. Mummy." for half an hour until I took her to Mummy who cuddled her to sleep (taking another I actually don't know how long.)

We mostly crashed after that.

On Saturday we... um... I think we went somewhere and shopped. Possibly somewhere exciting like the big Co-op half a mile away. I dunno; we were very tired; it was an adventure*. In the afternoon I took Arya to Ely on the train so that she could nap. Getting her to sleep in the evening was once more exciting, as she basically howled as soon as I got her into the nursery, then passed out once mummy came in.

Hannah speculates that this is in part because Arya woke up on Friday when she was out of bed and was thus worried about mummy vanishing. The fever and teething pain can't help.

We went to bed early, too tired to focus on G.I. Joe: Retaliation.

On Sunday we came into town early. We had brunch, or rather I ate half a brunch while Hannah tried to get Arya to eat something, then Hannah ate her omelette while I chased Arya around Tatties, and finally I wolfed down the last of my cold bacon and eggs while Hannah got Arya back into the pushchair.

Nap time was defeated by high winds and Arya began to freak out when I tried to seal her in the clear plastic cocoon of hell close the rain cover. As a result she was lively around game, but once more our fellow players were troupers of the first water, designating a contiguous OOC area (one without stairs, for the safety of an exhausted baby and parents) and basically running the combat as ambulatory tabletop. Eventually we left because she was exhausted and suddenly distraught, but it was otherwise a good time for all of us.

We opted for a takeaway dinner and she laid into her Korma with a gusto she hadn't shown all weekend.

On Sunday night, Arya was - thankfully - much more at easy. We had a little fuss at bedtime. Actually, I think I got her hand caught under my elbow as we arranged ourselves for sleep, but after a few tense minutes where I considered calling Hannah in and running off to commit ritual suicide, or contemplated elaborate fantasies of future guilt ('Oh father! I know I could make first violin if only my fingers were a little stronger. Perhaps I should drink to forget, like you do.') she curled up against me and went to sleep.

She woke up to that 40 degree spike. 111 were useless ("meh; she's probably teething.") but she cooled down with a little ibuprofen** and headed back to Martlesham with Mummy.

* The CBeebies panto this year was Peter Pan, and features the Darlings singing a song about their children going on 'an awfully big adventure'. I find this a touch morbid given Pan's thoughts on awfully big adventures.

** She got better at taking her medicine over the weekend as well, which was nice for us since otherwise the only thing we can do to bring her fever down feels like cruel and unusual parenting.

Me and my gal

It's been an exciting weekend (you can tell by the absence of photos.) This should not be mistaken for a bad weekend, mark you. It wasn't, some fraught moments aside.

I spend less time solo with Arya than I'd like. She lives in Martlesham with Hannah and Andrew, and she and Hannah visit me at the weekends. Hannah considers Littleport her home as much as Martlesham, and I think Arya does as well. Last weekend we drove from Martlesham together after my visit there, and I got to see her face light up as she recognised my road. She actually gave a yay; it was very moving.

This weekend I was going to have her solo on Saturday while Hannah went to a LARP in London. Arya has been restless lately, so Hannah brought Andrew to act as backup just in case. I was glad to have him there, even when I didn't need him, since I almost went to pieces just trying to cook dinner (carbonara, which ought to be very simple,) but I was also glad that he held back and mostly let me get on with it. I was able to put her to bed without stress two nights running. On Friday night she slept through until the morning, and on Saturday I brought her in with me after about five hours and she slept for another six.

We also had some good times in the daytime. We went to the library - our regular Saturday outing now that we're not going to games - and got some books (three of the 'That's not my...' series of touch and feel books and one on potty training, because she's so grown up!) We went to a party (well, the start of a party) and she had fun on some stairs, and we found a new thing to give her for snacks (corn thins; GF and low calorie.)

All in all, it was a good weekend.

Long weekend

Tiny bear creature!

Wow, what a weekend.

It started on Wednesday night, when I went down to Ipswich and Hannah and I picked up Arya from school. I spent a couple of days in Martlesham, helping out as best I could.

Arya was her usual lively self on Thursday. We had a family evening at the swimming pool, where she was a bit nervous, but had a good time playing with the floats and trying to drown her daddies. She also drank a lot of pool water which, although not too chlorinated was apparently quite saline; this may have exacerbated her dicky tummy, and she was pretty poopy thereafter, resulting in a very sore tush; poor thing.

Saturday and Sunday nights were adventurous. On Saturday I got her down early, but she woke up not long after we went to bed, which means I was up half the night with her kicking me and Hannah was up three-quarters of the night fielding demands for milk. As a result, the question of whether to take her to swimming or not was rather academic; we didn't wake up until 9:30 on Sunday morning.

No photos inside, as I was too busy chasing
Arya, but this is their magic weather stone.

On Sunday we went to the Prickwillow Drainage Engine Museum, where Arya had a wonderful time evading her parents. It's an interesting little museum, and they were lovely about letting us eat our own food in the cafe (which inspired us to buy tea at least.)

On Sunday night I couldn't get her to sleep at all, and not for want of her trying. She was a little feverish and I think she might be teething. Already she'd refused all food despite obviously being hungry and wanting to eat; in much the same way she was both trying to sleep and not letting herself. Hannah got her down for half-nine, but she woke up just before we went to bed and thus followed much kickings.

At least on Sunday we realised that the double duvet was insufficient for two adults and Arya and so we weren't both lying with our backs exposed, thinking that at least the other was covered.

Regardless of these shenanigans, I was sorry to say goodbye this morning. I will miss her terribly.

Christmas is coming...

Something on, or something off...

This weekend we put up the tree. It's not a very big tree, just 3ft, but it's ours and it's smothered in lights and decorations.

Arya helped, and actually helped, rather than 'helped'.

It's going to be a rough time this year, as money is tight, but we have Arya and that's a long way from nothing. She is utterly gorgeous, and increasingly affectionate. On Saturday night she reduced me to tears trying to get her to go to sleep, but I know that most of the problem was that she is starting to be aware that I'm not around all the time, and wants to spend time with me when we are together, which is... just incredible.

How Tom Beat Captain Najork and his Hired Sportsmen, with
a guest appearance by Lady Constance de Coverlett as Aunt
Fidget Wonkham-Strong.

According to nursery, Arya is well up on everything except language. I think this is because we've gone easy on her and so she continues to use a babble which is actually deeply meaning-laden because she believes that we understand her. Regardless, we've decided that it's time to up the reading content of her day. Hannah reads her Blueberry Girl every day, and we vary other books, including The Further Adventures of the Owl and the Pussycat (which fared slightly better than The Gruffalo (in Scots) but was still, I think, viewed with suspicion for departing from the words she knows.

Blueberry Girl, by Neil Gaiman

My own selections this weekend were How Tom Beat Captain Najork and His Hired Sportsmen, by Russel Hoban and Quentin Blake, and What Does the Fox Say? by Ylvis. We also watched some things, and she showed her increasing comprehension. She was scared of the Gruffalo, and in Brave she distinguished between the scary bears and the nice bears.

Arya continues to be amazing. She's taken to looking after the younger kids at nursery, and to her decrepit parents if we sit still for too long. We are often offered a bottle, just as bear is. She had a bit of a fever on Sunday, which made swimming less than completely fun, but she's very into baths again, which is good to see.

Omlette for all!

Yesterday evening, Hannah asked for a kiss. Arya obliged, then insisted that Hannah kiss me, then Andrew, then her again, and then me, and Andrew, and so on. So much for the six-inch rule, apparently. Parents may show affection if supervised and approved by the mistress of the house.

We took Arya into Ely on Saturday. She was grumpy about going in the pushchair, but excited by the train journey (she's happy with trains when she can get to the window and look out.) Sleep was a bit of an issue (see also above) but she was, for the most part, a delight.

A short week this one, then a long weekend in Martlesham. As I was putting her in the car yesterday I gave her a kiss and said:

"I'll see you on Wednesday evening."

Arya nodded, in simulation of, even if not actual, understanding.

"I'll miss you."

And around her bottle I am sure she mumbled: "Miss you."

<3

Arya and Owl

Close encounters of the bird kind.

Good times: On Saturday we were passing a little display set up by the Raptor Foundation. Arya was immensely taken with the owls, and despite a little nervousness, she stroked an eagle owl about the same size as she is.

Parenting for the Sleep Deprived

"I'm going to put this washing up ball on my fist and chew
on it, Dad. Is that cool?"
"Can I take a selfie? Sure; that's cool then."

Some days I feel like the worst of all people, especially on weekends like the one just past, when the shouty parents upstairs and their kids are apparently away and not providing me with a comforting counter-example. There was a lot of "Arya, don't do that," this weekend, less because she was being extra-naughty than because Hannah and I were blitzed, and both too tired to keep up with Arya's energy (because she gets super bouncy when she's tired) or to tag each other out appropriately.

It was definitely not the weekend we had planned. A trip into town on Saturday kind of stretched out to... God help me, I have no idea what we actually did in town. Oh, that was it; Hobbycraft, food, home. It would have been much quicker if we'd realised there's a Frankie and Benny's on the Coldham's Lane trading estate now. I'm also increasingly unconvinced by the Weatherspoon's under the Arts Cinema, which seems to specialise in overcharging.

Sunday was supposed to be super relaxed, and in fairness to our plan of going back to the morning swimming class, I think if we'd had to go into Cambridge for the afternoon swim in the drizzling rain and pre-Christmas traffic, they would have found us all in the Grand Arcade at closing time, Hannah curled protectively in a ball around Arya and wibbling, while she waved brightly at passersby, assuring them in her best Roedean accent that 'they only drink to forget.'*

There were positives. Even if we didn't spend as much time together as we'd hoped (we're still way behind on Downton) time spent with Hannah is good time in my book, and Arya is adorable, even when she's being trouble. It's a struggle sometimes to be cross with her, even when we know we need to be (but we do need to do it, or she'll continue to think that rubbing food onto her face is adorable long past the point where it is.)

We also sat down and ate pancakes in front of the CBeebies Prom. In retrospect this would have worked better, I think, if I'd done a double batch and served them like blinis with crudites and savoury toppings as a proper lunch. As it was they were too late for her snack and threw the timing out.

Despite some fuss over the lamb tagine (she's not mad for cooked figs, apparently) she ate really well this week, although she may have had some tummy trouble afterwards.

A mixed weekend then (in no small part because the weather was so shockingly miserable.) I mean to do better in the future.

* I'm not sure why I assume my daughter will grow up to be ashamed of me. It's probably a sign of great insecurity.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Arya's first mince pie

Advertising aside, you have to start planning for these things early with a family. Next year I intend to start putting present money aside... well, about now, actually. Christmas has sort of leaped up and smacked me in the face with stress and its only early November.

Still, if we get the stress out of the way early, hopefully we can enjoy Christmas itself. It's likely to be a whole new experience for Arya, as she as just a wee thing last year. Hannah wants to get a tree, so we're eyeing up a fine line between too expensive and tacky as hell. I thought I saw one at the absolute top line of my price in John Lewis, but that turned out to be the mat for catching needles.

It's been an odd weekend. The whole family descended late on Friday and went to bed. On Saturday they were up and out to a wedding, came back late and went to bed (I can't complain, I was invited, but largely as a courtesy and it would have felt odd.) Sunday was swimming followed by game.

On the plus side, apart from a few tears getting home on Sunday, Arya has been very cheerful all weekend. She woke up bright and breezy, and had loads of fun trotting up and down in mummy's shoes, enjoying the clop-clop-clop of the kitten heels flapping behind her. Swimming was a bit stressful for her, but we're back to the earlier class next week, which means that she won't be swimming when her body tells her that she ought to be napping.

She also ate pretty well, although she is developing a tendency to play with her food once she's finished eating.

We had a very good bath on Sunday, with only a little fussing as I rinsed her hair after washing it. Getting to sleep on Sunday was tougher than it ought to have been, but that was unfortunate chance. She needed a change and I found having put the light on that all the bits were elsewhere, which meant she was in the light for far too long and woke up merrily. Still, at least she was merry.

Fruit and Balloons

This has been a weekend of fruit and balloons.

This apple was 'appropriated' from the Co-op
by the tried and tested means of licking it until
Daddy had to pay for it.

Arya loves her fruit; she genuinely does. She's always liked satsumas and other small orangey citrus fruits (although actual oranges she seems to find a terrible disappointment,) has loved bananas since they stopped making her sick, and now is into her apples as well.

She's less into cinema. We went to see How to Train Your Dragon 2 on Saturday morning, and once she'd finished her popcorn and raisins and poured CapriSun on Daddy's crotch, she was pretty much done with it. We went downstairs and played a game where she ran around the arcade in the karaoke and bowling place and I tried to catch her and make her put her shoes on. It was hilarious; y'know, if you were her and except for the bits with the shoes because shoes are evil.

"Do you come here often?"

She's at an odd stage for interacting with things. She fixates on odd things; last week she clung to her toothbrush until the milk appeared at bedtime, and she will pick up a pair of tights or PJ trousers and hug then for hours, but kick up a storm if you try to put them on her. Shoes she is particularly against at the moment, apparently because she feels she should be putting them on for herself and only over her toes.

All in all she's very independent and very bold. It can be hard keeping hold of her, so on roads and in crowded places she has to go in the pushchair which, much of the time, she hates. It's heartbreaking to fight her into the chair, especially as 'No, Daddy! No!' is now an established part of her vocabulary, but the alternative is letting her run around in car parks, so it's a no brainer.

All your fruit are belong to us!

Arya was full of beans this weekend; literally as well as figuratively. We had some trouble with food, although that could come down to 'doesn't like pumpkin' as we had chicken and pumpkin risotto on Friday and an amazingly gloopy potato and pumpkin soup on Sunday.

Mind you, that doesn't explain the roast fish and veg that she's nommed before.

Anyway, beans are a good fallback to make sure that she eats something (fibre, protein, vitamins) and we also had a Frankie and Benny's breakfast after the half-movie and run around because she was taken with their balloons. She was of course then desperately aggrieved to be put back in the pushchair and howled all the way to the Co-op by the station, where we bought much needed fruit (we were down to two satsumas and one banana, which unbeknownst to me, Mummy had already eaten.)

Happiness is a warm orange.

She immediately wanted to be allowed to hold the fruit, and was upset when I took it away to pay for. I then offered to peel a banana for her, but no; she didn't want a peeled banana to eat, she just wanted to hold all of the bananas and all of the satsumas.

Still, it made her chipper as anything as we walked quickly to the station. There we had to get past the wankers who had decided that because the barriers were open it was totally okay to go the wrong way though the 'wide access for pushchairs and such' gate, in spite of the Dad and baby coming the other way. As a result of this, we missed our train by seconds and had to wait an hour for the next one. Fortunately, Arya soon went to sleep, although she woke up when we got home and I tried to extract her from her fruit pile.

Everyone loves balloons, right?

She was also given a balloon in McDonald's on Sunday. This one floated, and hilarity ensued as she swiftly realised that a) it floated and b) releasing the string would lead to Mummy and Daddy grabbing for it in an amusing way (at least until Mummy 'lost' her grip and let it float away out of sight.)

I do worry about her love of messing with the
oven controls (or any turny thing; I
accidentally boil-washed a bunch of clothes
after she left; hopefully no harm was done.)

After McDonald's and a very rich honey and almond hot chocolate in Starbucks (she had a baby hot chocolate and just ate the cream off the top) we bought her some new clothes and went swimming, where she had fun on the floating mat and then dancing with her reflection in a mirrored pedestal, which was like the most adorable thing ever.

She was also much better at being bathed this weekend, actually sitting to play with her whistling dolphins instead of standing and bending precariously to reach them. She even lay on her tummy and practiced swimming a little. Then she fought me like a demon when I tried to put her nappy on afterwards.

So, it's been swings and roundabouts again this weekend, but fortunately at any time I feel frustrated either with her or with my own ability as a parent I have the rampaging toddler and his screaming, shouting, swearing parents upstairs to reassure me that I am the bomb at parenting. Um... yay?

Everything is terrible!

The title exaggerates; popcorn is still
awesome.

It's been a tough weekend.

Hannah and Arya came over a day early, due to cancelled other plans. It was great to have them there, but sad that their plans had fallen through.

On Saturday I had a dentist's appointment and Hannah went out for tea in the afternoon, and the on Sunday I was going to take Arya into town to visit the botanical gardens. When the weather turned bad, I figured I could take her to the cinema instead (she still gets to run around a bit and we'e indoors,) but I messed up the timing (I'm sure that the Sunday trains used to be the same time as the weekday ones.) Hannah drove us in, but we ended up running late and it took out a lot of Hannah's working time.

In addition, it looks like Arya is going through a major growth spurt and (to judge by the drool) teething like a shark. This apparently means she is deeply uncomfortable in her own skin and not wanting to be touched except absolutely on her own terms, a fact that she alerted me to by struggling away from me at bedtime, screaming 'no, daddy' and calling for mummy.

This morning she hit me with a shoe for good measure. This parenthood lark* is a proper emotional rollercoaster.

* Of course, what days like these bring home is that parenthood is no lark; it's all and everything.

This is Hallowe'en

Arya is spending Hallowe'en (or rather Samhain) at the other house; I will not be in attendance as I am neither a pagan nor a drinker, and thus fail to qualify for most of the planned activites, and because I have a dental appointment at 9.30 the next day.

I had a plan for a Hallowe'en costume for me and Arya, but I doubt I would have had the patience to paint myself as a tree, even if I had managed to persuade her into a raccoon costume and arm her with Mummy's Nerf guns.

Hannah asked about Hallowe'en costumes last night. Specifically she asked 'what do Cthulhu cultists wear'? I think the answer is pretty much what anyone else wears. Or robes. I then tried to find a pattern of the yellow sign for her new embroidery machine; I failed. Again, the costume would likely have fallen down on the basis that she wouldn't have stomached wearing a mask, let alone learning to claim not to be if asked to take it off.

I am glad to think that she will probably never have to wear a shop bought costume, since I can't bear the thought of my little girl wearing one of those godawful 'monster/children's fiction character/serious professional, if they were a shameless whore' costumes that seem to be all that they sell for girls over the age of fifteen. I want her to wear awesome costumes and be awesome.

Also, she has to stay at least six inches from boys at all times, and discreet barbs sewn lovingly into her costumes are a good way to maintain this.

Commercial Hallowe'en costumes bring out the angry dad in me. I'd act surprised, but they have done since before I was a dad.

Daddy, someone broke the time!

And how much for the baby?

Man, it's been a long weekend, not least because it has actually been an hour longer than normal and Arya is old enough to notice now.

I think Arya arrived tired, possibly due to a bug that seems to be plaguing her with tummy troubles. Hannah was definitely tired, and so was I, so it was not the best ever recipe for a weekend.

On Saturday we went out to pick pumpkins. We chose a place quite close by which also had a maize maze and advertised a reasonable cafe/restaurant. The food options turned out to be pumpkin soup, bbq meats and doughnuts, and the maze was super pricey, which was disappointing. In retrospect, as Arya fell asleep in the car, we might have been better off travelling an extra half hour to the other site that offered its maze and other attractions for an all-in fee, but conversely it would have been hell getting Arya back.

Helping!

On the upside, Arya woke up and - after a slow start - seemed to really get into choosing pumpkins. I think at first she just wasn't sure where she was, but eventually really got into running around the field of large orange things. She was keen to help with the wheelbarrow as well, which is part of her love of things that she can push around (if they have wheels, it's a great plus, but unwheeled things like standing toys or parents are fun too!)

Finally, one her size!

The pumpkin patch was oddly full of Americans; well, surprisingly full, but it makes sense after some thought. I guess they were mostly from the airbase, and pumpkin carving remains a more American thing than British. I'm pretty sure that pick your own pumpkin isn't something that has been around for long in this country.

We picked up three pumpkins in the end: A large orange for carving, a medium sized white for cooking, and a small glow in the dark for shiggles. I totally failed to check at any point over the weekend just how glow in the dark it was; that's how tired I was.

Helping!

In the end we opted not to go for the maze, and we had a bit of drama when another little girl tried to trip Arya as we walked around the craft stalls. Fortunately the little girl's mother leaped into action before my Papa Wolf brain could claw its way past my residual teacher brain and bite off a foot or anything equally regrettable. The little girl was given the choice of going straight home or apologising. She refused to apologise, and was taken home. I feel sorry for the parents, but I hope a lesson was learned. I have certainly found a new resolve to make sure that if Arya ever acts out like that - and I hope she won't; the girl was at least four or five, rather than Arya's age - I don't allow sentiment to get the better of me.

We went home and spent a fair amount of time watching Sarah and Duck. Neither Hannah nor I feels good placating Arya with TV, but once we'd played around a bit and built a Duplodocus and gone shopping a time or two to get her some air and exercise walking across and pushing a trolley-basket around, and she'd ridden Lola the rocking dragon to exhaustion, we were all pretty much done in. She put me to bed and crashed out on my chest in minutes; then it took me about twice as long to manoeuvre out from under her without waking her.

On Sunday, time broke. Poor Arya got up at her normal time, then we insisted on doing everything too late (we adjusted meals by about 30 minutes, but swimming was of course a full hour late by her internal clock.) It was a long and frustrating day, but we shopped some more and discussed the etiquette of DVD handling. She was both clingy and gassy throughout swimming, so I think she definitely had a bit of a tummy bug, which won't have helped.

All in all, however, it was a good weekend. An exhausting, slightly tantrumy one, but good. Pumpkin picking was a bit of a wake up call to how nice it is to do stuff as a family in the open air. I want to do more of it.

The Curse of Ipswich Station

This weekend I again spent the Friday night in Ipswich and brought Arya back on the train. For added funsies, en route I missed a train and, having time to muse, called 111 and described some symptoms I had noticed. Two hours later I was in Ipswich hospital being diagnosed with hand, foot and mouth disease!

After consulting with Hannah and Andrew, I went on to spend the night at the bungalow, and the following afternoon took Arya home by train. We got to the station with her still asleep this time, but then the damned tannoy woke her up by yelling down right in front of the lift. Given that this is the one spot that parents with pushchairs have to pass, putting the speaker there feels like a pretty shit thing to do.

She wandered a lot, but fortunately was less
fixated on hitting the emergency alarm than
the last time.

Still, she was much happier this time, at least until I made her go back into the pushchair. She pottered about, and was only really troubled after she realised that the doors had buttons and stood right up to them trying to reach and press them. She was not happy to be taken away from them.

It was a mixed evening, as she was dead tired and therefore grumpy, but we had dinner, watched the usual Pajanimals and she went off pretty quickly.

On the food front, Arya still doesn't like porridge, whatever yummy things I put in it. Okay, she might go for maple syrup, but that's far too sweet and far too expensive. She can feed that habit from her GF cereal.

On Sunday we went into town before swimming, partly to let her nap and partly to buy a stuffed Toothless from Build-a-Bear Workshop. The one of these thwarted the other somewhat; having previously been in either very early on a Sunday or in the week, the noise in BaB took me aback, and woke Arya, who at least had fun pressing the buttons for the various sounds (girl loves buttons; ain't no doubt.)

She went down alright on Sunday, allowing Hannah and I to catch up on Downton Abbey, but then woke and became upset. When she wouldn't settle, I took her through to Hannah (I was sleeping on the sofa due to lurgy,) thinking it was by now quite late. It was actually about half-one, which I realised only after Arya was snuggled in next to mummy.

Uh-oh!

Arya's emergent language is interesting. 'Mama' means either 'mummy' or 'I need help'. She's able to tell us that she's pooed, and understands when we ask if she needs changing. She waves and cheers when she sees the special something on Something Special (a watch with Father waiting to be written) despite the show's lack of direct prompts. She saw a bike on Saturday and said 'cycle', knows she has to brush her teeth, and she is all about the 'shoes'.

But her words of the moment are 'uh-oh', which used to mean 'there has been an accident/breakage/spillage'. She has a little car with a flywheel that makes it keep going after you let it go. It came in a Kinder egg and falls apart easily. When it does, she says 'uh-oh' and brings it to us to fix. This is apparently such a great game, however, that sometimes she will stand right in front of us, pull it apart, hold out the two pieces and say 'uh-oh!'

So grown up in her little
Gehenna jumper.

"No, Arya! Not uh-oh. That was not an 'uh-oh' moment."

She's unsettled at the moment. She's a bit ill and swimming is messing with her nap times on Sunday. As a result, she's more tired and more irritable.

On Saturday we put her to bed straight from the car seat. She woke up after a couple of hours and I went in because she was crying. I picked her up and she cried louder.

I put her down again, she thrashed about and cried.

I picked her up and she hit me in the head trying to break away from me. I almost dropped her, and not 'I almost lost my grip', but part of my brain said 'you are being attacked; get the assailant as far from you as possible'.

Once Hannah had settled her a little, she went to sleep on my arm, which made me feel better about myself, but only a little. I know it's a reflex, but for a moment I felt like dropping my crying daughter on the floor and I hate myself a little for that.

The next day I overcompensated and bought her unnecessary snacks, although Hannah's disapproval was strong enough that I managed not to just give in an fill her with sugar. (A word to the wise, fruit yoyos are pure fruit; that doesn't mean they're not full of sugar! Fruit, it turns out, is in many ways nature's junk food.)

Pics or it didn't happen

It's getting harder to take photos of Arya; she's going through a phase of being interested in phones. Hannah manages better, largely because her phone's lock screen has what is basically a 'holy crap my baby is doing something adorable just let me take a picture right now' button.

This is not to say that nothing is happening with her. She's growing like a weed, and has had her second dentists appointment, at which she got a little nervous, and was super protective of her parents when our turns came, basically trying to climb up onto our chests to push the probes away from our mouths.

She's been a little grommity overall and hasn't been sleeping so well. She may have picked up hand, foot and mouth from nursery, but here's hoping it's just a cold. She also had a pretty rubbish weekend last when I had to bring her home by train from Ipswich, as a noisy toddler on the bus woke her up 20 minutes into her nap and right before a ludicrously long train journey, followed by sleeping before swimming (again, for about 20 minutes) but not after.

All in all the change in swimming venue has not been a success. If I did have to take her solo due to Hannah's shifts, I could, but the class has to share the pool with rich tossers and it's just completely the wrong time, leading to situations like last weekend. The only thing I'll miss is that she can't climb out on her own in the old pool, which is something she enjoys doing, and which has I am sure improved her ability to climb onto chairs and other furniture.

I need to be better at doing these updates even when I don't have a picture to post, because she's growing so fast and I don't want to miss anything out.

Made for Walking

Arya is ill, which makes me sad, so here is a photo of her trying to wear my cats; which makes me happy.

After Empire last week, I tried to get a photo of her first authentic post-game slump, but apparently having not seen a phone all weekend she just couldn't keep her mitts off. It seemed to perk her up no end, so I'm not too sad. I'd rather she were chipper than get a photo op.

OhgodOhgodOhgodOhgodOhgodOhgod

Nice books. Shame if someone were to...
colour them.

On Saturday, Arya and I went to the library, then came home for lunch. Hannah got up to make lunch, and I watched in frozen horror as Arya stood up on the sofa, overbalanced, sat back, then tipped full length onto the floor.

She cried at once, which is a good sign, and then became very drowsy, which really, really isn't. We rushed her to A&E (in Cambridge), through heavy traffic, with me trying to make sure that she didn't fall asleep (an uphill struggle), in case she had concussion. By the time we got to A&E, she was basically out of it, unresponsive, almost impossible to rouse. I lifted her into my arms, dashed into the hospital...

And she woke up, started looking around and even began chatting. She was very mum-clingy - which of course made me feel that she was blaming me for the fall - and Hannah and I got snippy with each other on account of fear, adrenaline, tiredness and it getting more and more past lunchtime without so much as a chocolate bar.

Once Arya was cleared and given some Calpol (encouragingly because that way we'd know, if she became dazed or vomited later, that it was something serious rather than a shock response) we got some lunch at the food hall and headed home. She refused to eat the burger, or any of my lamb tagine later, which was unusually fussy.

When I took Arya to bed that evening, Hannah headed out to a friend's birthday bash (home at 2:45ish, she reported that she was physically exhausted, but mentally and emotionally refreshed by getting to spend some time just socialising with old friends; I've decided that I need to do more socially with my week nights). I don't know if Arya realised that Hannah was out, but she took an inordinately long time to get to sleep. Once she was down, I watched some BTBATB and then went to bed myself, having been pretty much shattered since the terror-adrenaline wore off in paediatrics.

Arya woke up about five minutes before Hannah got home, then went back to sleep, then woke up again. I'm pretty sure she was hungry, as a result of refusing to eat earlier.

Next morning, Arya was absolutely chipper (phew) and in the early afternoon we took her swimming. It's essentially the same class in a different place; the Doubletree by Hilton, which is more central and thus - especially with the later timing - easier for me to get to on my own if need be. The class doesn't have the whole pool, but the lower side means that the kids can practice climbing out.

At first, Arya was terrified, and clung to me like a limpet. After a splash off the floating platform she began to get into it again, however, and once she'd run across the platform (with a hand from either side) and splashed feet first in on the other side, she was climbing up to the side just to splash in again.

"I don't know what you mean. What
chocolate covered rice cakes?"

After swimming, we met up with Hannah in town and picked up a new happy nappy and swimsuit, as she's grown out of the old ones in the interim. Hannah is dangerously taken with JoJo Maman Bebe (not, as I originally thought, Mojo Jojo Baby). We also picked up a package from my work, containing six pairs of pyjamas and a baby CD player. The latter (essentially a multitrack electronic music box keyed by a set of plastic discs) seemed to frustrate Arya, as the changing of the discs is a step more than she really likes from her 'push button, make noise' type toys.

I think it might grow on her... eventually.

On the way home, Arya ate a dark chocolate covered rice cake with her usual delicacy. She was a little dubious about dinner again, but ate some carrot and sausage and some veggy scrambled egg just to get some extra veg and protein in.

Having been very troublesome about baths for a few weeks, she was notably better after swimming.

With swimming and shopping having thrown out her nap, she then went down within ten minutes and slept through until we woke her at about 7 o'clock. Now she's off and with Empire next weekend, I won't see her for a fortnight.

Long weekend

Papers please!

It's been a long weekend, and not just for the bank holiday.

We dodged the bullet of total exhaustion on Saturday by driving into Ely to shop. On Sunday we took Arya to Treetops soft play, and I chased her around for an hour or so. She was completely in her element with the pneumotube, even recognising that the engine going quiet meant it was time to press the button or the plastic balls would just fall out again.

She had most fun invading the under 1's section (there was no-one in there, so it seemed no harm) and repeatedly wedging herself into a small chair, then wriggling free.

In the afternoon she got into my passport drawer and inspected my papers with the intensity of a Cold War border agent, but with slightly more chewing.

Monday was a pretty chilled day; floor picnic in front of the Cbeebies Prom (drop scones with bacon and maple syrup) and a day in. We went out in an attempt to get Arya to nap, which was a little fraught (she hates the rain cover on her pushchair, but it was just too miserable not to use it). As a sign of how foul the weather was, while she napped the monitor repeatedly cut from normal view to night vision.

Arya is learning to brush her teeth still (she tends to chew more than brushing, since we started her on a chew brush), but she knows that she brushes her teeth before bath. Saturday and Sunday she got into the bathroom, pointed at the brushes and said "Tee". On Monday she finished her dinner, passed me the plate, then pointed to her mouth and said "Tee". So smart.

I'm going to get to see less of her and Hannah once Hannah starts back at Uni, so I'm glad to have been able to make the most of this weekend, even if it has left me pretty shattered.

Travels with My Daughter

Arya prepares to draw on something. I don't
think she really cares what.

Arya is about seventeen months now, and quite well-traveled for her age. She's been to Scotland at least three times, to Leeds many and makes frequent visits to Norwich. For all that, she's not an especially comfortable or accomplished traveler, involving as travel does for her, the process of being strapped into a car seat for hours on end and probably visiting someone that her doting parents will want to talk to, possibly distracting for as much as several minutes from the absolute and dedicated adoration of her.

The horror!

Grandpa rocks out; Arya eats a satsuma.
Legs by Granny

It was with some trepidation, therefore, that we set out on this weekend's double journey to Norfolk, first to a birthday party for our friend Jess, where mutual friends quickly felt it wise to move Jess's ornaments to a higher shelf in order to be certain that Arya could not reach them.

Me: I would apologise for the havoc, but I don't as a matter of policy.
Jess: She's a baby.
Me: It's how she rolls. I figure people can suck it up or ask us to leave.
Jess: I can suck it up for that little face.

Arya watches cousin Sebby feed the
chickens

Jess is okay.

On Sunday, having been home for sleep (but not much, as we didn't get home, or certainly didn't get Arya down, until about 10), we went to see my parents. Arya and I spent the day with them, while Hannah saw friends in the city.

My parents live in the wilds of the county, where they keep chickens. For added fun, my brother and his family - including cousins Sebby and Teddy - were also visiting. We brought Arya's purple unicorn, her star bunny, her dolly and a couple of her historically questionable plastic ducks, and we still felt underprepared by comparison.

Arya watches the chickens be fed by
cousin Sebby

Arya was quite taken with cousin Sebby. She has a great affinity for children who look like they know where they're going, and followed him about quite a bit. In return, Teddy followed her, which would have been adorable if she weren't rolling about in a sit-in device the size and shape of a Dalek's travel skirt, which her parents called a walker but I think was more accurately defined as a tank.

Arya and an apple 

Of note was the fact that Arya was very taken with the pull-along helicopter. Being a V-Tech toy it made all kinds of noise, and complained bitterly if ignored, finishing with a snarky "Goodbye" if finally obliged to enter standby. We realised that Arya didn't have any pull-along toys of her own, although she's prepared to give it the old school try with anything, whether or not it's designed for the role.

She went out to the chicken run with Granny and Sebby, where they retrieved some eggs and fed the chickens some corn. Sebby was determined to give her a go, but she wasn't up for it. I'm rather glad really, as I was worried she might try to eat the corn. She'd already had a go at the LEGO. 

Checking the ingredients

We also picked apples from the orchard, and made some LEGO models by the time-honoured method of her bringing me pieces to put together and then pulling them apart if I got it 'wrong'. She's so judgey.

We got home earlier than on Saturday, but not early exactly.

Reading

Yesterday, I had work. Hannah met a friend in town for lunch and then came in to see me for tea. As it was by then four o'clock, I knocked off early to go home with them by car. We went via Boots for wipes (which was harder to do than it sounds), which Arya very much enjoyed reading the packet of (upside down, just so I wouldn't think she was even more precocious than I do already).

Arya & Duck

Hannah picked her up a new book, and her first pull-along toy, which she is so taken with that she tends to carry it everywhere, slightly defeating the purpose (the picture on the right shows a rare exception). we saw a lovely rainbow on the way home, but Arya was on the wrong side of the car to really notice.

This morning I had to put her in the car again. It was a bit of a struggle, and part of me didn't want to fight her since she was on her way back to Ipswich with Mummy. I will miss them both madly for the next few days.

For reference, I've been reviewing some of our shared viewing on my movie and TV blog, My Life as a Doge.

The Six Inch Rule

The six-inch rule is a traditional dictate for father's to hand down to their daughters: "Stay six inches from boys at all times." I plan to follow in this tradition when Arya is older. Once she starts getting interested in boys (or girls, amend pronouns below as appropriate), I will lay down a series of rules and explain the consequences, and hopefully then if she chooses to defy me it will be because the guy is worth it*.

Or I'll talk to her and try to keep her aware of the pros and cons of any given romantic situation. I may end up drawing her exes on eggshells for her to smash.

Either way, I may well remind her more than once of the six-inch rule, since she has started enforcing it on her parents. Mummy and Daddy must be a baby's width apart at all times (so that she can tuck in between us) and no sneaky petting behind her back either! We were sat on the sofa, Arya between us, my arm around Arya and my hand on Hannah's arm, and Arya gave me such a look.

**This is why.

It also doesn't matter if she's doing something else. She can be happily playing with her toys or walking up and down the passage with a truck, or setting up a little camp on the kitchen floor so she can post bottles of orange juice into a plastic elephant, in each case completely secure and contained in herself, but if Hannah and I try to kiss then she's on her feet, facing us and telling us 'no'.

If she's even a little tired, she may start crying just to push the point home.

I don't know why we put up with it**.






* I recognise that being 'worth it' in the eyes of a teenager is about the weakest form of qualification known to humanity before the advent of the online degree, but I have to try something.

Sleeping like a baby

Shh. Hush-hush...

This weekend, Hannah decided that I needed to get more practice in putting Arya down for the night. I panicked a little, resisted the urge to tell her that her hopes and aspirations exceeded all practical likelihood (conceptually hilarious, but in actuality a terrible thing to do to a child) and then gave it the old college try.

I gave Arya a bath after dinner, then we watched some Pajanimals (a quartet of young Muppets visit magical lands on their flying beds to get help dealing with life's little reversals from characters such as a neurotic octopus, a cripplingly insecure bear and a narcoleptic rabbit who teaches yoga), she drank some milk, and we went into the nursery to settle.

She will also sometimes sleep on the go.

She kicked off immediately, having expected Mummy to come and put her down. I persevered; she wailed and tried to claw the door open.

I did We're Going on a Bear Hunt, and round about the snowstorm she walked over to where I was sitting next to the bed, stopped, went back, picked up her milk bottle, handed it to me, sat on my lap - still crying - held out her hands for the bottle, took it, popped it in her mouth, lay back, rearranged herself a couple of times to get comfortable, stopped crying and swiftly went to sleep.

Whaling is her new craze.

The next few nights were even better, although the last couple she's been terribly hot. I feel accomplished as a Dad.

With the heat and all she didn't sleep terribly well over the weekend, so neither did we, but last night was a real red letter night. I put Arya down in her cot at 8:30. We brought her in with us at about 11:30, not because she was awake but because we'd been watching Pan's Labyrinth and were having trouble shaking the fear that she'd be carried off by a faun, or a Spanish fascist.

Not kidding; all the time with this thing.

Despite the move, she didn't wake up, and as best we can tell, she actually slept right through the night for the first time.

In other news, we went back to see Muppets Most Wanted again, between swimming and games. She is still very mobile around the cinema and bless the Cambridge cinema going public for their tolerance.

Elsewhere, she's picked up the habit of leaning back over the edges of seats. It's adorable, although it did take a worrying turn this morning, when it became a full-on Lois Lane pick-up/attention-getter as she flung herself back across mummy's lap and towards the empty space in front of the sofa.

Day of the Dad (the remake)

 Another crazy weekend, as we headed up to Nottingham for a game, with Arya along for the ride. As you can see in the picture on the left, she basically had a good time, although waking up at 2230 after forty minutes sleep, to find that I'd carried her downstairs and out onto the patio full of people because the hotel had a fire alarm, was a bit of a shocker.

Monday was a sort of recovery day, but as Hannah needed to go into London, I was on solo care duty for the first time in a while (since Andrew is working now, he can't bring Arya over on Friday afternoons). I made a rookie error early, putting my back to Arya in order to type to someone that I didn't have time to talk, but things went pretty well otherwise.

"What hamster?"

First up, we went into Ely to do some food shopping, then came back and had a salad lunch, as it was a particularly hot day. The salad had beetroot in, so I then changed her outfit completely, forgetting that I would be feeding her pasta with tomato sauce in the evening.

Sadly, I failed to get a shot of her looking ultra-serious with a tomato pip stuck to her nose, which was adorable.

She napped for about an hour in the morning, but would not go off in the afternoon, even when we took a walk out around some of the nicer parts of the village.

"Greenery on the arch? Isn't that a little
pagan?"
"Why, yes she is."

I think she was slipping down a little in the pram, although I'm not sure how to fix that.

The upshot of this was that by dinner time she was wicked tired, and it was a struggle to put her down for long enough to cook. Despite this, she was willing to go and stand on the other side of the kitchen while I opened the oven (my wonderful, smart girl; she actually walked across because I asked her to go) and then made a fine stab at eating her pasta, even if she was a little confused about whether she liked it or not.

"Do you like that?"
"No."
"Are you sure? You've cleared your plate and there's nothing on the floor or in your lap."
"No."

Bless her.

Also, check out that top in the picture. There was a total of one sauce mark on that thing when she was done, and that a little one.

 What struck me most was the energy she has. Even exhausted she was still lively when I was almost falling asleep with her on my lap, watching some programme with Justin Fletcher dressed as a pirate.

Lady and the Trike

This is Arya on her new trike.

It's a little hard to make out specifics against the rug, but is has a handle at the back and the front wheel turns independently of the handlebars at the merest nudge of the handle. She loves it, and chose the colour herself (we tried her out in a green one at the shop, but she reached for the purple model we had down to examine the features). It has a cup holder, a sun screen, and a toy mobile phone that - in the short term at least - sublimates her need to press buttons.

On Sunday we went into town to get Hannah's new glasses. While she was being fitted, I wheeled Arya around the Grand Arcade singing Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head, or as much of it as I could remember the lyrics of.

On Monday, I went to the doctor to find out if my bloodshot eye was anything to worry about, and took Arya with me. As we sat in the waiting room she just kept wanting to get in and out of the trike, and even tried to work out how to put her own seatbelt on.

That on the right is Arya sitting on the seat before we attached it. I'm not sure what that face is, but I think she might have just decided to be some sort of evil dictator with a palanquin and an inexhaustible supply of sherbet.

Holiday in Scotland - Part 2

Arya wears a panama now; panamas are cool

Edinburgh was... a little odd.

We set off from Glasgow with Arya not wearing my hat, but not for want of trying. When we arrived, I had to pretend to be just a friend, as Arya's Gran doesn't know about the polyamory. It was weirdly difficult, and also meant that Hannah had to look after Arya solo overnight while I stayed with a friend, which left her very tired.

Oh, evening one we also stopped in at the National Museum of Scotland to see the second Chronophage, which is apparently now in Cambridge with the first one. Still, we had fun in the gallery of transport, where significantly more buttons worked than at Kelvingrove. I reckon the National Lottery must be stinting on cover north of the border.

Our impossible astronaut.

On Wednesday, we went to Rosslyn Chapel, of Da Vinci Code fame. Weirdly, it seems to have responded to the surge of interest from the novel and movie by going all respectable archaeology and cutting off the Freemasons. Hannah was very disappointed by the removal of the Masonic museum and access to the nearby graveyard, and they had also gone very slick and sterile in the visitor's centre.

We took a little revenge by sitting on the grass and eating our picnic lunch, in spite of prohibitions by the licensed cafe. Damn the man!

Daddy and Arya at Rosslyn

After lunch, we went crazy and visited IKEA of all places, where we spent a surprising amount of money (I now own a fire extinguisher), ate tea and let Arya run amok in the food hall (forget cruising, she's fully mobile, if a little unsteady).

On Thursday, we went to the beach at North Berwick; Arya's first time and my first time in years. Arya isn't wild about waves, it turns out, but loved the sand and collected a shell.

On the beach

From North Berwick we headed south into England, then via Gateshead to Leeds and an overnight with Hannah's parents. On Friday we bought a tricycle and shoes for Arya, but failed miserably to get a Toothless for Hannah or shoes for me (and both are sold out online).

This fellow beach goer was conducting some
sort of thermodynamic experiment.

We got home Friday night and spent the weekend being horribly ill in one way or another, which was a less than ideal close to the week.

A good holiday in many ways, but I think it exposed an exciting range of issues in holidaying with children that we hadn't previously considered. On the other hand, it did mean spending a whole week with Hannah and Arya, which was good.