BBC NEWS | Magazine | Pregnant at 13, mum at 14, GCSEs at 15

BBC NEWS | Magazine | Pregnant at 13, mum at 14, GCSEs at 15

Afghan's choice?

I just heard a news report on the radio say that the level of uncertainty about which side will emerge victorious in the struggle between the Taliban and the western-backed Afghan army in Afghansitan, is so great that many families are placing one son in the Taleban and one in the Afghan army to ensure they have a foot in the camp of the ultimate victor.

My gut response was that this must be the definition of insanity. But how much choice do they have when on one side the Taleban threaten show-trials for collaborating if they don't enlist and on the other you have the most powerful nations in the world claiming determination to back the Afghan army for as long as it takes?

Perhaps it is the definition of failure. Whose failure? You decide.

Goodbye Oz

Today Hayley attended the funeral of her brother-in-law Alan, known to most of us as "Oz". He was a big man with a big heart and at just 56 he has been taken much too early and with just 3 months warning.

Goodbye Oz. You'll be missed.

Bad day, rain...

It's not been a great day.

After a night feeling rough I got up feeling worse and after a few minutes staggering about feeling no better I conceded I should take the day off sick. This was rather irritating as quite apart from the myriad things I should have been doing at work, I had stayed up til 11pm the previous night completing work for the morning. No matter, I thought. I will dial in to the company network from my laptop. But every time I made a connection and was about to upload to the server, the connection was dropped.

So I took 2 paracetamol and went back to bed. But the phone rang, then stopped after one ring. Then again. And again. On investigation I realised my phone line was now unreachable, for reasons unknown. My decision to leave BT this month and go to Sky suddenly wasn't looking such good value for money. I unplugged the phone and went back to bed.

But I was now completely awake. My mobile phone rang. It was Vodafone trying to sell me insurance for my second hand pay-as-you-talk phone that I hardly use. I gave them short shrift and got off the phone.

Not long after this Hayley returned home with Oliver and Lucy asleep in the car. She left the engine running to let them have a decent nap and I took out 2 hot beverages. Within 2 minutes of getting into the car next to her I had dropped my phone into my cup of tea. Despite rapid retrival it proceeded to turn itself off, apart from the camera flash which eventually burned out before the whole phone got hotter and hotter until it crackled unnervingly. I retrieved my SIM card and binned it.

So now we were faced with a decision. We are due at a family funeral tomorrow, but in light of circumstances we decided I should stay here with Oliver while Hayley pays her respects and takes Lucy with her. This seemed a reasonable plan.

The phone rang. It was my sister telling me I had left my keys at her house over the weekend. No matter, I thought. We have a spare key for my car. But could we find it? Of course not. So, even if I were a picture of health I would have a job getting Oliver to nursery in the morning. As I'm not a picture of health I suppose it matters not and we have arranged for a friend to take Oliver to and from nursery in the morning. He will just have to veg out a bit more than usual for one afternoon with his poorly Dad.

So, to recap, no mobile phone, no car, not even a home phone. Suddenly I'm a 1960s throwback. Oliver and I will spend tomorrow as an experiment in mid-20th century living. I may read him Enid Blighton and dig out some old episodes of Listen With Mother just to complete the experience.

Good day, sunshine...

Thanks to Dan's rather touching post over at All That Comes With It, I was prompted to take this photograph of Oliver soaring through the air. It's a pastime we often enjoy, particularly when killing a minute or two waiting for the girls to get themselves ready and into the car, and yet I have never taken a photograph of it. I found myself suddenly worried that perhaps any day now I wouldn't be able to throw him that high any more. Worse still, had the day come without me noticing?

Apparently not.

But it will. And when it does I will do what I have had to do at every previous passing milestone: pause for a moment in poignant reflection, before embracing my boy's journey and taking comfort once again in his own own joy at undertaking it.

And then there's Lucy. I looked out of the spare room's window at a man with a husky dog. I watched him for a moment before realising that this dog was the puppy I had grown used to seeing out of the window over many months. In the blinking of an eye it seemed, he had grown up.

As if I needed reminding how fast the young grow. Lucy is fast approaching 4 months old and doesn't like to be cradled in my arms any more. But at least she still grabs my hands and won't let go. That's something she does much more than Oliver did. She holds them tight and looks into my eyes. And then I'm putty in her hands.

So what about today? We visited Charnwood's Christmas Fair where Oliver sampled his first mince pie...



...decorated a biscuit (and ate it, obviously)...



...and then met Father Christmas. Despite his excitement at the prospect of this meeting, when the time arrived he was a little hesitant entering the grotto. But he settled nicely on my knee while Mummy took photos, with Lucy experiencing the whole scene from her Baby Bjorn sling (where she dozed away much of the morning).



This afternoon our friend Babs came round. It's her birthday on Tuesday so we had some birthday cake. Oliver brought it out, we sang happy birthday then he acted as waiter ferrying cake to us from the kitchen. He chatted away so merrily the whole time.
[Oliver enters with cake on a plate.]
"Here's your cake Babs".
"Thank you."
[Turning to me...]"Would you like some cake Daddy?"
"Yes please Oliver".
"OK Daddy. I'll go and get it."
[Oliver exits to kitchen before returning with my cake...]
"Here you are Daddy. You eat your cake."
[Later when I've eaten my cake.]
[Oliver surprised] "Oh, you ate all your cake Daddy, well done."
Oliver is a very sociable and talkative chap. Not really surprising given that few have ever accused his parents of having nothing to say.

His accent is interesting. Some words such as "no" are (mystifyingly) close to received pronunciation, while others such as "sunshine" make him sound like an out-and-out Mancunian. Everything in-between either resembles my rather generic northern accent or has the occasional twang of Wiltshire that he picks up from his Mum or his relatives in the south. But whatever his accent, he is certainly finding his own voice.

Ready-made trampolines

Oliver and Niamh enjoyed making trampolines out of our furntiture this evening, much to the amusement of Hayley, Jo and myself (laughing so much I couldn't keep the camera still).

The power of laughter

A few days ago we heard Lucy laugh for the first time when Hayley found her ticklish spot. (For the record, it was somewhere just behind her armpits.) I was unable to work the same magic on her - maybe Mummy has the magic touch. But last night, quite by accident I made her laugh.

I did it by making a silly baby cooing sound that started on a high note and descended to a low one. Every time I did it she emitted a little laugh. It reminded me of Oliver, not just when he was a baby, but even today.

I know you might say 'a laugh is a laugh is a laugh', but let's be honest, we've all heard a laugh at some time or other which stood out to us for some reason. Maybe it sounded like a machine gun shooting crows, or maybe it was reminiscent of the laughing policeman, or maybe, as in this case, it was the laughter of someone you already loved but now loved even more for how you felt when you heard them laugh.

Heaton Moor watch

Ever since mountainear commented that she visits this blog as a link with her old life in the Heatons, I have been meaning to start a regular post on what's going on in the area. After all, there's only so much of me blabbing on and on and on about how wonderful my kids are that most people can stand. (You bear it well folks. Really.)

So let's start with where we are: Heaton Moor.

Heaton Moor is basically split into two halves, each with groups of shops and separated by no more than about half a mile. The northern half saw much regeneration in the 90s, especially on and around Shaw Road. Our favourite Indian restaurant, the Heatons Tandoori, still prospers there. There is also a Polish deli, Pokusevskis, where I buy local honey produced in Heaton Moor and have occasionally taken Oliver on the bike for an afternoon snack in their little paved garden at the rear. There are also several other pubs, bars and cafes within about a minutes walk.

The southern half, where we live, hasn't yet prospered so much, but the northern end is pretty much saturated, so I expect our area will start to flourish similarly in the next year or two. The Orangerie cafe up in the northern half now has a sister establishment, Room 311, which we mention often here and frequent even more. The arrival of a Tesco Express saw the demise of the little Late Shop, which has stood empty ever since. There were rumours of Marks and Spencer moving in, but nothing has happened yet.

One of the hairdressers moved across the road a couple of years ago and in his place on the corner next to the Post Office is now an Italian restaurant, Avanti. Valentinos has flourished for many years just a few paces away and I heard a rumour that Avanti arose from a rift in the team owning/running Valentinos. Sibling rivalry I heard, though I have absolutely no hard evidence for this, so it's probably best to ignore me.

Somerfield survived the arrival of Tesco, in fact it retaliated by going upmarket with a new deli counter. But after a few months they ditched it. So apparently we aren't up-market enough to warrant one! And also on the down side, the Victoria Wine shop that shut down several years ago is still empty, which baffles me as it is a prime location.

However, the lovely Blue Corn organic shop is doing well and we drop in from time to time to have a cup of tea and a snack with the kids. The owners are friendly and Oliver has charmed them as well as some of the regulars.

The biggest talking point around here was whether the much-loved (but not so well visted) Savoy cinema would be bought and redeveloped as a 300-seater Wetherspoons pub. To the relief of most, this application was rejected by the local council.

We seem to have a wealth of hairdressers around here. Not sure why. The little women's clothing outlet on the corner of Grosvenor Road has closed down and been replaced by another very swish looking salon. Maybe I should be pleased. "Heaton Moor: hairdressing centre of the universe". Then again...

So there it is. I'm pretty sure I've painted a bizarre picture of our little area, but that's what springs to mind. Regardless of how it may sound, it is a great little place to live for a whole bunch of reasons I haven't mentioned, mostly to do with the parks, playgroups, churches, etc. that we visit with the kids. A year after moving here, we are very happy with our decision.

There is more about Heaton Moor at HeatonMoor.com.

Beyond a nightmare

As I drove home this evening to my family, I heard a report about the aftermath of the recent cyclones in Bangladesh. I heard how one mother held onto her 2 month old baby in the floods until the child was swept away from her. She found her dead body later that day.

Another man had lost his four children, his parents, his home and all his belongings. He sat, by his own description, on the road like a beggar, barely able to function. Just existing. If someone gave him food, he ate.

I tried to imagine the loss of these people. I couldn't. To say I would be lost without my family is an understatement. My life would be unrecognisable without them. They are what completes me. Hearing these stories, I could imagine myself reacting the same way and that brought home its reality, regardless of how far away across the world these people are. I'm sorry to say it was almost too much to contemplate, which is weak and selfish. Thousands of families over there have no choice.

The Disasters Emergency Committee are accepting donations here.

BBC NEWS | Science/Nature | Babies 'show social intelligence'

BBC NEWS | Science/Nature | Babies 'show social intelligence'

One of the things that always surprised me about babies through my experience with Oliver was just how advanced they are compared to what I expected at least. Here is another example.

Of course I'm not surprised any more. I only have to look at the way Lucy responds to me, even now at 3 months old, to know that she knows which side her bread is buttered!

Bits and bobs

Dad in charge
Last night Hayley went to watch a play in which a friend of ours was acting. So for the first time I was home alone with both kids when Oliver had to go to bed. The moment Hayley headed out of the door, Lucy filled her nappy, just as I wanted to get the last bit of her bottle down her. No sooner had I changed her than Oliver followed suit. By the time I had changed him and fed her we were late going upstairs.

Normally Oliver has his milk in his room on the little futon sofa-bed with the lights out and just a night-light on. Last night we sat in our bedroom with Lucy lying under a Winnie the Pooh mobile. Obviously Oliver had to play with it and managed to knock it over, narrowly missing Lucy in the process. Despite this disruption to his routine he went to bed without complaint.

There's a new part to his routine now that Hayley has added. After his milk he climbs up to stand on her legs and she gives him a back-scratch. I did the same last night and he loved it. Later I could hear him on the monitor quietly whimpering "Mummy". When I went up to see him he recovered his composure remarkably quickly and when I reached into his cot to settle him down he grabbed my hand, pulled it behind his back and said "back-scratch"!

The little lady refused to have a nap during the evening, fighting sleep wherever and whenever I tried to lay her down, until finally I picked her up and lay her on my chest. Having got what she wanted, she fell straight asleep. So I watched the first half of Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares lying on the sofa with her on my chest. Bliss!

Later, after she woke, I took her upstairs and she had her last bottle of the day sitting on our bed, as usual. Hayley got home from her play (which she had thoroughly enjoyed) just in time to give her little girl some milk and a cuddle before she went to sleep.

If you're gonna do it, do it right
When Hayley went to pick up Oliver from nursery the other day she waited in the hall, listening to the activities coming to a close. She could hear the children singing. Well, more precisely she could hear Oliver singing over the top of all the other children. After the session she discovered that Oliver had spent the morning telling everyone which songs to sing and reprimanding them when they got the verses in the wrong order. I know this will have been true because he does it to me often. It seems the horn on the bus has to go beep beep beep before the baby on the bus cries. "No Daddy, we haven't had horn yet!"

Talking of reprimanding his parents, today at a playgroup his Mummy made the mistake of doing a wiggly-hipped dance when everyone was doing the hokey-cokey. "No Mummy" he shouted "don't do that", pointing a reproachful finger at her.

Little sweetie
This morning as I got dressed Oliver came to me and showed me a sweetie. Where did you get that Oliver?", asked Daddy, genuinely surprised that he found a sweet somewhere upstairs.
No answer from the little man.
"Can you show me where you got it?"
Silence.
"Daddy would like one Oliver, do you think you could show me where they are?".
"Oh, OK Daddy. I'll show you. This way Daddy." And he lead me to our bedroom where he then took a packet of boiled sweets from next to the bed. "I get it for you" he told me. taking one out in its wrapper, then starting to unwrap it. After fiddling for a few seconds with the tricky wrapper he said "here you go" and gave it to me. As he wlaked away with his own sweet he mused, "I like sweeties" before leaving it on the bed.

Love is...
Tonight Oliver had a bath with Lucy. He shared his bath happily and even poured water gently over her tummy. I can't get over what a loving big brother he is. He is full of love for his parents too, but recently there has been a noticeable pattern.
"Can I watch telly Daddy?"
"No Oliver you know we don't watch telly before breakfast."
Oliver gives me a big hug, pats my back saying "cuddle". He then steps away and says "I watch telly now Daddy?" Hmmmmmm.

Perfect skin
Lucy is all smiles again after getting over her illness. She decided to get up at 5.50am this morning which wasn't very welcome but hopefully it was a one-off. She has gorgeous skin now, a marked contrast with a few weeks ago when she seemed to have more little spots than a teenager. Someone at playgroup today commented "I've never seen a baby with such perfect skin." My china doll.

BBC NEWS | Education | Children report drinking alcohol

BBC NEWS | Education | Children report drinking alcohol

BBC NEWS | Health | Parents to get child weight data

BBC NEWS | Health | Parents to get child weight data

Last night, as Oliver sat sort of slouched in the bath, he looked down at the fat around his tummy, as if wondering what it was for and why it was there. (Been there myself!) I wouldn't say he is overweight at all, but we aren't complacent about his diet or the risks of becoming overweight, if more due to a sedentary lifestyle than poor diet.

Right now I'd say that the former seems the bigger risk. Oliver asks to watch TV a lot. Though often, once allowed, he will lose interest after a few minutes and go and play, occasionally being drawn back by (for example) a favourite song. We are limiting the amount of TV he watches, cutting it out altogether where practical in favour of something more active, preferably outdoors. Of course that is somewhat easier on a sunny day in June than a wintery one in November.

Salford Museum

Today we visited the Salford Museum which was having a Family Fun Day. There was a man blowing up balloons and lunch-boxes for the kids in the cafe. And a table where they could draw pictures in one room. It wasn't exactly Disneyland to be honest.

However there was a reconstructed Victorian street with shops and horse-drawn carriages. On a very wet, cold November day it was something to do. And of course it gave Hayley the chance to navigate somewhere with our (read as her) new Tom Tom GPS in-car navigation unit.

Visiting our new nephew ("no name")

My sister gave birth to a baby boy on the 9th November. Thanks to the visiting rule at the hospital where he was born (no children on the ward) we had our first chance to meet him over the weekend. So today Saturday we headed off to Dalton.

Hayley and I vividly recall from our early days with Oliver how tough the first few weeks can be and how relieved and grateful we were when our midwife Jane came to our rescue. So we tried to give a lift on Saturday. Hayley took Julia to get some shopping done while Rob and and I took Oliver, Tom and the new arrival for a walk. I say "the new arrival" because they still haven't decided on a name for him. "No name" was how he was most often addressed during our visit.

We drove up to the Beacon at the top of the hill, disembarked from the car and then had a 10 minute battle with the buggy. Finally we set off up the hill. I told Oliver we were going to see a castle. He liked this idea and seemed content with the overgrown obelisk he encountered on arrival. It was quite a hill for the little man but he trudged up it without complaint.

After taking a few snaps and kicking a football around for 20 minutes or so, "no name" started to stir so we headed back down off the hill... to the pub. We enjoyed a couple of drinks and a game of pool during our stay. Rob fed "no name" and I had the pleasure of changing Oliver's dirty nappy on the floor of the pool room while he sang nursery rhymes at the top of his voice. In fact he was in good voice much of the time, singing at a volume around 90 decibels louder then the other conversations in the pub. No-one objected though, probably afeared of this strange bunch of "men" of all ages.

When we got back to Julia's house, Hayley set about making dinner. She worked til she was sweating in the kitchen and served us all a fabulous spag bol with garlic bread and cakes for dessert.

By the time we left Julia was tired but grateful for all Hayley's efforts. "She's amazing" she told me.
"I know".