19 February 2008
17 February 2008
More cookie-making
Though Izzy is so Brit she looks puzzled when I say cookies. It's biscuits to her.
16 February 2008
Saturday afternoon
The sun has been shining all week so today we took Izzy swimming then tried to have lunch in a country pub. Too late for lunch but we managed to attempt a walk on the Thames Path before being defeated by mud and deciding on high tea instead.
Izzy in the nursery
I have to reproduce this observation report of Izzy by her nursery because it's too funny. It's done by Becki, Izzy's key worker:
Isabel is sitting at the tea table with five of her friends; there are four members of staff in the room. "What's Emma doing? Are there two Emmas at nursery?" Emma I replies "That's right, we have two Emmas at nursery."
Isabel carries on eating, she pulls the inside out of the French bread and eats that first, resting the crust on her wrist. She looks at Sam and says "Look, my watch!" Sam smiles at her and says "That's funny."
Isabel looks to Felix and says "It's your birthday today!" Felix watches her; she places a piece of bread in the centre of her right hand. "It's a cake for you, Felix." Isabel sings 'Happy Birthday' and pretends to blow out the candles. The children all clap and cheer. Isabel explains that it's Felix's pretend birthday.
Isabel asks "Felix, do you have two shoes on?" Felix looks at his feet and nods. She begins to sing again and Sam turns to Isabel and says "you shouldn't sing at the table". Isabel picks up a piece of a carrot and she nibbles the end. She looks at a mos (?) opposite her and says "Now it's Becki's birthday cake". I smile and ask "How old an I today?".
Isabel answers "Your (sic) 4".
"So how many candles do I need on my cake?"
Izzy replies "4".
Isabel begins singing again and picks up the bread off the plate, she holds it on her palm and reaches her hand out to me. "Blow out the candles now, Becki." I blow the candles out, Izzy cheers.
Izzy goes back to eating her tea whilst watching here friends. Isabel puts down her bread and puts her arms up the air "Right, everybody sing." Emma I encourages Isabel to eat her bread and cheese as the other children are ready for pudding. Isabel asks "What's for pudding? Can I have grapes?" Emma I replies "Of course, let's eat our bread and then we can get pudding." Isabel picks up the bread and starts to eat.
I have to reproduce this observation report of Izzy by her nursery because it's too funny. It's done by Becki, Izzy's key worker:
Isabel is sitting at the tea table with five of her friends; there are four members of staff in the room. "What's Emma doing? Are there two Emmas at nursery?" Emma I replies "That's right, we have two Emmas at nursery."
Isabel carries on eating, she pulls the inside out of the French bread and eats that first, resting the crust on her wrist. She looks at Sam and says "Look, my watch!" Sam smiles at her and says "That's funny."
Isabel looks to Felix and says "It's your birthday today!" Felix watches her; she places a piece of bread in the centre of her right hand. "It's a cake for you, Felix." Isabel sings 'Happy Birthday' and pretends to blow out the candles. The children all clap and cheer. Isabel explains that it's Felix's pretend birthday.
Isabel asks "Felix, do you have two shoes on?" Felix looks at his feet and nods. She begins to sing again and Sam turns to Isabel and says "you shouldn't sing at the table". Isabel picks up a piece of a carrot and she nibbles the end. She looks at a mos (?) opposite her and says "Now it's Becki's birthday cake". I smile and ask "How old an I today?".
Isabel answers "Your (sic) 4".
"So how many candles do I need on my cake?"
Izzy replies "4".
Isabel begins singing again and picks up the bread off the plate, she holds it on her palm and reaches her hand out to me. "Blow out the candles now, Becki." I blow the candles out, Izzy cheers.
Izzy goes back to eating her tea whilst watching here friends. Isabel puts down her bread and puts her arms up the air "Right, everybody sing." Emma I encourages Isabel to eat her bread and cheese as the other children are ready for pudding. Isabel asks "What's for pudding? Can I have grapes?" Emma I replies "Of course, let's eat our bread and then we can get pudding." Isabel picks up the bread and starts to eat.
Muuuuuum!
Last night I fell asleep on the sofa and insisted on staying there because was too lazy to walk up to bed. This morning I woke to my usual dawn chorus:
'Mummyyyy...
'Muuumyyy....
'...
'...
'MummYYYYY'
'MUMMYYYY'
'MUM!
'MUMMY!'
'MUMMYY!!!'
Did I mention she's going through a clingy stage?
My arms still ache
So on Tuesday this week her nursery class went to watch The Gruffalo in town. And I foolishly agreed to go along as a parent helper. Usually the recommended age group for this sort of thing is 3+ but since her whole class was going, as was Felix, I thought it'd be great. Alex and I have thought of taking her to such things recently but I've always figured it would be better anyway to take along one or two of her little friends because she tends to copy what they do.
It's really funny to watch - if we have any of her friends over, Izzy plays nicely with them and if the friend comes up to say something to any of the adults, Izzy follows right behind parroting everything. It's hilarious.
Anyway so off we trooped and, from the start, madam decided she wanted to be carried instead of walking. After a while I also acceded because we kept falling behind. The show itself didn't go badly. Poor Felix had woken at 0630 and hadn't slept since so he was pretty wrecked by the time we got there. When the lights went down and the mouse and chorus appeared on the stage, he covered his eyes and was asleep in about 30 seconds.
Izzy was sitting between two of her favourites, Sam and Alessia, and so was good as gold, watching the stage with her mouth agape, for about 15 to 20 minutes. Then she got bored and started turning around in her chair. And so for the next 20 minutes or so I had to keep freeing her foot because she would keep trapping it between the seat and the back. And in the last 10 minutes she began wandering the aisle.
Fortunately, because it was a weekday, the theatre wasn't crowded and we had quite a lot of empty seats in between heaped with jackets and bags. Once we left the theatre however...
You could tell by this time that Izzy was tired - it was about quarter to three and she hadn't had a sleep and I don't know how much lunch she might have eaten because we left at 1230, whereas nursery lunch is usually at 1300. Outside the theatre she refused to walk by herself again. And although I kept asking her to, would obstinately stand on the spot, holding out her hand and imploring me to 'Come, mummy. Coooome.'
After the others had gone about 100m away and Felix and Lottie had stayed back about five minutes waiting for her, I told them to go on and we'd make our way back to the nursery. Then tried to cajole her into coming by telling her 'Look, your nursery friends are going, Izzy. You're going to get left behind.'
Oh waterworks. Oh dismay. To cut a long, painful story short, our friend amused a whole crowd of people for the entire 20 minutes she spent on the walkway not far from the theatre, kneeling most picturesquely, and throwing her head back to keen and wail. It's taking me a while but I'm slowly learning that unless I am willing to wait for about an hour or something there's no point trying to hope Izzy will tire of crying before I will.
Anyway eventually after giving her a bit of scare by moving right behind her when she was in one of her more dramatic bury-face-in-hands poses, so she couldn't see me, I finally gave up and picked her up. I did manage though, at least, to get her to sit on my shoulders instead of being carried in my hands, which is what she was insisting on earlier.
We finally got on a bus, which I thought would please her, but then she got all upset about the fact that her friends weren't there. And then because I tried to wipe off two enormous gobbets of snot just inside her nostrils, we had another must-sit-on-the-floor-and-scream tantrum. I think one old biddy may have said something disparaging but fortunately I couldn't hear her over Izzy's screams. Another mum standing with a pram, whose child was observing Izzy with much interest, just smiled. Had to carry her off the bus in the melting cat position. Managed to haul her most of the back to the nursery before my arms gave out again near a small field.
And then, since it was quite a lovely sunny afternoon, I decided to let her lie there, kicking her feet some more, while I took a break. This also amused several people, including one colleague who waved from across the road, and Tarnya, who worked at the nursery until last December when she left on maternity leave, and who was out walking with her little baby.
After a while I took out a bar of chocolate to eat and, amazingly, despite the howls Izzy saw and heard and came up to me, heaving, to ask if she could have some. Out of spite I said no. Which was quite funny. Then eventually told her she could have some if she would walk back to nursery herself.
Eventually carried her all the way back anyway. Where she wolfed down her tea. So asked if she wanted to go home but no, she said, washing her hands.
'Mummy, I want to stay here. Want to play wif my friends.'
Since I'd had enough of tantrums for the day, and since I figured I could also now do with a break myself, I went 'OK'. As it turns out, she howled for me when I'd gone. But that's Izzy underfed and underslept for you.
Last night I fell asleep on the sofa and insisted on staying there because was too lazy to walk up to bed. This morning I woke to my usual dawn chorus:
'Mummyyyy...
'Muuumyyy....
'...
'...
'MummYYYYY'
'MUMMYYYY'
'MUM!
'MUMMY!'
'MUMMYY!!!'
Did I mention she's going through a clingy stage?
My arms still ache
So on Tuesday this week her nursery class went to watch The Gruffalo in town. And I foolishly agreed to go along as a parent helper. Usually the recommended age group for this sort of thing is 3+ but since her whole class was going, as was Felix, I thought it'd be great. Alex and I have thought of taking her to such things recently but I've always figured it would be better anyway to take along one or two of her little friends because she tends to copy what they do.
It's really funny to watch - if we have any of her friends over, Izzy plays nicely with them and if the friend comes up to say something to any of the adults, Izzy follows right behind parroting everything. It's hilarious.
Anyway so off we trooped and, from the start, madam decided she wanted to be carried instead of walking. After a while I also acceded because we kept falling behind. The show itself didn't go badly. Poor Felix had woken at 0630 and hadn't slept since so he was pretty wrecked by the time we got there. When the lights went down and the mouse and chorus appeared on the stage, he covered his eyes and was asleep in about 30 seconds.
Izzy was sitting between two of her favourites, Sam and Alessia, and so was good as gold, watching the stage with her mouth agape, for about 15 to 20 minutes. Then she got bored and started turning around in her chair. And so for the next 20 minutes or so I had to keep freeing her foot because she would keep trapping it between the seat and the back. And in the last 10 minutes she began wandering the aisle.
Fortunately, because it was a weekday, the theatre wasn't crowded and we had quite a lot of empty seats in between heaped with jackets and bags. Once we left the theatre however...
You could tell by this time that Izzy was tired - it was about quarter to three and she hadn't had a sleep and I don't know how much lunch she might have eaten because we left at 1230, whereas nursery lunch is usually at 1300. Outside the theatre she refused to walk by herself again. And although I kept asking her to, would obstinately stand on the spot, holding out her hand and imploring me to 'Come, mummy. Coooome.'
After the others had gone about 100m away and Felix and Lottie had stayed back about five minutes waiting for her, I told them to go on and we'd make our way back to the nursery. Then tried to cajole her into coming by telling her 'Look, your nursery friends are going, Izzy. You're going to get left behind.'
Oh waterworks. Oh dismay. To cut a long, painful story short, our friend amused a whole crowd of people for the entire 20 minutes she spent on the walkway not far from the theatre, kneeling most picturesquely, and throwing her head back to keen and wail. It's taking me a while but I'm slowly learning that unless I am willing to wait for about an hour or something there's no point trying to hope Izzy will tire of crying before I will.
Anyway eventually after giving her a bit of scare by moving right behind her when she was in one of her more dramatic bury-face-in-hands poses, so she couldn't see me, I finally gave up and picked her up. I did manage though, at least, to get her to sit on my shoulders instead of being carried in my hands, which is what she was insisting on earlier.
We finally got on a bus, which I thought would please her, but then she got all upset about the fact that her friends weren't there. And then because I tried to wipe off two enormous gobbets of snot just inside her nostrils, we had another must-sit-on-the-floor-and-scream tantrum. I think one old biddy may have said something disparaging but fortunately I couldn't hear her over Izzy's screams. Another mum standing with a pram, whose child was observing Izzy with much interest, just smiled. Had to carry her off the bus in the melting cat position. Managed to haul her most of the back to the nursery before my arms gave out again near a small field.
And then, since it was quite a lovely sunny afternoon, I decided to let her lie there, kicking her feet some more, while I took a break. This also amused several people, including one colleague who waved from across the road, and Tarnya, who worked at the nursery until last December when she left on maternity leave, and who was out walking with her little baby.
After a while I took out a bar of chocolate to eat and, amazingly, despite the howls Izzy saw and heard and came up to me, heaving, to ask if she could have some. Out of spite I said no. Which was quite funny. Then eventually told her she could have some if she would walk back to nursery herself.
Eventually carried her all the way back anyway. Where she wolfed down her tea. So asked if she wanted to go home but no, she said, washing her hands.
'Mummy, I want to stay here. Want to play wif my friends.'
Since I'd had enough of tantrums for the day, and since I figured I could also now do with a break myself, I went 'OK'. As it turns out, she howled for me when I'd gone. But that's Izzy underfed and underslept for you.
06 February 2008
Happy new year, everyone!
As I type Izzy is fast asleep on the sofa, and poor Alex is probably still stuck at Paddington because some idiot threw themselves under a train and didn't have the decency to do so at an hour of the day when it wouldn't inconvenience thousands of other people. Alex's dinner of roast lamb is slowly congealing in the oven but at least I had time this evening to dash out to the mall (deserted on a Weds night) and buy us some last-minute new year clothes.
Seriously terrible twos
You'd think by now I'd have learned. But Isabel is grandmistress of not letting on that she's tired. Just before I picked her up from nursery today they called to say she was running a temperature and would I like them to give her 10mls of Calpol. Yes please! When I went to pick her up, she was exactly as they said - subdued, but "not unwell in herself". That's a phrase they use a lot to decide whether a kid is seriously ill or not.
On the way home she began demanding that I take her to the supermarket and - oh milestone moment! - because SHE FINALLY PEED IN HER POTTY at nursery today, after only about three months of encouragement, I thought alright, would just wheel her in her pram quickly around Debenhams and try to buy us all one new garment for the sake of tradition since we have done none of the following:
a) spring clean
b) prepare ang pows (but I did give her nurserymates golden chocolate eggs and little cards she made)
c) prepare traditional dishes
d) not touch a broom (because we don't have one!)
e) calling home at the right time
But I will do my best to adhere to the no sweeping for the first three days. And trying not to let Izzy cry on the first day tomorrow.
Sorry folks, but it's been a really busy month for Alex and I because I've just got an attachment to a new job. It's a promotion but only a raise of £120 pa because I lost my unpredictability allowance which only journalists get - I'm now a 'manager' hahaha - and lousy company policy of capping salary rises to 5%. All I got was the promise of a bonus if I perform, lousy civil service. Doesn't help either that two projects I've also been working on, on the sidelines, are being stepped up to seriously busy level soon.
Alex is having a look around the job market to see if it's worth it jumping ship, and we're both busy trying to plan work to be done when we're gone. It's one of these lousy times at work when you're actually doing 10-hour days (civil service, remember? That's a lot for me - it's the extent of the time I can keep Izzy in nursery) but regretting there aren't more hours in a day.
It was only yesterday that I realised with something approaching horror that this Thursday was new year and this is the first time we've approached it with absolutely no sense of celebration at all. Celebration? Where's the time to do the laundy? That reminds me - I must go and dig out the lanterns Dad sent us so Izzy can hang them up in nursery for the day. Very appropriate as this term they are focussing on shapes and colours.
We were originally thinking of inviting people over for tea this Saturday to celebrate and last weekend Alex and I had been arguing over whether to serve nasi lemak (easy peasy but which of my colleagues would actually be able to enjoy it) or Vietnamese bun bo (mee hoon tossed with vegetables, ground peanuts, fried onions, herbs and the equivalent of pork satay).
This evening I'm thinking get the blinking invites out, and reduce it to an ice-cream sundae tea party. Perhaps to make it special we can drive into London in the morning, eat noodles (longevity!) for lunch and ta pau several packs of gelato for the party. Kiddies can have fruit with it, the adults Frangelico and any of the languishing bottles of alcohol in our kitchen. Am thinking champagne and green apple sorbet would be good.
But I digress. My point is we managed to go shopping, came back, Izzy insisted on making herself some steamed egg, managing to get some of it on the floor in the process of exploding, sorry cracking, one of the eggs into the bowl, then she watched The Wombles DVD Aunty Soph gave her, insisted on the Pocoyo DVD when I had the temerity to try and watch TV while she took over my Facebook Scrabulous game, and then asked to go upstairs and change her mouse into pyjamas. You see why I am stupidly bamboozled into thinking she was behaving normally?
Except of course after a while she began tantrumming over the least little thing. Usually it was to do with me walking out of the room and down the stairs in anger at my inability to get her to do something routine, eg lie down so I could change her nappy, or to just HURRY UP AND WALK DOWN THE STAIRS WITH ME NOT PLAY WITH THE STAIRGATE ALL NIGHT. I didn't shout but I walked down again and contemplated making a word with I, S, N, I, E, J, R. It's that or start shouting very loudly and I try not to do that. Not least because it has absolutely no effect on Izz. She just looks at me with pity and contempt and I feel very small after. Why is this?
Poor Alex is back. His contribution to the Izzy's blog so far is this: 'There's a typo... your eg has no dots in it. It looks like 'eg'.'
And Izzy has just managed to swallow a mouthful of puke she coughed up - that's my girl - letting only the weeniest bit dribble onto her hair. I think it's time to stop blogging.
As I type Izzy is fast asleep on the sofa, and poor Alex is probably still stuck at Paddington because some idiot threw themselves under a train and didn't have the decency to do so at an hour of the day when it wouldn't inconvenience thousands of other people. Alex's dinner of roast lamb is slowly congealing in the oven but at least I had time this evening to dash out to the mall (deserted on a Weds night) and buy us some last-minute new year clothes.
Seriously terrible twos
You'd think by now I'd have learned. But Isabel is grandmistress of not letting on that she's tired. Just before I picked her up from nursery today they called to say she was running a temperature and would I like them to give her 10mls of Calpol. Yes please! When I went to pick her up, she was exactly as they said - subdued, but "not unwell in herself". That's a phrase they use a lot to decide whether a kid is seriously ill or not.
On the way home she began demanding that I take her to the supermarket and - oh milestone moment! - because SHE FINALLY PEED IN HER POTTY at nursery today, after only about three months of encouragement, I thought alright, would just wheel her in her pram quickly around Debenhams and try to buy us all one new garment for the sake of tradition since we have done none of the following:
a) spring clean
b) prepare ang pows (but I did give her nurserymates golden chocolate eggs and little cards she made)
c) prepare traditional dishes
d) not touch a broom (because we don't have one!)
e) calling home at the right time
But I will do my best to adhere to the no sweeping for the first three days. And trying not to let Izzy cry on the first day tomorrow.
Sorry folks, but it's been a really busy month for Alex and I because I've just got an attachment to a new job. It's a promotion but only a raise of £120 pa because I lost my unpredictability allowance which only journalists get - I'm now a 'manager' hahaha - and lousy company policy of capping salary rises to 5%. All I got was the promise of a bonus if I perform, lousy civil service. Doesn't help either that two projects I've also been working on, on the sidelines, are being stepped up to seriously busy level soon.
Alex is having a look around the job market to see if it's worth it jumping ship, and we're both busy trying to plan work to be done when we're gone. It's one of these lousy times at work when you're actually doing 10-hour days (civil service, remember? That's a lot for me - it's the extent of the time I can keep Izzy in nursery) but regretting there aren't more hours in a day.
It was only yesterday that I realised with something approaching horror that this Thursday was new year and this is the first time we've approached it with absolutely no sense of celebration at all. Celebration? Where's the time to do the laundy? That reminds me - I must go and dig out the lanterns Dad sent us so Izzy can hang them up in nursery for the day. Very appropriate as this term they are focussing on shapes and colours.
We were originally thinking of inviting people over for tea this Saturday to celebrate and last weekend Alex and I had been arguing over whether to serve nasi lemak (easy peasy but which of my colleagues would actually be able to enjoy it) or Vietnamese bun bo (mee hoon tossed with vegetables, ground peanuts, fried onions, herbs and the equivalent of pork satay).
This evening I'm thinking get the blinking invites out, and reduce it to an ice-cream sundae tea party. Perhaps to make it special we can drive into London in the morning, eat noodles (longevity!) for lunch and ta pau several packs of gelato for the party. Kiddies can have fruit with it, the adults Frangelico and any of the languishing bottles of alcohol in our kitchen. Am thinking champagne and green apple sorbet would be good.
But I digress. My point is we managed to go shopping, came back, Izzy insisted on making herself some steamed egg, managing to get some of it on the floor in the process of exploding, sorry cracking, one of the eggs into the bowl, then she watched The Wombles DVD Aunty Soph gave her, insisted on the Pocoyo DVD when I had the temerity to try and watch TV while she took over my Facebook Scrabulous game, and then asked to go upstairs and change her mouse into pyjamas. You see why I am stupidly bamboozled into thinking she was behaving normally?
Except of course after a while she began tantrumming over the least little thing. Usually it was to do with me walking out of the room and down the stairs in anger at my inability to get her to do something routine, eg lie down so I could change her nappy, or to just HURRY UP AND WALK DOWN THE STAIRS WITH ME NOT PLAY WITH THE STAIRGATE ALL NIGHT. I didn't shout but I walked down again and contemplated making a word with I, S, N, I, E, J, R. It's that or start shouting very loudly and I try not to do that. Not least because it has absolutely no effect on Izz. She just looks at me with pity and contempt and I feel very small after. Why is this?
Poor Alex is back. His contribution to the Izzy's blog so far is this: 'There's a typo... your eg has no dots in it. It looks like 'eg'.'
And Izzy has just managed to swallow a mouthful of puke she coughed up - that's my girl - letting only the weeniest bit dribble onto her hair. I think it's time to stop blogging.
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