I’d done a weekend by myself before with the two children.
But this was different.
This was on location in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by fields and hills.
Oh and Harry really wasn’t feeling well.
This oughta be interesting.
Coming away on holiday is an absolute treat. Such a privilege to take a step out of daily life and travel away, in our case to visit our very generous relatives who live near Innsbruck, Austria.
The process of leaving home though can be a little bit arduous, a fact that was hammered home to us by our overnight stay at the Premier Inn, Gatwick where the four of us were crammed into a family room of four beds and a cot.
It did not go well.
When I was left in charge of getting both children out of the house today, all was going really well.
Both Sophie and Harry were dressed, fed and watered and were all set for Sophie’s dancing class. We were well ahead of schedule and set to actually be early for an organised event.
(This was made all the more remarkable by the fact my wife – normally our chief family organiser – was out doing Park Run for the first time since Harry was born)
As I put Harry into the car seat in the living room in preparation, I smiled to myself in a congratulatory way.
How overconfident can you get…
When Donald Trump sits down at the end of his first 100 days as US President, he’ll do what countless world leaders have done before him and reflect on his achievements.
He’ll look back at the terror and bigotry he’s inspired and probably think was it worth it? He’ll consider his lowest approval ratings in presidential history and wonder if it’s him or the country that needs to change.
And, just like all those historical leaders, he’ll weigh up if he’s achieved what he wanted to do.
For those of us watching on, his first 30 days have been a car crash. It’s frightening what he might do in the following 70.
Regardless, 100 days seems like a decent time to reflect on what’s happened and as Harry reaches that milestone it’s awe-inspiring to think about what he’s already achieved.
100 days ago he barely opened his eyes, found feeding a trial and did not know anything about the world around him.
Three months on and he’s come a long way.
Can you remember your first sleepover?
While I don’t remember my first time sleeping over somewhere different, I tend to associate sleepovers with Championship Manager marathons, bad films, sweets and very little sleep.
Anybody else have similar thoughts?
Well, Sophie had her first friend sleep over in her bedroom recently and while the Playstation stayed well and truly off, there was still plenty of fun and games. Continue reading
This blog has charted accounts of swimming, gymnastics and football. Such is the varied life of a toddler these days.
However, a New Year brings new beginnings and after my wife successfully secured (captured? grabbed? ensnared?!) Sophie’s attention with Strictly Come Dancing, last week saw myself and my little girl foxtrotting down to a toddler dance session at a local high school.
When our little girl unleashed the contents of her stomach across her bedroom floor two hours after she should have gone to sleep the other evening, we knew it would be no ordinary night in our house.
Three weeks in and we’re starting to feel like we’ve always had two children.
Harry has fitted in well and Sophie’s attitude towards him has remained remarkably positive. So proud of her for that.
One thing that has entertained and infuriated me in equal measure has been the little man’s sleeping sounds. It’s cute, but at 3am you’re rather he kept silent!
This time two weeks ago I was in my classroom pondering if paternity leave would ever start.
My wife was a week overdue, I’d unexpectedly returned from half term to my class of children who were just as surprised to see me as I them.
Fourteen days later, amidst the whirlwind of Harry’s arrival and settling down, the time has come for me to return.
And I’m gutted to be saying bye to my family, for the daytimes at least.
With an army of over 15m devotees, The Great British Bake Off has become a fortress of British entertainment. Wednesday evening 8pm – my wife would set her timer and, like clockwork, settle down to watch the success-hungry contestants bake, whisk and mix their way towards success.
Even Sophie got in on the act, as this post proves.