Full-Time Ersatz

It's really starting to hit home what a full-time job parenting is.

It's summer, it's hot, it's light from Oh-My-Life in the morning to What-the-Heck at night, everyone's tired, and it doesn't stop. Of course it doesn't, I hear you say, but knowing that is't the same as knowing it, which isn't the same as Arya calling pitiously for you at four in the morning.

Right now, Empire has messed up her sleep patterns (10 o'clock last night,) and everyone is tired. Arya is pushing Hanna's buttons and I'm fraying badly at the edges. I had a weekend on my own to recoup some spoons, but in the end it seems to have spoiled me and now I'm twitching about sharing my space again. And then everything went wrong this morning - my fault; I should have made sure she was up instead of having a shower - but I still have to go and get her this evening, and attend her transition evening before we can bus home and I try to get her to sleep nicely at 8ish.

And yet...

We got into school this morning, late, but we got there, and she ran to hug one of her teachers, then back to hug me, and all the stress and the grief was just... nothing.

So yeah; it never ends, but I never wonder why I'm doing it. She's why. She's all the why.

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.

Troubles

This thing had a lot of expectation
to meet.

It's been a bit of a weekend at Chez Ersatz.

Arya arrived half asleep. She pretty much immediately wanted cupcakes and biscuits, neither of which we had, and grumped at her dinner. She took a little time to put down on Friday night, but was basically pretty good.

She slept through, pretty much, but woke up still tired. Usually, I go in with her from about one in the morning and at six o'clock she wakes me up hissing: "Daddy Luke! We wake up now?" This week we got to seven and I tried to get her up. In response she grumbled: "It's still dark out."

It's Stick Man!

We got her up for Tumble Tots and she was pretty good through that, just losing focus at the end. Then we went to Ely to do some shopping, and after weeks of asking, she got to ride on the teacup ride with the Jungle Book car. She looked pretty nonplussed as she went around, but wailed when she had to get off anyway. Fortunately a bacon sandwich calmed her down - this was our planned lunch stop, getting the bacon roll folks to put bacon and ketchup in a gluten free flatbread, rather than some sort of ill-advised bribe to stop crying - and then it was off to Thetford Forest for the Stick Man activity trail.

Owl!

Thetford is a bit of a drive for us and Arya was already quite tired - as were we - but we figured the Stick Man trail was a good excuse to get out and about and the weather was lovely. It rained on Sunday, so no regrets.

After we arrived, Arya had a run around the playground and we considered the fourth birthday possibilities of Go Ape. Then we searched for a while and finally asked where the Stick Man trail was. We set out filled with hope, mostly that it wouldn't be all that long. It probably wasn't, but it kind of felt it.

We walked the trail and looked at the signs, although Arya was a bit more into hugging the several wooden owl sculptures and playing in the wickerwork hut.

"I shall love it and hug it and call
it George."

So it goes, and she was out and about at least. It's nice to expand one's horizons, even if only as far as Thetford, and for her that's a long way from home.

There were also Gruffalo in them thar woods, and Arya tried to sleep on the recumbent Gruffalo's Child.

But who is this creature with
terrible claws?

She also made an effort to adopt a piece of wood, which was a bit random. It was hard work, because everyone was tired, but it was a lot of fun as well. It was also a chance to get out in the fresh air somewhere other than the same old play park, and it gave Arya a lot of good exercise.

Unfortunately, she fell asleep in the car, which meant that after dinner - which ended up being crazy late anyway - she wasn't really in the mood to sleep. At about ten past nine she looked up at me and said: "We wake up now?" despite that fact that doing so was literally impossible until she went to sleep.

Sunday was... a challenge.

Early on, we went to Treetops, and that was grand. There was a bit of a barney with another kid - he rolled the roller she was climbing over so she fell; she through a plastic ball and hit him on the head - but it wasn't bad at all. After we got home, however...

Arya drives, while the 'children' sleep in
the back of the car.

Let's be clear; Arya was very tired. After several days without accident, she was 0 for 3 on asking for the toilet and she was getting very grumpy. At one point I had to hold the cupcakes hostage to try to get her to change her knickers and wash her hands. She was highly resistant to the argument that one ought not to make cupcakes with poo in one's pants, or without knickers on, or with dirty hands. Words were had and she had to apologise to me and to Mummy. After her next accident, she once more refused to wash her hands, and shut the door in my face, so I had to make good on my threat to put her in a nappy and put her to bed (at four o'clock in the afternoon.)

After she'd done howling... Okay, I'm not that tough. After she's stopped generically howling and started calling my name, I went back and opened the door, and she was somewhat repentant, but still reluctant to wash her hands. We suspect it's the coldness of the water, but she also doesn't want it warm.

Once more, dinner ran late, and Hanna put Arya to bed while it was still cooking. Arya refused to settle for Hanna - often the case, which is why bedtime is a Daddy job - and in the end I had to tag in. The whole process took about ninety minutes and the fish pie ended up more like a potato cake.

She was better this morning, and we said goodbye pleasantly enough. I hope we have better sleeping next weekend, because it's frustrating to watch her wrestle with her own tiredness like that, and to have to take a tough line on it.

In other news, we did a body count on her CD of children's songs. The average was one per song - assuming that the fox died; we're confident the grey goose had had his chips - although skewed by 'Three Jolly Rogues of Lynn' and 'Froggie Went a'Courting' at three deaths apiece.

I was dreaming when I wrote this

It's been something of a mixed weekend. Part of that is just stuff that happens, and part is my fault.

On Friday night, Arya came in asleep and when she woke up, she was all about the Daddy time. Lovely, you might think, but that left Hanna pretty frozen out, which was horrible for her and not much better for me. We both know that Arya doesn't mean anything by it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't sting when she's all about one parent or the other. It's a bit like how this weekend Bear was in favour, Babby and Rah having callously stopped over at my place for the week, except that Babby and Rah are stuffed with fluff and don't have actual feelings to hurt.

The triumphant return of the Gruffalo mug!

I was also pretty bushed on Saturday, since Arya had decided to cuddle against me in such a way that I was balanced on the edge of the bed with her head buried in the nerves of my neck (and her feet, of course, in Hanna's stomach,) so that what sleep I did get was incredibly uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, Saturday was a solid day (and thankfully a bit of a Mummy-focused day, because it was needed.) Hanna and Arya made cupcakes and I took pictures (see left.) I even remembered to sort out a sheet before the mat could get covered in eggs.

But then came Saturday night.

After a disturbed night's sleep, Arya
transformed into a somewhat 1950s stopout.

Partly, this went badly because Arya wasn't well. She had a cough which started sounding like a tickle, but developed into something more congested. She also started running a fever later in the night, but probably from teething rather than another flu. I went in to look after her when she got restless, but I made a major miscalculation. Unlike, say, a month ago, there just isn't room for me to cuddle up next to her in the single bed, and by the time I retreated to the bedroom to try to work out some of the kinks and then had to bring her through as the cough got worse, she was pretty much ready to get up and start the day.

It was shortly before five that she hopped out of bed and demanded 'Duck'. Hanna suggested I put on a Sarah & Duck DVD and cuddle up with Arya on the sofa. This was, all things considered, both the best option available to us and a not unpleasant idea, but I was tired, and I was cranky, and so I was grumpy and stroppy and passive aggressive and so I retorted: "Sure; because I don't need to sleep."

Which kind of goes to prove that I did, and also that I can be a colossal dick when I'm tired.

Sharing the fruits of their labours.

Hanna thus went to the sofa and told me to a) get some sleep and b) cram it, the latter of which at least was fair. There followed a dark pre-breakfast of the soul, after which I swapped out with Hanna and sat up until swimming time. Hanna was in no condition to drive, however, so I called it and let her get back to sleep.

Sunday proved to be one of those days when we feel like we're a bit lax as parents, as most of it was spent on the sofa in front of the TV. Arya was mostly dressed in just a nappy and a strappy number that was originally a full-length summer dress and now looks like a top. She also spent nearly two hours eating a cupcake, much of which ended up smooshed into the sofa cover.

For how it started, however, it was not a terrible day. Arya was distracted from the TV by playing with her kitchen set (now set up in the living room; for those who worry about stereotyping, her workbench is in Martlesham.) She was taken with Mummy's early birthday present (MASH Season 4, or more by the bag it was in which she carried around proudly on her shoulder.) Her fever was under control, and after a nap at about 9:30-10:30 she was bright and bubbly for most of the day.

Dance!

Hanna and Arya left after the nightly Pajanimals ritual, and I'm not going to see them for a couple of weeks now. I will, as ever, miss them both, and I'm sincerely glad that they didn't leave on Sunday morning, as I wouldn't want Saturday night to have been our last significant interaction for a fortnight. I know that it upset Hanna, and for myself it felt like I'd let her down, let Arya down (because I ought to embrace time spent with her, even at 4:30 in the morning) and myself down, because I hate the snarky, passive-aggressive side of me that snaps at the people I love. I felt especially bad because I knew that Hanna was feeling down, and while I hadn't meant it as an attack I know it came across as one.

And as Hanna reminded me, nights like that are the exception and not the rule. As she heads into the ostensibly terrible twos, it is worth remembering that Arya has been a dream to care for compared to a lot of babies, and always that I love her dearly, even when she's kicking me in the face in her sleep or smooshing cupcake into the furniture.

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.

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.

And now the screaming begins

Arya-Rose is having a bad week. She wants to be with her Mummy pretty much all of the time, and when she isn't, she screams.

And I feel like the devil. The fact that my ability to even temporarily house her has been called into question by a dispute with my estate agents doesn't help of course.

But sometimes she'll lie peacefully in my arms, even if only for a short while, and smile at me, and I know that it is all worthwhile. I just have to hold onto that when she's making me feel like I must have hurt her without meaning it.