On our recent holiday to Austria, I thought it would be a tremendous idea to nip over the border into Italy and have a pizza.
My wife could have coffee, Sophie could have ice cream, Harry could have…er…bread(?) and everyone would be happy.
After all, it was only about 50km to the border. Simple.
Little did I know what I was letting myself in for…
OK, so we’d survived the night of all of us in one room. Just about.
And we’d had an incredible holiday in Austria (more in future posts).
But we really hit a low point with the security check on the way back. I mean, we’ve only been flying for twenty years…
First with Sophie and now with Harry I have signed myself up to the “dream feed” – a late evening bottle to give them a boost and stop them waking my wife up earlier than she needs on the night shift.
It’s always been a special time of bonding with the children, where I can do my bit to help out and look after them in a way they absolutely need.
Six months in though and the parameters have changed and my body is starting to feel the pace…
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…
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
Three days into Potty Training.
I’ve not left the house for almost 72 hours.
A lot of blood, sweat and tears has been spilled.
Our little girl is sick to death of the little green toilet we keep asking her to sit on.
But, whisper it quietly, I think we might be getting somewhere.
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.
The moment we told Sophie back in April she was going to be a big sister was really special.
“Is that OK, Sophie?”
“That’s fine.” Aww.
Since then, we’ve been busily preparing her for the major changes that she would face when her little baby brother or sister arrived on the scene. And she’s been very excited – even if her ideas for baby names consisted merely of “Baby” and “Sophie”. Not particularly original…
We’d always said we wanted her to be the first person aside from us to meet the latest addition to our family.
Tuesday lunchtime, just four and a half hours after he arrived, she got her opportunity…
When I suggested broadcasting my wife’s labour on Facebook Live, I assumed she’d share my opinion that this was staying in touch with current trends.
I thought she’d love it.
Sadly though for those of you who stayed up on Monday night in anticipation, the idea was unequivocally vetoed and this blog post will have to be the next best thing!
If you’ve seen any of my recent posts, you’ll know that the house has been a workman’s paradise.
What with the bathroom, the electrics, the roof, plasterers and even having to make a hole in our in-built wardrobe to put up a curtain – a pretty nifty workaround from Alex! – it has been all go.
Sophie has coped remarkably well with it all but I was worried that last week’s altercation may have drained all her energy…
Gettit? Read on and you will.