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.

Some things I should have blogged about but didn't because I was just too lazy.

Remember how my boys always had hair that looked something like this?

(Though I admit Eli's is particularly insane in his picture.)Well around Christmas Thomas started asking to have his hair cut 'all spiky' just like his dad. So I eventually relented and took him and felt saddened the entire time as I watched him grinning from ear to ear as the stylist cut off all his hair.

He looked SO grown up but also super cute so I quickly learned to live with it!

A few weeks later Sabbath day boredom kicked in and we decided it was time to bid farewell to Eli's hair too.

Rob somehow managed to persuade him and we pulled out the clippers and went to town on his head. In fact Rob went to town with a little too much ferocity and mistakenly put the number 3 guard on instead of number 6.

Which resulted in hair so short that we had to resort to shaving our hairy boys forehead because his forehead hair was longer than the hair on his head.
Eli wasn't so impressed with the outcome. He asked several times for his hair back and confided to anyone who would listen with disgust that 'my daddy did it to me!' Fortunately it's growing back now and we'll be keeping it long (but not so dishevelled looking) in the future.
Thomas who didn't escape the Sabbath day boredom also got his hair buzzed off and at the end of January turned 4! (Yes I am ashamed I'm blogging about this 2.5 months late.)

He chose to go bowling and somehow even with the bumper bars up he managed to beat me. Well, more precisely utterly thrash me considering he whooped me by 30 points or so. Clearly all my bowling prowess on the Wii just didn't transfer into real life. Gutted.

Blasted Nintendo people giving me a false sense of confidence and achievement.

February saw England get its worst snowfall in 18 years. Usually we get a mere sprinkling that leaves within a few hours but this snow kept on coming and lingered for a week or so.
The boys (including Rob) of course were thrilled and made the most of every snow filled day.
I on the other hand put on as many clothes and possible and waited for it to pass.
Whilst wondering why on earth I wasn't born somewhere warmer and how come global warming hasn't actually made me any warmer at all.
After months of watching from the sidelines Eli recently officially started football training for the West End number 5's alongside his big brother. For the most part he has zero clue what is going on and runs around aimlessly which is far from productive but on the bright side it is very amusing to observe.
Today is our 6 year anniversary. I'm actually not even at home with Rob. I came to my mum's with the boys for a few days this afternoon. 6 years has flown by. But I am grateful for the husband I have and the time we have spent together.

We all miss you already Rob!

Let Him Eat Cake

You know how middle children are always droning on about how neglected they are?

How there are no pictures of them growing up but a trillion of both older and younger siblings?

How they got to wear nothing but hand-me-downs (my sister can tell a lovely tale about wearing my brothers Y-front pants but with the hole sewn up) but the next child got all new things just like the firstborn did solely because everything was completely worn out by the time the middle child was through with it.

I suspect most middle children actually think they were adopted because after all that is surely the only logical explanation as to why there is very little documented evidence of their existence prior to starting school.

This I cannot relate to.

I am the youngest child in my family. I loved being the youngest. Being the youngest by 5 years was even better. Sure my siblings would rather have lost an appendage than have to play with me (allegedly I was annoying) but I got quality time alone with my mum every single day while they were at school. Plus by the time the youngest comes along the parents have both more money and more time. Life for me was pretty good I have to admit.

Having had several friends over the years who had middle child syndrome to varying horrifying degrees I committed myself to always treat all my kids equally. Now I currently only have two kids so how hard can it really be?

Really hard it would appear, because I just found this unfinished post from Eli's birthday.

Yep, Eli's birthday that was in May. Two and a half months ago.

Poor kid isn't even a middle child yet and already he is neglected. No wonder he spends most of his life in a state of rage and anger.

As if this wasn't bad enough at the age of 26 months there are zero, yes zero pictures of Eli in our house. If you were to come to our house and not be familiar with us you would instantly assume we have just the one child. Just Thomas. (Though those pictures haven't been updated since Eli was born either.)

Whereas the first months of Thomas' life were celebrated with almost daily photo shoots, Eli's first months are documented in about 15 pictures.

Eli's baby book remains both incomplete and abandoned.

Eli has been frequently subjected to hand-me-downs.

So I figured I'd document here for all to see. That Eli is loved. Just as much as his brother.

Contrary to all the evidence that would make it appear otherwise.

He had a great birthday. Reaching the 2 year milestone weighing 28 pounds (50th %ile) and measuring 88cm/34.6 inches (75th %ile)

Just wanted to make that matter perfectly clear so that when he is suffering with middle child syndrome (which is surely gonna come eventually) and suspecting he was actually in fact adopted.

I can direct him right here for the truth.

We love you Eli (I promise!)

Happy Birthday Eli!

It just doesn't seem possible that Eli just turned 2! When Thomas turned two we already had an 8 month old Eli on the scene (by choice may I hastily add, I think the happy hormones after I had Thomas sent me temporarily delirious or something). Seeming as Eli generally gets a bad report on this blog I figured I'd dedicate this post to our second born child. Here he is a day or two old, all 6 pounds 9 ounces of him.
A few months older
Happy 1st Birthday
Crazy haired naked happy boy!
An incredibly handsome two year old!

I love Eli because he chooses to call a spider a 'bee-bubb-er' even though he can clearly say spider, I love that Spiderman therefore translates to 'bee-bubb-er-man'.

I love that he loves his Gee-Gee's, each and everyone of them. I really wanted Thomas to have an attachment to something and he never did. Then Eli met Gee-Gee and the rest is history.

I love that nobody in our extended family says penguin....ever! Gee-Gee is an accepted term for penguin through both sides of our families.

I love that when he cuddles me he has to tuck his arms snuggly inside mine so he can be as close as possible.

I love his boundless confidence, he knows he's funny and he's more than happy to entertain.

I love that he is arguably the best sleeper ever. Since birth we have just laid him down at night awake and he'll fall asleep in the very position we leave him in without a single complaint. (Naps are another story but I'm focusing on the positive, right?)

I love that he can read 'Fix it Duck' a trillion times without ever getting bored.

I love his new found adoration for babies and how he'll just sit next to a baby and happily rub his gee-gee on them or give them gee-gee to play with. (Under his close supervision of course!)

I love that he watches 'Cars' with the same enthusiasm the 2354th time as he did the 1st time.

I love that he says 'that's munny' instead of that's funny.

But most of all I love how cute he is when he says 'I luf yoo mummy'.

Can I keep him this size forever?

Back in Working Order

So, I just (my birthday was 3.5 months ago) got a Nintendo DS for my birthday from my mum (you'd imagine a mother would be the one dependable person in life who would get your gift to you on time). Yes, I know I am 32 years old but frankly I was running out of reasons as to why hardly any of my clothes are in the wardrobe but instead in somewhat neat piles (lots of them) against the wall by our bed and the very nice people at Nintendo have provided me with a very satisfactory distraction for now. But I will put my clothes away.....eventually! Well probably not but it was a nice thing to imagine for a second or two.

It came with Dr Kawashima's Brain Training and heaven knows I need that after two pregnancies, followed by mostly preschooler company and three years worth of Backyardigans and Diego.

So I did the brain test. The result? 62. My brain is so idle and out of shape it belongs to someone with very possibly not their own teeth or full control of their faculties or even decent bladder control. (Man I paint a pretty picture of being 62 eh?)

So I set about some hardcore brain training that day in a bid to reverse my child-induced brain damage. The next day I took the brain-age test again. The result? 32! My actual age. An overnight success.

Thank you Dr Kawashima, you miracle worker! (I'll avoid taking the test again because frankly I can't face the disappointment, I'm happy enough to know my brain is allegedly functioning just as it should be.)