Tag Archives: children

Bookstart is so useful it’s bound to be victim of Tory cuts

POOR little Bonnie. She’s been left out of all the back-to-school excitement and now has a raging cold which has left her with a sore nose and grumpy disposition.

Being the two-year-old with three older, male siblings doesn’t usually mean she’s left out. She’s often the centre of the boys’ universe and they let her get away with far more than they do with each other.

However, the boys have been getting their bags, pencil cases and uniform ready for school and she’s been desperate to join in.

Good timing then, that she had her two-year check with the health visitors, and was given her very own Bookstart bookbag. Just like the one she tries to steal from Billy, only bright red instead of blue.

Bookstart is an amazing scheme, probably taken for granted by us parents but much loved by the children. It’s the only national free books for all scheme in the world and sees parents given books to share with their babies and toddlers. It’s not purely philanthropic. It came about after academic research proved that children who read with their parents start school with higher attainment and a desire to learn.

It was confirmation of funding by the former chancellor, ol’ Brown bear himself, which allowed the scheme to continue to provide free books to children, regardless of income or background. Book publishers and charity arms of companies also contribute.

Bonnie loves books. She’s thankfully over the page-ripping stage, and will sit and ‘read’ aloud to herself if she can’t persuade someone to read to her. Favourites are the Mr McGee books beloved of her brothers, anything with Peppa Pig, and stories which involve pants or rude noises as part of of the plot.

The Bookstart bag also had a couple of number posters to go on her wall, which reminded me how neglected the poor girl has been in terms of room adornment. Her bedroom is still referred to as ‘the spare room’ and has no personalisation other than her mini-bed and toy box.

So we put up the number posters and moved in some of the more babyish pictures from the boys’ shared room. She’s delighted, and Billy now has even more room to stick up the trillions of pages he rips from football magazines. Everyone’s happy.

The baby Bookstart pack is the one you get before a baby’s first birthday and comes in a canvas bag with two board books and a mat.

Then there’s a toddler one like Bonnie’s, and at three to four years they get a cardboard book chest with story books, coloured pencils and a drawing book.

You get them from the health visitor and it encourages you to take your children to your local library, who also stock the bags.

We do occasionally go to the library but it’s usually only once every couple of months. We went much more when there were fewer of us! It’s a resource every parent should use as there’s so much to do, for free. Getting your children used to being in a library means they’ll continue to use it as they grow up.

But as with everything that’s state funded, if we don’t use libraries, it will be a source of great knowledge and happiness that may not be available for future generations.

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Solitude is a rare treat

I HAD a little solo getaway last week. Properly alone. It was bliss. Bloke was working away, the kids went to Newcastle to visit grandparents and I went away to Edinburgh for a whole day and night.

Having been a parent for almost 13 years, and with Bloke for even longer, I’d sort of forgotten what a joy total independence can be. On a train, alone, with a book, and headphones. Luxury.

I browsed shops for seven, mad, selfish, uninterrupted hours (usually I hate shopping). I tried on clothes, drank posh coffee in a park and pootled around an art gallery.

Solitude. I’d heartily recommend it.

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The tooth fairy is officially skint

After two teeth from two offspring last week, two more of six-year old Billy’s teeth have come out in two days.

The tooth fairies got confused and somehow one tooth earned him £3. 

I think he’s found a stash of old ones somewhere and is passing them off as his own. . .

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All I want for Christmas is. . .

Billy loses tooth

THE tooth fairy deserves to get frequent flyer points for the numerous visits to our house. She came twice last weekend.

It’s an expensive time for her (or is it him?), when a child has reached five or six, and their baby teeth start dropping out. The going rate for teeth has traditionally been £1, meaning the tooth fairy will have to shell out £80 for all my children’s milk teeth over the years.

Billy, aged six and 11-months, has got five wobbly teeth at the moment, after the most precarious front top tooth finally became separated from his gob. It’s been hanging on for at least a fortnight. Usually, you can give a very wobbly tooth a quick twist and it will come away easily. Not Billy’s. His seem to become detached only on one side. We had to get the dentist to take one the last wobbler out.

This time the tooth came out in rather dramatic circumstances. A nice day out to Brixworth Country Park was on the cards, but as he went to jump out of the back of our ancient Bongo campervan he fell face-first into the gravel. Ouch.

Forgetting all the first-aid principles of not moving the patient, I scooped him up and sat him back into the van just as his wails hit an ear-splitting volume. He was so concerned about getting plasters on his grazed knees and elbows, he hadn’t realised his mouth was pouring blood. With wet-wipe ‘cold compresses’ being held on his limbs by his concerned brothers, and Fairy Godmother Aunty Nicki distracting a distressed Bonnie, I got a look at his mouth.

“Oh, at least your tooth is out,” said concerned elder brother.

“Yeah, but has he swallowed it?” asked concerned eldest brother. The wailing started again.

The brothers grim were given the task of trying to find the missing tooth among the white tooth-sized gravel where he’d fallen.

Amazingly, sharp-eyed Jed did find it. And thankfully the rest of Billy’s teeth, including the new tooth breaking through, were all intact.

Insult was added to injury when the tooth fairy missed out Billy on her nightly rounds. She was obliged to pay time and a half the following night to meet contractual obligations. (Don’t know about you but the absent-minded tooth fairy has missed teeth in our house on more than one occasion).

Over breakfast the following day, Dougie suddenly announced that he too had lost another tooth overnight, but had decided not to put it under his pillow as he wanted to keep it “and I’d rather have it than a quid.” He’s 11. haven’t all his baby teeth already come out? He showed me where a new molar was growing in its place.

Turns out children’s 20 milk teeth keep falling out until they are around 12. Jed’s just had his last adult teeth break through, just as he’s coming to the end of wearing a brace and his teeth seem to be all in the right place.

With all this palaver about teeth, baby Bonnie wants to get involved. “My teeth out for the fairy?” she asked, as I was getting her ready for bed. I solemnly examined inside her mouth. Her last milk molars at the back are just breaking through. “Not ready yet darling, soon.” (‘soon’ being the unit of time used on Bonnie for everything).

If your child is unfortunate enough to lose a tooth when it’s not wobbly, the old tip of washing it in milk and sticking it back in is actually true.

It needs to be reinserted within 30 minutes, or kept in the milk, and an emergency dentist trip sought immediately. Don’t think it doesn’t matter if a baby tooth comes out too soon, the tooth needs to be there as a ‘spacer’ until the adult teeth are ready to erupt.

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Her quads have a mind of their own

WE’RE ending that tricky fourth week of school holidays. The family holiday is over, the playschemes have moved on and video games have been played to their conclusions.

The weather is unpredictable and the inmates are restless and bored. How do we all keep our sanity?

In an effort to get some daily fresh air and much-needed exercise, we’ve started running. . . I know, it sounds bonkers.

But this isn’t running in some hearty, healthy, all-together- Swiss Family Robinson-type way. No, this is 20 minutes up at the Racecourse, either me and one of the boys, or Bloke and one of the boys.

And when I say running, it’s more like they run, and we stumble, half-jog, walk and collapse. Frankly, it’s been a bit embarrassing. The boys skip round our circuit barely breaking sweat. Meanwhile, I’m left hobbling behind, wheezing and purple-faced. After two days my thigh muscles felt they’d become detached from my legs and I couldn’t climb out of bed.

Needless to say, the kids quite like this daily ritual humiliation of their parents and we can’t face being the ones to give up first. Oh God, please make the aching stop soon. . .

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Boys Vs Girls: Nature Vs Nurture: Stereotype City

WATCHED the documentary Four Sons Vs Four Daughters after being poked about it by various friends.

This followed a weekend where the parents of, er, four sons swapped lives with. . .well, you get the picture.

Both families were reasonably well-off, and had lovely kids: very stereotypical sporty boys and ballet-dancing, girly girls.

The only really interesting outcome was seeing the ‘background parent’ (the mum of the boys and the dad of the girls) realising how left-out they had become.

This was nothing to do with the kids. It was entirely to do with the Dad of the Boys being sporty and the Mum of the Girls being girly. If the genders had been more mixed, I’m not sure the families would have been any different; it was clear the Boy Dad and the Girl Mum were the dominant forces in their homes regardless.

People often seem to assume that having gender-biased offspring means you are different compared to those with a mixture of boys and girls.

And that if you, like us, end up with a girl after lots of boys, or a son after lots of daughters, you must have felt somehow lacking beforehand. It doesn’t feel that way to me.

I had a lump in my throat when the program showed how the parents felt when their children were born. It simply didn’t matter that they had girl after girl or boy after boy. And honestly, it was the same for us. In fact, it was more of a shock when Bonnie wasn’t a boy.

Our boys aren’t always wrestling or shooting toy guns, although they do always want to spend any spare moment kicking a ball around.

While we do spend a large amount of our time ferrying them to football, rugby or cricket, they do also help out with the cooking – often without being asked or cajoled. Some of them do drama. Some of them sometimes like drawing and dancing.

No pink in sight

She may only be two, but so far, Bonnie is no different. I If there’s a ball being kicked about, she wants to join in. If there’s tickling, play-fighting or playdough monster-making going on, she’s elbowing her way into the action.

But she also likes pushing dolls around in a pram. She’ll run to get the dustpan and brush if anything gets spilled. She has demanded that her tiny toenails get painted with varnish like Mummy’s so she can “have lady toes.” She can make a sulk last hours.

Is that because she’ girly or just because she’s joining in with her surroundings? Am I indulging her in a way I wouldn’t have with the boys?

It’s inevitable that our children will be influenced by what’s closest to home. I’ve never been very girly, but then I had no sisters, two brothers, and was brought up in a boys boarding school. Might I have been less sporty and more interested in shopping (ugh!) and make-up (boring) if my brothers been sisters and the school had been for girls? I’m not sure. . .

Bonnie is showing tom-boy tendencies – getting filthy at the allotment, insisting on wearing her brother’s ‘soldier’ coat, refusing to have her hair brushed and trying to pick up insects – but I’m sure there are plenty of girls without male siblings who are just the same.

She’s also recently become obsessed with those crappy plastic Disney shoes that little girls clip-clop around in. She’s actually tried to steal them from other children. Still, she walks better in heels than I do.

Our kids will develop their own likes and dislikes, influenced by their families and their friends. (Hopefully not too much by television and the media, where aspirations seem limited to being either footballers or their wives).

It’s up to us as parents to allow them to try as broad a range of experiences as we can, and get away from gender stereotypes altogether.

Meanwhile, part of me is quite enjoying having my make-up ‘applied’ by my grinning daughter.

I hope her technique improves though, I need all the help I can get.

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She dreams of the simple life

THIS week is appointment week. Not the most exciting thing but good to get out of the way. We’ve got the dentist, the opticians (to collect Billy’s third pair of frames in less than a year) a health-visitor check-up, a pre-op visit for ear grommets (shudders*) and a visit from the nice lady who makes me look blonder than I really am.

I am resolved to get school uniform sorted earlier than usual. I’d also like to paint the house, mend the shed, do some paperwork, stick a mountain of toys and clothes on eBay, clear the allotment, fit in a visit to my parents ‘oop north’ and sort out a mound of other ‘day-job’ work which still needs doing despite the presence of four children in my ‘office.’

Who am I kidding. . ?

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Would you give your 11-year-old a mobile phone?

GOING through the holiday snaps stored on various cameras I noticed a theme: Dougie is playing with his mobile phone in almost every photograph.

This was to be expected. Giving an 11-year old his first mobile phone and then not letting him fiddle with it for the next month is like giving a puppy a chew toy he can’t bite.

If, like us, you are taking the plunge and getting your pre-teen a phone as secondary school and new independence looms, then don’t leave it until September. Get it now and they’ve got the rest of the holiday for the novelty to wear off.

There’s legitimate research that says children shouldn’t be holding mobiles to their ears as their brains are still growing, and they are more susceptible to the radiation emitted.

There’s also fears of them being more open to mugging, bullying and generally spending too much of their time and our money. We parents can argue that we grew up fine without mobiles, but we also grew up with smoke-filled homes and no seat belts in our cars.

We need to accept that times have changed, and mobile phones are both a noisy, expensive curse and an utterly brilliant way of keeping tabs on our children.

Trust me: that phone isn’t really for him, it’s for us.

Festival not as exciting as my phone

Last year we went through the whole hand-wringing over mobiles with our eldest son before he went to secondary school.

Back then, a whole 12 months ago, it was easy to buy a bog-standard, no-one-would-want-to-nick-it model, which Jed bored of quite quickly and only uses to write illegible texts to his friends on. I pay £10 a month for credit on a pay-and-go basis– no negotiation – after advice not to sign a kid up to a contract. Getting a free texts/limited calls sim card is advisable, as they won’t spend much time talking on it.

However, phones have come a long way in a very short time. They are far more sophisticated, and even getting a cheap one meant touch-screens, android technology and social networking built in. It’s a job to even work out how to actually make a phone call on the blinkin’ thing.

Much to the annoyance of Bloke and I, Doug’s bargain phone is better than our contract ones. And no, we are not going to join the herd and hand over any money to Apple. Iphones are so last year.

Dougie is a techno fiend. Within minutes of its first battery charge he’d entered all his mates’ numbers, sent us all texts, downloaded a game, set his ringtone and transferred all his music files. I fear the novelty may never wear off.

I’ve already wrenched it from his sticky mitts, usually when he’s engrossed and ignoring everything around him, like walking into the road. I need to stem his addiction now before he gets it confiscated during his first week of school.

After all, it’s no good to me as a tracking device if it’s in a teacher’s drawer. . .

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Top tips for holidaying with kids

The only way to endure camping

YOU’VE waited all year for this moment and now it’s here, you’re not quite enjoying it yet.

 

Yes, holiday season is here and anyone with children is frantically writing lists, buying up first aid kits and worrying about passports.

That’s before the little darlings have even got to being sick in the car/train/ferry or needing a wee just after you’ve left the service station.

Holidaying with kids is hard work. But with a few simple tips your break might just end up being the relaxing family break you need.

  1. Packing: Make a list of everything you use on a daily basis. Then halve it. Then halve it again. Think of things that it would be uneconomical to buy or hire once you get there, like car seats, travelcots, listeners and buggies. Luggage charges on flights now make it very difficult for families with young children. A pack of nappies is heavy. A few in your hand luggage isn’t. Other countries do sell nappies. If you have older children, share items out like spare socks, water bottles, books and their toys in a backpack they are responsible for.
  2. Food and drink: If travelling by car, don’t overload them on sweets as soon as you’re five minutes from home or you’ll be smelling sick for the rest of the journey. Give treats in moderation, when bribery keeps the peace. Don’t forget drinks, and don’t believe them if they tell you they don’t need to go at scheduled stops. Packing a few sandwiches and fruit for a journey will save you a fortune too.
  3. Embrace technology: We played I-Spy and Count-the-Green-Cars. They play Fifa 2010 and Super Mario on their games consoles, listen to MP3 players and watch in-car DVDs. Make sure everything is fully charged before you leave. And leave them to it.
  4. Make a first aid box. Just to keep your mind at rest. A plastic tub with a lid containing Calpol sachets, headache pills, antiseptic cream, antihistamine, a bandage, sling, plasters and antibac wipes goes on holiday with me.
  5. Swimming: If you know there’s a pool or beach, take trunks, cossies, goggles and armbands, and do not ever assume someone else will watch your children.
  6. Weather: This is the tricky one. I always over pack for changeable conditions. Thinner waterproofs and layers is lighter than carting your winter coat with you. Unless you are going skiing.
  7. Shoes: Again, try and keep it light. Wellies, Croc-style slip ons or flip flops, something everyone can walk in and if you can squeeze them in, something nice for you for evenings.
  8. Beware of airport restrictions: You may think you can persuade them otherwise, but security staff at airports will make you dump the eight cartons of baby milk and juice you’ve just bought, only for you to have to buy it again at the other end. They will even take baby bottles from your screaming tot and pour it away. Take powder and mix bottles with fresh water once through the barriers. Hot water should be available on flights.
  9. Essentials: Whatever age your children, carry baby wipes, something to draw/write on, a small ball, Top Trumps, a mobile phone and your sense of humour. Holidays are meant to be relaxing, so don’t try to stick rigidly to a schedule or panic because the eggs aren’t organic. Break the usual rules a little.
  10. The Stupid Family Game: If you don’t have one, you should. Ours is “Guess Person Who?” and is based on the traditional game where someone thinks of a person and the others have to ask questions to guess who it is. Ours gets very silly, and usually takes at least an hour before everyone gets bored or falls out.

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Aloft, in the loft, sits. . .camping stuff

  WELL, here we go then. We’ve got to entertain our kids for six weeks. It’s the holidays.

Actually, it’s five and a half weeks for some. And the next fortnight must be the quietest on local roads, as just about everyone with children will be off.

So what do we do with them? In the current economic climate, do you do two weeks in Spain? Visit the relatives? Or just stay at home and do over-priced day-trips?

At some point we’re going camping (which I hate) in our decrepit campervan (which I hate slightly less). Not only do I have to do the dreaded clothes packing for six, but there’s all the camping kit too.

Bloke is putting it off, because he knows he’s got to face The Loft.

The loft, in our house, is actually a big cupboard with poor lighting which is stuffed to the brim with. . .well. . .stuff.

Somewhere under the piles of empty boxes, broken computer parts, outgrown baby items, a dismantled kitchen table and the Christmas tree, is an enormous tent/awning, several inflatable mattresses, a camping kitchen, burners, lamps, sleeping bags and a folding table.

We aren’t organised. The stuff will have all the muck and mould from being packed away last year. Our dread of The Loft will mean we won’t have time to check, and it will be just thrown in the back of the van along with too much luggage, too much baby stuff and too many kids.

Then we’ll get there, unpack it all, have a lovely-albeit-wet-when-it-inevitably-rains time, pack it all back up again and head home. Where we’ll end up shoving it all back in the loft.

I think the next few days had better be spent having a loft clear-out, welly-trying session and round-up of waterproofs. Oh, and someone needs to dig through the shed to find the camping toilet/bucket with a lid. There you go kids, who says the school holidays aren’t fun?

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