Life through a lens

 

31.10.12.

 

 

Today's plan was supposed to be a walk on the Downs, a stroll around Ditchling and then lunch at 'The Bull'. I feel like I am dating my son. As it happened, the weather was not a patch on the sunny gorgeousness of yesterday. I feared the boy and I may blow away (in the manner of the house on 'Up'), if we were to venture up to Ditchling Beacon.

 

 

The consolation prize was a rather dull meander up to Fiveways, to post a card, book a hair appointment and generally stop and stare at buses/trucks/signs/grids. It wasn't a really lengthy walk, but it's quite hilly where we live, and we had left the house sans pushchair. I did therefore have to carry an increasingly heavy Dexter for part of the way.

 

 

Upon returning home and packing away a hefty portion of spag bol, the boy retired to his boudoir and conked out for over three hours, only getting up because I woke him.

 

 

During that time, I lazed, read, browsed the Internet, and went a little Instagram crazy.

 

 

I'm a relative newcomer to the soft-focus, flatteringly lit, 'look at how great my life is', world of Instagram - but I love it! As a social networking junkie (Facebook, Twitter and Blogspot are my friends but Pinterest confuses me), I wholeheartedly embrace this clever little app which allows you to journal every nook and cranny of your life in photographic form. Now, people are lying if they don't admit to doing a teeny bit of showing off on Instagram: it has the ability to make your latest haircut/outfit/magazine/pet/child/breakfast/grey hair look totally seductive and covetous. I myself am guilty of 'setting up' shots and feeling like a pro when I select the soft focus feature, to capture an otherwise banal moment in my day. I have to also add at this point that I did buck this particular trend a few weeks ago by documenting the gunkiness of my conjunctivitis-riddled eye in all its glory - sorry Hannah - but by and large, I genuinely believe Instagram to be a healthy way to live in the moment and appreciate the every day.

 

 

I'm naturally quite materialistic. I like nice stuff - always have done - and I get a bit sulky that my budget doesn't quite match my aesthetic aspirations. I've started to use Instagram to frame my surroundings in a way that makes me appreciate what I've got. So, while the boy recovered from what amounted to a walk to the local shop, I was furiously snapping his room (which is my favourite room in the house), his tiny sleeping body, and even his bath being run. 

 

 

I guess in the spirit of this blog, all these new-fangled apps and websites, allow us to document the present which I believe is such a wonderful archive to be able to hand down to our children. I've always been fascinated by photos; I've got bags and bags of them in the loft. I love nothing more than a visual nostalgia trip. I think Dexter will be really privileged to be given such a record of his life, his 'moment' in a technological age - albeit one that is recorded in the faux sepia tones of 1977!

 

 

Disclaimer: I'm also incredibly nosey and a complete interiors perv. Instagram satisfies both vices.

Old McDonald's had a farm...

30.10.12.

 

 

So, today's activity was Blackberry Farm. A quick browse on the Internet meant that Google flagged up this Sussex-based attraction as the ideal family day out. Given it's just the boy and me this week, I felt we could manage to put our wellies on and venture out into the countryside to bother some beasties.

 

 

After paying a small fortune for the entrance fee and a cup of animal food - I was totally aware of the cynical marketing ploy to get your paying customers to also pay to feed your livestock, but felt obliged to buy some as every other bloomin' middle class parent was clutching a cup - we made our way in. Dexter headed straight for the gravel, mud and puddles, in that order. He became fixated on the duck pond and showed absolutely zero interest in any of the rotund, four-legged animals (all those cups of food had rendered most of them grossly overweight/borderline arthritic). I did distract him for approximately six minutes as we bumped around in a rickety trailer attached to the back of a tractor, driven by a ruddy-faced boy with great carroty fingers. I was rather taken by the miniature donkeys; Dexter favoured trying to kneel in a puddle.

 

 

As lunchtime approached, we headed for the farm cafe. There was a large queue and word on the street/pathway/hedgerow, was that food would be an half hour wait. Fearing a total meltdown that would rouse the invisible farm pigs from their conspicuously empty sties, I whizzed the boy away and popped him back in the car. I say 'popped' him back in the car, but first I had to strip him of his dungarees as he seemed to have been conducting his own science experiment in the puddles, sticking his feet/legs in them to see just how much is the optimum amount of foetid water some Gap denim can absorb in one morning.

 

I knew we wouldn't make it home without a pit-stop, and besides, this is our week for 'doing stuff'. I took Dexter to *whispers* McDonald's. We drove through (or 'thru' I believe is the hideous vernacular); I had a Big Mac and he had his first Happy Meal. We ate it in the salubrious surroundings of Uckfield Tesco's car park.

 

I drove home with shame seeping through the discarded brown paper bag in the footwell, launching fries into Dexter's mouth to keep him awake. We had to stop at a garage on the way back as the boy suffered a spontaneous nose bleed - I can only assume it was the Karmic god of organic, over-priced fruit pouches punishing me for my terrible parenting sin.

 

He slept all afternoon - clearly a potent combination of mud, country air and saturated fat. Happy days!

 

 

 



Oh we do like to be beside the (deserted) seaside!

29.10.12.

 

 

Another early start (early for us, anyway). Cat number one (the fattest, and arguably most mental), was due her annual health-check and vaccinations. I had to take the boy with me. He was relatively well-behaved, but a bit giddy. As he furiously opened and closed the door of the cat basket and then tried to get in said carrying case, the vet responded to my request that sadly, no, he wasn't allowed to sedate small boys.

 

 

It's a bit grey here today, but as we were up and about, Dexter and I took a bus down to the seafront where we had a hearty yomp along Hove promenade. It was blissfully devoid of people, pleasingly bracing, and just the ticket for blowing away the cobwebs of a long and exhausting term.

 

 

We retreated to a glorious little tea shop in Hove which I'd read about in a magazine my mum had left for me. The boy was very civilised, sitting in a high chair, surrounded by amazing homemade cake and vintage china, whilst demolishing the bread from my sandwich and half a piece of orange blossom cake. A spontaneous visit from a friend, who joined us for a cuppa, completed a jolly start to the glory that is a week off.

 

 

We bussed it home and I put the boy straight to bed. That's where he is now. I've used the opportunity to put a load of washing on and catch up with the blog. The evening is really drawing in, but it's much easier to embrace the indoor cosiness after such a terrific blast of sea air.

 

 

We may venture down there again before the week is out...

Stop all the clocks...

 

28.10.12.

 

 

The clocks went back early this morning. My lovely boy did not stir until 8.45am (so pre clock-change, just before ten!). Whilst I am concerned about his aversion to chatting, I am so grateful he sleeps - it makes everything easier to deal with.

 

 

While I was out pony-bothering and skipping around Waitrose, the boy went out with his Daddy.

 

 

Dexter is still full of cold, snot and a brutal cough, but wrapped up warm, a healthy blast of fresh autumnal air is probably no bad thing. Besides, he was back in bed when I got home!

Food, snooze - and repeat...

 

27.10.12.

 

 

We had to be up early today to take my mum to the airport for her flight back to Manchester. As Team Wayne is never up early at the weekend, we made the most of this opportunity and were at Bill's in Brighton by ten o'clock. We had an epic and delicious breakfast; the boy polished off the 'children's full English', which seemed to rival the normal sized portions for size.

 

 

He lapsed into a food coma for a couple of hours in his pushchair, but awoke to a sunny but freezing Brighton sea-front. By this time, he was hungry again and ate most of a portion of chips.

 

 

While the husband had his hair cut, I took Dexter to the library. A very full tummy and a warm environment seemed to be a potent mixture for the boy. He grabbed his blankie, toddled off behind the librarian's desk and lay down to go to sleep!

 

 

He managed to make it home without snoozing, to more food, and Strictly on the television. It's basically been Dexter's dream Saturday, and a smashing start to half-term week.

Over-tired

26.10.12.

 

 

Last day: the kids were bonkers. We've made it though! I managed all of my marking aside from five essays, which I have no qualms about doing in my week off.

 

 

Yet again, Dexter had the mother of all tantrums on my return; he's too happy spending his days with my mother.

 

 

I'm beyond exhausted.

Pub grub

 

25.10.12.

 

 

It is so brilliant having mum here this week. The house is immaculate, warm, light and smells of 'mum-washing'. She's a marvel! I am really getting through my marking in the hope I will get it all done before half term holidays.

 

 

As a thank you to mum, lift-share friend and I took her to the local for some vino and an early dinner. The boy ate his own body weight in carbs and then filled his nappy. He was swiftly escorted off the premises by Grandma and taken home for a bath and bed.

 

 

They're really bonding this week, to the extent that Dexter has had the most enormous tantrum every day when I have arrived home. Whilst this is totally gutting, I am seeing it in a positive light as evidence that he is just having too nice a time and doesn't want me rocking up to spoil it.

 

 

Hopefully, we'll do some mummy-son bonding next week.

I'm alright, Jack.

24.10.12.

 

 

The boy was in much better spirits today and made it out of the house twice with Grandma. They had a trip to a nearby independent toy shop where my mum bought Dexter a beautiful pirate dolly to try and encourage some imaginative play. Dexter hasn't quite taken to nurturing 'Captain Jack' (as I have named him), but has taken to ignoring him/flinging him out of the way by his legs. It seems he doesn't want a little rag doll buddy. The kitchen cupboard doors are proving to be far more interesting to Dexter. Perhaps there is an elaborate door-based scenario going on in his head. Maybe.

Shared experiences

 

23.10.12.

 

 

Today has been a long day for everyone. I got home from an epic school day to mum and Dexter; the boy was still in his pyjamas. He's really 'out of sorts', and the timing of my mum's visit seems to be fated, as I think he would have been sent home from nursery today. Teething, horrid cold, worn out - the usual.

 

 

I spent an hour on the phone this evening to a London-based friend who is a speech therapist. She was wonderfully helpful, reassuring and knowledgeable - thanks, Amy. It seems that Dexter probably has got some sort of language delay, and we've been given some advice to try to encourage him with the talking, including trying to prompt some imaginative play and shared experiences. I think cuddles with Grandma when you're not feeling tip-top, are probably a good place to start!

Grandma, we love you. Grandma, we do!

22.10.12.

 

 

My mum arrived today; this is a very good thing. She's been picking up from my blog that the latter part of term is a bit of a struggle and we could do with some hands-on support, so it's a bit of a mercy mission really.

 

 

It means a week of no Huffle-Shuffle, quality time for the boy and his grandma, dinner on the table and a washing basket brought back under control.

 

 

Sweet, sweet joy!

Everybody's free!

 

21.10.12.

 

 

I really enjoyed my riding lesson again this week. We do lots of jumping, and it's just so exhilarating.

 

 

I was trying to think on the way home about why putting yourself on a large four-legged animal and getting it to jump over obstacles feels so fantastic. I came to the conclusion that it's all about freedom. For a split second, as rider and horse leave the ground and soar through the air, you sort of disconnect from reality (and sometimes pray you're not going to disconnect from the saddle).

 

 

Whilst I was out, disconnecting from reality, the husband took Dexter to the park. The boy was finally brave enough to go down the big slide unaccompanied, which he loved apparently. I hope he felt his own sense of freedom and exhilaration to nourish his soul.

 

He also got covered in wet sand: back to reality.

Civilised behaviour

 

20.10.12.

 

 

We took a train to Lewes today. I like Lewes. It is bohemian and civilised. There's a lot of terribly polite middle class people with trendy specs, combined with a lot of purple and gilets.


Dexter had a ball: walking everywhere (taking random people out); sausage and mash outside at Bill's; a snooze while Mummy and Daddy had coffee and cake; lovely new books from a fantastic children's bookshop; a go on the swings in a random playground we stumbled upon.


The train back filled with hundreds of Brighton and Hove Albion fans a stop after we had got on. When we arrived at our destination, there were cries of 'Pram coming through!' and Team Wayne was basically escorted off the train. It was a surprisingly civilised end to a very civilised (and relaxing) day.

Cutting back the nap

 

19.10.12.

 

 

At our breakfast stop this morning, Little Lord Wayne was expecting his own croissant: pampered prince. His highness' high expectations were cruelly dashed elsewhere however, as I've asked nursery to wake him an hour earlier from his three hour afternoon naps. He's struggling to settle at night time at the moment and I think he needs to face having a longer day with less sleep.

 

 

At pick-up time, I was informed that the early wake-up call had gone without a hitch. Sarah had been drafted in to wake Dexter up. He must have thought he was still dreaming!

 

 

The boy settled much more quickly and easily this evening, which was fortuitous as it enabled lovely lift-share friend and me to treat ourselves to a much-deserved Friday curry and bottle of white. Happy weekend!

Professional Lady



18.10.12.

 

 

This evening, I posted a photo on Instagram (shamefully addicted) of the jumper I had worn to school. It was my Joules 'Patch' jumper: a birthday gift from the husband, which I'm sure I've blogged about before. It's basically a woolly knit, featuring a rather charming Jack Russell on the front. My tag-line for the photo post commented (tongue in cheek), that my choice of sweater was a professional one, given it was parents' evening.

 

 

It got me thinking about the idea of being 'professional', which to me, roughly translates as 'doing the right thing'. My professionalism is very important to me, but I do sometimes let it slip. Yes, it was parents' evening, but my classroom is chilly and my Patch jumper is both warm and jolly.

 

 

I had the GP phone me at work today, which resulted in several members of staff chasing around to find me, and involved a conversation with her when I should have been marking books. To be fair, it was my lunchtime, and the result of the conversation was her referring Dexter to a speech therapist. It made my stomach lurch, but he needs some help with his talking. I know my doctor is being professional and doing the right thing.

 

 

I made a mum at parents' evening cry and joined in with a little weep myself. It was for a good reason as I really wanted her to know how brilliant I think her son is and what a good job she's doing as a parent.

 

 

I told the Deputy Head to have a look at my blog. I fear it may have only confirmed his fears about my weakening grasp on sanity...

 

 

When I got home, my arrival woke an already unsettled Dexter. I committed the parenting sin of going into his room and having a good long cuddle with him until he was ready to settle and go to sleep. What unprofessional parenting behaviour!

 

 

I've come to the conclusion, that often, being mildly 'unprofessional', or not doing things by the book, usually involves a bit more heart over head. I for one, am perfectly happy to let the heart win once in a while.

And the week rolls on...

17.10.12.

I felt a bit better about stuff today. My lift-share ladies are my modern urban family. We stopped for fuel/coffee, which pleased Dexter greatly. He shared a croissant and ate a sweet (we think) off the garage floor. The husband sent a sympathetic, reassuring and optimistic email about my whinge list (see yesterday's post).

School was okay. Daddy was home to do bath time. Half-term is edging ever closer...

Blessings counted

16.10.12.

Today I collected the boy super-early and got home by half past four. I've not returned home before six o'clock for much of this term. I decided to seize the opportunity to leave school soon after the bell, get home, feed the boy and attempt to relax.

Unfortunately, I actually got myself into a bit of a tizz, dwelling on a list of gripes that made me feel sad and fed-up:

1. Teaching full time is really hard work; I'd love to drop down to four days.

2. Our finances won't allow for number 1 on the list.

3. My commute is too long; Dexter is increasingly struggling with the journey home.

4. I spend an average of one hour with the boy each day.

5. Every penny has to be accounted for.

6. I'm ready to live in a house now - with a garden, drive and additional bedroom. This is not going to happen overnight.

7. The boy is still wordless. I have not had/made the time to make a doctor's appointment to investigate this further.

8. Our immediate families are too far away to be able to give regular, hands-on help.

9. It's dark all the chuffing time.

10. It was the final episode of 'The Great British Bake-Off' this evening; I am bereft.

I took most of the above (with the exception of numbers 9 and 10) out on my very patient and wonderful husband.

I also watched a ten-minute 'Stand-up to Cancer' film on Channel Four. It featured a lovely family who had lost their little girl to cancer. Heartbreaking. Tragic. Off the scale in comparison to my list.

I reflected, got a grip and went to bed.

'Tooth-hurty' in the morning

 

15.10.12.

 

Dexter woke up at two thirty and three thirty this morning: teeth. It was very difficult to settle him, and so he ended up in bed with us. To quote a colleague: 'It's like sleeping on a window ledge.' The boy got the most room, but still spent the rest of the night kicking me in the head.

 

 

Today didn't feel so bad, all things considered. Perhaps a very lazy weekend was a good idea after all.

 

 

The boy slept for over three hours at nursery; he then took two hours to settle this evening and cried a lot.

 

 

I opted for a precautionary early night.

 

 



Life isn't all in soft focus

14.10.12.

 

 

This morning, my Sunday riding lesson became a family trip to the stables. Dexter sat in several puddles and ate some moss. He showed zero interest in any actual ponies *heart cracks slightly*.

 

 

The post-ponies plan was a trip to Lewes on the way home and a visit to Bill's for lunch. The boy's filthy jeans and inconvenient nap time scuppered that.

 

 

The weekend feels like it has just disappeared. We haven't really sucked the marrow out of it, but we're all exhausted. I have come to the conclusion that sometimes it is better to just hang out and make beef stew.

 

 

Due to my constant social networking, iPhone addiction and blog obsession, I do sometimes feel the pressure to live a  dream-like existence - a sort of real-life version of the hazy, soft-focus, nostalgic lens of an Instagram feed. I realise however, that life and 'art' are sometimes very different.

 

 

We may not have created any memories for the boy this weekend (let's hope the moss doesn't make a reappearance), but we've all had a good rest.

Strictly Saturday

13.10.12.

 

 

What a dullsville Saturday. Mental weather. A very trying trip to Sainsbury's for the boy and me. An epic post-lunch snooze for the whole of Team Wayne. Dexter's outing today (aside from stropping in the supermarket), involved a walk round the block at dusk. He seemed okay with this.

 

 

The actual highlight of his day was being allowed to stay up to watch 'Strictly', which he seems to adore. I have written before in a much earlier post about the boy's fascination with Bruce Forsyth - a fascination very much not shared by his Mummy. Fortunately, it now seems to be more about the lights, sparkly costumes and the slightly trippy camera angles. At least it's not (no) X Factor.

Slow down!

12.10.12.

 

 

The boy had his own croissant during today's breakfast stop. His appetite is insatiable.

 

 

Today was quite gentle. The first three days of my working week are completely bonkers; an enforced slow-down is needed by the second half of the week and fortunately, my Friday timetable is a little more forgiving than last year.

 

 

The 'slow-down' continued at home. The husband was out. I dealt with the boy and then treated myself to some mindless tv and an early night.

 

 

We've really been living the dream today...

Taking control (where you can)

11.10.12.

 

 

I got a message from one of the school secretaries today, during a lesson. Nursery had phoned wanting to know if they could give Dexter something for his teething as he was upset and grumpy.

 

The wonderful and efficient colleague in question rang them back for me and gave my permision to medicate my miserable little man.

 

I didn't automatically call nursery back when my lesson had finished. I had to speak to a student, finalise preparations for a training session, and squeeze in some lunch. I wasn't going to call at all, but I knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate during the three hour session I was co-facilitating to a group of colleagues that afternoon. I rang; he was fine.

 

The session I helped lead this afternoon focused a group of middle leaders on taking control of what they could actually take control of: sound advice indeed.

 

I have no control over the miserable weather, the demanding expectations of our daily routine and flippin' teething!

 

I can control: checking the boy is okay (he was); picking him up on time (only twenty minutes late); leaving him with people I trust (absolutely); administering Calpol/teething granules (a must); and an early night (hurrah!).

 

When external pressures are not on your side, you can only do so much. Worth remembering.



Snack attack!

10.10.12.

Yesterday's blog post received a lot of love: thank you. Sometimes, a theme or idea drifts around in my head during the day and I am able to shape it into some form of coherent prose. 

And then there are other days (like today), that start with a quarter to five wake-up call, a very strong Costa, a whirlwind of lessons and marking, and end with, well, poo really.

The boy was wearing an interesting set of mismatching clothes at nursery pick-up. I've not kept his spare clothes box topped up and he'd had a nappy incident that had affected his vest, trousers and socks. Poor lamb.

Today's #366 photo captures him at home with me, desperate for cuddles and quiet time in front of 'In the Night Garden'.

It also captures the deranged cats, very happy with their discovery of Dexter's knocked-over crisp packet on the floor.

No great philosophical observations today, aside from be mindful where you keep your snacks...

Alright, my love?

09.10.12.

It occurred to me today that I haven't uttered a: "Yes, my love", "Okay, poppet" or "Thank you, sweetheart" for weeks. Pre-Dexter, I never spoke to my students in this way. Post-Dexter, I do just sometimes go 'a bit mum' on them.

It saddens me that I haven't had the inclination for this recently. It's not them: it's the tiredness, the weather, the targets, the marking, the eight-week term, the vitriolic 'teacher-bashing' in the media, and the lack of 'me' left for such spontaneous spoken kindness.

I've been a bit of an old bag today: focusing students on assessments; banging on about grades; insisting that exam prep is boring but necessary; getting tough about homework. I've lost sight of the smiles, the encouragement, the empathy, the softly softly and the stickers!

I've been reflecting on why this might be this evening, and I think it starts with me. I had a meeting after school as part of our appraisal system. I used it as a forum to vent a little about how challenging my return to work post-maternity leave had been and how, you know, I'd done okay - considering...

I was surprised and thrilled by the generous complimentary feedback I was given about how I am perceived in my job; if you want the truth, it made my day. And that's when it made sense. The kindness has to start with a focus on oneself. 

I cannot continue to carry the guilt that Dexter really does hate the long journey home, that he actively ran away from me at pick-up today and that due to rubbish traffic, I spent forty-five minutes with him before putting him to bed. In that forty five minutes, he was washed, dressed in clean clothes, sung to, read to, cuddled and told he's loved - a lot. He soon fell sound asleep in a warm, clean, safe environment. 

The husband is out at a gig. I didn't bring my school bag home, but instead, made fajitas for one, drank a glass of wine, ate a giant bar of chocolate, watched my beloved 'Bake-Off' and am soon heading for a bath and bed, hopefully before ten.

This post isn't intended as a call for sympathy or pity, or even a forum for a cathartic whine. It's more a reminder which I've now committed to writing, that sometimes, we just need to be a little kinder to ourselves. Okay, poppet.

I'm spinning around, move out of my way...

08.10.12.

Today just sort of happened. I'm always grateful when it's not my turn to drive. The boy isn't great company in the back of the car though, preferring to gaze out of the window and be silent, only breaking into spontaneous tears when we don't stop at the Costa garage - I kid you not.

If I was teaching personification, I'd say the sky has been crying all day, and frankly, it seems pretty upset. The miserable weather isn't the most supportive tool in engaging student interest, and by the end of school, the thought of another meeting made me feel a little tearful. Pleasingly there was cake. Not so pleasingly, there was epic traffic (no doubt weather-induced) on the way home, so today's homeward journey took nearly an hour and a half.

Dexter only had time for a bit of brick tower building in his room, and some spinning around to make himself dizzy (his current favourite hobby), before Daddy was home to do bath time.

I relied on Corrie to brighten up a dreary evening, and getting the iPad to do my marking: it really can! It's very late now and I should be in bed. Mondays are very calm compared to Tuesdays; I'm preparing myself for showers and a whirlwind...

Patterns

 

07.10.12.

Our weekends are definitely following a distinct pattern. As happened yesterday, Saturdays seem to be fun family days. Sunday sees the slow slide from the weekend back to the craziness of the working week.

My weekly Sunday morning lesson feels like a last burst of freedom. The husband has taken to visiting the park with the boy while I'm out. I generally squeeze in the supermarket shop after ponies. Dexter has his lunch and a sleep, then it's quite chaotic as the three of us juggle playing, school work, making dinner, getting ready for the next day, and trying to keep Sunday blues at bay.

I'm adding catching up on blogging to this routine. I'm so behind and so unenthused. I've got twelve posts to work back to. I'm sensing a break in routine, signalled by some shorter posts and less care over matching the font colour to the picture, otherwise, it's just another Sunday chore.

Bliss

 

06.10.12.

 

 

Today was just, well, lovely! Dexter slept until past nine o'clock. We Skyped with a dear friend and her baby in Denmark. We strolled leisurely into town. We sat in autumnal sunshine and had an alfresco lunch with another great mate. We strolled around the shops. I bought a brilliant new winter coat in my favourite clothes shop; I don't care that I can't afford it. We walked along the seafront and Dexter got his pebble fix on Brighton beach. We had dinner out too in our favourite sushi restaurant. Dexter got rice everywhere. We watched rubbish television and relished the fact that tomorrow is another day of freedom.

 

Perfect.

Zzzzzz

05.10.12.

 

 

Dexter awoke at ten to five this morning; he did not go back to sleep. We stopped for breakfast and then the above happened - all the way to nursery. Apparently, he also spent the afternoon sleeping. Lucky him.

 

 

All my tiredness would allow this evening was some faffing with the school iPad, experimenting with ways to get it to do my marking - sort of. I figure it helps me out loads with the parenting, so I've no qualms in getting it to do my actual job too.

 

 

Now, if I could just encourage it to get up with teething children at ungodly hours...

Safety in numbers

 

04.10.12.

 

 

The boy did not want to know me at nursery pick-up today; Sarah was around. I cannot even begin to compete.

 

 

I felt a little more love and support from my girlfriends this evening. We had dinner and a catch up, with a healthy dose of cathartic whingeing about the demands of the job/children/life/breathing.

 

 

Sometimes it's reassuring to know you're not the only one spinning plates - and definitely not the only one to let a couple come crashing down.

The cat's pyjamas

 

03.10.12.

 

 

Today was distinctly less crazy than yesterday. I even got to watch some teaching for a change. The boy, lift-share friend and I even managed a spot of after-work shopping. Dexter is in desperate need of new pyjamas. He now has some lovely new ones thanks to a random M&S voucher from the pet insurance company. I'm particularly taken with a Jack Wills-esque pair that make him look like a proper little boy. Despite how grown-up he looks, I don't miss the poppers on those sleepsuits.

 

 

We also purchased the dressing gown in the background of today's #366 photograph. Hugh Hefner, eat your heart out!

Babble

02.10.12.

 

 

Today was a very busy day of considerably mixed fortunes. And the rain hasn't stopped. Nursery reported more 'structured babbling' from the boy. My students are getting little more from me at the moment!

Sweet screams...

01.10.12.

 

 

Relentless rain equals difficult lessons - and seemingly tantrum central in Dexter's world. He screamed himself to sleep. I attempted to mark books. I would gladly have swapped places. I know I would have gone straight to sleep, no screaming or complaining. I'm not entirely convinced though that my students would receive helpful feedback on their work.

 

It sucks being a responsible adult sometimes. Waaaaah!!!