Thursday, 27 July 2017

Is it too late for me to 'grow into my feet?'

I've always had large feet - probably an American size 8 by the time I was 12. Does this seem odd for someone who is otherwise pretty petite? Yes. Despite my dad insisting they gave me a 'good foundation,' did I use to be embarrassed by these trotters? Yes. I am 5 foot 2 and have size 8.5/9 feet (UK 7). Flippers. Flat-footed flippers with no trace of an arch.

HOWEVER, as I've grown older, pretty much nothing embarrasses me (thanks kids) and I've come to love my feet. They've run a marathon, several halfs, and, with a little nail polish, they don't look half bad. Due to their sheer size, however, I cannot stop breaking my toes.

Yesterday afternoon was just the latest - I broke my pointer toe on my right foot tripping over the corner of the bed when I was tucking Freddie in. As I crumbled to the ground and tried not to swear, Freddie rushed over (he loves a good emergency) to see how I was. I got out the frozen peas, hobbled to the couch and iced my mangled toe on a few pillows.

Freddie pulled over the coffee table, put my water bottle on it, handed me a book about castles and put some rose petals he'd collected from the park in a train car on the table. He told me to call him if I needed anything, anything at all, and headed back down the hall to play with his truck.

You never know if they're grasping the concept of empathy but there it was. :)

Hello Elsie. 

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

Things Harry has thrown in the toilet... the past week.

1. Elsie's undies.

2. The kids' shampoo.

3. His sock.

4. A small ambulance.

5. Two train tracks.

6. Wads and wads of toilet paper.

7. A sandwich.

Harry + the toilet = love. We've stocked up on toilet paper and hand soap so long may this love affair continue.

Saturday, 3 June 2017

Parenting skillz: going to some unknown kid's birthday party

When you think about a kid changing schools, you always worry about how the kid's going to settle in, will he/she make friends, what will the teacher be like etc. etc. Rarely do we take the time to wonder how the parents of that child are coping with the move.

When your kid joins a class mid-year, or for Freddie's sake, 2/3rds through the year, you have to try learn very quickly who everyone is. Names of teachers, kids, siblings and parents swirl around my head at night while I try to sneakily integrate us into this close-knit group. Yes, it's preschool. But still!

Freddie has done incredibly well adjusting to his new school, which has about 30 kids in it (at least). He loves the teachers, talks about some of the kids and what they played with, and last week asked if he can start going on Saturdays and Sundays (burn on me haha).

On Wednesday (three days ago), he got a birthday party invitation. I asked who gave it to him and he said one of the teachers. I asked if everyone got one and he said he wasn't sure but it was for Jack, who was turning either 2, 3, 4, or 5. Hmmmm.

I double checked the envelope had his name on it (😊) and it did. Hooray! Now the only problem was figuring out who this kid was. At drop off on Thursday, I asked Freddie to point Jack out to me. He said he comes later sometimes so wasn't there yet. Thursday after dinner we opened the invitation. The party was for THE NEXT DAY.

Freddie really wanted to go so we decided to go for it, despite William not being able to join us (out with friends), having to text Jack's mom to see if it was OK if I brought Elsie and Harry too (cringe), taking the bus with the three kids on my own (an adventure) and Harry having a slight fever. And, being somewhat worried we were going to wish the wrong kid Happy Birthday.

Friday morning came around and Freddie was sooooo excited for the party that afternoon. He wondered who was going to be there, what the venue was like and if there were going to be any treats. Harry's fever was a bit worse and we still didn't know exactly who Jack was. Luckily, about an hour before we left, I remembered I took a photo of Freddie's class picture with my phone a couple weeks ago. I quickly found the pic and -- success! Freddie was able to point out Jack.

We went to the party and it was a blast! The place was an indoor play area with trampolines, ball pits, slides etc. and, despite some initial nerves that pizza, chips and ice cream seemed to alleviate, Freddie, Elsie and Harry had a lot of fun. Jack is a funny kid with some serious dance moves and his parents couldn't be nicer.

What's happening?! 

Wednesday, 17 May 2017

The day it rained puke

I've been puked on before. It's never fun but today was especially disgusting. The day started out OK; Elsie and Harry were feverish and very clingy but, as we've been saying for over a week now, at least no one is puking.

William took Freddie to preschool and the three of us snuggled/played a bit and then they took naps at 9:30am. I used nap time to take a nice shower, dry my hair and put on makeup (!). Nice to feel normal again after almost a week of being unwell myself.

Elsie woke up from her nap and was a bit happier, ate some plain yogurt, a couple blueberries and a small rice cake. Ten minutes later she was back to laying on the floor moaning. Harry woke up and joined her. They did that and competed for space on my lap for the next half hour. Cozy!

When it came time to go get Freddie, I asked Els if she wanted to ride on my back in the Ergo. She quickly said yes and immediately laid her head on my shoulders. I got her an apple juice box from the shop and she sipped it on the way. She didn't say much on the journey there or on the way home. Freddie told us about his day (two of the ten chicks hatched from their eggs and he planted a sunflower) and we saw a couple trains go by.

Once we got to our street, Elsie muttered something I didn't quite hear. 'What, honey?' 'Go home faster.'

That was my only warning before the puke shower began. It was like a volcano erupted out of her mouth. It poured over my shoulder and onto my foot (great idea to wear flip flops today!). I quickly got her down and then Freddie, Harry and I watched the spectacle of it all, unable to move. In seconds, the sidewalk was covered and it was only then I realized I should have held her over a drain or something. Oops.

Once it was over, we removed all our puked-on clothes that we could, considering we were in public (sorry neighbors!), and hightailed it home, a wad of disgusting clothes under one arm and a squishy foot squeaking the whole way.

A warm bath and nap seems to have helped. Fingers crossed that was all of it (but is it ever???).

Hope you weren't eating anything when you read this! And yes, we are back in Scotland. I need to change the header of this blog. If you enjoy reading about puke and how you're likely in a nicer, cleaner, comfier position than I am, check back here again soon. I plan on actually keeping up with it now that we're back.

P.S. Anthony, if you're reading this...the incident occurred just down from your door. Watch your feet on the way home tonight. William said he'd go down later with a bucket of water!
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