Wednesday 29 February 2012

Lurgy

Kids' fevers are like ghosts. They jump up on you from nowhere, usually in the middle of the night, scare you half to death, then when morning comes around they are gone without a trace leaving you wondering if you dreamed the whole thing.

Boy has had a mild on again off again fever for a few weeks. He's been on good form so I figured it was one of those viruses that disappear themselves. In Scotland I might have taken him to the doctor the first time he was sent home from crèche. But here in Ireland I have to think twice if it is worth spending 40 euro for a doctor to tell me it's a virus that will go away itself. Last year I took him three times in the space of a month. That's some pricey virus, considering there's nothing else a GP can actually do.

So on Monday night when the fever returned I did my usual frantic google searches on "Celsius to Fahrenheit", "when to call your doctor" and "calpol and neurofen together?". I should be a human calculator for the first, and a human medical dictionary for the others the number of times I've entered these search terms since Boy was born. Not that a couple of fourteen year olds on Yahoo Answers advising cold baths and dialling for an ambulance really counts as consulting a medical dictionary.

We had the Calpol and baby Nurofen out and practically drilled Boy a new earhole by taking his temperature so often. Girl thought it was all a fantastic game and pretended to be asleep any time Boy was up only to start howling the second he was back asleep. Sometimes she mistimed it and we were all up together.

Tuesday morning: everyone is pink cheeked and sparkly eyed, looking like they've had really splendid night's sleep (except mammy and daddy, naturally). I keep Boy off crèche in case the fever returns. At lunchtime I think feck it, he's totally fine and I can't keep my eyes open much longer, so I drop him off at crèche. Twenty minutes later I get a call saying he has a temperature of 38.8, could I come and get him.

I don't stop to google the conversion. I know 39 is high and that's close enough. As I pick him up I can feel the disapproving stares from the crèche staff. I mumble something about him being fine when I dropped him off. I feel like the worst mother in the world, allowing my child to cast a sickly shadow over the super healthy glow of all the other kids. I feel sure they think I knowingly dropped him off with a high fever, probably because I wanted some peace and quiet. Then I stop to measure how much truth there would be in such an assessment considering how wrecked I am. There's enough recognition to feel guilty. The self imposed guilt combined with the recollection of him bounding around like a slinky this morning is enough to make me indignant about the dirty looks I may or may not have imagined. My head is tired and busy.

There is no doctor's appointment available until the following day. Boy's temperature creeps up and up despite maxing out on pain relievers. He is whining but too tired to tell me what he wants.

After another night of fun and games, during which Boy's temperature spiked to nearly 40 degrees before he started demanding Elmo and stories at 4am, post diarrhoea and Calpol. Girl was quite happy as long as everyone else was awake and entertaining her. When the sun came up - you guessed it, the kids were looking expectantly for entertainment, perfect temperatures and nothing but a runny nose and a smelly bin to show for the previous night.

We went down to the GP anyway. I was so sure she would look at me like I was crazy for bringing such a healthy looking child to see her that I didn't confess that his whining was because in my sleep deprived stupor I hadn't given anyone any breakfast. So she took his ravenous protesting and thermometer battered lugs for sickness and by the time the fever returned at 2pm Boy was already started on an antibiotic.

The TV embargo is out the window until I can get some sleep. So it's been an orgy of Sesame Street, Snow White and CeeBeebies much to Boy's snottery delight. If I find Boy and Girl hiding hot water bottles under the covers Dennis the Menace style when they see me coming with the thermometer in years to come I've only myself to blame.

Monday 27 February 2012

Whirlwind Supermammies

We spent this morning at the home of a friend with two children around the same ages as Girl and Boy. I sat and watched in awe as this lady crammed about a month's worth of entertainment - and a hearty lunch - into two hours.

Boy was utterly enthralled as toy trains followed play dough, stories, hide and seek and a box full of toys - and aren't all toys so much better when they belong to someone else? When the rice-filled balloons came out all four children were bursting with glee. The balloons burst too, of course but not before lots of headers, throwing, kicking, catching and rubbing on the small babies' heads to produce some seriously spiky do's. My favourite part of the morning was watching Boy's wee pal dancing 'The Robot'.

By the time we were ready to leave, both babies were exhausted - as was mammy. They looked mildly disappointed when things returned to their usual pace this afternoon. Eh mammy we've been playing with these pipe cleaners for seven minutes here, what's next?

Sunday 26 February 2012

Piano, Rugby and Healthy Chocolate Spread

One of my favourite ways to entertain the babies is to play the piano to them. I play for myself every day, which they sometimes enjoy, sometimes join in with, and applaud as frequently as they scream in protest. But when I play nursery rhymes and tunes they know it is so rewarding when they show recognition at a tune and sing or dance along. Boy is finally at the stage where he can make requests too. For a long time I used to have to play the first few bars of song after song while he shouted NO! until I reached whichever one he wanted. Which could be anything from The Wheels on the Bus to The Entertainer. Now he can actually name the song he wants, which makes the whole process much more rewarding.

We worked our way through a bunch of In the Night Garden songs, the Waybuloo theme, Baa Baa Black Sheep and Frere Jacques. I finally stopped midway through Row Your Boat when I realised Girl was not squealing in delight, but squealing for help as Boy was "rowing" her rather over enthusiastically around the room. So if you do play any instrument, however badly, remember to put away the Bach now and again and see if you can pick out some nursery tunes for your wee ones. I love to let them have a bash too when they want to, and if I don't applaud con brio I am soon put in my place.

This afternoon B and I sat down to watch Scotland play France in the Six Nations rugby tournament. Though Scotland lost the game, and I lost my ever hopeful bet at the bookies, the game was eventful enough for Boy and Girl to both get the hang of shouting, cheering and clapping. Boy even clutched his hair in mock dismay when a young Scottish player grabbed a fine opportunity only to be denied by a gigantic French Ent. But the big grin and lack of genuine woe on his face betrayed the parrot fashion of his actions. Spending an hour and a half this way is quite eventful for our family, since this is the most exposure the babies are ever likely to get of TV sport. Unless Yojojo pretending to be a carrot and chanting om counts.

Today was also unusually successful food-wise. Boy finally asked for a beetroot biscuit after he realised that Girl had almost made her way through the entire batch. He even ate the whole thing. I also whipped together a genius home-made dairy free no-added-sugar chocolate spread recipe that I stole from Dr Oz:

Six medjool dates, half an avocado and four level tablespoons of cocoa powder, plus a little water to thin. Zapped with the hand blender, it looks like nutella, tastes really, really sweet and presto! Boy is eating dates and avocado! I scooped it into a pot and gave him the jug and a spoon to scrape it with. He was in seventh heaven and has been in a fantastic mood ever since. He even ate all his dinner, no fuss. There was a mild panic when we thought his toe was bleeding in the bath, but it turned out to be chocolate.

So despite losing a fiver I'd say all in all, today was a winner.

Saturday 25 February 2012

Kinvara and Home Cinema

We've been planning a visit to Dunguaire Castle for months and finally got around to taking the kids there today along with one of Boy's wee girlfriends and her mammy. If only we had checked the opening times, we would have known that the castle is closed October-March.

In the end we had a great morning anyway. We took a stroll around the castle, stopping to pick up a geocache halfway round. The lower walk was easy enough for the toddlers to manage but not obvious enough to entice the throngs of tourists jamming their noses and camera lenses through the locked castle gates. It also offered a good view across the water's edge to the pretty village of Kinvara, about half a mile from the castle itself. On reflection, the babies probably had a better time scrambling over the grass and rocks than they would have if we had gone straight in to the castle.

Afterwards we took another walk around Kinvara itself and Boy and his pal had a merry old time chasing each other, blowing bubbles, and picking daisies to stick in their woolly hats (Girl was forcibly adorned too).

After deciding we needed a coffee to warm up we soon discovered that the castle is not the only part of Kinvara that closes for winter. Our favourite spot, Burren Beo was closed, as was my friend's cafe of choice. In the end we stopped into Keogh's pub. Their staff were mighty understanding about the two mischief makers - as were their other customers who happened to be friends, thank goodness for the small small world of County Galway.

On the drive home I reflected how much more fun Boy appears to have when there is another child his age to share it with. I'm hoping when Girl gets on her feet they can provide that company to each other.

This evening we tried watching a proper video all together for the first time. B lit a fire, we all got into PJs and I made popcorn and hot dogs for dinner with bottles of water (that's all the food groups, right?). We decided to shun the more predictable Disney cartoon classics for my favourite childhood film, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Sorry Johnny Depp, you're cute and all that but no one could ever replace Gene Wilder in the role of Mr Wonka. That actor is one of a kind. Moreover, Oompa Loompas should not all look exactly alike - terribly racist, or at least xenophobic towards Loompaland. But enough of social politics for the insane...

We hoped at least to get to Augustus Gloop's downfall and the first Oompa Loompa chorus before one of the babies lost interest, puked, or otherwise halted the proceedings. In the end we somehow, wonderfully, managed to watch the whole thing. Girl fell asleep somewhere around Violet, you're turning violet, Violet! and Boy was utterly enraptured by the whole film. From the rippling chocolate backdrop of the opening credits he was glued to the screen. He smiled, giggled, danced and didn't seem at all bothered by the scary bits (like that freaky boat ride, anyone?) His only protest came when Mammy overquoted certain bits of the film, and sang along with a little too much gusto but to be fair, Daddy was about ready to throw his popcorn at me too. By the end Boy was happily exhausted and went down to bed with no fuss and a look of sleepy content only matched by yours truly.

We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams...

Friday 24 February 2012

Bubbles and Puddles

After some recent "Long Walks" I came up with the perfect cunning plan to help us move forward and beat the snails to storytime at the library today. Old faithful, a bottle of bubble mix. The plan was to blow bubbles and have Boy chase them, allowing us all to enjoy a walk without constantly trying to find ways to hurry up a bit (ooh, want to walk on that wall up there? ooh look at that dog across the road, come on, let's run and chase that jogger etc etc).

Unfortunately I forgot to have a planning meeting with my old buddy, the freezing February wind, who decided it would be a fine jape to blow the bubbles in the opposite direction to where I was heading, no matter which direction that might be. Twice I had to run and pop the bubbles myself to stop Boy chasing them onto the road. However once he knew I had them there was no going back. More bubbles! Want more more more! Want more bubbles! At one point I discovered if I knelt down the bubbles went straight towards Girl in the buggy, much to her delight. They also hit the ground faster and because it had been raining, many of them hit the ground without bursting, so we were able to see the rainbow colours and our own reflections before stamping on them and screaming POP in a very un-pop-like fashion. That was fun.

Boy spotted some dew on a green plant and spent a good while trying to pop the dewdrops while exclaiming "flower bubbles!" Wrong on both counts, but cute, so I let him off.

Finally I caved and used the even older faithful - puddles - to distract from the contrary bubble fiasco. Boy has a fine pair of colourful wellies that I NEVER remember to put on him. I convince myself several times a week that it's OK for him to ruin his shoes at this point because he'll surely grow out of them soon anyway and need a new pair. I don't listen to the tiny voice of reason who points out that Boy has freakishly small feet that never seem to grow - he's been in the same pair of size fives for nearly six months, and that's only because he lost one of the last pair (also size five). His toenails don't grow either, but I'll save that mystery story for another day.

So the pair of us danced up the street jumping in every puddle we could find on the pavement - yes, that big puddle on the road is for cars - and forgot about wet socks and shoes for a couple of hours. The librarian probably wasn't delighted by the footprints, but both babies were tired out by the time we arrived and for the first time Boy sat (or stood) and listened to a story, while Girl sat on my knee flashing toothy grins to anyone that looked her way.

There's something quite therapeutic about splashing in puddles and I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry that Girl missed out on the fun. Her day will come too though, probably sooner than I would like. I just hope she reminds me to put on her wellies.

Thursday 23 February 2012

Love Your Library

Our local library is less than a ten minute walk from home and somewhat underused by my family. The children adore books and B and I are both readers, but he is a Kindle man and I like to buy my books either new or used. I like to have the freedom of spills, tears and tears (you heard me), especially with Boy and Girl around. To be honest, I haven't finished a book of my choice since Girl was 3 months old, and that was a book of very short stories by Gina Ochsner.

Boy likes the library, but tends to take up all my attention when we are there, especially if it is Storytime, which takes place every Friday. Boy has yet to sit through a whole page of whatever story the patient -if somewhat dry- librarian is reading aloud. Nevertheless he likes the buzz of the other children and enjoys the crayons and fetching me books to read to him (always the Gruffalo, then The Gruffalo's Child, no matter how many times I explain that we already have these at home).

However today I had Girl all to myself and thought I would take her on a rare visit to the library without Boy, so that for once she wouldn't be left in the buggy chewing on a manky old board book while I chase Boy around the bookcases begging him to sit and enjoy any book that doesn't feature the Little Brown/Big Bad Mouse.

She really did enjoy having a story read just to her - I picked Wilde's The Selfish Giant, more out of fond nostalgia than age appropriateness. It did have lovely watercolour illustrations and Girl sat and poking and pulling gently at the pictures while I read her the story. We even made it as far as the Giant's heart melting for the little boy too short to climb a tree before she lost interest. We then looked at a couple of touchy feely books, although they didn't have any from our favourite series, Watt & Wells' "That's not my...".

Eventually Girl's happy noises started to get slightly fractious and I got ready to leave. But we didn't walk out of the door before I renewed my library membership and picked myself up a little treat. Once Girl fell asleep I strolled to the nearest cafe where I sat with cup of tea and lemon and devoured Sanctuary a Galway murder mystery by Ken Bruen - thanks to AnnieJMac for the impassioned recommendation.

Later this evening B gave an astounding rendition of The Gruffalo's Child to the delight of Boy and Girl. I've no idea how he keeps the enthusiasm in his voice even 274 recitations later. I'm frequently tempted to video him and post it on youtube for quick access during those times when I just can't read it again.

I feel I've already got my €2 worth from rejoining the library and may even get another book finished before the end of 2012. One that isn't by Julia Donaldson that is. Happy reading!

Wednesday 22 February 2012

Vegetable Dog Treats for Fussy Boys

Just a quickie tonight as I am wrecked (said the mammy to the daddy...)

I went all Nigella and cooked up some beetroot biscuits in a desperate attempt to get some veggies (and therefore vitamins) down Boy's throat. I boiled up my own beets but you can use the ready cooked kind (not pickled!). You could also replace the beets with carrots, spinach or courgette for different colours and flavours.

The recipe (adapted from Annabel Karmel and www.weelicious.com):

Mix together a cup of plain flour with a teaspoon of baking powder, a small handful of grated cheese and a pinch of salt. Mix in one grated beetroot (I used a zester for a really fine shred) and two tablespoons of sunflower oil. Knead to a dough, adding a little water from the beets if needed to moisten it up. Roll out and cut into bite sized pieces. You could easily use a biscuit cutter for fancy shapes. Throw into a pre-heated oven for 15 minutes at a high heat.

I was quite pleased with the result until my friend came over for lunch and asked why I had made dog treats.

Later, Boy took one bite and looked like I'd poisoned him. I think he was expecting strawberry flavour because of the colour. However when Girl munched hers noisily in front of him he came back for another sniff, so I think I will try him again with these tomorrow.

He only has to eat 20 of them for one of his five-a-day. I should be on the food network channel.

Tuesday 21 February 2012

The Pancake and the Pig

Stop! You look like a delicious pancake. Please let me eat you.

My impromptu pancake art for the parent and toddler group this morning consisted of colouring/drawing a face on a circle of paper and sticking on a couple of lollypop sticks for arms (and legs, and hair, in the case of one wee girl who really got into it). And calling it a pancake man helped too.

But the real fun came from the retelling of The Big Pancake, a classic fairy story which happens to be part of the Ladybird 606D "Well-Loved Tales" series of the 1970s. Sadly I own very few of these books for my children to enjoy, and although I wish they could see the wonderful artwork by Robert Lumley and Eric Winter, the stories themselves are fondly emblazoned onto my memory from my own childhood.

The Big Pancake is a tale of a pancake cooked up for seven hungry little boys who end up chasing it down the street. In a similar fashion to The Gingerbread Boy the pancake is chased by various people and animals who want to eat it up but it rolls on down the street refusing to stop until a savvy pig offers to accompany the pancake into a forest. The pancake accepts a ride across the river on the pig's snout, and snap, the pig gobbles him up. If only he'd read The Gingerbread Boy he would have surely seen this coming (though the cunning beneficiary was a fox in that story, I think). As with so many of these stories, the greatest enjoyment comes from the repetition and simplicity that makes children feel like the story is an old favourite from just a few pages in.

If you do look for a copy of this story I would strongly recommend picking up an earlier Ladybird edition as the publishers replaced the vastly superior Lumley illustrations in later editions for some unfathomable reason. Or maybe that's the nostalgia speaking.

In case you were wondering, we did eat pancakes today too. Our lovely neighbour threw a little pancake party, though Girl was only interested in chewing a magazine and Boy spent the entire evening demanding chocolate cake - he'd seen me bring over the remaining cookie cups we made yesterday. I got mine though...and it was a delicious pancake!

Monday 20 February 2012

Tea Party and Baking Cookie Cups

Last week I picked up a lovely dolls' porcelain tea set for a real bargain. I couldn't wait any longer for Girl to get old enough to use it with her dolls, so at lunch time today I sat down on the living room playmat with Girl, Boy, Upsy Daisy and Teddy and we enjoyed a little sexism-free doll's tea party.



When planning the tea party in my head I had all sorts of fantastic and super creative Enid Blyton-esque ideas for what to serve. Rainbow jelly, home made sausage rolls, cream scones and real cooled tea for starters. But in time honoured tradition, I couldn't really be bothered spending hours on a spectacular tea party at which Boy would likely turn up his nose, and which Girl would need liquidised anyway. So I poured a drop of milk in the teapot and put a pinwheel sandwich (peanut butter and banana) atop a slice of strawberry on each plate.

Well I was pleasantly surprised with how much entertainment this simple spread provided. Boy insisted on pouring cup after cup of "tea" for himself and the dolls, while Girl sat really well and gobbled up the strawberry and sandwiches. We pretended to feed the dolls and made lots of yummy noises. Although a fair bit of milk ended up on the floor, it was a lovely way for Boy to practise his co-ordination and pouring skills, while enjoying the whole social ritual of a tea party.



Once we had finished, Boy gathered up all the dishes unprompted and took them to the kitchen sink (after attempting to put them in the bin, but still). Then he asked to wash his hands. This is usually code for "I want to stand at the sink and see how much water I can direct onto everything within 20 feet." But actually he wanted to continue playing with the little tea set. He filled the cups with water and drank from them, then "washed" them and put them on the drying rack. Over, and over, and over again.

Later, inspired the success of the tea party I went all Nigella and made chocolate cookie cups filled with yoghurt and fruit (and a sneaky spoon of nutella for mammy and daddy) for after dinner. They were so simple to make and looked quite fancy and inviting. And they were pretty tasty too. I used my tried and tested chocolate chip cookie recipe which Boy helped with (flour EVERYWHERE but who cares!) and a muffin tin. We put a ball of cookie dough in each muffin case and poked a hole in the middle, then baked in a hot pre-heated oven for 15 minutes. Once cooled, put a spoon of yoghurt in the middle of each cup and top with a couple of pieces of fruit. Easy peasy.



I hope we have another tea party soon, if not for another chance to use the sweet porcelain tea set, then for another reason to make yummy chocolate cookie cups and serve them to friends. And to encourage all this manly dish washing of course.



Sunday 19 February 2012

Ailwee Cave and Birds of Prey Centre

It was another really beautiful day today - and a proper sunny Sunday in February demands nothing less than a trip to the beautiful Burren. We recently spent a fiver's worth of Tesco clubcard vouchers on a €20 token for the Ailwee caves in north Clare and today seemed like the perfect day to use them. My favourite part of any day trip to this part of the country is - no competition - the drive from Kinvara to Ballyvaughan. On a sunny day the Burren hills to the left look almost purple, Galway Bay on the right is the kind of blue found in Mediterranean travel brochures, the houses dotted around look like Lego creations and the views are just breathtaking.

The Ailwee Cave is set on a large site with enough to occupy a family or group of any age for at least several hours. We buy a combined ticket for the Bird of Prey centre and the cave, costing us an extra €14 on top of our token. By the time we arrive it is nearly midday and we head straight to the Bird of Prey Centre where we take a walk around the owls, hawks, buzzards and other birds, who eye up Girl like a particularly rare feast they might partake in if we would only turn away for a moment (we don't). Soon it is time for the flying display and we sit on wooden benches facing a truly beautiful backdrop of Ailwee Mountain. B and I have been to Disney-type bird shows before, but this is quite different. There are only three birds shown - an owl, an eagle and a falcon. Although the birds do fly for the reward of some unspecified furry looking titbits (and I'm sure I saw some toes too), they do not perform "tricks" and the atmosphere is one of education and caring for the birds. The speakers are knowledgeable and friendly. They encourage questions and there is even an opportunity for older children (fine, and me) to have a rather friendly eagle perch on a leather-gloved arm. Both babies really enjoy the show, despite its length and lack of pizzazz and Boy spends the next hour or so asking "where's the owl?" Or he might be saying "where's Elmo?". Sometimes it is hard to tell. We leave shortly before the end of the show, as both babies are reaching the end of their patience.

There is a charming but steep woodland walk up to the cave, but we decide to take the car up so as to reach the top before closing time next Friday. We don't have long to wait for the next cave tour. The tour lasts around 30 minutes, and buggies are not allowed. A guide takes us along the first part of the loop, then lets us find our way back ourselves. The cave is interesting, but not spectacular. While there are stalagmites and stalactites, waterfalls and a few bones, there are better examples of these features in other showcaves in Ireland (e.g. Crag Cave in Co Kerry). Nevertheless, Boy really enjoys the cave. He walks most of the tour himself and stays in good humour long past his nap time. Girl falls asleep in B's arms.

Once the cave tour is finished we head back into the sunshine. Boy tries to drag us up the Ailwee mountain itself. Sadly Girl is now awake and yelling and B's arms have lost all feeling so we have to cut the walk very short. This was a pity as it was such a beautiful day and there is a lovely mountain path with truly stunning views. We leave vowing to come back and climb the mountain again when the babies are a little older. We stop at the farm shop on the way out, but despite promises of homemade fudge and award winning cheese, the shop is closed, so we head home munching some award-free, mass produced apple rice cakes instead. The Ailwee Cave is best enjoyed as a fine weather day out, and while the site has a few more attractions during summer (like a kiddies' train ride), we felt it was worth coming in the off-season to avoid the huge crowds of tourists that flock here in summer. We understand why they do, though.

Saturday 18 February 2012

A Pain in the Swings

Play parks seem such a simple, cost-free, and fun way of spending time with your children. So when I saw what a sunny morning it was I wondered why I hadn't taken the kids in so long. There is a small but very adequate playpark less than five minute's walk from home, so I set off with the double buggy to give B a couple of hours' peace and quiet.

Less than half an hour later I suddenly remembered why we hadn't been to the park in so long. We head straight for the swings as usual. Boy and Girl sit side by side in the baby swings and we indulge in the usual Ready, steady, go! and Got your feet! Got your tummy! Got your nose! Both babies are in fits of giggles, grinning at each other and generally the picture of happy families. After about 10 or 15 minutes I try and persuade Boy to try playing on the slide or the roundabout for a change. He shakes his head, so I push for another five minutes. Now Girl is getting cold. Out she comes and gets wrapped up in the buggy.

I gently extract Boy and nudge him towards the slide. He climbs the ladder, with a bit of help then stands at the top whining incoherently. In the end I have to lift him down and he runs straight back to the swings. A familiar creeping sense of foreboding has suddenly come across me. After another five minutes, my hands are numb and Girl is turning slightly blue. The sun may be shining, but let's be real here: it's Galway, and it's February.

The usual snack and chugger bribery has failed. Eventually I drag Boy kicking and screaming from the park just in time to run into a friend taking her pink and smiling baby out for a morning stroll. I try to swap buggies without her noticing but she's too smart for me. Boy is headbutting the side bars of the buggy and wailing as if I have just deprived him of the only pleasure he has ever experienced. This tantrum lasts half an hour (yes, I timed it). That's longer than we spent in the park altogether. Eventually he falls asleep, nose smooshed into the front bar of the buggy, just moments before we reach home.

It may be a while before we go to the swings again. There is plenty of other fun to be had: watch this space...

Friday 17 February 2012

Friday Fun

Today has been a somewhat frenetic mix of playing with friends (Boy), gossip with other mammies (me), puking (Girl), sleeping (Girl and Boy), cooking (me), eating (me, B and Girl), more puking (Girl), refusing to eat (Boy), tantrums (me and Boy), jogging in the rain (me and B), cutting, gluing and colouring (me, Boy and B), eating glue (Girl), yet more puking (Girl) and collapsing with exhaustion (all of the above).

It was great to catch up with a couple of friends this morning, and Boy was thrilled to see his little girlfriend. No clever activities needed, just a lot of shrieking, banging, running in circles and cuddling. I got to hold an ADORABLE three-week old baby, and I introduced another friend to the joys of feeding her almost-2 year-old toddler a lemon for the first time (with camera at the ready, naturally).

Thursday 16 February 2012

Foam Party

Sadly I am not 19 and getting soapy drunk in the student union again. Please, that's so 1996.

Nope, I'm doing a version of the good old shaving-foam-on-a-tray activity. This one has the added fun element of actually making the foam yourself using a glug of Fairy liquid, a splash of water and a hand blender. To those of you who just thought, "eww, but I use my blender for food", hurray! I'm not the only dullard on this web page! To those of you who just thought "what an eejit", perhaps the University Challenge blog might be more up your virtual street.

I first tried the activity this morning with Girl, and although I didn't get the squeals of delight I had imagined after reading the idea from HandsOnAsWeGrow, the foam definitely caught her attention and she plunged her hands straight into it.

Sometimes it is hard to appreciate a sensory experience like this from the point of view of an eight month old. While she was exploring the foam with her hands (and mouth, naturally, yuck) I was immediately wondering why she wasn't enjoying the activity. Why isn't she smiling and cackling with glee? I must be doing something wrong. So I started splashing about in the foam myself, which resulted very quickly in a big splodge of soapsuds flying into her eye and splat, that was the end of that. It was only afterwards I realised it might have been wiser to just let her get on with it instead of trying to force the foamy fun.

When Boy returned home from creche, the leftover jug of foam had returned to its original state, so we got to whizz it up again with the hand blender. Girl was immediately itching to get her hands and mouth sparkly clean but Boy was reluctant to even touch the foam. I tried driving his chuggers through it - he was not impressed - and putting splodges on my face and Girl's head. He managed to crack a smile at this but still wouldn't touch. However when I got out some measuring cups he immediately got stuck in, scooping up foam with one cup and pouring it into another.

Overall it was a pretty successful activity. The babies got to experience the texture, smell, taste(!) and other sensations from playing with the foam. I learned a good lesson about taking a back seat. My hand blender is now VERY clean. And I am very keen to see whether Himself notices that I'm just refilling his shaving cream with washing up liquid from now on.

Wednesday 15 February 2012

Bounce and Rhyme

Wind the bobbin up
Wind the bobbin up
Pull, pull, clap clap clap

Wind it back again
Wind it back again
Pull, pull, clap clap clap

Point to the ceiling, point to the floor, 
Point to the window, point to the door. 
Clap your hands together, one, two, three
Put your hands upon your knee.

I started running Bounce and Rhyme classes when Boy turned 7 months. Coincidentally, I restarted them when Girl reached the same age. Once a week, on Wednesday afternoons, a small crowd of parents, babies and toddlers meet up in a corner of a local entertainment centre  and we sing nursery rhymes, play simple percussion instruments and enjoy other songs, rhymes, puppets and bubbles. The class is a drop-in, so no two weeks are the same. One week may full of busy toddlers running around and demanding their favourite song, while the next may be primarily small babies who sit and bounce on their mammy's knee and expending more energy chewing tambourines rather than hitting them.

Today was a rather smaller group than usual, maybe due to the half-term break. Despite this, there was every age group, from the smallest snoozing newborn, through sitters, crawlers and wobblers right up to the two and three year old pros, some of whom have been coming since they were really tiny.

There is Girl and her wee buddy who sit clapping, dribbling and chuckling through Horsie Horsie, a two year old who spends most of the class running round in circles, only pausing to wag his finger fiercely during Five Little Monkeys and Miss Polly Had a Dolly. Another older toddler who takes great delight in shrieking when we pretend to sleep for Sleeping Bunnies. A 9 month old who has come for her first class threatens to fall asleep during Twinkle Twinkle but soon perks up when the instruments come out. And for myself and the other Scottish mum who showed up today, there's nothing quite like hearing a room full of Irish mammies singing Ali Bali Bee and Ye Canny Shove yer Granny aff a Bus.

When the class is over, the children enjoy the ball pool while the mammies enjoy a well-earned cup of coffee. I feel sad that Boy is missing out on Bounce and Rhyme these days, but not quite sad enough to torture myself by having to mind both my babies while protecting my stash of bubbles and jumping around like a Dingle Dangle Scarecrow. Or am I?

Bounce and Rhyme for children aged 3 months to 3 years is on at City Limits, Oranmore every Wednesday at 2.30pm. No booking necessary.

Tuesday 14 February 2012

The Messiest Cupboard in the World

Recently I was asked to run arts and crafts at one of the local weekly parent and toddler groups. So this morning, laden down with cereal box cut out hearts, I celebrated a quick weight watchers victory (congratulations! You're back down to the weight you were a month ago - you know, that weight goal you celebrated by eating chips for the next three weeks) and hurried off to the Parent and Toddler group.

This group is held in a soft play centre, so I was surprised when so many little faces appeared in the craft corner just minutes after I arrived. On opening the art cupboard I felt, for the first time ever, an odd sense of smug pride that someone somewhere was indeed capable of maintaining a messier cupboard than I. After raking through shelves and shelves of half finished creations, crunchy paintbrushes and a surprising number of empty crisp packets and raisin boxes (ick) I finally scraped together three Pritt sticks (two of which where completely dried up) two broken red crayons (itched to steal for my collection, but resisted), five tiny scraps of red felt and a few sheets of pink sugar paper. Good enough!

If I do say it myself, the project was a resounding success. So much so that all the decorated hearts and Valentine cards were made and taken away before I got a chance to snap them. (The one below came from Boy, made at crèche). Now let's be clear: we are talking about 2 year olds here. It was a resounding success for about 9 minutes. 11 if you count the kids who showed up after everyone else had finished. But a success nevertheless. Especially considering I was competing with a bouncy castle.

I spent the next half hour clearing out one section of the Messiest Cupboard in the World. Externally I was tutting and shaking my head as any tidy, organised Supermammy should. But inside I was beaming with pride and couldn't help thinking, "imagine if Grunny could see me now?"

Monday 13 February 2012

Morning Stroll

Had a parcel to post today, so set out for the Post Office at 10am for what should have been the 20 minute gentle stroll there and back. This turned into a 3 hour hike - due not to any detours, but only to the incomprehensibly slow pace of Boy, who acts as if sitting in the double buggy is an admission of weakness and takes any encouragement to do so as a personal slight. After keeping Mammy and Daddy awake for most of the night, Girl passes out the second we step out the front door and stays asleep for most of the morning.

The 2km walk to the shops has its own familiar waypoints. Stage One is the tantrum that invariably occurs as we pass the first coffee shop and Boy realises we are walking straight past. Stage two is The Wall. The Wall is an excellent distractor from Stage One. Its primary reasons for being are to be walked upon or jumped off, although today it manages a hat trick, serving as train tracks for Wilson-Chugger. Chatsworth lies neglected in Boy's buggy seat. Action Chugger lies in the river, where Boy threw him during Stage Four last week.

A single early tulip has somehow appeared in someone's garden and I show Boy how to smell it. For the rest of the morning he stops and sniffs every plant, blade of grass, mossy wall and ivy covered telegraph pole, letting his breath go with a delighted "ahhh". I draw the line and the old cigarette butt he picks up to sniff.

Stage Three is the third coffee shop. By this time Girl is snoring hard, Boy is practically walking backwards he's so slow, and I am desperate for a breather."The usual?" calls the waitress as we enter, reminding me just a little too hard that we come in here just a little too often. Boy remembers his manners: "Peas", as his espresso cup of milk is set down in front of him. When the toast arrives he bawls "Mammylade! Mammylade!" but the waitress is on the ball and three little portions of marmalade appear immediately. I hide two of them, as usual.

When Girl wakes up and unabashedly steals the last of the toast it's time to leave and resume the snail's crawl to Stage Four: the river. We used to feed the ducks at the bridge regularly until one day I realised there wasn't a duck in sight and Boy was just as happy standing by the river eating stale bread. Now I just use "The Ducks!" as a way to keep him moving in the right direction. By the time we reach the river the shops are finally in view and it's a race to get to the post office before it closes for lunch.

Stage Five: just yards from the post office an escalator beckons and Boy takes the requisite tantrum. Luckily the tractor ride provides a speedy distraction. I have never yet put any money in the tractor ride, but that doesn't seem to bother Boy and finally at five minutes to 12 we reach the Post Office. The Long Walk Home follows much the same pattern, although we manage without a coffee break. Wilson-Chugger gets driven along the walls and windowsills of the opposite side of the road and by the time we reach home Boy has finally succumbed to the buggy, ready to pass out for his afternoon nap, while Girl decides this would be a splendid time to wake up, just in case Mammy got ideas above her station, like the possibility of getting some shut-eye herself. Ah the joys.

Sunday 12 February 2012

Valentine Arts

(That was a play on "hearts", did you get it?)

Decided to try a little craft project with Boy today - a straightforward Valentine's heart shaped collage suggested by http://galway.mykidstime.ie/d/things-do/art-crafts/valentine-craft-children. It took about half an hour to make, though Boy's sole contribution was a very grudging thump on one of the little bits of paper to make sure it was properly stuck down. I don't think he's really into the whole arts and crafts thing - yet - but I will persist and make a little Van Gogh out of him yet. Or someone equally artistic but with fewer tendencies towards self-mutilation. He did enjoy proudly presenting the finished product to Daddy while I swallowed back my feelings of plagiarised creative pride. Girl enjoyed scrunching up the leftover magazine pages and chewing on the cereal box cut-offs. So at least someone got some enjoyment out of it.

I will try this project again on Tuesday at the City Limits mother and toddler group in Oranmore, but will be using much smaller hearts for a quicker result. We will also only glue the collage on one side and write a little "Happy Valentine's Day" message on the other side. If they work, I'll even post a picture.

Saturday 11 February 2012

Bunratty Castle and Geocaching

We decided to test out Boy's swanky new car seat today by taking a spin down to Bunratty Castle in Co. Clare. This is a lovely day out for all ages, though to be honest we rarely set foot inside the actual castle. The best part for us - especially on a sunny day like today - is the Folk Park where 19th Century  life is recreated with cottages and a typical village street.

It is easy to spend a whole day wandering around Bunratty Castle and Folk Park, but at this time of year it is very quiet and not as much atmosphere as there is during the busier months. The cheaper entry fee reflects this. A Shannon heritage family membership is a true bargain - currently only €100, a membership includes admission and parking to all 7 Shannon Heritage sites as well as a 10% discount at the giftshops and tearooms and discounted admission for guests. Membership is valid for 12 months from date of purchase. Since we know we can come back at any time, we let Boy lead us where he wants to go (straight to the tea room, naturally, which was closed, followed by any muddy puddles he can find) and leave happily before an hour is up as he is clearly ready for a nap.

The babies enjoy looking at the animals -ducks and geese roam freely, and horses, pigs and other animals can be found round each corner. Boy is always especially enamoured by the old schoolhouse. I think it's the sound of his feet on the old wooden floorboards, and he loves to sit at the old desks. I hope he loves school this much when it is no longer optional. There is also a doctor's house, drapery, printworks and grocer among the many buildings, but most of these are closed for the winter season. In summer the shops open and you can actually buy bits and pieces in most of them (including the pub!). Halfway up the village street we bump into a friendly man taking the Bunratty Irish Wolfhounds on a stroll. These dogs are HUGE but so gentle and friendly that the babies don't bat an eyelid. The man stops to chat and gives us the lowdown on these fabulous hounds and their history. There is a lovely wooden playground too, but Boy is happy to leave before we reach it.

Somebody asked me about geocaching yesterday, and I realised we haven't been on a cache hunt for months and months. On consulting the iPhone app we discover a quick cache just a few hundred metres from the entrance to the castle, and stop to find it on our way in. I will definitely write about geocaching in more detail another day, but now I'm off to dream about Irish Wolfhounds and toddlers who don't think rolling in mud is the height of a cultural day out.

Calling Grumpy and Galway Atlantaquaria

(10th Feb, 2012 at 2:33 PM)

Started the day beautifully by making the classic mistake of mentioning Grunny to Boy. Let me set the scene: Girl in high chair munching porridge and blueberries for breakfast. Boy, having refused porridge, Shreddies, a tangerine, yoghurt and milk (and after me refusing him the meringue he asked for), happily sits colouring in some junk mail at the kitchen table. One crayon even snaps in two - whoopee! A new broken crayon for my collection! What a serene family scene. And then I make the ultimate mistake - "that's a great picture - shall we send it to Grunny?"

Three minutes later Boy is on the floor screaming, arms and legs pumping and bottom lip stuck out 3 inches. You see, In this house, if you are two, "Grunny" means Skype. Immediately. So I phone Grunny in Scotland, but she's not home. Thankfully Grumpy answers and agrees to do a quick hello on Skype. Another three minutes pass. Boy is purple in the face and sobbing and Girl is joining in the fun now too. The phone rings and Grumpy says he doesn't know the password. Aaargh. I'm not wholly convinced - it's no secret that Grumpy isn't a fan of Skype's jumpy video signal. In the end he says a few words over the speakerphone while Boy stares at it as if Grumpy's face will appear in the receiver at any moment. Finally Boy waves goodbye, which I explain to Grumpy who has become confused at the sudden silence. The tantrum is interrupted and I take the opportunity to bundle the kids into the car.

Today we are heading to Atlantaquaria in Salthill. Both kids are exhausted from all the wailing and are fast asleep by the time we get there. I take the opportunity to sit in the car for a few minutes and enjoy the peace. Soon Girl wakes up and I put her in the little pushchair and then wake up Boy. We bought an annual membership last year and it was definitely worth the money. We can pop in for a wee look any time we are in Salthill, plus I don't feel obliged to spend hours on a visit just to get my money's worth.

We meet my friend and her two kids and the boys have a great time running around together. The aquarium is very quiet so there aren't many people for them to annoy. They especially love the little submarine near the entrance, the large window where Eddie the Wreckfish and a truly giant white skate can be found, and splashing about in the starfish pool upstairs. The small babies love it too. Girl is looking all around, both at the fish and at the boys, while my friend's baby of 3 months is smiling and looking all around at the lighting. All the kids got a lot out of the visit and we all enjoy a cup of coffee in the cafe afterwards. By the time we get home both kids have passed out again, but this time it's after a morning of really good fun! Atlantaquaria is open 7 days, free for under 3s, and has fish-feeding times every day as well as special events for older children when school's out.

New Beginnings

(9 Feb 2012)
I have spent the last month trawling blogs for cool things to do with my babies. Found some very cool things, but they often don't quite work out the way I want. Like today, I saw this article about making heart-shaped rainbow crayons for valentines day, using broken crayons and heart shaped silicon baking molds: http://mollymoo.ie/2012/02/for-crayon-out-loud/

I got all excited and started emptying the cupboards looking for a heart-shaped silicon ice cube tray I bought in Ikea ages ago. No luck. I did find the formula dispenser I bought for Boy and couldn't find this time round. I also found a silicon ice cube mold for making little fishy ice cubes. That'll do I thought. So I started hunting down all the boxes of crayons scattered round the house and collecting up the broken bits. I especially look out for bright colours as the instructions suggest. An hour later I have 6 tiny bits of broken crayon. And four of them are navy. Girl is wailing to be fed. Boy has gone to bed. DH suggests I break up some whole crayons to melt down if I'm that desperate. I take the high road. I have decided to start collecting bits of broken crayon in a special tin, and make valentines' crayon fishies next year instead.

Hoping my blog will progress to become a little more inspiring.