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.
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…
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.
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…
It’s been a really special Easter for Sophie this year.
We were determined to make Easter at the very least as memorable as Christmas for her and my wife put in some sterling work to make that happen.
Here’s how it turned out…
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.
Change is always tricky to manage, especially all the emotions and frustrations that come hand-in-hand with it.
Imagine if you’re not even three years old yet. That can’t be easy.
Harry has just started a Baby Sensory class with my wife on a day when Sophie is at nursery.
Run by an old friend of ours, Rachel, Hartbeeps has been a great experience for him (and my wife), especially if the array of outfits, comedy headgear and smiling photographs is anything to go by.
I’ve not been yet but my sole experience of Baby Sensory – or Toddler Sensory more like – was at a third birthday party of Sophie’s nursery friend recently.
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.