School Runner

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I got 2 pre-schoolers walking the streets…I need ya, Dad. This is a bad one, the worst yet. I need the School Runner; I need your magic.

Not quite what Jake & Ellie’s pre-school teacher said to me. But it might have been.

And, to be fair, she hasn’t actually said anything like that to me at all. I just couldn’t resist appropriating a quote from one of my favourite films

- for I am now officially a School Runner!

Cue swelling spacey Vangelis synths while my spinner car swoops over city skyscrapers before descending onto the mean streets of suburban south Wales

In my head, anyway…

The reality is slightly different.

Jake & Ellie have been eased gradually into their new life as pre-schoolers: at first 2 afternoons a week, then 3, & now they’re up to the full 5.

To start with the Mummy & I were dropping them off & picking them up together; now we ‘take turns’. She likes to do it herself when she can, & she does. I can usually go with her on her days but we want them to get used to just 1 of us collecting them as she can’t go with me on my days.

They are really enjoying pre-school & are usually excited to be going. We just point them in the right direction & off they go; taking them there isn’t a problem.

Picking them up again afterwards, however…

I gaze with envy at the other parents walking along sedately, hand in hand with their little darling – or little darling & slightly bigger & more mature little darling – trotting along sweetly at their side.

I’m not sure what they think when they look at me. They’re probably too busy trying to avoid a flying Jake as he attempts to become the fastest 3-year-old on Earth. There’s a nasty chicane at the gate which is always trouble, then a long lane which is perfect for a little boy intent on doing his best Usain Bolt impression. The lane leads to a footpath then a busy road, & he hasn’t quite got it into his head yet that running onto roads is generally a bad idea.

There’s usually shouting.

Ellie on the other hand likes to dawdle. There are lots of little walls on the way & she sees it as her mission in life to walk on every one of them, very slowly, balancing with her arms in the air so she doesn’t fall off. Except she sometimes does. Some of the walls are in people’s gardens. “That belongs to someone else” is a sentence which just doesn’t seem to register in the world of a 3-year-old, or at least our 3-year-olds.

There’s usually shouting.

Of course I try to grab their hands on exit. They’re surprisingly quick, especially Jake, so that often doesn’t happen. Even if it does they’re also surprisingly strong & are experts at wriggling free.

We’ve tried wrist-straps, but that caused World War 3. They actually seemed genuinely hurt so we haven’t had the heart to try them again.

The one time I used the buggy, strapping them in, was during a freezing rainstorm where they seemed to accept my argument that we were doing it so I could get them to the car as quickly as possible. I’m not convinced it would work on a normal day, but that’s the plan for my next time.

I’d love to hear about the experiences of  other School Runners, especially other parents of twins. Is it smooth sailing getting them home or are yours little terrors like ours?

It seems to me to be a twin thing, but I could be wrong!

I don’t think there’s any real danger; it’s just stressful so I’d like it to be better! We always make it home more or less all in one piece, unless you count stress as an injury. Where, even if I don’t manage it, I feel like having a sleep – and when I do I hopefully won’t dream of electric sheep or unicorns ;)

Ellie the HR Executive & Jake the Politician

Heard around the Jallie Shack this week:

“You work in an office, don’t you Daddy?”

“No, not at the moment, Ellie. But I used to”.

“When you were young”.

Technically she’s wrong, but it often feels that way…

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Jake threw the mother of all tantrums yesterday. At school pick-up he wanted to sit ‘in’ (behind) the driver’s seat; Ellie had got there first, & I’d promised it to her anyway as he’d had it when I dropped them off. Getting him in the car-seat was a Herculean task! The drivers we held up, most likely also parents on the school run, were very understanding.

At home a bit later it seemed as if he was trying to make it up to me. He walked up to me & kissed my cheek.

“I like your ear, Daddy”

Then looking up at a picture on the wall: “I like your picture, Daddy”

Well, it was a really bad tantrum!

He already seems to know that flattery can get him everywhere. I think he’ll go far, that lad…

Wot So Funee?

“Wot So Funee?” is a blog-hop, so for more funnies just click the pic!

A conversation with my children about dinner

A conversation, just now:

“Daddy, are we eating on the sofa or the table today?”

“The sofa”

“But we’ll make a mess”

“We’re eating in bowls, & you’ll be careful”

“No we won’t”

I give up…

Wot So Funee?

Click me

Memories

When I’ve spent time at the old house* I usually come back in a somewhat reflective frame of mind.

Take this picture, for instance, which I posted back in June & meant to explain but never did:

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I was working really hard: clearing, cleaning, supervising tradesmen, sorting, throwing out rubbish, organising storage & removals, trying to get leaking roofs fixed or replaced in torrential rain, sanding & revarnishing the 100-year-old wooden floorboards: that was a nightmare! I was desperately trying to get the place ready to go onto the market as soon as possible. I needn’t have bothered, as it turned out: despite dropping the price a lot – too much, I think – we still haven’t sold it.

One of the jobs then was cleaning the chalk off the back wall. This wall. It was some of Jake’s & Ellie’s first attempts at art, at making shapes. It will eventually lead to writing, drawing, who knows what else.

To wipe it all off, to erase it from existence, to remove their precious scribblings: it  just seemed wrong. I really didn’t want to do it. But I had to.

1-DSC00326Everywhere I go there I see memories. The big garden I loved so much: we had so much fun there, especially in their second year when they were more mobile & playful & I was their main carer. They loved messing about with sand & water with the play-tables, & playing with the hose. Jake never ceased to amaze me with his ability to find & pick the ripest & juiciest blackberries from the vines which were threatening to dominate all else there. Sometimes we’d just sit on the seats & watch our world go by. Other times we’d climb around & explore, & be fascinated by the insects, birds & frogs we might find. We weaned them in that garden, & would eat outside as much we could in the warmer months. In the house there are toys still there that we haven’t had room for in our little, supposedly temporary house.

1-DSC00325So many memories! They’ll never leave us, of course, but the house feels empty; just memories there now. I feel like it should be full of the sounds of laughing, running children – but it’s still, & quiet. Too quiet.

And it got me thinking : some of the most precious moments that we as parents will carry with us will be from these times: when our young loved ones were 2 or younger.

The age up until which we human beings are meant to have little or no memory of anything that happens to us.

So things that we’ll carry with us & that will be some of our most treasured memories will be things they’ll know nothing about?

I can already see myself reminiscing with Jake the teenager about the blackberries, & getting: “Oh Dad, stop being so soppy!”, before he runs off to his room to play some very loud music. Via his Ninsamyo Holodeck, probably.

Just one more of parenting’s, & life’s, ironies I guess.

I wonder what else this Daddying lark has lined up for me?

Now, if I could just remember where I put my keys…

* A year ago we reluctantly moved from our home in the Midlands to Wales because of work. We had a little place there which we had been renting out, & the plan was to move in there for a few weeks while we sold the old place, then buy a new family home in Wales. But we haven’t been able to sell & we’re still living in a house which just isn’t big enough for 2 adults & active twin toddlers. So we’re stuck. But we do have a Plan B.

Mama Weer All Potty Now!

It’s Potty Training Week here at the Jallie Shack!

So I wouldn’t advise reading this while eating…

We stuck them in pants on Saturday morning. Ellie was totally accepting, but Jake wasn’t having it. They had a reward chart each & every time they asked to use the potty they got a star sticker, then a reward of Maltesers or Smarties after 7 times. All the while we were pumping them full of as much diluted apple juice as they could take!

They were doing well in their scary new nappiless world, & Jake had become more enthusiastic about wearing pants, but there were the inevitable accidents. Which was when we realised we didn’t have enough pants, nor even tissues & paper towels. So the Mummy made an emergency dash to the shops while I manned the fort. She returned bearing gifts! They were doing so well they got them straight away: a shopping basket with toy groceries for Ellie & a mix & match Tumble family thing for Jake. They were pleased.
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We were thinking we’d keep them at home after the weekend instead of going to playgroup but they were doing so well we felt completely confident sending them in their pants! By Monday Ellie was there! She was aware of when she needed to go, pulling down trousers & pants to both pee & poo,  cleaning herself, then pulling her pants & trouser back up all by herself!  Also Karen at playgroup is really experienced & has helped loads of kids toilet-train.

Jake has seemed a bit scared of pooing on the potty but now is fine. They’ve even been dry overnight the last couple of nights.

It must mean a lot to them: this morning they grabbed a couple of colouring pens (actually my highlighters!), asked for some paper then drew this:

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I loved it as they were drawing together, swapping pens & chatting away.

Can you guess what it is? They told us:

“Pee!”

They then showed it to Karen when I took them in. Who then fell about laughing.

It’s not every day that anyone gives you a picture of their pee. Even on Valentine’s Day.

I think it helped that we left it ’til they were a bit older; also that their friends at playgroup haven’t been in nappies for a while.

I’m really proud of them: they’re like proper little grown-ups! It is a bit sad as well though: it seems as if they’ve shaken off the last vestige of babyhood

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I love you Daddy

I’ve done a poo!

Happy Valentine’s Day :)

And in case you’re wondering about the bad spelling in the title…

Toy Story

Ellie has a bad habit of tipping the contents of toy boxes on the floor then walking away without having played with the toys much, if at all. It’s a particular problem here as we have so little space. If we let stuff pile up we’ll start tripping over it. Then, as the teddies & toy trains pile higher & higher, we’ll end up not being able to move & will find ourselves walled up inside. Again.

We’ve been trying to get her to tidy up afterwards, to put the toys back in the box. She’s nearly 3 so she should be able to do that now, right?

We haven’t had much success.

“Ellie, will you pick the <play> food up please?”

“No”

She’s a good girl – as she’ll tell you herself – but, like any 2-year-old, she has her moments

“Ellie, please pick the food up”

“No. I don’t want to!”

“Ellie, you tipped it on the floor; you should put it back”

Appealing to logic to a 2-year-old. Yeah, that’s going to work…

“No. You do it!”

Then she goes upstairs to get ready for bed with Jake & the Mummy, while I clear up after dinner. And tidy up Ellie’s toys.

But no more! We’ve decided to get stroppy!

So next time we added:

“Ellie, if you don’t clear up your food we’re going to take it away”

“No!”

“Ellie, Daddy will take it away” (Daddy shoots the Mummy a look that says: “Thanks!” Sarcastically) “& you won’t be able to play with it any more. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

I understand cabinet collective responsibility & the need for parental unity & all that, although I can’t help feeling a bit like Nick Clegg.

“Yes, that’s right. I will take your food away”

“OK”

Er…what?

“Ellie, do you understand that we will take those toys away & you won’t be able to play with them any more?”

“Yes. That’s OK”.

She called our bluff! She’s only 2, for crying out loud!

Note To Self: Never play poker with Ellie. Unless she’s on my team…

Then they all trotted off upstairs as usual & I wore some more holes in my jeans clearing up toys. As usual.  Although I did take the food away. For a few days

You see what we’re up against here?

Maybe I shouldn’t have sung them the Batman song so much when they were babies…

The Batman (TV series)

You know the one, from the great old TV series: “Da-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na BATMAN!”. Subbing in “JAKEY!” or “ELLIE!”, and zooming them up in the air with their name.They loved it.

Problem is, now they seem to think they’re Superpowered.

They can do anything, go anywhere! Batman had: “To the Batmobile!”; SuperJake & SuperEllie have: ”I do it myself!”, or “I’m a big boy / girl!”.

So this morning, while we were trying to get them in the car, Ellie wants to scoot & play on the concrete in front of the house. It’s covered in ice. Mummy & Daddy: “Holy icicles, Ellie, NO! It’s too slippery, you’ll fall over!”.

Determined not to be beaten by Mr Freeze, she carries on.

Children dressed in Batman & Robin costumes, 1966

Children dressed in Batman & Robin costumes, 1966 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

POW! SuperEllie slips, falls on her SuperBottom, & cries.

Another day we walked past a load of men & older boys playing football in an enclosure. ZOOM! SuperJake gets very excited & charges in full-speed, shouting “No! I’m a big boy!”, SuperLegs & SuperArms flailing, as I run in & pick him up before he gets SuperStampeded.

They are so different now than those cute, helpless little babies. They now walk, run, jump, climb & scoot. They count, & recognise letters & words. They make jokes, talk (back!) to us, & understand a lot of what we say, to them & to each other. Sentences like: “Shall we give them I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M?” – often followed by suspicious looks, & the odd “What, Mummy / Daddy?” – are commonplace here now. More on that later…

They can sing well, & make up their own songs. (My favourite is the Daddy song). Ellie’s ability to remember & repeat songs & phrases often surprises us; Jake is starting to do representational drawing – limbs, faces – & is a wiz with gadgets. More on that later…

And they have all of their own teeth, which is more than I can say!

As 2-year-olds they’re exploding with the joys of new-found abilities; it’s a fantastic period of growth & development. But their ability to recognise their own limitations seems to lag behind. They can do so much more now that they can feel like don’t have any.

It’s great being able to be a part of it, often exhausting trying to keep up.

To be fair, they are mature enough now to realise that there are actually some things they can’t yet do, & that maybe Mummy & Daddy might be right about some things. Sometimes.

Parenthood: what a ride…

To the JallieMobile!

To pee, or not to pee…

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Er, yes: that’s a good effort but maybe you could try again?

I just read this really good & really funny post by Tom in ‘Dairy of the Dad’ about his struggle with the dreaded potty-training.

We may have the same trouble ahead as Jallie are due in Nursery in March & so will need to be fully potty-trained; as yet they’re only part-way there.

The ‘live stand-up demonstration’ stuff really made me laugh, & reminded me of similar experiences we’ve had here.

The locks on our loo doors, even if they have any, never seem to work too well so this sort of training went on naturally; we didn’t need to organise any sort of formal demonstration. It kind of just happened, whether we liked it or not.

Jake just seemed very pleased to see how a real man (ahem) does it.

But when Ellie ran in & ‘caught me in the act’ she was shocked.

Jumping up & down, running off to tell Mummy, her reaction was: “HE’S HOLDING THE PEE! HE’S HOLDING THE PEE!”.

As preparation for her using the potty: probably utterly useless. But at least she learnt something I guess!

 

Work

I used to work in finance. Although I have no major qualifications beyond high-school I’m reasonably good with numbers, spreadsheets & tech, and –  if I’m honest, as I always try to be here – less good with people. I’ve worked on that & my social skills have improved but at heart I am still basically anti-social! I gravitate towards screens & am often uncomfortable in social situations.

So I happened on a career in accountancy & finance, not really by choice but just as it seemed to be what I was suited for.

The truth is my heart was never in it.

Office stress 2A lot of the time it bored me senseless: sitting in front of screens for hours on end just to make all the numbers, little & large, get on with each other. At other times it was very stressful & pressured: with fixed daily, weekly, monthly & yearly deadlines for which the right numbers had to be produced. And if they weren’t then others down the line who needed the numbers got stressed as their deadlines began to loom. It could get shouty.

I hated the office politics, pettiness, dealing with annoying people, bullying bosses, tiresome meetings. There were sometimes 24-hour, even weekend-long shifts. And I didn’t even have the compensation of being highly compensated. I did OK but I often struggled to pay my bills, just like anybody else.

I guess I’ve just never been that career-minded. I have often wondered if I’m maybe just a bit lazy: I definitely value my leisure time & try to make as much of it as I can.

But when I became a Stay-at-Home Dad I, along with the Mummy of course, worked really, really hard. I’ve probably said it here before but it’s worth repeating:

It’s the hardest job I have ever had.

1-DSCF3305It was exhausting, particularly the first year. The first 6 months or so are now a bit of a blur; we basically lived in the bedroom for most of that time.

No matter how unpleasant the office was I could still come home, get away from it. It might prey on my mind, even keep me awake at night, but at least I could escape to my own space.

With our slightly premature twins & their minor but demanding health problems there was no such escape. Care was around-the-clock, 24 hours a day. Even when I wasn’t actively looking after them I was always on call, all the time. The stress of taking on new challenges way outside of my experience, with my wife, all the while with the mind-numbing, debilitating sleep-deprivation: that’s something I could never have prepared myself for.

But this time my heart was in it.

So why the difference?

Before, I worked for money. As a Dad: it was love. And that realisation makes me happy.

So: lazy? Probably not. Soppy & besotted? Definitely!

Some posts from around that time:

The Best Advice I Can Give to Parents of Small Children

If I had a pound for every hour I’ve spent clearing up food & toys from the floor I’d be fat. Or something.

I’d also have jeans that don’t get holes in the knees within a couple of months of purchase.

Found this morning:

  • 1 little plastic man, with a swivelling head. Not sure why: he doesn’t look like he’s possessed
  • 1 child’s bracelet
  • 1 dirty sock, mine
  • 1 sheet of star stickers, useful for potty training
  • 1 plastic burger
  • 1 doll’s T-shirt (very dusty)
  • 1 Wizard’s Hat sticker. No idea where that came from. Must be Magic
  • Danny Dog & Suzy Sheep. Yes, together. There’s quite a scandal I believe; I’ve heard talk of “grounded for a month”. Poor Peppa is in a state of shock
  • Another little plastic man; appears to be a Bavarian tourist. Non-swivelly head
  • The obligatory dust & dirt

Not too bad for a whole floor, you say?

Actually, that’s just from under the sofa: the floor was much worse.  And today was a really good day: I’m amazed at how little was there. Not even any leftover food!

I spend an unreasonable amount of time on my hands & knees sweeping under sofas with a broom handle. Not only is there the Daily Sweep, but any time I hear a plaintive cry of “Where’s my <horsey /  airplane / Goldilocks / farmer / hat / pizza / slippers /  blueprint for an inter-stellar spaceship>?!” it’s “Hang on: I’ll get the broom”. And it’s almost invariably there.

So my advice?

For pity’s sake, by all that’s holy, if you can: get a sofa that goes all the way to the floor. ALL THE WAY. No gaps. None. Airtight. Hermetically sealed.

OK? You can thank me later. And buy me a new pair of jeans.