Grumpy Love

Before.

After.

On Friday I went out to Addenbrookes' hospital to meet Hanna and Arya, as Hanna had to bring in her ID and prove her right to work in this country. I got there just as Arya was spilling hot chocolate down herself, and as the foyer shops didn't have any children's clothes, Hanna bought a scarf and wrapped it round her like a sarong (see left) until we could get to Sainsbury's and get her a new, entirely, 100% practical new outfit (see right.) On the road we listened to the Moana soundtrack, which she is especially keen on at the moment.

We went home and had pizza, then I put Arya to bed and, honestly, she was great. We had a wee bust up because she wouldn't wait for me to get her milk and instead wanted to come with me. In the end I let her and it didn't really set her off at all, so in future I'm not going to argue if it comes up. Anyway, she drank the milk and then lay down, and while it still took a little while for her to get to sleep, she didn't make a big effort to stay awake, and that's huge progress.

Then in the middle of the night she came in and climbed in to snuggle up behind me, which was terrifying as I had no idea how much space she had and was worried I would squash her or push her off the bed if I moved in the night. Eventually, and with a surprising amount of effort, I got her moved into the middle of the bed.

El Relaxo.

I woke with my alarm at 6.30, asked Hanna if she wanted first shower and then realised it was 7.15, so once more it was a bit of a rush into ballet. She seems now to have decided that under the stairs is just the best place to get changed and insisted on it again. As it was the last lesson of the term we got to go in and watch, and she's come on by leaps and bounds. She got a bit distracted towards the end because she wanted to come and get cuddles, which interestingly she had predicted might well happen.

After, we did the teacups and while Mummy did some shopping we nipped in to get her a card (Arya wanted the pink one with 'Happy 5th Birthday' on the front,) came out with a swirly light-up techno-snowglobe and then circled for ten minutes looking for Mummy and vice versa. Thanks to the madness of pre-Christmas Ely, we were late for Tumble Tots again, but not by much. We went shopping in the afternoon and by that point Arya was flagging, so we went home and chilled. We had a bit of trouble when Arya refused to drink her juice  - we're worried that she isn't drinking enough - and tried to give her juice by Calpol syringe (the efficacy of this as a punishment was somewhat called into question by the fact that she was mostly upset that Mummy wouldn't let her syringe the juice into her own mouth, but we still felt bad.)

In the evening, she had a bath with Mummy and afterwards settled to sleep just beautifully. Not quickly, but no fuss or anything. She slept through as well, eventually calling me through at spot-on 7am. We played with her playdough for a bit and then she dragged her wooden duck up and down until Mummy was awake.

Arya was a little bit tired, we think.

We aimed for a quiet day, only popping out for shopping and terror in Ely. First we went to the dance studio to see if we could get her hairbrush back from where we'd left it, but they had finished their lessons and were closed. Then we ate in Pizza Express because hunger was a thing. After that we went to Waitrose for shopping and Arya tried to have a kip in the trolley while we piled shopping around her.
Then it was time to go home, and Arya excitedly ran towards the car... on the other side of the car park. We both called at the same time and she stopped and the car stopped and the driver came back all shaky to check that everything was all right. Arya of course was recovered, but I was shaky and Hanna was worse.

The rest of the evening was pretty chilled, with just a bit of tension when getting ready for bed. She'd used the toilet and was supposed to be washing her hands, but was dawdling and not really listening to me.

"Arya! Are you listening?"
"I was about to turn on the tap!"
"But were you listening?"
"I was doing it!"

"But... Arya! Hands away from your mouth until you've cleaned them."

"My face was itching. I. Can't. Help it. I. Had to. Get the hair. Out of my face." And then she turns this stroppy little face half away from me and mutters grumpily: "I love you."

"I love you," I replied.

"No, I love you."

Once she was ready we sat and watched Pajanimals until Mummy brought the car down and they headed off.

With Jesus and Everything

Christmas time is here by golly...

On Friday, the family arrived with the tree. It's a new tree from Santa, by way of Granny Scott, and it's seven feet tall; next year we're presumably going to be going up to nine, as this seems to be the pattern. This meant that a lot of Friday evening was spent decorating the tree. Arya opened her advent book - The Owl and the Pussycat - and I read it to her before getting her into bed around 9, but she actually went to sleep pretty quickly.

In the morning we woke up in decent time for ballet, and then squandered that extra time so that we had to rush again. I ended up changing Arya from her pyjamas into her ballet kit at the bottom of the stairs in ballet, because she wouldn't go upstairs without changing, which meant sitting in front of the fire door, trying to wrestle her into her clothes while shielding her modesty with my body and waving to the other parents as they went by. Still, once she was ready she went straight in on her own. After ballet we split into two teams: Andrew and Sam went to order the Christmas food(1), while Hanna and I took Arya for the everyday shop.

Dory Cup.

Then it was Tumble Tots. Arya resisted changing out of her Christmassy blue dress, but once she was ready she was great and went in perfectly. When she came out to use the toilet she was excellent and sensible and everything. After TT, she put on her Rapunzel dress and we went home, then out to the library through the gauntlet of tombolas and raffles making up the Littleport Christmas Fair. The rest of the afternoon was pretty quiet, we had dinner and then it was bedtime.

And that, as they say, was when the trouble started.

She got grumpy about getting ready, and grumpy because she wasn't as wild about Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves(2) as The Owl and the Pussycat. She didn't give Mummy a hug, so wanted to go and do that after about twenty minutes of 'trying' to sleep, then got cross with me for something and told me to leave her alone. Then she was restless for a long time and told Hanna that she was afraid someone would take her and we wouldn't be there.

Damn.

Balloon!

Now... Hanna thinks that she's infected Arya with her fear of kidnapping. Given how fearless she is most of the time, I wonder if Arya isn't rather using the things she's heard us say to try to express existential fears that she doesn't really understand. So, if we leave her in the room she can't see us, that's like when Mummy and Daddies get scared because they can't see her. Either way, she got pretty het up and took a long time to go to sleep. Eventually Hanna got her settled and I was able to cuddle her until she went out.

Then Nyarlathotep ate our faces, just to show us(3).

Sunday morning was pretty chilled, as these things go. Arya even agreed to use the toilet before wetting her nappy. It was so chilled that we once again ended up running late without really realising it. Go us.

Hanna and Arya and I went to a christening. Not, as I had at first assumed, a sort-of-christening-type-thing for roleplaying weirdoes, but an actual christening in a church, with Jesus and everything. We arrived about twenty minutes late and missed the sermon with the men at work sign (it's going to bug me, wondering what that was all about) but in plenty of time for the second hymn(4), the prayers and the whole call and response, audience participation bit. Arya was a bit lost, but super well-behaved and very keen to help put the hymn books away at the end. She then went haring out of sight around the edge of the church, and as much as I wanted her to stay where I could see her, it was good to see her being her usual, fearless self.

New car seat selfie!

There was a reception/party (not sure which a christening gets) nearby. There wasn't a lot that was GF, but someone quickly whipped up some sandwiches for Hanna and Arya to have with the ham and cheese, and some brownie for after. Arya then utterly gorged herself on pink macaroons (a pastry with no flour of any kind, you say!) and we went home via Halfords to pick up a new, larger car seat. I was pondering getting an LED lamp for LARPing, and Arya was very taken with it, by which I mean she took it and ran around the shop with it. For the better part of an hour. She also wanted to try out the bikes and decided that she really wanted the Cupcake bike and not the Princess one (that her Mummy has already paid for.) Fortunately, in the car Mummy mentioned that she'd asked Santa for the Princess bike and Arya replied: "Oh yes; that one is my favourite.")

Daddy Andrew: "And the sheep and the goat
can go on top and be friends."
Arya: They're not friends.
Daddy Andrew: Why not?
Arya: They're a sheep and a goat!
Apparently this self-evidently disqualifies
them from friendship.

Back at home, Arya played Duplo with Daddy Andrew and built a garage for the Batmobile, mostly out of animals. And for those who maybe thought I was kidding about Bat-Horse... Slowly the Bat-Tortoise I did make up, although the Bat-Turtle exists in a hundred slightly-modified TNMT action figures, and Bat-Goat remains an affectionate term for Baphomet used in the higher echelons of the Knights Templar(5). There is no Bat-Polar Bear, and this makes me sad. And concerned. Who else would fight all that arctic circle crime?

After dinner, I got Arya ready for bed, which was... slow going. We'd offered her the choice of going to sleep at my place or going straight in the car, and I think she probably didn't want to go and was stringing it out. We were going to put her in the car once she'd had at least a stab at sleep, but in the end I suggested to her that we read an extra book (as well as the day's advent book, Rumplestiltskin) and then go into the car, which worked out pretty well.

And I get to see her again in just a couple of days, as we'e going up to Leeds to see Hanna's parents for pre-Christmas.

(1) I recognise the value of reserving these things early, but I'll be honest, it did kind of feel like just spreading the stress out as 'what kind of ham?' became a total thing.
(2) Weirdly, the book keeps almost all of the murders, but the Chief Robber just sacks the two thieves who fail to locate Ali Baba instead of offing them.
(3) That frame of mind when you feel that Elder Sign is judging you. #parentalproblems
(4) I'm guessing Jerusalem was the first, because the others weren't and one of them always is.
(5) Future Arya, do not rely on this blog for history homework!

Sleepless in Seattle('s favourite exported coffee emporium)

Friends.

On Friday, Hanna called with good news as she was on the way to her night shift. Andrew had caught a delayed earlier train and would be with me earlier than expected. Now, this actually meant that Arya arrived, awake, before I'd eaten dinner (but after she had,) but did mean that I got to see her on Friday night for the hour and a half it took to get her to sleep.

Yeah, there's no denying it now; Arya doesn't want to sleep, and I'm pretty sure it's because she wants to spend more time with me. I think it may be worse for me because it used to be our thing, the sign of our secure bond. Now I can't get her to settle. She kicks her blankets off, she wants them back on, she wants the phone playing her sleep meditation next to her but she won't play with it and she wasn't playing with it even if it was open she was just starting it again and she is settled and going to sleep and she's willing to sit up and argue the point if I try to leave.

It's hard to remember that she's doing this because she loves me.

On Saturday we had a bit of a hoo-hah over getting to ballet, since Arya needed the toilet right before we left for the bus and I couldn't find her boots (they were, it turned out, right in front of me,) so I had to bundle her into the pushchair and run down the road to wait fifteen minutes for a bus. As the bus was late, I also didn't have time to fight Arya over her hair, so it didn't get brushed. Still, we had a good ballet lesson and she listened really well right up to the last bit, which is pretty good going, and she got herself changed afterwards, which is a big step.

"Chug! Chug! Chug!"

We met up with Hanna, did a little shopping and had tea. Hanna was buying some makeup and Arya was fascinated and wanted to use make up as well, which was a bit of a downer for me. We make an effort to keep her from being pushed into being super-girly, but by the same token don't want her to feel that she can't go that way if she wants to. Make-up seemed a bit much, but more on that later. We headed to Tumble Tots, where Arya wanted me to take her in for the first tie in a few weeks. She settled pretty fast, however, and as soon as they were onto the apparatus I was able to slip away.

After that we went home and I left Arya and Hanna to rest. Honestly I thought they might both pass out, but when I got back from shopping, Arya had kept Hanna awake. Hanna went to nap and Arya and I watched some TV, since she wasn't up to much more and neither was I. We mixed it up a bit, with PAW Patrol, Beat Bugs and Ask the Storybots, and then I made dinner.

Bedtime was... fraught. I think that what really isn't in her capacity to grasp - delayed gratification comes in at about 5 on average - is that if she is willing to let herself sleep and give up on forty minutes of grumbling and snapping, we'll all have more and better time together the next day.

On Sunday we went to soft play again, and stopped by the shops on the way home to buy garlic bread for Hanna's dinner, only there wasn't any.

Me: "I'm looking for the frozen free from that used to be right here."
Hanna: "It's over there."
Me: "Yeah, but that's just puddings and hotpot and..."
Hanna: "Garlic bread. There."
Me: "... They literally just put that there when I wasn't looking, I swear."

For the Horde!

Back at home, Mummy got some rest while I gave Arya a bath (pretty good going on that front) and then they played with make-up while I cooked. This was way more awesome than I had expected.

Once Mummy had made up Arya, Arya returned the favour. No pictures, on pain of pain.

We ate and Arya was pretty good about getting ready for and into bed, but that was when the trouble started. After almost an hour she started saying she wanted to go to the beach, so I put on the beach-based meditation track, which she immediately denied was the beach one (it's a slow starter) and began fiddling with the phone. I put the phone away on the shelf and left her to calm and settle, but then there was an 'ow!' Like, literally an ow. I checked in - you have to - and she was clasping her knee in pain. What had happened?

"I was running and I fell."
"Where?"
"At nursery."

When Mummy joined us the story was that she fell off her scooter, which if true. I imagine the other is as well, as far as it goes.

Hanna got her to sleep. Then at gone midnight it was up to tend to a legit owy which needed soothing.

Pronounced 'pseudo-cream.'

"I need sudocrem."

So I fetched the tub.

"Is that sudocrem?"
"Yes."
"I don't like sudocrem."
"But you asked for sudocrem."
"I don't like sudocrem. I want real cream."

I don't know if that's her first pun, but it's solid work for the wee, small hours.

This morning she slept until gone seven and was still tired from the get go. I'm worried about her sleep, especially if I'm in part the cause of it. I love my daughter very much, and would do anything not to hurt her.

Guilt

"My lips are sealed."

Okay, so... I'm feeling very guilty at the moment, and I'm trying not to, because I'm pretty sure that feeling guilty is part of the problem.

Andrew brought Arya over on Friday night, with a minor detour to Downham Market. She arrived mostly asleep, waking up enough to look at me and cuddle the tiger, but not really enough to notice anything. Once more, she woke me up early by calling me in to help her use the toilet, which is pretty good going. For the record, this weekend was accident free.

We went to ballet on the bus, which meant a super-early start (by Saturday standards.) We caught the bus at eight and reached the studio before it was open, but that did give us lots of time to get her changed and ready. She wanted me to come into class with her, where I discovered that, as I suspected, my flexibility is completely shot overall, although I can plie like a boss. When they did their gallops, Arya was paired off with the new assistant because 'you're very sensible'. I was so proud.

After that, we got her into the pushchair and bussed off to Tumble Tots. Halfway there she decided that she absolutely didn't want to do Tumble Tots; that it was the Devil's work. Fortunately she agreed to reassess this decision once she'd had a snack, and in the end went in all on her own with no fuss whatsoever. We didn't see her until she came out with a sticker over her mouth (strictly her choice; they always stick them to the t-shirt.) Getting home was a bit of a struggle, what with rain and buses and all. In the end we caught a train back to Littleport, but that did give us a chance to have a toastie in Costa, which by that point we really needed.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet and companionable - what there was of it; we didn't get home until after 3 from out 8 o'clock start - and I did pasta and cheese for dinner. Arya gobbled it up, which was especially impressive since the cheese in the sauce was about 50% somewhat venerable brie with a very strong flavour.

Unlocking the fast travel system.

And then of course it was bedtime, and that's where the trouble started. She got into bed just fine, but then she wouldn't settle. She wanted her meditation book, but she kept trying to mess with the phone. If I was there, she talked to me, and if I left she'd get hold of the phone and play with it. When I tried to leave her to settle, she also begged me not to go. I told her that I was happy to sit with her while she went to sleep, but she had to be ready and settled and right now she wasn't, to which she replied: "I'm sorry; it's all my fault."

Apparently I've somehow managed to teach her self-loathing already. This is what I mean about me feeling guilty being the problem.

Anyway, I went out and Andrew went in for a bit and promised that I'd go back if she settled, and when I went in five minutes later she was out like a light. I'm pretty much certain by now that she isn't sleeping for me because she wants to spend more time with me. She may even be worried that she'll wake up and not be there anymore.

Arya made that big thing at the back, inasmuch as she stuck a few extra bits
onto the Bat-carrier that Daddy Andrew made to transport the Batmobile.

In the morning she woke me by knocking on my door, which was adorable (I'd say no pun intended, but that would be disingenuous.) We had breakfast and chilled for a bit. Arya played with her Duplo, or sat with me while she played the new Duplo games on her phone. When it came time to make lunch, she wouldn't let me go to cook, insisting she wanted me to stay and that Daddy Andrew should cook.

After lunch we went to the park, where Arya had a run about, played on the slide and pretended to hitch her buggy to the springy horse. She has this slightly exasperated way of saying "I'm just pretending" which suggests that she thinks we don't get it. She has a wonderful imagination and can and will pretend just about anything except that she isn't Arya. Even when she roleplays, she's emphatic on this point.

"I'm Arya!"

Come time to go, Arya was finding her second wind and very lively. We loaded Daddy Andrew with food for dinner and they got ready to go. She was fine and dandy, and gave me a last hug, then as they headed off she ran back, clung to me and said "I want to stay with you."

My first mistake was agreeing to come to the station with her. Everything else followed from that. She didn't want to go in the pushchair, so we got to the station with seconds to spare. I felt bad just flinging her on a train, so I went to Ely with them. As my train pulled in, she begged me to either take her with me or come to Ipswich. I hugged her tight, handed her to Andrew, turned and almost ran into the back of the old lady who had stopped to explain to the mum in front of her that the wheel of her buggy board had come off and fallen onto the tracks. It was the decent thing to do, but as I hovered there, Arya howling in abandonment, I desperately wanted to just shove her onto the train.

But hey, my girl is smart. Before we left she'd asked for a couple of sweeties to take on the train. I gave her an old Kinder egg pod to carry them in. While we were waiting on the station, she asked to have the sweets, then looked at the empty pod and said: "I think I have to take this back to Daddy Luke's house."

Sly devil.

I texted once they were underway and Andrew assured me she was better for time and food. I still miss her terribly.

Able Baker

Sleeping on the train.

It was a slightly odd weekend.

Arya arrived with Daddy Andrew at about 9.30 on Friday, already asleep, which was impressive given how light the nights are. I has a bad dream overnight and, perhaps as a result, was a little over-protective all weekend.

On Saturday we got up and Arya wanted to play with her modelling clay. We made a couple of snails and then had breakfast, after which she wanted to make cakes and biscuits. I suggested we could do this after Tumble Tots. We got dressed and she asked why I had green paint on my clothes. I noted that someone accidentally painted me while painting a bird house.

"Mummy?"
"No, not mummy."

We set out on the usual Odyssey; Soham and back in just under seven hours (whee!) Getting there was easy enough, and once more I eased Arya in and reverse-Angeled* out. She had a lot of fun, although a couple of collisions with other children left her a little rattled. Still, she seemed chipper enough as we headed out, if a little hungry, and we walked some way past our usual stop to find somewhere we could get lollies, since it was rather hot.

In Ely we shopped and had lunch, although lunch for Arya was a bit of a let down. There was no hot chicken and the ready to eat gluten free options continue to be uninspiring. I honestly can't blame her for rejecting the Baby-bel or the alleged cheese provided with the Dairylea Dippers, which is probably why I bought her a Kinder egg on the way to the bus (because the train was cancelled due to spite.) We stopped at the playground in Jubilee Park and marveled at how much she's grown.

I adore this picture.

We got mad rained on as we walked the rest of the way to the bus stop, but on the plus side the bus was on time, and drops us off just across the way from home, rather than ten minutes out in a potential storm.

Back at home she played with her toys, especially her modelling clay, and watched the two new Sarah & Duck DVDs (which means I can clear another 20 episodes off the Sky box!) We didn't bake, because it was getting on for four o'clock and because she'd instead opted for purchasing cake in Tesco.

We had dinner and Arya decided that she wanted a bath. I started getting her ready and she said to me: "Was it you who painted your clothes?"

I explained that no, it was her, but I knew it wasn't on purpose. I guess she must have been absolutely convinced that it wasn't her, however, since she apparently took offence and immediately told me: "I didn't want to go with you. I wanted to stay with Mummy and Daddy Andrew at Daddy Andrew's house."

I've got to say, that was unexpected, and it stung. I guess I get where it was coming from, but it's one thing for her to prefer one Daddy or the other some times, but for her to say she didn't want to visit me, even in anger, was quite a blow.

I let Daddy Andrew give her a bath, and she asked for me again once she was washed. I helped out with her dolphins for a while and we had a bit of a conversation, and Mummy called which went down well, although clearly Arya's telephonic gambits are limited to 'hello', 'love you very much' and 'BYE!' She was keen to stay in the bath, so I offered an episode of Pajanimals while I got her dry.

Arya baked wearing her Rapunzel princess
dress.

That night, she woke up at about two because the rain was hammering on the skylight, which meant I didn't sleep so well. Then at six she woke up again and was thrown by not being in with Daddy Andrew. Thus when Hanna called on her way home from work, we'd already been up a couple of hours.

"What are you up to?"
"Baking cakes!"
"At eight thirty?"

We made cupcakes and biscuits and had pizza for lunch. The first round of pizzas was made by Arya, in the kitchen in her little house, by piling her chopping fruit and veg into a pan and putting it in the oven. After lunch, Arya played with her vets' set and gave Andrew medicine; first to make him sick and then to make him well. A career in human testing or the cult of Nurgel beckons. I like to think she'll find a niche in medically-based supervillainy; it's the romantic in me.

They headed off fairly early, and I hope didn't get caught in too much rain. They took a bunch of cupcakes and biscuits with them to share with Mummy. Sunday was a lovely day, despite my exhaustion, and we had lovely cuddles, so I don't feel too bad about our little bust up, but it worries me that she might have intentionally been hurtful I'd rather she didn't learn that for a while.

On the upside, I have a TARDIS full of biscuits.

* Every time she looked away I moved a little further back.

Worries

Arya's phone has no camera, but it
seems to work everywhere.

I realised recently that my brain worries about missing the conclusion of the latest Doctor Who 2-parter if I drop dead for the simple reason that it can't cope with the thought of the really important things I would miss, like... well, any of the major events in my daughter's life. Even the inevitable crushing awkwardness of 'the talk' (And I just know someone will say "Hey, Daddy Luke used to be a teacher; he had sex ed training right?" when the time comes.)

I am also worried beyond all good sense that Arya forgot to take her phone (pictured right) with her on Sunday and won't be able to call me during the week.

Unclean! Unclean!

Blotchy baby.

So, this weekend (which began on Wednesday when I came over to Ipswich to help with childcare,) Arya has had chicken pox. I know it's best to get it over with early in life, but she's been so miserable poor mite. She's been itchy and feverish and periodically subjected to assault with cold moisturising creams of one sort or another. It's a tough life.

I traveled over on Wednesday morning to relieve Andrew, who is running short of leave. I found her blotchy and itchy, but generally in good form and sitting in boxes full of stuff (she was most put out when Daddy Andrew took the stuff - papers, Magic cards, picture frames - out of her box and lined it with a blanket.) We had a little lunch and went for a walk in the woods and she napped a little, but despite not sleeping much during the day she found it hard to sleep that night.

On Thursday we mostly mooched around the house, save for the going to sleep walk, which she assayed in nowt but a nappy, in spite of sun and wind. Andrew and Hannah spent most of the evening getting her to bed, and she didn't finally settle until gone midnight.

"It's for you."

On Friday we watched Planes and waved Hanna off for the weekend. We ran around in the park before her nap walk, and by the evening she was doing much better. There were a few new spots, but mostly they were starting to dry out and I think very early on Friday morning was the peak time. In the evening she asked where Mummy was and was very comprehending when I explained that Mummy would be back later in the weekend. She then tried to call Mummy on a compact shaped like an owl, as though it were a phone, which is odd as she only tries to call people in the room on the actual phone.

"He'll never get it out of this lot."

She also successfully used the potty and referred to her picture on my phone as 'me' instead of 'Arya'. I think this was her very first pronoun.

On Friday night I put her down to sleep in about half an hour (go me) and then on Saturday we had another chilled day with some Planes 2 and, naturally, some Sarah & Duck. We went for another walk in the woods and she tried to persuade me to ditch the pushchair altogether, even making an attempt to push it off the path into the undergrowth.

On Saturday night we discovered that her room was too light for her to feel like going to sleep, so Andrew put up a blackout blind on Sunday. Sunday was also the day when she found her snow suit, insisted on dressing in it, and then took me out for a walk of an afternoon.

Hanna got back too late to see Arya, but she did find her way into the bedroom while we were asleep, opening the door before Andrew called her back.

This is just the tip of the iceberg; there were so many amazing moments that enlivened what was overall a pretty rubbish time given that she was ill. I am shattered now, but I don't regret the time and effort, not just because I was able to care for my daughter but because it gave us so many wonderful moments of bonding, from the cuddles to her insisting I fold myself into her cot-bed next to her, to her allowing me to go back and rest instead of joining her and Daddy Andrew for her walk on Sunday (I must have looked truly knackered.)

Did you miss me?

You spin my chair round, baby, right round,
Like a record baby, round round, right round*

This was a slightly odd weekend, for slightly sombre reasons. Andrew's mother passed away and so his family were in town for the funeral, and naturally wanted to see Arya (I cannot fault them in this.) Rather than Hanna and Arya coming to Littleport for the weekend, therefore, I went to Martlesham Friday evening, sat out a family meal on Saturday and we came to Littleport via swimming for a short while on Sunday morning.

I arrived in Martlesham half asleep, but more of me in my other blog. You're here to read about Arya.

It had been almost two weeks since I had last seen Arya (in person,) as she spent last weekend in Leeds with her mother and affiliated grandparents, although we did have a couple of video calls which lightened an otherwise grim and depressing week. Perhaps as a result, I was flavour of the week. Andrew would normally put Arya to bed in Martlesham, but this weekend it was Daddy Luke or nothin'.

I got to see her newly redecorated nursery in Martlesham, which looks delightful and is full of owls (Arya is currently very keen on owls, and we're planning on probably taking her to the Raptor Centre to see owls for her birthday.) She seems absolutely made up about it, which is good going for a young child and a new space. She even seems happy with the cot in its new location. All good stuff.

I fell asleep while putting Arya to bed; I'm not sure how long
for, but when I got up Eldritch Horror was unpacked and set
up ready to go.

I got to spend a lot of time with Arya this week, and good times for the most part. We had a few disputes and she is definitely getting into her stride as far as testing boundaries goes (I just wish she wouldn't do it where there might be cars) but for the most part it was lovely to see her again and to reconnect and to know that she does miss me. It can be hard to tell in young children, but she's so delighted when I'm there on the screen, and more so in person. The real, tangible affection that I feel from her just blows me away sometimes.

* Referencing the original 'You Spin Me Round (like a record)' by Dead or Alive and not the semi-cover about pole dancers, thank you very much. When did the 1980s become a simpler, more innocent age?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Music, music, music

Baby Tech

This is Arya watching Ylvis sing 'The Fox', which seems extremely taken with, adding it to the list of favourites with the Muppets' version of 'Bohemian Rhapsody' and 'Everything is Awesome' from The LEGO Movie. She's not wild about 'Let it Go', but you can't have everything.

She also has the book of The Fox, but isn't as into that yet.

I don't want people to think that she has unfettered phone access; this is an emergency measure when she's been in the car too long, but won't sleep, and we're fifteen minutes or less from home. It feels bad relying on a technological means to distract her, but I have to say I'm chuffed at how well she holds a smartphone.

"Just... no."

This, on the right, is the look she gives me when I try to dance along to the music. I'm allowed to sing, and I can do some basic gestures to indicate the animals in 'The Fox', but if I try to actually dance, I get this look, or something like it. It's a look that must be familiar to any parent - or certainly most fathers - as the 'oh God, I don't know you' expression. Every time she does it I get a vengeful desire to interrupt her first serious party by being 'it's got a good beat' dad from The Mary Whitehouse Experience (as seen here at about 9.50).

Of course, I'd never actually do that on purpose, although I am slightly terrified of doing it without meaning to.

Eeek!

This weekend, Arya achieved another first, managing to propel herself backwards at such speed that her father was unable to prevent her slithering feet first off the bed and onto the floor.

A visit to A&E soothed nerves (while consuming much of the Sunday), but I still feel guilty, and apprehensive of her new mobility (especially as she has since managed to scoot around the floor and unearth plastic bags, cables, nappy sacks and anything else we really don't want her finding and gumming at).

Day of the Dad

On Sunday, Hannah went to game, leaving Andrew and me to look after the baby for about four hours. It played out roughly like this.

12:30 - Hannah headed off and we walked to Waitrose, which provided a nice distraction for Arya.

13:15 - Got home, Andrew changed the baby.

13:30 - Andrew tagged out. Arya got a little fractious about lying down. I sat her up, she looked around, clocked the lack of mummy and launched into a wordless diatribe on the subject of her immense tiredness and dissatisfaction with our failure to be mummy. We loaded her into the wrap and walked her around the courtyard outside the flat.

13:50 - Arya fell asleep and Andrew got to have lunch.

13:20 - Arya woke up. There followed some passing between daddies, a change, and some tummy time surrounded by her toys. (Note to self, too many toys is overwhelming).

Her favourite seems to be the orca pillow, since it has the biggest care label ever! and care labels are way more fun than anything else, except perhaps tubs full of stuff, plastic bottles and takeaway cola cup lids.

14:45 - Arya got thirsty and Andrew gave her some water. This was due to a shared misapprehension of our instructions regarding bottles.

15:20 - Arya got antsy again, so I gave her a bottle of expressed milk, which she inhaled. (Not literally; that would have been bad.) We got her some more milk, but she was less interested and spent twenty minutes more squirming madly.

15:40 - We put some Muppets on and sang along to her. As noted previously, she loves the Muppets, and singing, and while I don't want to raise her on TV, as long as we are also talking to her and playing with her, I am happy if we can sing along while enjoying stuff with her when she's tired and fractious.

16:20 - Mummy returned. When I held Arya on my knee, she literally flung herself at Hannah. Despite this, I feel that we did pretty well, and I for one feel like a halfway capable parent for perhaps the first time. Given how hard our double team had to work on what was, all told, a very good day, I am more than ever in awe of Hannah.

Part-Time Parenting

I guess you could say that I'm a part-time parent, and in some respects that is true. I see Arya-Rose most weekends, but not during the week, and this allows me a level of sleep - in theory - that most parents are denied; or I would do if I wasn't cramming all the writing, planning, video watching and game playing I don't get done at weekends into what I disingenuously refer to as 'the evening'.

But on the other hand, my heart doesn't work in shifts, you know? I don't get time off from worrying, or missing her, any more than being away from her mother makes me stop caring for her. I think that the feeling that I'm missing something, that I'm not doing my best for her because I'm not there, is one of my greatest fears.

I had an unexpected bonus visit yesterday, but spent most of it working on Saturday's game. I told Hannah I felt bad and she said: "You had work to do." I realised then that I hope I never use that as an excuse for neglecting either of them.

Fear

Yesterday, I misjudged a distance very slightly while changing Arya-Rose and her head dropped about an inch, no more, onto the changing table. There was a soft bump and she screamed, and I felt like the devil.
She's fine; not hurt at all. It was a horrible moment, however, and not least because I have a morbid fear of dropping Arya. I have done since Hannah brought her in to the office. I had this moment of certainty that I would drop her over the balcony if I tried to hold her. It terrified me; I stopped in my tracks, almost stunned the image had been so horribly real.

Since then, I've been terrified of that becoming a reality. It's all the more powerful for being in part rational.

Induction Day - update 3

We're officially in the queue.
There's a worrying sound of drilling and hammering from upstairs. Hopefully we won't need that.