BBC NEWS | England | Tyne | Maternal side has 'stronger bond'

BBC NEWS | England | Tyne | Maternal side has 'stronger bond'

BBC NEWS | Health | Baby units 'face staff shortages'

BBC NEWS | Health | Baby units 'face staff shortages'

Injections

Yesterday afternoon Lucy had some injections. In the evening she had a bit of a temperature so we gave her some Calpol, which she wasn't at all keen on. Nonetheless she had her last bottle and went to sleep without a fuss.

About 4-5 hours later, at 3.14am, she woke. After a few minutes it was clear she wasn't going back to sleep and she became a little distressed. So we got her out of her Moses basket (which, by the way, is now inside her cot to get her used to it) and I warmed up a 7 ounce bottle of water that had been waiting to have some Aptamil added to it. We offered it to her, thinking that the fever may have left her a little dehydrated but half-expecting her to demand milk or perhaps take just an ounce if she was really thirsty. In fact, she downed the whole 7-ounce bottle before settling back down to sleep through the rest of the night. Today she seems pretty much her old self again.

First sibling dispute

Oliver has a special toy, his Grannimal, Julien the Dog.



He has had him since he was 10 days old, a gift from his God-parents, David and Susan. As a baby we weaned him off his dummy by letting him hug and chew Julien to go to sleep. Today he is still Oliver's comforter and has to be in his arms when he has his bedtime milk sitting on Mummy or Daddy's knee.

In an effort to give Lucy the same start in life, we picked out a suitable Grannimal for her: Lucien the Rabbit.



Grannimals come in 2 sizes and the large variety is impossible to get hold of in this country now, so some friends of ours visiting from Connecticut very kindly brought a large Lucien over with them last week.

Well, Lucien looks even more impressive in real life than on the web, standing slightly taller than Julien the Dog. So when Oliver came downstairs on Sunday morning and saw Lucien, the inevitable happened. "I have it" he told us.

There then ensued an attempt on our part to make him see that it was Lucy's toy and that his removal of it from her grasp was not really acceptable. We even tried to get him to do a temporary swap, Julien for Lucien, but to no avail.

What ensued was without doubt the worst tantrum he has ever had. It took some time for us to convince him of the error of his ways. He was screaming so much at one point I thought he might throw up. I thank the Lord that Hayley went on a parenting skills course for just this sort of situation. There's no amount of watching Supernanny that would adequately prepare you for the reality of such an outburst.

After some time, and a lot of patience, Oliver decided that he would drop his demand for Lucien and settle for reading a nice book with Daddy instead. After that he was as good as gold. He read a couple of Ladybird books with me (The Princess and the Frog; Chicken Licken) and then, seeing I was settling down to watch football (Liverpool vs United) he said he would watch football with me, which was lovely and something he has never done before.

A few minutes later I noticed he was falling asleep. His eyes closed, his head nodded and then he slumped gently against my side. I moved him along the sofa, lay him down and put a blanket over him so he could nap next to me. As he realised what I was doing, a beautiful smile crossed his face and he drifted off to sleep... leaving me to watch United beat Liverpool 1-0. Perfection.

I should have known better (with a girl like you)

Or perhaps this post should be titled D VVS2.

Having told the world last week how perfectly Lucy goes to sleep every night, the inevitable happened. Last night, after sleeping a lot all day, she couldn't get herself to sleep and then got herself into a right state. There was much crying, which continued unabated despite offers of milk, cuddles and even a tummy rub as she seemed to be straining and we thought she might be constipated. (It's so hard to know what's wrong at this age!)

Eventually Hayley managed to walk her around enough to get her off to sleep.

As I type she is having her last milk of the day. We are hoping last night was a one-off performance.

First jam session

Oliver has become quite adept with his various drums. He may not yet be a musician, but he has certainly made drummer. (Sorry, couldn't resist it. Old habits die hard.)

He drums along to various songs as he sings them with me. He uses both hands, alternating them, and keeping time pretty well.

Well tonight he took it one step further. I was strumming along to some cheesy Christmas classics on VH1 when I suggested Oliver join me with his drum. So we played along to Slade and Wizzard and I have to say he was not the worst drummer I have ever played with!

It was a heart-warming moment. I have always hoped he would enjoy music and playing music as much as I have throughout my life. To find myself for the first time actually playing music with my son was quite a milestone, in my life as well as his.

No photos of your baby! - News - Manchester Evening News

No photos of your baby! - News - Manchester Evening News

"A COUPLE were banned from taking photographs of their baby daughter on a swing by a park warden who declared it `inappropriate.'"

I have to say I could write at length about why this sort of thing drives me nuts. It follows from the same paranoia culture whereby parents can no longer take pictures of their children in school nativity plays and Christmas concerts.

I was pleasantly surprised when I heard that this year the local council is leaving it up to the schools whether they allow photography on such occasions. Could we at last be seeing the return of common sense and normal behaviour to replace the ridiculous restrictions parents have had to suffer in recent times?

D Flawless

Lucy Diamond we call her. And a D flawless diamond is about as good as they get. Well, that's what I should call her right now. Poor Lucy hardly seems to get a mention in this blog. And do you know why? Because she is just about the most perfect little 4 month old girl you could imagine.

As if sleeping through all night and smiling all day weren't enough, she is good as gold wherever she goes and at home is content playing, chatting or just being carried around in her sling. In fact she loves that sling best of all. She gets to be close to her Mummy and also to see everything that is going on.

In the evenings after Oliver goes to bed, she seems to sense it is her time and that's the only time she is at all demanding. She is content with a few hugs in the day, but in the evening she often insists on falling asleep on Mummy, sometimes, like this evening, as soon as she has finished her milk. Then once asleep, she lies contented on the sofa under her little pink blanket. That's where she is right now, still wearing her bib (see picture above).

In a few minutes we'll take her up for her last feed, then she'll go off to sleep without complaint, just like every night.

That's Lucy. My D flawless diamond.

BBC NEWS | Education | Bright poor children 'slip back'

BBC NEWS | Education | Bright poor children 'slip back'

Desktop

First blog entry from phone.

Yes, I have bought myself a new toy. A lovely Sony Ericsson K850i phone. I found a contract with this phone that worked out as cheap as my PAYG phone, so I "treated" myself. It has a built-in feature that allows you to send a picture to a blog. It does shrink the picture slightly but it's a nice facility, saving me from uploading photos to the PC, then to Flickr, then writing a blog and linking to Flickr. Now I just click and go!

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.