'But she likes it.'

Answer to: Izzy? Are you sitting on your sister?

Rocking Roz

The babe is still showing no inclination whatsoever to move beyond reach of her immediate toys but she will now rock back and forth when sat down. This is a bit worrying because most of the time she ends up launching herself forward onto her arms, to rock some more. Not infrequently though she will overshoot and fall flat on her face. Not so bad if she hits just carpet but nowadays there tend to be any number of toys lying around her and I worry that sooner or later she's going to whack herself on the corner of Izzy's new toy, which is housed in a very sturdy wooden case.

She's been quite a clingy baby this holiday at home. The entreaties to be carried are often triggered by the sight of me cuddling Izzy. So this weekend, when Izz developed a fever and temporarily regressed it was a bit trying because I only needed to pick one babe up before the other would start wailing for attention as well. Alex took to taking Roz out for walks in the afternoon so Izzy could have some quality manja time with me. I wouldn't have minded a walk or two myself frankly but it was also nice to sit cuddling the big bubba on the sofa. Though I could have done without the ceaseless Disney channel.

Media monkey

Izzy has realised that I can take videos on the phone and has twice now demanded I video her. She usually then does a quite hilarious piece to the camera about something - books, describing a toy, teaching you ballet - before descending into complete clowning for the camera and - I swear I have not the faintest where she learned this - mooning the camera. I fully intend to illustrate this with said videos. But perhaps will leave out the mooning for all our sakes. Suffice to say I really am wondering where the heck she learned to do
it.

Beware the tickle fingers

Thank you for the sushi!

Forgotten crackers

'Let me take a picture of Rozzy!'

Izzy's fav red cafe lunch

A little Xmas arts and crafts

Expedition to the centre of town

The thaw is proving a bit much for poor snowman

Filthy swine

God what a couple of weeks. First I got the lousy flu - swine or not I don't even care any more. All I know is it felt like my head was going to fall off for about three days. Then I realised I could take paracetamol and/or ibuprofen even if I was breastfeeding and then it still sucked but not as badly as the first three days where almost any movement - but particularly coughing, and I was coughing non-stop - made my head feel like it was going to fall off.

Alex heroically ditched work - well he worked from home and took some days off - and managed the kids and food. Izzy was rather good, particularly on the first two nights when I didn't realise yet I had the flu, agreeing to go to bed early with only minimal bribing.

And fortunately the other three have shown no signs of getting it. Was a bit worried because the second week of it, both Izzy and Roz had temperatures at nursery and I braced myself for the worst. But Izzy just came home and threw up, then was better the next day. And Roz nursed a slight fever overnight and then was fine the next day. Am hoping she is now immune to it.

So that was the lousy flu. Boy did ibuprofen make a difference. I usually have no truck with paracetamol or ibuprofen, reckoning that if your head hurts it means you should rest until it stops, not take painkillers to make it stop. But oh boy I felt so much better after the first dose that I took a short walk on Sunday, three days into it, thinking the fresh air would do me good. And I felt very good, actually. Until it wore off. And my legs felt like jelly the next day.

So anyway I have learned what about a million people at work have told me: if you've got it, stay in bed until you're really well and truly over it.

White Christmas

So right after that, I decided I'd better pop into work for a bit to check on stuff I'd missed while I was off sick. And of course the day I go in it decides to snow like crazy, unexpectedly.

It started just before lunch. And the sight elicited only little surprise as the forecast had been for sleet and rain. Then, just after lunch, a colleague, Young Putin, came into the room announcing that the main road from work into our neighbourhood was absolutely crawling, with a tailback going further than his eye could see. He popped back home at lunchtime - a journey that normally takes about seven minutes at worst - and it took him half an hour to get there, and another half hour to get back.

Crazy shoppers, I thought. What on earth are they all doing piling into town like that? Haven't they heard of online shopping? (Speaking of which, am very smug because I got all our presents that way this year - hahahah to lousy crowds.)

So then for the next three hours there is nothing but lousy speculation about the stupid weather as the snow continues to absolutely heave down in big, fluffy flakes. It was actually quite beautiful, watching it from the warm office. Then at about 3pm another colleague kindly steps into my office - I was working in one away from the main room - and tells me 'You know they've told us all to go home - are you going to be alright getting the girls?'

At this point I'm still thinking it's crazy how people are over-reacting to some stupid snow and it's not like it's even reached a foot of it or anything. Also I'm really hoping that the bad traffic on the main road outside means all those shopping idiots will have realised the futility of their actions by now and have headed home, thus clearing the way for me to get home.

So I say I should be alright, seeing as I live only two miles away and could walk home with the girls if I need to, I guess. My colleague has decided to leave her car at work and says she'll be walking to Tilehurst, about four miles away. I'm a bit perplexed but, given the way I know the main road can snarl up, can see the logic of her actions.

Young Putin is a bit worried. 'Should she really walk all the way there?' I reckon she's half-Russian and probably knows what she's doing. She won't be the only one walking anyway. I've seen a few colleagues leave on foot already. True, most are heading only to surrounding neighbourhoods but I think half-Russian colleague will be OK.

Just then, out the window, we both see a colleague go by on a superbike, and in a hat, no helmet.

'Who is that crazy?'

'I think that's J from the development team.'

'What on -'

'I was just thinking that.'

But then J was heading towards the car park, rather than out of it. So perhaps he's just decided to park his bike under the sheds instead of leaving it in the open. Surely no one is crazy enough to ride a superbike home in these conditions.

Then in that last hour we get more updates from work saying roads are being closed all round us. Fat lot of bloody good this announcement is, as it doesn't go on to either recommend going home or any other course of action. But now I'm sufficiently worried to decide I'd better go make sure I can get the girls from the nursery, never mind the run I was planning to do to the supermarket for dinner first.

I meet another nursery mom at the entrance and we decide, despite dire warnings not to, to drive to the end of the road leading to the main road, and then to walk from there. As it turns out things don't actually look that bad. By the time we get to the main road, there are several abandoned cars and two buses at the top of the hill, but the road itself is completely clear of traffic.

At this point I'm slightly regretting not risking the drive down the hill after all, because the snow is still soft and hasn't iced over yet. But I suppose I might have skidded and killed the six people trying valiantly to push a car that's either stalled or stuck in snow up the hill. We slip a bit going down the hill but it's not too bad a walk and I thank my lucky stars again that the nursery is so close to work and home.

The nursery kindly offers to lend me a double buggy and two blankets and so my decision is made. I leave the car at the top of the hill and push the girls home. Roz complains quite a bit as we start out, but is soon fast asleep. Izzy manages to stay awake for half the journey before also succumbing.

Had I not been worried about the girls getting cold - they both had thick jackets on and a blanket over their laps but that's not really sufficient in such cold weather - I would have actually enjoyed the walk. The main road, normally full of cars, was completely empty save for a fire engine that had been called out to a house fire, and which had to be dug out of the snow later, I learned. People were walking up and down, cheerfully chatting to each other.

I had several offers of help with the buggy all the way home as well. It wasn't easy pushing it once I turned off the main road and the reasonably well-trodden on snow, into a private road. As soon as we hit drifts of more than two inches the snow would just pile up in front of the wheels and I had hardly any purchase from either wheels or my own shoes, so frequently went sliding one way or the other.

What with that, the snow continuing to fall and melt on my head, and the stupid trees not infrequently dumping small loads of snow on my head as I went under, it would have been miserable had it not been also so beautiful and otherworldly. I resorted to singing 'White Christmas' while cackling maniacally to myself.

And, as we moved from the private road back onto another major road into Reading, I could at least be satisfied that we were moving - at the rate of about five metres a minute maybe - but that was still faster than all that traffic going nowhere.

It was when we got into our close, finally, that I started to feel quite disheartened. The snow had not been compacted by any car tracks - probably because, like me, most of our neighbours had not been able to get home by car and had decided to walk - and so was piled, at this point about four or five inches high. About the same height as the buggy wheels. So at this point it was impossible to push the buggy at all, and I had to resort to dragging it backwards, in zig-zags.

Fortunately though, a couple of neighbours saw me, and came over with offers to help. I finally accepted because I was getting really fed up of taking so long to get anywhere, and with one of us pulling a handle each, we managed to get back to our house in a few minutes, stopping every now and then to kick away the build-up of snow in front of the buggy.

I really must bake something to thank them; I was so relieved to finally get into the house and out of my wet shoes and jacket. Both babes had woken up at this point and were complaining volubly. Izzy said she felt cold and Roz's feet were like ice, poor baby, when I took her out of her snowsuit. But some hot chocolate, ginger biscuits and feeding later, they were both happy as clams, as was I. And Alex managed to get home at a decent hour, considering the lack of trains for a while, so all was well.

Today, we managed to go rescue the car. I left it there and kept the girls home with me on Tuesday, as the nursery had shut for the day. It was open today but, as you can see below, we took them to London instead for Alex's company Christmas party. The trains there and back were fine. We were only delayed by the local cab, which turned up an hour after it first promised to.

When we got back to Reading today, it was pouring with rain. The black cab refused to take us to our close, saying he didn't want to risk conditions on the small roads. So I asked him to drive us to the car instead, which was not far off the main road. Fortunately, after some careful reversing, we managed to get the car out of the tiny snow bank that existed around it, and drove home quite easily, as the snow had melted on all the main roads.

I have no idea if it will stay warm enough for the snow to melt tonight. I really hope it does instead of freezing over, because we really need to do a grocery run tomorrow and I don't fancy doing it without the car!

Lousy snow.

It's company Christmas party time!

First things first

Get the war paint on

And the nails done

Jelly baby

Flower girl

Craft stalls - nice idea

Of course you have to visit Santa

Chocolate fountain - all the food had glitter on it

Oompa-loompa dance

Breakdancing class

That's popo on the phone

Izzy takes fish for a walk

More fun with balloons

Today's adventure: walking to the post box

Yep, the snow's still there...

More snow fun

Roz is less than impressed

Nice while the sun was out

Nanook of the north

Uses of child labour 4

Playground wonderland

A foot of snow

And guess who has to abandon the car and push the bunnies home in a pushchair? Thank god it was all downhill.

Someone tried ice-skating today

The toys come alive

Skipping

Exercises

Parents can watch week at ballet

So we're both off sick

In one evening

'Mummy I don't want to go to gym class anymore.'

'Why?'

'It's too exciting - the running makes me tired. And it's boring.'

To herself, in her bedroom: 'I wish... I wish when Rozzie is big enough to walk that she will be friends with me. And we will be friends for ever!'

As I was saying...

Izzy is now talking out loud in her sleep. As long as she doesn't wake Roz that's fine with me. Because this last month or so Roz has definitely firmed the idea in her mind that mummy is her walking, talking dummy. As in pacifier. Although the sleep deprivation is bringing me round to the other meaning of the word too.

This month I feel we have gotten off relatively lightly, given that Roz's nursery has, outside its door, this week listed cases of the following in her room:

- conjunctivitis

- chest congestion

- head lice

- hand, foot and mouth

- sickness

Roz has just had colds each weekend though I managed to catch hand, foot and mouth earlier this month - a mild joy of blisters on the fingers and toes, and about seven ulcers in the mouth. The ulcers were not so much fun.

Izzy's room has had umpteen colds and a handful of sicknesses (ie vomiting) so when I was called yesterday and told she had a temperature of 38 degrees I feared the worse. Roz's cold last week included a lousy cough which resulted in the need to wash three bedsheets and two duvet covers over the course of the extended weekend.

Fortunately she is just very flushed and, I think, has a cold. Hopefully the fever will be gone by tomorrow.

On being told she couldn't go to nursery today, the monkey's eyes welled up with tears and heart-rending sobs followed.

'But they're going to soft play today...'

'Well if you get better quick then you can go tomorrow then maybe you'll go to soft play then too.'

'No,' she sobbed. 'They're not going to soft play on Thursday, they're going on Friday. But I don't go to nursery on Friday.'

Poor thing. She wasn't complaining, just heartbroken. And I found it very difficult to keep a straight face.

Similar thing when I was reading her bedtime stories the night before, and digressed briefly from the story at hand to sing what I thought was an amusing nursery rhyme riff. She listened with a poker face and then, as soon as I'd finished, patted my hand and directed: 'Just read the story, mummy.' Patient but firm. Completely in charge.

I couldn't help smiling. Izzy noticed and huffed. 'Why are you laughing?'

'You're funny sometimes,' I said unwisely.

'I'm not funny,' she wailed.

'Sometimes you are.'

'No, I'm not funny!'

'You're not funny, it's what you said.'

Yet another injured look.

'OK you're not funny.'

I forget sometimes she not only listens and understands, she has feelings. Last week I humiliated her by telling the nursery grown-ups she might be a bit tired because she'd had a very late night and we'd agreed, hadn't we, that if she did in the future she wouldn't be allowed to nursery the following day.

Cue a lot of leg twisting and sudden burying of her face in my leg and wanting cuddles. More cuddles. Didn't want me to go. Serves me entirely right.

Argh. Roz demands the magic boobs AGAIN. Right. This sort of thing is taking place every night, sometimes all night. So much so that I am waking up feeling exhausted in the upper body because I have to keep sleeping on my side in order to let that monkey feed.

Last week I thought it would be over because ta daa both her upper front teeth emerged. But no the pattern is repeating itself only more lethally now because she has teeth top and bottom. Why oh why did I not persist in making her take a pacifier when she was three months old?!

Christmas is coming

And Izzy is getting quite excited about it this year. Bless her little heart. Alex set up the advent calendar for her - a lovely friend Nadia bought her a beautiful wooden one last year - and this weekend they populated the little doors with treats. Oh alright. With sweets and chocolate. Alex wanted to do it secretly but as soon as he'd explained the concept to Izzy, she was all 'I want to do it, let me do it with you daddy, pleeease!'

So the calendar is stuffed with sweets and chocolate. But then after they finished Izzy came and asked me: 'Mummy do you have an adman calendar?'

'Advent, honey. Ad-vent calendar.'

'Adman calendar. Do you have one?'

'Well no, but that's OK they're usually for children, not grown-ups.'

'But daddy says he has one.'

'He does?'

'Yes, he says he has one on his computer.'

'Hmm. Yes, hmm. Well mummy doesn't need one.'

'That's OK mummy, you can share mine.'

'Oh? That's very sweet of you, Izzy. OK maybe we can open the doors together.'

'I'm having the sweet tomorrow, mummy, but you can have the coin on Wednesday.'

'Huh?'

'I'll have the sweet but on Wednesday you can have the coin.'

And this morning she did indeed give me the coin. Though she'd already peeled a little of the foil off 'so you can open it easily'.

No Roz. NOT AGAAAAAIN.

Where was I? Oh yes. She did then ask if she could share it. But how impressed am I that she actually gave it to me?

Then there's her Christmas list. At the moment, what she wants, what she really really wants - is a skipping rope. I went into the nursery yesterday and Victoria showed me her letter to Father Christmas. And lo. She's asked him for a skipping rope, and a soft ball. The ball is for Roz - so it doesn't hurt her if she throws it.

I'm not quite sure where we've gone right on this but I am very impressed.

No, Roz. Nooooooooooooo. Dammit is it the sound of my typing waking her up?

Still talking in her sleep

There goes Izzy again. The night before last she started laughing out loud. As it came after Roz had woken up and I'd taken her out of our bedroom to the bathroom to amuse her, I thought Izzy'd woken up too.

Alex had just come home so we went into her bedroom to ask what she was laughing about and she said she'd dreamt there were flowers flying around Roz's head. Then she laughed some more and was asleep again in about five seconds. So we're not sure whether she actually woke up or whether, like cousin Kai Syuen and Yiyi, she's capable of conversing in her sleep.

And speaking of Alex coming home - o dear - it's a good thing but she is getting really attached to him now. So much so that when he was having to leave early and working late every day last week she was getting really quite upset at not seeing him at all.

By about the third night of not seeing daddy, I let her call him at bedtime to say goodnight and she started choking up as Alex told her to be good and that he would come home soon and give her a kiss. And when she put the phone down, tears were pouring down her face and she was sobbing 'I miss daddy. I want daddy to come home now.'

Now she badgers him to come home early and to send her to nursery in the morning. Well this Friday we're all hoping to go to her gym class, as it's finally parents-can-watch week.

And speaking of gym class... we seem to be coming to an irrational worries stage in her development. For weeks she's bounded happily into gym class and out again. Then, last week, just five minutes before class started, as we were waiting in line outside, she suddenly said 'Mummy I'll miss you in gym class.'

Thinking nothing of it, I pulled her closer for a hug. Then one of the trainers opened the gym doors and as I bent down to ask her to go in, I suddenly saw that she was crying.

'Izzy? What's wrong?'

'I'll miss you in class, mummy. I don't want you to go away.'

I put this down to my idiotically telling her that, instead of waiting outside the gym for the duration of her class, I might pop back into work to say goodbye to a colleague who was leaving. So I promised not to leave the gym instead and to stay there and that seemed to satisfy her.

When the trainer asked if she would like to go in, she nodded and ran in, which I took as a good sign. She also came out of class quite entirely happy.

The following Friday however she suddenly began tearing up over breakfast, saying again that she would miss me in gym class.

'But why, Izzy? You know I'm waiting for you right outside.'

'But I'll miss you while I'm in class.'

So more hugs and questions later it transpires that she'd cried a bit in the last class too. And that the trainers simply asked if she would like to sit on the side for a little while and then rejoin the class when she felt better. And she did. Then it also transpired she did not like having to run around during warmups.

Can't say I don't empathise there. But I could not for the life of me work out why, all of a sudden, she was so worried about this, when for weeks she's been quite happy at class. Agh. Anyway this Friday is the second-last class of the term. And next week is the last class.

Part of me thinks she's only four and, really, if she doesn't want to go, that's not a problem. But part of me also doesn't want her to stop over an irrational fear. When she told me she'd sat out the class a bit and rejoined it I praised her for being brave and being able to handle it herself but my heart sank at the thought of the little munchkin having to be 'brave' for a lousy class at four.

Sigh. I suppose we'll just have to see how she takes the remaining classes. But damn it, I just gave them the fees for next term's class the week before!

Roz Roz

Mmm poor wee Roz, always getting second billing in this blog. She's still occasionally grumpy when I hand her over at nursery but on the whole, when it's to her key worker, Melissa, she's usually alright. Which is a great relief.

The little pumpkin is also settling into a bit of a routine after work with me. We dump her sister in front of the TV, Roz gets a feed, then we scurry to the kitchen, her in her high chair. And she's given some finger food (apple, mini weetabix) to play with while I cook. I am trying to maintain my 'cook tonight's dinner the night before' schedule.

I ditched it last week and spent several very trying nights trying to get simple dinners ready with the kids getting impatient and Izzy being quite tired by the time it was actually ready. It's also a bit tiring having to consider baby and toddler likes as well as our own in each meal! I usually take out a small portion of things for Roz before adding sauces or salt to the food. So this is all really much more easily done the night before.

Roz is also starting to eat quite well. This weekend she enjoyed many morsels of chicken and prawn, particularly at lunch times. Alex and I were quite amazed at the amount of chicken she ate. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised given that she is consuming much less milk than Izzy did at her age.

And she likes nothing more than to be able to mash her food in her hands and feed herself. Much like Izzy I suppose, only, poor Roz, I have much less time and patience this time round to allow her to play with her food.

Our appointment with the paediatricians over her allergy has been postponed twice now, much to my annoyance. The second time it was delayed it was only by a day, and we were notified only a day before the appointment. And it was delayed, of course, onto a day in which I was due to give two presentations at work so there was no way I could change my leave. Sigh. So then I had to postpone it again by about three weeks. I'm starting to see why people get so furious about waiting lists.

Part of me is trying to be all calm because, after all, Roz's allergy really is a low priority and hardly life-threatening. But at the same time I feel like pulling my hair out because all I want is some advice on alternatives and what to do about her diet, really. I made the original appointment in August and now it's set for next week, four months into the future. Just a bit ridiculous.

Just as well it's coming up though because this week Melissa told me that Roz hasn't really been very interested in her milk and if it really is a pain in the bum for me to keep expressing she frankly probably wouldn't miss it.

I did realise that. Her diary notes that she's had, on average, only half her bottle of milk each day - which can't be more than 2 ozs at most. Probably more like 1.5 ozs on average. Which is reasonably negligible (and maybe explains why she's so ravenous at night).

Alex has wondered if it's because she wants nothing to do with the bottle. 'Maybe we should try the bottle more with her at home,' he said this morning. Funny, I thought I recalled you saying that you'd start doing that oooh when she was born, to bond with her; and then when we got the stinky hydrolised protein milk from the GP, I said. We?

'Maybe you,' he grinned sheepishly. Hah. No. If I have to deal with the night feeds he can certainly do the bottles.

Anyway so I've decided that yes, there's probably little point in continuing to express... although Roz is fond of baby cereal ... so maybe I won't completely cut it out yet. But then maybe the stinky milk with its savoury odours of mashed potato and vegetable oil won't seem so odd mixed in the cereal. Hmm.

And Roz. Wee Roz. So sweet when in a happy mood. So decidedly grumpy otherwise. She's hilarious. Once she's tired of eating something, she pushes my hand quite decisively away. And every morning, if I have the misfortune of waking after she has, there's a squall while I brush my teeth. And then, if I pick her up and then have to put her down again to change her clothes or nappy - she doesn't just cry.

No. The thin, high wail that issues from her upturned mouth is all injury and indignant. Incandescent fury. Then pick her up again and it's gone. We're ok now.

I chopped off her mullet this weekend, having finally got fed up of the straggly ends, and am quite proud of the bob she now has. It's a bit uneven on one side, of course but I think she looks sweet now. If only she would stay still long enough for me to trim it properly I'd even say she looks chic. Chic little waily pumpkin. That's Roz.

Life happens

Yeah so I realise I haven't posted in a while but what with - arrrgh Roz has just woken up. See? SEE?