In Loving Memory……

[Whispers] Hello, is anybody out there?

Silence.

[Shouts] Hey! Where is everyone?

Silence.

As I am sure you can imagine brimming with anticipation on returning to blogging I excitedly went on a whistle-stop tour of all my favourite blogs. Of which there were many.

Eager to catch up on all I’ve missed since Libby was born and attempted to suck out all my will to live by never, ever sleeping.

Sadly, I found lots of this,

Only to be expected I guess, and obviously I would’ve been invited if I hadn’t carelessly neglected my blog for quite so long.

But I also found lots of this,

Gasp!

I really mean it, GASP!!!!

Too many of the blogs I loved and followed are not even in existence anymore.

It’s like while I was absent completely unbeknown to me there was some kind of tragic blog holocaust.

Whole blogging civilisations wiped out with absolutely no explanation.

Sob!

I find myself feeling a bit like this guy,

See the sadness in his eyes?

That’s exactly what my eyes look like right now!

Those few who remain almost without exception seem to be super-bloggers now attracting millions of visitors and blogging on a scale I never even new was possible.

So here I am, a Wall-E emerging from a blog holocaust (though for certain I’ll be doing a lot less cleaning up than that guy!)

I guess it’s time to make some new friends.

Anyone?

In case you were wondering.....

We are still alive!

And finally ready to blog again.

And this time I really mean it!!

Coming Out of the Non-Blogging Abyss!

So I haven’t blogged for 11 months (What do you mean you hadn’t noticed?).

Last years New Years Resolution was to blog more.

Whoops!

This year I failed to even make a single resolution.

Because unmade resolutions are really the only ones I stand a chance of keeping.

I could blame it on this…….

…….because she still doesn’t sleep through the night.

Yes, she is almost 16 months old,

and YES, I am beginning to take it very personally.

Her sleep mode is faulty, busted, defunct.

But in reality all the effort I could’ve been putting into blogging I have instead put into sitting on my backside eating chocolate, and not gaining a single pound.

It’s a long way back from Sofa heaven.

See you in another 11 months.

Or maybe even sooner!

Be My Valentine…

Yes, it’s true I am officially smitten.

Thank you Microsoft for simplifying one area of my life.

Now if you could only excel your good selves and invent a program that gets Libby sleeping 12 hours a night I’d be forever in your debt.

In Defence of Britney Spears

Well that was a title I never ever imagined giving a post, or even a single thought for that matter.

I think if we’re honest people we’re all still slightly disturbed about when Britney did this.

It wasn’t a good look.

I knew my old Dyson was on the fritz but didn’t realise quite how decrepit it was until we replaced it with a beautiful new Dyson and I got quite carried away with some celebratory vacuuming (I don’t know what it is about vacuuming with a Dyson but for me it is the most fulfilling housework I ever do, or maybe just the only housework I ever do?) and emptied the cylinder only to find enough hair to hairify (I know that's not a word or even a possibility but I’m sleep deprived so I really don’t care so much)about 12 bald men.

Previous to this Eli had gone to use the bathroom after I had showered (which was a delightful change, usually he likes to visit at least once per shower, another joy of parenthood) and exited the loo in a panic. On seeing my head wrapped in a towel his panic intensified.

“Mum, you showered all your hair off!”

I went to look and reassured him that I did have some hair left on my balding dome.

Post Partum hair loss sucks.

I leave a trail of long brown hairs wherever I go. I find them in very dubious places. I have thinning patches all over. My tresses are distressed.

Not tres glamorous.

Then I remembered dear troubled Mrs Federline as was, and that she had 2 kids really close together (which I still think wasn’t so much entirely intentional and more completely accidental, not that I’m judgmental, much) and I thought wowsers that post partum hair loss had to be really dreadful.

So maybe that’s why Brit buzzed all her hair off.

(If I could pull it off like Katherine Heigl in Grey’s I’d be tempted I’m telling you. But alas I would not be a beautiful baldy and I know it.)

Well that or that Brit really was just a total fruit loop.

The Wrong Side of Bed

The other night in an out of the ordinary attempt to avoid falling asleep Eli kept coming to ask me very important things (usually the kid is out like a light),

On what felt like the 43286th time that I heard little footsteps coming towards me down the hallway he asked "Mummy can I sleep the other way?".

I rolled my eyes and calmly said something along the lines of 'you can sleep any way you like as long as you are ASLEEP, GO TOOOO BED!!!!!!!!!'

Off he went and this is how we found him 2 hours later.......

His interpretation of sleeping the other way wasn't exactly what I expected.

And in case you're wondering. Yes. That is his hand down his pants.

He's all boy our Eli.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 9

Considering I haven't chronicled my parenting faux pas since September 2008 you could be forgiven for thinking that either,

a. I have obviously learned from my mistakes and reached new supreme levels of parenting,

or b. I was just too lazy to blog about what a failure I am.

I know what you're thinking.......

It has to be B.

And you'd be right.

Here is a sterling example of how I haven't come any closer to achieving Super-Parent status.

I was 37 weeks pregnant.

We went to get the few (mostly pink) things left on our baby list.

Me, Rob, Thomas, Eli.

We lost Eli.

Here.

At one of the biggest shopping malls in all of England.

It turns out buying tiny pink clothing doesn't excite Eli.

He wandered off.

We panicked.

I ran the length of the place in my heavily pregnant state dragging a 4 year old in flip flops behind me. (Do you have any idea how hard it is for a 4 year old to sprint in flip flops? Or how amusing a 37 weeks pregnant woman looks running?)

After the longest phone conversation known to man between the customer services lady and the head of security it was confirmed he'd been located.

I nearly squeezed the life out of him.

And sadly it was in that moment that I realised that if that recipe of shock, panic and trauma coupled with the fastest running of my life didn't manage to dislodge that baby from my uterus then she was never gonna come out without being evicted.

Bummer.

The Sleep Grinch

It would seem that my remaining loyal readers (all 6 of them), who didn't remove me from their google reader during my long sojourn in the blogging wilderness would like photographic evidence of our Libby aka little Roo, Lady May, Mayflower, Libskerino and approximately a trillion variations of each.

We're all about nicknames in the Siswick household.

So here she is:

2 weeks

10 weeks
14 weeks
Very 1st Christmas at 4 Months
She is now 4 months old (I almost accidentally put 14 months then, but that's just how long it actually feels like we've had her and how long it seems like since I had a good nights sleep) and adored slightly more each day.

She is currently a big fan of licking just about anything that gets within a tongues reach of her. Which we're hoping she outgrows before she starts school.


Oh and in response to this post. Her DNA was kind to her, no hairy back gene for Libby Mae.


Eli's on the other hand is thickening up for winter. You'd have to see it to believe it.

All is not right in the galaxy........

It would appear that after more than a decade of being ogled and adored by women globally and let's face it ladies it's not for his footballing prowess (and I can appreciate a quality cross or free kick as much as the next person), David Beckham is now actually trying to repel women.

First there was this hideous beard.....

and then this dodgy new hairdo....

(Don't even get me started on that suit or the fact that Charlize Theron hosted the World Cup draw whilst not even attempting to pretend she had a clue what she was actually promoting. I swear she was only there to smooch Mr Beckham and for that she should no doubt be commended).
Then tragically both together.

I am now sadly being forced to reconsider my 13 year long crush on him myself.

My allegiance is definitely wavering.

One things for sure, I won't be getting a David Beckham mug and jigsaw for my upcoming birthday like I did the year I turned 22.

Let that be a lesson to you David.

Separated at Birth?

Out in the car running errands with Eli we stopped at some traffic lights.

"Wow look Mummy, it's Tom and Jenna!"

I glanced around immediately to see where my brother in law and his girlfriend were.

Then I saw this:

I honestly can't figure out if Tom and Jenna should feel offended or not.

Watch Out People!

You know you're completely out of the blogging loop when you log in on blogger and it kindly informs you that you have 261 unmoderated comments. For a mere second I let it go to my head a tiny bit and felt tres popular indeed. Right until I scanned the comments prior to moderation and found each and every one to be completely identical, all offering me Viagra.

Viagra? Are you kidding me? I have 3 kids, the smallest of which it appears failed to read our family sleeping policy prior to arrival in chez Siswick and is killing me slowly, mostly a brain cell at a time. I think I'm likely down to approximately 12 remaining right now.

I need a pill to keep me awake in the morning and another to put me to sleep at night preferably for at least 8 gloriously solid hours. Viagra I can live without, it is surplus to requirements here.

But is this what the blogosphere has come to in my absence? Spam comments? Uncool.

It was a humbling moment when I came to the realisation that if I neglected one of my kids as badly as I have neglected my lovely blog these last 12 months or so social services would've intervened long, long ago. Surely my blog is as worthy of my love as my offspring?

So I have used up all my paltry excuses for not blogging:

I'm pregnant and tired-check.

I just had a baby and am even more tired-check.

I fell over because I was so tired and fractured my shoulder-check.

I can hardly string a sentence together due to combined tiredness from pregnancy, having a baby, fracturing my shoulder and having to contend with dear sweet beautiful Libby whose single goal in life is to ensure I never get a good nights sleep-check.

No more excuses people, I'm back on the blog.

And I mean it!

That is my only New Year Resolution.

Really? My Child?

Now that my firstborn is in full time school he frequently comes home with his jumper generously spattered with stickers in recognition of his good works and impeccable behaviour.

Obviously I always feel a smug glow of pride when he comes out adorned with stickers while other parents pick up their kids who aren't so beautifully decorated. (No doubt that'll be me next year picking up Eli, he's just not all that bothered about making people happy like our Thomas).

Of course in school I was always the model of perfect classroom etiquette (when I wasn't idly chatting to my classmates and ignoring the teacher of course) so I think Thomas is just following in my footsteps.

The other day as we were collecting his coat I enquired as to why he'd received a sticker of a dinosaur that said 'excellent-saurus'.

"I had the tidiest pile".

"What?"

"When we got changed for PE and had to leave our clothes tidy my pile was the very tidy one".

(Completely bewildered) "Oh, right!"

"Cos some of those kids just are not good at being tidy".

And that behaviour he did not get from me.

But I'm hoping it's contagious because my house would really benefit from a healthy dose of that.

(On a tangent I just barely got around to removing the 'your pregnancy' widget. Imagine my horror when I just checked it only to find I'd neglected it so long it was telling me I was 7 weeks pregnant all over again! I'd rather fracture my other shoulder than be pregnant all over again).

New evidence that nothing good comes from cleaning.

Imagine the scene.

A young(ish) Mother's first day with all 3 kidlets all by herself.

The 4 year old gets to school, clean, dressed and on time.

The 3 year old gets to nursery, somewhat clean, dressed and on time, albeit reluctantly.

The Mother delights in her efficiency and arrives home with 2 week old baby in tow feeling like maybe life isn't gonna be the chaotic existence she imagined after all.

She gazes at her sleeping baby and glances at her watch. She has time to quickly overhaul the house and get things all shiny clean and super tidy before the baby needs feeding then she can indulge in uninterrupted baby time before the 3 year old needs collecting.

Bliss, yes?

Until the part where the completely excellent Mother falls over who knows what bashing her head and fracturing her shoulder.

And that, friends, is why I'm never cleaning again.

(I wish I had it caught on camera because that tumble would be truly hilarious to watch I am sure, just saying!)

Welcome.....

...to the world Libby Mae.

Libby made her entrance into the world on 28/08/09 at 10:40pm.

Weighing a hefty 7lbs 3.5oz.

A real whopper by our standards.

Giving a Bit of Credit Where it's Long Overdue

For Father's Day this year we happened to be off by the sea enjoying some sunshine on our family Summer holiday.

On Thomas's last day of school before we left Rob wasn't working and so he went to pick him up. I tried to talk him out of it because I knew Thomas would be coming home with some top quality hand crafted card or gift and I had wanted to keep it as a surprise for the big day itself.

But Rob went nonetheless and really I should have just been grateful that someone else was doing the pick up for a change. Because really after the 212th pick up of the academic year the monotony really started to kick in.

Thomas came home with this card.

I knew right away what the drawing was. It couldn't have been more obvious.

It's Rob playing his Xbox. Priceless.

I looked at Rob, he seemed crestfallen, he said with a tinge of sarcasm, 'Oh it gets better!'

So I looked inside and there recorded by his teacher is what in the eyes of Thomas his dad liked doing the most in all the world.

Rob was both gutted and concerned that Thomas's teachers would have a far less than top notch opinion of his fathering prowess.

Behind a chuckle I tried to comfort him by suggesting that it could have been far, far worse.

After all It could have said my dad likes to play Grand Theft Auto or some Zombie killing game.

So should Thomas's teachers ever fill their spare hours randomly googling parents of their pupils for the record I'd just like to say what a fab dad Rob truly is (and that his Xbox generally only enjoys the wonder of electrical power when they kids are fast asleep in bed).

I don't give him nearly enough vocal credit (or probably non vocal credit either) and I don't devote nearly enough blog posts to him (really I should cos the guy has hilariously killer OCD and what's not entertaining about that?).

On Father's Day when he was well within his rights to demand a nap and maybe even breakfast in bed (which I'm pretty sure were my Mother's day demands) he was instead doing this with his two biggest fans.

Plus one things for sure you'd never catch me doing stuff like this with them.

I'm impressed I even went outside to take pictures of it.

Mummy's are for warm, indoor and clean activities only.

Oh and for the record Rob actually didn't even think the Xbox tennis was that special.

What a Difference 365 Makes

Yesterday Eli had his very first visit to Nursery School.

As we spent our hour there playing in very familiar surroundings (due to the fact that we drop Thomas off there every afternoon) I couldn't help but let my mind wander back to the same experience a year ago when I was doing the exact same thing with Thomas. (Though mercifully back then it was about 10 degrees cooler and I wasn't incubating what feels like a litter of puppies).

A year ago I was full of apprehension about my firstborn growing up too quickly.

This year I can't help thinking, Roll on September!

Last year I decided to send Thomas in the afternoons so that we could all enjoy lazy mornings in our PJ's together.

This year I realised that with 2 boys under 5 lazy mornings simply just don't exist so Eli will be headed to school at 8:40 with his brother every day and I'll have lazy mornings by myself (new baby permitting).

Last year Thomas cried for 30 minutes after leaving his visit to Nursery he was so enamoured.

This year, all year, Eli has cried and had to be wrestled out of nursery when we drop Thomas off on an almost daily basis. I feel ready for that particular brand of humiliation to end. 11 days to go and counting.

While Eli and I were visiting Thomas's teacher came over to tell me that she's thrilled to be getting Eli because it'll make it easier to say bye to Thomas. She expressed that it'd be like having Thomas still there.

A lovely sentiment.

But Eli isn't a bit like Thomas.

The main contrast?

Last year I remember being really concerned that Thomas would injure himself playing with their real grown up woodworking tools.

This year I'm far more concerned that Eli will bludgeon someone other than himself.

I'm a tiny bit concerned.....

....that this baby currently residing in my uterus (with something wedged rather inhospitably under my ribs) is gonna be born with the uncanny ability to count from 1 to 3.

She will probably think too that my normal tone of voice is that of a shrieking beast.

For such is the frequency these days that I appear to be giving out warnings and counting sternly to three before one of my delightful monsters requires a visit (or 8) to the naughty spot.

I just can't work out if my unborn child's numerical brilliance will be the result of my good parenting or bad.

Ah well brilliance is brilliance.

Who cares how we get there.

Belated Birthday (Revisited)

You'd imagine after last years birthday I'd have been more on the ball this year.

It would appear that guilt eventually wears off because on May 24th our baby turned 3.

Leaving all traces of babyhood behind him.

And I'm only just blogging about it now.

A month late!

(Future Eli: Please note that this year I was equally neglectful blogging about Thomas's birthday so don't grow up to be a bitter and cynical middle child please.)

We'd been preparing him for months that three year olds don't have dummies and they don't ride in strollers, and apart from a viciously hellish week of sleepless nights all has gone swimmingly.

He had a space rocket cake (made by my good self) that I could have quite happily devoured in one sitting.
He got gifts galore and when asked later what his favourite gift was he replied without hesitation:

"My Nanny got me a Queen Car (Translation:Lightning McQueen) card that sings happy birthday to me".

Typical.

Next year I'll save myself a fortune and buy him a £2 birthday card and spend the rest of his birthday fund on new shoes for me. Because clearly that's the only way that money is going to be truly appreciated.

30 Weeks: A Four Year Old's Perspective

Months ago Thomas came home from nursery with this picture.

In case you're wondering that's me on the right. (But isn't that completely obvious?)

Apparently my most striking feature is my gigantic googly eyes but please do pay attention to (and even envy a little) my stick thin body and arms.

It's like me and Victoria Beckham were separated at birth or something.

If you happen to be wondering who the rather round and squat person is on the left of me that would be my mother. She was visiting at the time and lucky for Thomas she was so thrilled by the knowledge that he could write his very own name that she got completely distracted from the fact that he had drawn her with an uncanny resemblance to an Oompa Loompa. Though I have to admit to being rather amused myself.

Roll on to last Sunday when Thomas drew this beauty of a family portrait in his Primary class at Church and oh what a difference a few months makes.

Again that would be me on the right.

Long gone is my stick thin body, (though I do appear to have maintained a pretty good set of legs).

Shrunken are my eyes, stupid pregnancy insomnia.

Imagine my horror to find out that this is a representation of how I'm looking these days.

Please note our baby girl dwelling comfortably within my gigantic body cavity, pigtails et al.

So do you think he did me justice? Here is a picture of me yesterday at 30 weeks gestation.

Oh and please don't hate me for not being enormous.

Or for the fact that this is by far the most near to being enormous I have been at this stage in pregnancy.

Bring on the next 10 weeks and somebody hide all drawing materials from the 4 year old.

The Price of Fame

Over here in recent months (cos really that's how far behind I am with blogging) I have been swelling, not just with pregnancy either, but also with a little bit of pride.

In January our brother in law, Alex, was recruited as the new face of the BBC's preschool channel.

The good fortune honestly couldn't have shone upon a more deserving guy. (Alex was even AP on his mission and the really good kind too, not the kind you secretly want to poke in the eye or even better bake laxative laced cookies for).
So you can probably imagine how thrilled the boys were to see Uncle Alex on TV, right?

Wrong.

Thomas was immediately traumatised as to why on earth Uncle Alex was shacked up in some rather different house (which is the set for the channel) with a woman who was very much not his Auntie Jo.

Gradually he overcame his grave suspicions of infidelity and we were able to watch in relative peace without him voicing concern every 12 seconds that all was not quite right in the world.

We dutifully switched our allegiances from our usual (very selectively chosen to maintain my sanity) programs and channels and started to watch Uncle Alex instead.

Turns out having a celebrity in the family has it's downside.

In supporting Uncle Alex my kids were exposed to TV shows that I'd previously avoided at all costs and pretty much immediately Eli was completely enamoured with 'In the Night Garden'.



If you're thinking 'I've never heard of that show'. First of all let me say, lucky, lucky you. (And I really, really mean it!)

Secondly let me go ahead and provide an explanation. Think Teletubbies (but without that incredibly creepy sunshine that was actually a baby), but whilst thinking teletubbies imagine slightly more drug influenced creators. (If such a thing is imaginable).

Can you picture it perfectly in your head now?

A garden world full of characters like Iggle Piggle, Upsy Daisy, Makka Pakka, the Pontipines and the Tombliboos. That spend their time being escorted around on either the Ninky Nonk or the Pinky Ponk. (Seriously now you think you're the one that's drug influenced don't you? But alas, no, it's all true I assure you). The characters remain annoyingly almost mute but are narrated by the super calming voice of Derek Jacobi. Which just about stops my head from exploding whenever I am cruelly subjected to the show.

Where an average episode involves the Tombliboos trousers falling down followed by a aimless trip on the Ninky Nonk. The End.

Just as well the channel scriptwriters seem to have a bit of a thing for dressing Uncle Alex up as a woman (which results in his becoming his mothers twin) because the endless amount of amusement that brings me almost compensates for my In the night Garden hell.

But in the mean time at least we have the flipside that we can go on the channel website and print out our very own (if slightly disturbing looking) Uncle Alex to colour and how many kids can say that about their Uncle?