Poor Mite

Bat-Arya!

I feel like I'm saying this a lot, but it's been another tough weekend.

Saturday was actually pretty good. We had ballet and gave out invitations to Arya's birthday party (although we've since had some problems booking a table at the soft play place,) and Arya even let me put her hair into a bun without making a colossal fuss. She wore her Happy Meal Batgirl mask around the supermarket, which was super adorable, and went into Tumble Tots all on her own once again.

We had a quiet afternoon, including a little baking of cupcakes, but despite a pretty good night's sleep after a late night on Friday, Arya got very antsy towards the end of the day and had a fight with Daddy Andrew at bedtime. Andrew does have a habit of picking the wrong fights, especially at bedtime. I persuaded her to say sorry for shouting at him, but she was adamant that he needed to apologise to her as well. I... legitimately don't know how I feel about this. I don't want her to have favourites among us, but she is starting to recognise when she's in the wrong and I'm glad that she sticks up for herself if she thinks that she has been wronged(1).

Anyway, we got her off to sleep, but then she woke up around midnight and wanted to come in with me. Hanna went out to the sofa, and then at about one Arya woke up and threw up. Poor mite; I think it came as a shock to her, since this was her first real grown up vomit, so that's a red letter day. I carried her out and we met Mummy in the kitchen, fetching her some medicine having heard her crying and as she had been a little feverish earlier on. Hanna took Arya and got her cleaned up, while I cleaned the bed as best I could. Andrew got Arya clean pyjamas and some water, and we sat with her a while, watching Pajanimals while her nerve settled. She asked me for milk, but I suggested more water, and I explained that her stomach was still owy from trying to get rid of a bug. I read to her a bit, as she couldn't settle.

Blanket fort.

This was interrupted when Arya thought that she was going to be sick again, so we went into the bathroom. She was very worried about getting vomit in the toilet (fortunately, she didn't throw up again,) and noted apologetically that 'I didn't want to get a bug in my tummy.' Mummy heard us and came through to Arya's room with us, and Arya finally drifted off cuddling Mummy. We slept latish (apart from Mummy, sad to say, who ended up more blitzed than the rest of us,) and had a long, slow morning with lots of pancakes and strawberries(2).

In the afternoon, Arya found a bag of clothes pegs and asked to make a blanket fort. Hanna was sleeping and had a lot of the blankets in with her, but we did our best. I'm not going to say we created a landmark in soft-furnishing architecture, but it worked. I was impressed that Arya didn't want to disturb Mummy to get some toys, although she was then in and out getting clothes to change into. Still, it's progress of a kind.

As much as it's annoying if I'm trying to
read to her, it is adorable.

She was still a bit feverish, and her mood was up and down. We got to about dinner time and she started running up and down the passage. I offered to read her a book and she chose Noggin the Nog and the Flowers(3), but decided she was going to interrupt me over and over again by brushing her hair and saying 'no, no, no... perfect!' I put the book down and she got very upset, then when she wouldn't talk to me I read my own book in the hope that she would talk to me. Instead she went to Mummy, who was making lasagne in the kitchen, and said that I wouldn't talk to her, which... I guess at least she was talking to someone.

After dinner, I struggled a bit getting her ready, because she didn't want to leave. We're just a few weeks from moving in together, at least the three of us, but it's getting more and more traumatic to separate. I should probably treasure the attention before we get to the stage where she's kicking off at me because she wants Daddy Andrew to come home from Ipswich, but it's tough sometimes. It's tough every time.

(1) Rightly or wrongly.
(2) Hurrah for pancakes!
(3) The Saga of Noggin the Nog - and especially Noggin and the Flowers - was a favourite growing up, and I read most of the series to Hanna back when she was pregnant, so technically Arya has heard them before.

Some Days are Better than Others

Selfie mirroring; so disconcerting.

It's been a decidedly mixed weekend, for reasons which have less to do with the family than with events surrounding them. Money was a thing, as it so often is, but we're basically hitting rock bottom in that regard now; from hereon out, things ought to be on the up. Moreover, Hanna's Gran passed on Thursday night, which of course cast a pall over the weekend. As a result, Hanna and I were both off our game and seriously down on spoons from the get go.

Still and all, we had plans and Arya was looking forward to the giraffes. Hanna was in Cambridge for an Occy Health appointment at Addenbrooke's, so she drove us both back to Ipswich in the afternoon and we picked up Arya from nursery to take her to a birthday party at the local softplay (well, actually one in town; there is one just down the road.) That was when I found out that I had no money, and Andrew found out that it you give kids an inch they'll take a mile. He made them laugh as he handed out straws and suddenly they thought everything he did was hilarious and started proposing wonderful plans to superglue roasted, endangered animals to his face(1). Arya asked me to sit with her, I think because she was upset at people laughing at Daddy Andrew, but that settled down and she had a good time. The venue were also good about getting her a gluten free meal that wasn't horrible.

We went home after that, and I got her into bed and asleep before we had our dinner. All in all she had a pretty short sleep, I think, and was tired the next morning when I realise no-one else was getting up and went to kickstart things with tea. That was about nine and I'd spent probably a couple of hours hiding in the living room so as not to disturb anyone, while they were awake and active in their own rooms (or in Mummy's, in Arya's case, having gone through at about three.) The upshot of all this was that we didn't get off for the zoo quite as early as we'd planned, and arrived at about midday; just in time for a dash to the giraffe feeding encounter, where Arya sat on my shoulders and bent down to kiss the top of my head, like I do to her sometimes.

Train selfie!

We got to go on the little train that hasn't been running the last few times, and saw the wolves and the hunting dogs, who were pretty rad. We also got to listen to the love story of a lonely swan, as it was the heel end of their Valentine event. We had lunch, looked at the aardvarks (Arya was mightily taken with the aardvarks, who were all bundled up in a snuggle pile,) and went to see the pygmy hippos, including their new baby who shares a birthday with my Dad. Arya was also very taken with the ants.

"I think we've packed everything..."

We hit the penguins and sealions in time for their encounter events. The sealions were dead impressive, and Arya loved seeing them in the underwater tunnel. Unfortunately, she ran off to go back through when I asked her to stay with me, so we had words about that. By that point it was getting late, and Arya wasn't able to feed the baby goats, although she did get to pet them.

On the way out, I took Arya to the toilet. She said she didn't need to go, but with the trip ahead I asked her to sit on the toilet for a count of four, and she did a wee. Unfortunately, she then decided to deny that she had done so, insisting that she hadn't needed to go. Thankfully, when we got home and I asked if she'd done a wee she said yes, then said, unprompted: "I'm sorry I lied to you." All was thus forgiven. We watched Frozen Fever three times, and then she had beans and sausages while we had chicken korma. Getting her to sleep was tougher this time; she was probably still jazzed from the day. I slept in the back room this time, and when she woke up a bit after five I brought her in with me and we snuggled down for a few more hours.

Sunday was pretty quiet and idle. Arya and Mummy had a bit of bonding over World of Warcraft, co-controlling Hanna's hunter as they got turned into a werewolf; or as Arya correctly identified it, Worgen. The co-controlling slowed things down, but only got them killed once or twice, so I say go Arya.

We did take Arya out for a walk and a play in the park while Mummy was shopping. She declined the zipline, but was happy to walk back across Martlesham Heath proper, swinging a stick and singing: "We're going on a bear hunt, we're going to catch a big one!" Then she spotted the bear and we had to run. A bit later she was relating the event to us, by explaining: "We had to run from the bear, and Daddy Andrew and Daddy Luke didn't run very well; only I did." I suggested that she didn't need to outrun the bear, just her Daddies, and I'm glad to say she had no idea what I was saying.

Teamwork.

We had a quiet day otherwise. Aside from that one incident, she was really good about using the toilet. On one occasion, she actually went off and used the toilet on her own, pretty much a first at home. After dinner, she came with Hanna to take me to the station, although she really wanted to wave at me on the train and there were tears as I left.

Soon, however, we will live together, and that of course means that the form of this blog is going to change(2). I don't know if I'll aim for daily updates, or just short entries on notable stuff and a roundup every week, but it won't be one big entry for the weekend any more.

(1) I don't know why. Better than the live bear they originally had in mind, I suppose.
(2) An entirely acceptable inconvenience.

Horror of the Sleepus

Adorbs.

Hanna dropped Arya off on Friday night, but had to go home to Ipswich after dinner in order to work a long day on Saturday. Arya took a little while to get settled, as a result, but we got up on Saturday morning and made it to the bus stop fed and on time.

And lacking detangling spray, which was a problem as Arya was distinctly tangled.

So, as we had about half an hour, we went looking for detangler, and found none, at which point Arya refused to go into ballet and demanded to go home. A mix of begged, cajoling and bluster got us in the door, whereon she went back and forth looking for some perfect place to change, before I finally threw her into her ballet gear, pinned up the mare's nest of her hair at the back and sent her in. I worry that people might think I'm a bad dad for not getting her hair in a bun, but I realised this weekend that that's not hers to carry.

From there we went to Tumble Tots, which went just fine, and then home. We planned to get the train from Ely, but got stuck in a huge line of rubberneckers on the bus and missed it, so we had to shop and then wait for half an hour. Arya was, in all fairness, pretty amazing about that. She also knows to keep away from the platform edge, even if she does keep haring of out of sight down the subway tunnel between platforms. Even there, when I explained that I would be scared if I couldn't see her, she started stopping and waiting for me to catch up. We got home and had beans and sausages on toast for lunch, because we'd been out for ages and it was cold and there were wolves after us.

After lunch, we watched some TV and then I made dinner. It really wasn't that long, although I may have fallen asleep a little in the middle. I got Arya into bed and asleep by half eight, despite the fact that she decided she wanted to go home to Daddy Andrew's house. Then she woke up at half past six and got all fidgety, so I had to wake up, and then I needed the toilet. She clung to me and howled, then wanted to come with me, and when I asked her to leave the light off so I would have some chance of getting back to sleep, put the light on. My darling daughter.

Total commitment to making Everest yip.

We got up a little later and I told her she should wake up Mummy, who was sleeping in the sitting room as Arya was in our bed. She went through, found that Mummy wasn't asleep, came back out shouting "Daddy Luke, Mummy's awake!" I asked if she wanted to say good morning to Mummy and she look ed as if this was a great and unprecedented concept, ran back in and climbed up to give Mummy a cuddle.

We had pancakes, did a quick shop and came home, and that was about all she wrote. Arya climbed on the sofa despite being told not to and insisted that she wasn't in trouble, so we had to take away some of her toys. She got her PAW Patrol pups back when she apologised, and in her favour she did then play with them for a while, including showing me that Everest has a speech box in her foot that makes her bark, although she was a little startled that Chase doesn't, as she was sure she saw the lady put one in at Build-a-Bear.

We had a roast dinner that ended up being huge, and Arya positively gobbled up her Yorkshire pudding after checking 'is this gluten free?' Then she had a bath and I washed her hair, which was a bit of a struggle, but nothing like it used to be. She was asleep by ten past eight, although she did wake at three and want to know if it was wakey time and whether she could have some cereal. I said no, it was sleepy time, and got her some milk. She went to sleep after about an hour, although I dreamed that she continued to fuss and fidget for another half hour, then proceeded to fade in and out of sleep, with her apparently awake in my dreams yet asleep when I was awake, and out of reach because I was either experiencing my first ever full-on waking sleep paralysis, or dreaming that I was in between the two extremes.

Because of this wakeful period, we let her lie in until it was time to get in the car and go back to Ispwich. I said goodbye at the station and Arya asked: "Where are your glasses?" The answer was 'on the bedside table,' so go me.

So Tired

On Saturday evening, Arya donned a hat
that she refused to wear when it was made
for her (when she was one) and chows down
on frozen sweetcorn, because that's how she
do.

Okay; what happened this weekend? There was definitely stuff, but I'm fuzzy on the details thanks to crappy sleep patterns. They left this morning, with Arya decisively declaring for wearing a princess dress to nursery.

Hanna and Arya came over on Friday and we ate food. It was spaghetti bolognese, and Arya was very keen to help me with the cooking. I need to find ways that she can do this which require a minimum of access to sharp knives and hot things, because she'll find her own way otherwise and was trying to open the oven while it was on on Sunday. Maybe I just need to nut up and teach her to be careful with the sharp/hot things and deal with cuts and burns as they happen.

It's a moot point until I can get a step stool for the kitchen, anyway.

Arya was pretty good about getting to bed, and in the morning got up nicely enough before kicking up a fuss over her hair. She didn't want Mummy to do her hair at home, possibly because she's tumbled that if she waits until we're at ballet she has more chance to run around until we don't have time to put her hair in the hated ballet bun. Seriously, she seems to love every part of ballet except for the bun, and this week came out with it exploding into a kind of puffball ponytail, like the terrifying xenoflora at the heart of those blossoming tea balls.

We shopped, then went to Tumble Tots, then home for Mummy to nap before her night shift. I took Arya to the library, then we came home for a light lunch and chilled for a while. Dinner was, by special request, pizza, so she was able to help me with that by assembling the pizzas once I'd done the tomato sauce, and then stuff her face with frozen sweetcorn. It's like sweetcorn and ice cream in one!

"Arya, are you playing with your belly
button?"
"No!"

She was pretty good about Mummy heading off to work, and pretty good about getting ready for bed, and then... Oh, and then. She would not settle down; just kept fighting sleep for about eighty minutes. I told her I was leaving, as she seemed to be staying awake because I was there and she had a minor meltdown. I got her settled again, went to put the bottle in the kitchen, and got back to find her asleep. I am worried that I was bang on the money, and I do keep her awake by being there.

I had a restless night, through no fault of hers, and she got me up at about seven for dry cereal and PAW Patrol. (This, plus sleeping in Mummy's and Daddy's bed, is going to be cracked down on, starting this week.) We had a rough moment while trying to get her to wash her hands when I decided I was going to leave the bathroom if she wouldn't respond to me at all; that certainly got a response, but I wish I could reliably get something between complete blank and total meltdown. We vegged for most of the morning, then went out on her bike. We only really have the car park, but it's quiet on a Sunday apart from the utter slobs scoffing their takeaway chicken in their cars and lobbing the box out of the window before leaving. Seriously, it's about ten feet to the bin by the gate, but no; let's scatter bones over the car park where the three year old is riding her bike.

People.

We put the bike away and went to the shop for toilet paper, where the peachy-pink paper was not pink enough for my discerning daughter, who wanted us to go for the quilted. I declined, and she was okay with that, and that's awesome. She also accepted that we wouldn't be getting any more magazines, which was encouraging. Once Mummy got home we had lunch, and then settled in for some baking. Arya and I made cupcakes using the mixer - a huge step forward, as the noise used to scare her off - and she and Hanna decorated them while I nipped out to the shops. Then she caught me coming back in and kicked off because she wanted to go with me, and I ate the last mini egg which she'd been saving for herself. Hanna made oatmeal and raisin cookies that looked like becoming an utter failure and actually worked out beautifully, although Arya rejected them.

"How do you know you don't like them if you haven't tried them?"
"I don't like the raisins. Or the oats."
"Well, granted that would argue against oatmeal and raisin cookies..."

Bedtime was marked by a radical upswing in sass, but she apologised without prompting for bossing me around, so she got a last story (Rosie's Walk) before light out and went off in about twenty minutes.

This morning she stirred briefly at my alarm, put her head next to mine so that she was basically lying sideways across my pillow and immediately started to mew piteously.

"Daddy," she said.
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Pull my Sarah and Duck blanket over me."

So I did, and she was out again; still lying sideways across my pillow.