This is a really fun age, it’s kind of like he’s been this age for ages now. I feel like I really know him; he has a voice and interests and I feel really intuitive about the little things he says and does. It’s really different to the baby or even toddler phase, it’s like he’s, well, a real human! I have massively enjoyed the talking phase (no surprises there motor mouth) I find it so amazing the things that come into his head and where they come from. Plus his memory is nuts, he remembers EVERYTHING! He STILL talks about how once he went to a cafe and a lady dropped a plate and it smashed…this was literally about 6 months ago. Or how there was once a massive bird poo on the car (4 months ago) or how he dropped his screwdriver down the water pipe and couldn’t get it back (it was sunny must have been over 8 months ago?!) What a combination of memories to be living your day to day life by!

As you may have noticed with many of my blogs I tend to talk like this up front, get all the gushiness out, talk about the lovely side, make myself feel loving and caring and a ‘good mum’ (ugh what the freak does that mean?) and then I like to get down to business about the reality, about the other side to the loveliness, because lets face it there’s ALWAYS another side with kids…

So talking is awesome, no argument there, my favourite phase by a long shot. But there are moments when you reflect on the days they couldn’t answer back, when they didn’t know that there were Pom Bears in the cupboard and couldn’t ask for them….300 times over. When they didn’t know how to tell you to stop talking to someone when you’re in the middle of a conversation or to put down your phone making you feel definitely not like a good mum. Or when they ask to go the toy shop EVERY day for a month and whilst they’ll happily recite a list of cars they’d like to own (NOW!), seem to have no ability to respond to your spiel about how things cost money and how you can’t be spoilt and you have to earn treats….convenient when they lose the ability to answer back isn’t it?

And so already at 2.5 ‘the questions’ have started. I’ve never really sat down and thought what my response is going to be to these questions about sex and bodies (it’s become fairly clear I’ve bumbled my way through this far without reading any books I’m unlikely to start there…hmmmm perhaps this is my problem!!), so I suppose I’ll just freestyle. How hard can it be to answer this stuff? I’m not prudish, I’ll just tell it like it is, there is no question I won’t answer. Hmmmm, lets take a look at how that’s going so far:

P: Mummy do you have a willy?

E: No mummy doesn’t have a willy because mummy is a girl and girls don’t have willies

P: Mummy! (giggles) Are you a girl?! (slight amused confusion) 

E: Yes mummy is a girl and daddy is a boy like you

P: what do you have then?

E: What do you mean what do I have?

P: (points to crotch area) there, what do you have there

E: *thinks* for christs sake why is there no cute alternative to vagina!? i am not saying vagina, not yet. NO! Nor fanny. I’m not having my 2 year old saying fanny! Erm… pie? No. Flu Flu? Ridiculous…ok, ok, here goes…. Erm, mummy has a peach (blame my mother) 

P: *also thinks* But that’s like an apple

E: Bugger. Who the hell has given him a peach they’re not even in season?! Yes, sort of but that’s what mummy has there, a peach (way to go nut job)

P: Mummy are you still a girl?

E: Since I last checked yes I am a girl yes

P: But can you still talk?!

E: I know it may seem amazing to your male brain, but yes I am a girl and I can still talk

P: oh. Mummy when is that baby coming out?

E: (please don’t go there yet…i need to recover from this peach debacle first)….In the summer, in August, not yet

P: Shall we call it poo?

E: (oh thank god!) YES!!! we’ll call it poo, great idea! Right bed time…

Pregnancy the second time round is definitely different, it’s, how can I say, a bit more ‘down to business’.  The rose tinted glasses you wear at all times on the first round to get through the fear and unknown are now a bit worn out. They’ve got a few cracks in them and have a bit snot smeared up the lenses, they don’t seem to be working quite so well anymore. There’s no surprises this time round, you know exactly what’s coming. It’s not that its not special and all lovely like in round one (yes its ok to liken your pregnancies to boxing rounds ok?), it is still special, but its just not such a big deal. When we found out I was pregnant with Phoenix (aka round one), suddenly everything in our life changed. The way I felt about myself and our relationship and life completely changed. At that point in time, life was about to go mental (quite literally, I’m still waiting for the mentalness to end?!). We spent every moment talking about the baby, buying things, moving house, getting everything ready. Every week I was on that app looking at what the baby was doing inside me – when it could hear, when it had finger nails: it was an obsession, in a good way of course. This time round,  I have that same app, I glance at it, but to be honest every time it sends me an alert to say its another week older my initial reaction is ‘argh crap, it’s coming for us!’ This pregnancy is going SO quick its crazy, I felt like I was pregnant for  bout 4 years last time and this time its zooming. I suppose the big difference in round two is that this time nothing really major is going to change in lives, we’re already parents, we’re all set up for babies, we know what we’re doing (ahem), so many things will be much the same in a way….I’ll simply do everything I do now, but also have a baby (oh christ, what are we doing?!) There will be some adjustments to be made having an extra little person to care for, but its not like they’re a new species unfamiliar to me – although on the flip side I seem to have managed to forget everything about babies which is handy.

I found out I was pregnant just before Xmas. I was delighted, but unlike last time where we instantly suspended in topsy turvy wonderland of joy and emotion, I had breakfast to make and a child to convince to use the potty. Until the scan, Ben was pretty much in denial. I can see second time round there is less sympathy by men. All you want to do when your expecting is nap – I could nap on demand I really could. But a nap is like the holy grail of parenting – you’re kind of not really allowed them, and if you do get one then your going to owe one back to your partner – they WILL be cashing that back in. At least its rare they come without a debt in our house. So of course, I have taken huge enjoyment in Ben desperatley trying not to show annoyance if I’ve needed a sleep or demanded a massage – it really have been great fun.

One thing I had forgotten all about was the general public’s somewhat weird reaction to pregnant women. One of the nice things about being pregnant is people are nice to you, but some people are really weird and don’t really know how to act. Sometimes people act like they’ve never seen or spoken to a pregnant last before and kid of act a bit like your trousers have just fallen down and there’s an embarrassing moment happening between you. Plus people choose the oddest expressions to describe you. Let me explain more – second time round you pop out early, I googled this because I was in shock when I started showing at just a few weeks. To check I wasn’t growing some kind of giganticourous I looked on some forums where loads of mums were writing the same thing. I poured through 100s of posts of astounded women on round two looking at their early bump in disbelief at just a few weeks. As I did the same I was able to sum up the outcome of all my research in one single statement: “your stomach muscles are now fucked. Welcome to your subsequent pregnancies, enjoy.” Excellent, delighted to be here I thought. So when people have asked me how many weeks along I am, and I have replied with a number clearly they weren’t expecting, they have chosen from a list of the following interesting exclamations either in combination or single word usage:

Oh my god – huge – twins – massive – what are you going to do? – wow – whats in there? – woah – ooooooo – big isn’t it? – giant 

I mean seriously? Really!? Is there any need to describe anyone, let alone a woman overflowing with hormones who is susceptible to punching someone in the ear at the sheer mentions of these words?? The same also goes for the opposite of these words – tiny, nothing there etc, also equally scary and annoying although I have no experience there to draw on there with my ‘huge, massive, giant thing that I don’t know what I’m going to do about’. So as a general rule, if you take away anything from this blog, do not refer to a pregnant lady as huge or other such terminology. Obviously she is allowed to describe herself in this way, but if she says ‘oh my god I’m so huge aren’t I?’ you quite simply just say, nah, you’re perfect, all bump, you must have a really happy healthy baby in there’. Then smile nicely and give her a cake. And then another one.

Phoenix knows there’s a baby in my tummy, which must be such a weird concept for a toddler. He likes to listen to the bump and say ‘no I can’t hear it, maybe I’ll come back when it’s a grown up’. I don’t think I’ll be hanging onto it in there for that long however cute that is. He would like a sister called Paul or Oliver and wants to know what toys it will have, its good he’s got the important things all sorted out. I will start reading some books about it when I get a bit bigger. I hope he will be ok, I think it will be good for him, he’s so demanding of my time and attention at the moment and will be good to learn about sharing within cruel reality of sibling-dom! Although he told me he had curtains for dinner today so I don’t think he thinks that deep just yet. He really does just want to know what toys are coming and more specifically if they are cars. He’s pretty much there on the potty now which is awesome and I’m trying to help him do more things independently before the baby comes like change a nappy, use the steriliser and puree fruit (joke…!).

One thing that is unique and cool about round two, is the thought of getting a family in place. Obviously we’re already a family, but now there’s another one coming it does feel like its been me and ben and phoenix for the last couple of years whereas another one will really be like a big family. Its funny how one more does feel like loads more. I haven’t even had the baby yet and I already feel like I have millions of children all of a sudden!! Hmmm I might just give the rose tinted glasses a little scrub and clean and soak up some of the convenience having just one child brings!

Completed 4 week hula hoop course

Completed x 2 pole dancing courses (seriously how they do it AND look sexy is beyond me, I took sweating and panting way into another direction…)

Longboarded to places (without falling off)

Had a personal trainer…wait for it…TWICE a week (WTF?!)

Went to back to back gym classes followed by a swim AND a sauna (that’s approx 3 hours in the gym…3 hours!!!)

Had monthly massages and eye lash tints (ahhhhh)

Regularly mooched the streets of London enjoying cultural and shopping based activities

Went to weird quirky dance performances at the theatre with Ben

Read lots of books

Sunbathed at every available opportunity

Drank cocktails and stayed out beyond 10.30pm

Moved to the other side of the world for a bit

I mean seriously, when I look back at that stuff its like looking at the habits of a crazy (yet awesome) lady with too much time and money! When you’re in that stage of being able to come and go as you please you don’t really think about it, it’s just normal isn’t it, no really stops their life for a moment and thinks ‘OO this is ruddy good isn’t it?’ Or at least I never did, I always just get on with what I’m doing now, I’ve always been quite a spontaneous decision maker, not really the type to think – ‘Hmmmm not sure I should have a baby, might have to cut down on those hula hoop courses…’ I suppose I knew that stuff would stop one day but I just never really thought about it.

I would certainly love to indulge in some of those activities again (the massages and
personal training have quite frankly never been more needed), but in the glorious hindsight of family life, it just feels so, well, selfish. My time now is spent between basically work and family with a little me-time somewhere in between, (ugh I hate that expression…which is ironic coming from someone who sounds like they gained a diploma in it once upon a time). But I think I prefer it this way. So I’m not as toned as tanned as the time giving days (bugger), but I think I feel much more fulfilled. Does anyone really need to spend that much time on themselves? (a little gym bunny inside me still screams, yes, yes they do!) The satisfaction of putting time into another little person and seeing the pay off of that time you’ve committed is indescribable. Plus I’ve never spent so much time in so many museums, that’s pretty awesome.

But seriously, there really is no time for anything anymore. I am rushing here and there every week, travelling with work, commuting, rushing to nursery, meetings, friends, family, parties, I’ve never been so busy. At the end of last year there was one week where I finished a project, went to an awards dinner, threw up as I can’t drink any more (and couldn’t handle the free night pass) then got on a plane the next day, flew to Taiwan, did 5 presentations in one day, flew home and landed to a text message from saying “CHICKEN POX! Do not be alarmed but your child is covered in pox and needs his mum”….that was a pretty insane time.

Life keeps me on my toes and I really try my damnedest to get the balance right, sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t. It’s just the way it goes. And sometimes I just outright loose the plot – I have conversations with people where I am looking at myself in a weird out of body experience, hearing and seeing myself repeat things I know full well I have already told them (probably three times) or checking a date for the 20th time. But you pull yourself together by talking to yourself like this – ‘get a grip woman, people are starting to consider putting you in that looney bin you probably belong in…’  (hmmm perhaps in these situations where people already think your nuts, talking to oneself is perhaps not the best plan of action..) 

I recently turned 30, which kind of sucked as I always imagined myself in my 20s…it didn’t quite work out so here I am in club 30. It’s ok so far, the birthday helped – Ben organised dinner in a Mexican underneath a sex club, was awesome. Since being in my 30s I have tried convincing Ben I am more out of breath and a bit more hard of hearing, but he has no sympathy. My endless 20s have long been an annoyance and personal insult to him so he’s happy I’ve hopped over in land of the 30s. I hope that by starting a family fairly early I’ll be able to cash in on some time back later on in life (before I am really short of breath and hard of hearing). Hey, if you ever hear a story in the news of a hula hooping skateboarder putting on pole dancing class for the over 40s, then you’ll know I made it out the other side! Look me up! But for now I am happy with my busy bee life, its fun, exciting and at times just freaking hilarious. Besides, with a baby and business to run, it can’t get any busier can it?

Oh, yeah….did I mention I was having another baby?

ARGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!! Time come back, I miss you, I take it all back! COME BACK!!!!

Yes, I managed to shove myself rather smugly into that desired target group, god they looked cool, free, youthful, I’m sure that’s me I thought, I know it, I feel it! Apart from one thing. As soon my next birthday is over in a few weeks time, I’ll be too old to be part of this group. Bugger. When I turn 30, I’ll no longer naturally slot into anything that sits alongside the word ‘youth’. Double bugger. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’m not dreading my 30th (much) and I really don’t think it’s old at all, in fact 30′s sound quite exciting, but it’s, um, well it doesn’t start with a ’20′ does it? My 20s have been pretty epic, the latter ones somewhat insane, marriage, a baby, a business, no wonder I’d describe them as my ‘knackered but awesome days’.

And whilst I wanted so badly to be considered someone who sat in that cool youthful target market, it also reminded me of something I despise – ‘boxes’. I don’t want to be in a box. Get me out of a freaking box (I’m allowed to contradict myself by the way; ‘get me in the box, out the box’…I’m a woman after all, and that box has its benefits) 

When I was pregnant I’d say in my broader industry of marketing I was pretty young to have a baby. I felt like some people looked at me like a was a teenager mother, throwing away my career on a silly whim. I was 28! And as I’ve already learned today, it ain’t a million miles away from the ‘non-youth’ box. Partly this was probably paranoia that goes hand in hand with a general level of mental-ness incurred by pregnancy, but other times, it was fo’ real. I think the problem was people didn’t know what box to put me in, I was trucking along nicely in the ‘over achieving young hungry smart’ type (hungry could be applied to food or career) and then I threw in a baby and that confused things.

Well I bloomin enjoyed the box-lessness and have tried to ensure I keep out of it ever since…

Lots of women talk about having a surge of creativity after having a baby and I fully felt the force of that. Rather than my life being over as some hinted it might be, I felt the opposite. Why should having children be a barrier to fulfilling your goals and dreams? Children are not obstacles. They are inspiring and loving and provide you with so many skills as a parent that it’s impossible to write them all down. These can be combined and entwined with skills you had before parenthood (they’re still there, look really hard!) and even newer ones you want to build (it really is possible!) I wanted to continue with where I was at in my career but I wanted an even bigger challenge. As opposed to putting me off, motherhood spurred me on, I felt confident and in a way ‘untouchable’. I felt like there could be nothing in the world harder than raising a child and anything in comparison would be well, a bit of a doddle surely? I wanted to channel all this creativity in a way that would enrich all our lives, not just financially but in a way that I could inspire Phoenix and Ben in the way they inspired me.

Being a working mum has daily challenges. But I still think it’s probably easier than being a full time mum! And I’m not done yet, The Pineapple Lounge is 18 months and we’re really only just getting started; recently shortlisted for an industry award, it’s been an amazing journey. And I still have so many ideas both for Pineapple Lounge and for other businesses that I hope to pursue. Who knows if I’ll get to tick them all off, but one things for sure I’ll be doing them OUT the BOX!

Go forth and dream people x

So lately I have felt myself steadily becoming the ‘food, toilet and coat woman’ and not just by Phoenix directly, but in fact we’re all sliding into those roles – ‘Ems Phoenix and I are just going to build this while you fix his lunch’ …. ‘I’m going to Tesco while you guys are making a traffic jams of cars around the entire ground floor of the house’…what’s going on here? I refuse to be labelled as ‘food, toilet, coat woman’, there’s more to me than that for gods sake! I run my own company, um, I have cool trainers, I have this blog
(which I’m crap at updating), I, um once did a flying trapeze course, I used to long board, oh for christ sake, who am I kidding, I’m so boring compared to Ben. The problem is, is that Ben is just amazing at playing with him (yes I realise that’s a good thing, and not a problem but still,…humph). Whilst I play with him to spend time and be with him, Ben is playing because, well he genuinely wants to play, in the same way that Phoenix does. There is just only so far I can get excited about making a traffic jam line of cars (which by the way is surely a game invented my toddlers to make working mothers feel guilty about leaving them all day – I mean who needs to make a giant traffic jam after an hour on the tube?!). I have tried to my avail to engage Phoenix in things I love doing (selfish? me?! never). When I was a child, I was obsessed with sticking, gluing and all things arts and crafts and I have tried endlessly to get Phoenix into this stuff. Maybe he’s a bit young but he’s just not going for it, it quite simply does not have enough action…or wheels. He’ll be into it for about 10 mins then he just looks at me all sort of unimpressed as if to say ‘ah well, you tried mum, good effort. Right, now get down there, make ambulance noises because I then want to jump up and down on your stomach 15 times and then make the biggest traffic jam you’ve ever seen’. Sigh.

Perhaps in a recent effort to prove my ability to be a cool, fun mum we dressed Phoenix up for a Halloween party. I took a pair of old jeans and grated them with a cheese grater, snipped them and smeared them in fake blood. He had a skeleton top and I went for zombie face paint, classic white with back dark circles. Ignoring his somewhat perplexed ‘mummy are these jeans a bit scary?’, we rocked up at the party to discover a room of children dressed as bunnies, unicorns and a friendly witch at a push. No one looked impressed with our zombie child costume. We left after about 15 mins. Ah, this arts and crafts thing just isn’t cutting it yet. But I will prevail you see! I’ll be back here before you know it boasting pictures of glittery phoenix art work….famous last words. How can you resist glitter?! I mean come on! It’s glitter! My time has not all been to wasted though, after a recent glitter enforcement session when he lost interest as usual, I thought to myself, ‘it’s only fair I carry on and finish his picture…it’s what he wants, I know it is’. After spelling out his name in neat glue glitter lines complemented by some post-modern cutting and sticking, Ben came in to discover my handy work ‘Wow Ems you’re really good at glittering’. Well there we have it, at least someone is appreciates my talents….even if it is the competition

I mean, seriously, what the hell?! Two?! What?! Surely it wasn’t that long a go since I was on here complaining about feeling like a milked dairy cow. Time actually does speed up when you have a kid, it’s an actual hard fact. Fact. It really does and one day I will put on a white coat and do some sort of experiment to prove it and then I will laugh, laugh like an evil scientist and I know I’ll have been right all along, fooled by the lords of time!… I’ve always kinda thought I could rock the white coat look, you know thick glasses a smoking test tube looking all smug and that? Maybe not. Better stick to my marketing career. Ah yes, marketing, excellent, convincing people they need more consumer goods. Get them now, go and get those goods. You need them! Consume! Quick! See, I’m much better at that aren’t I?

Sorry. Let me start again. Brace yourself, I think having a break from blogging is a bit like having a break from drinking. A few sentences can be likened to a glass of wine and weeeeeeeee you’re off. Can’t shut up. See? See? See? Hmmmm yes you get the picture. So lets start again…

So now we have toddler. A real live toddler, and my god he’s an absolute beaut! He gets it from his dad of course (it’s not cool to take the credit you know). He talks a lot. He gets that from, um, yes anyway, he talks A LOT. It’s pretty insane, you can have a whole conversation with him. His subject areas are limited but it’s wild times when they start talking it really is, all those little things rattling around their brain boxes.  VERY cute. I know I always say this but I think this is my favourite time. Apart from the fact he’s just the cutest thing ever, I like it when the real skills come. Like how he can jump from things and land with two feet like a gymnast, or how he can remember things and read  along with his books. It’s COOL and totally amazing. Humans are cool. A typical conversation generally goes like this:

P: Mummy?

E: Yes Phoenix

P: Can I go to the park mummy?

E: Well, it’s 6.30am, shall we have some cheerios first and just wake up a bit?

P: Shall I put my shoes on then mummy? Shall I get mummy’s shoes, mummy?

E: No. You need to have your breakfast, and then watch postman pat and then brush your teeth. Actually you’re quite busy so lets just chill out for a bit shall we?

P: Hmph. Mummy?

E: Yes

P: Mummy, I love my Cheerios

E: Well that’s lucky as you’re about to get a whole bowl!

P: And then shall we go to the castle?

E: Later

P: And then shall we go to the swimming pool?

E: Later yes

P: Does sleepy Z want cheerios?

E: Ask him, does he?

P: Yes. And does Elmo want cheerios?

E: Well he has his mouth permanently open so probably

P: Yes. Mummy?

E: Yes Phoenix

P: I got a big willy mummy and then I play with my digger at the park

E: Excellent for you.

So whilst being totally amazing and gorgeous to be a part of talking does have it’s draw backs…sometimes he’s just too clever for his own good. He can’t be fooled any more, long gone are the days when you can put something off until ‘later’ and not follow it through. Oh no, he will take you down if you try that one. And there’s no ‘private’  anymore, not there ever really has been with him on the scene, but there’s less chance of doing anything in peace these days. He’s right in there, he just pops up:

P: ‘What you doing’ mummy?

E: ‘Erm, mummy needs to shave her legs’

P: Yes. Mummy shaves. Like Daddy.

E: No mummy doesn’t shave like daddy.

P: Daddy poos

E: Yes daddy definitely poos

P: Everybody poos!!

E: Excellent. Can you go downstairs now.

I have noticed that being a toddler mum is different to being a baby mum. If you look around a shopping centre you will observe the differences quite clearly. Baby mums move slower, they look more tired but they have a nice glow around them, like they’re in an untouchable bubble, a stressful but also comfortingly intense bubble. Then there’s toddler mums, they move much quicker, the buggies are much more whizzy than a pram and they zoom around corners in a whirl of snacks and snotty tissues. Always in a rush, never time to stop and mooch and can’t get past a bloody ‘ride’ without having to stop let toddler child climb all over it and then claim it’s ‘still broken’ for the 22nd week in a row (luckily they’re not that clever…yet). But with the speed and the busyness comes laughter and joy….bleugh. Sorry tried to balance it out but I can’t, there is NO joy when I’m in a shopping centre with Phoenix. ‘I want to go the toy shop. I want to go to the toy shop’ – when the hell did that start creeping in? Damn you marketeers with your clever enticement tricks, damn it, that’s me again isn’t it? Bugger.

So here’s a few toddler mum survival tactics. I have a two year old for all of a few weeks now so I’m fairly sure that makes me an expert, or at least ‘relevant’, enjoy!!

1. If he asks, your toddler boy is always spiderman. No need to worry about identity issues just yet.

2. An apple is a treat. A banana is a treat. A yoghurt is a treat. Everything is a treat. If everything is a treat, how can there be treats when he screams for a treat?! Confusion concerns? Ahem, let’s tackle those a few blogs down…

3. Toddlers play, all day. That’s what they do. Do not dress them like they are going to a party at a dolls house.

4. There is no such thing as having ‘too many cars’. Period.

5. Leaving the naughty step will mean you will instantly eaten by crocodiles. Fact.

6. Never get onto public transport without at least 3 snacks. The power of three. Always at least three.

7. The shape sorter is now boring. Face it mum.

8. Licking Play Dough is a suitable compromise to eating it.

9. You can find many clips on You Tube of diggers. Seriously. Even ‘dancing ones’

10. Kisses and cuddles should be enforced regularly. You will not grow out of cuddles. Nope, no way mr.

Phoenix is 20 months. It is by far my favourite age (although I always say that – is there a time when it starts getting worse? The tweens? The teen years? I will NEVER be prepared for this!) It’s my favourite age because there’s so much going on. Literally from 18 months everything started zooming. Talking, doing new moves. new eating skills, remembering stuff, it’s wild times! He’s a fully formed little person now who can answer questions, make decisions (usually badly), and who is blossoming into a very cute and mischievous little man. Despite it being my favourite stage it is also one of the most challenging. He’s full on demanding and the tantrums are now in full swing (do not be deceived by the phase ‘terrible twos’ it’s starts way earlier than that). This is why I spend ALOT of my time time taking him to places where he can be entertained. This is why I spend ALOT of my time at soft play.

If I could only pick one word to describe what Phoenix is like it would be this….climber. He will scale anything given a chance. So soft play is ideal for him,  but not the age appropriate bits of course, he scoffs at those like I’ve insulted his climb-ability. He likes to go in with the ‘bigger boys’ and reach dizzy new heights.

On the parenting agenda of ‘things to learn’, soft play is not at the forefront of advice dished out. And yet every parent will experience the same situations, situations which the first time you encounter them will make you think ‘hmmmmm, right, so what do I do here then?’. So I thought I would capture some of these in this blog with my hot top tips on how to deal with them***

***The writer of this blog is officially useless at managing the scenarios below. Advice should be taken with caution

1. Your bottom is too big

There will come many a time when your child gets ‘stuck’. You’ll be sipping on your green tea hoping to burn a few extra calories while you allow your energetic dog, ahem, toddler to burn some energy, when you’ll hear, ‘stuck! stuck! mummy help! mummy help!‘ …..OK you’ll think, I can be there, he needs me, I WILL rescue him! I’ll be the hero of the softplay and be rewarded in kisses and cuddles……oh, what the hell – I’ll never fit through that!  I mean seriously do they create the gaps just small enough for a mum to get through, and yet not quite large enough for us to retain any grace or clothing above our waistlines? My advice is this: girls you will always fit. I promise you. I’ve squeezed into some pretty tight spots. You will get in. Keep the faith. Go forth and rescue your child! And if you don’t? Hmmmm maybe a few more green teas on your way out.

2. There’s a biter on the loose

I hear that biting is a phase, but really? Really? This is one thing I feel confident I could nip in the bud, I will not have a vampire toddler running around! (Famous last words, SO shouldn’t have typed that). But you’ve got to watch out for them, it’s serious, there are actual biting children running around those soft plays. And they will bite. Do not be fooled, they will bite. My advice is this: bite them back.Ok, ok, maybe not. There’s not much you can do really, but listen to the rumours on the outskirts of the soft play, usually mums are quick to spot a biter so you can keep an eye out and hopefully prevent yours from being bit. The mum of the biter is usually mortified so prevention is best for all. Pack your garlic and steak just in case.

3. Your child hit mine 

This is the worst one for me. When a child hits your own, your protective engine kicks in and you think ‘oi! get off!’ The first time this happened I was convinced the perpetrator child was a serial child bully and should be sent to some kind of brio shaped prison for the afternoon.   But of course he wasn’t (he still was a bit, ahem), ALL children hit eachother. It’s quite annoying. We all want them to make friends and hold hands and be cute but they just push each other in the face and steal toys with menace shattering our little cute party we’re trying to create. Can you tell off someone else’s child? What are the rules there? And when your own does it, god it’s so embarrassing. Phoenix was playing joyfully once on some softplay steps when he decided he would just push the boy in the face to see what happened. Quick as a flash the mum swooped in (small arse, no problems for her, tusk) and took him away from phoenix with me crying deep inside ‘he’s not a child bully, don’t send him to brio prison! He’s a lovely child!’ My advice is this: it happens, get over it. Try not to get emotional about it. Sometimes, and you’ll know when, there are times when you have to intervene. If a child is a serial offender/biter/frighteningly vicious then go straight to the source and root out the parent. When it’s just a one off just do the classic ‘now, now, gentle boys, play nicely’ – yawn, no wonder they all bash each other with us all repeating that over and over.

4. It stinks of feet in here 

Although you may think your child’s feet are munchable, adorable and devine, chuck them into a soft play with lots of hot sweaty kids and trust me the stench of all those adorable feet is not one that brings angels to mind. My advice: lap it up ladies, you’re in the game for a long time to come. Sorry, most useless piece of advice ever?

5. Competitive mum 

They get everywhere, but they really like soft plays. All that opportunity to compare and evaluate, they love it! They’ll check out the kids performance, quiz you on his age and work out where yours sits in comparison to theirs. Massive, massive yawn. What’s the big deal?! My advice: use this one ‘read the sign lady, he’s 20 months (i think) and he’s in the 3 – 5 pit, eat that’ Then spit, in her face. (maybe don’t say lady and eat that. And perhaps don’t spit either, it’s gross enough in there anyway).

Well I hope that was helpful for the next time you head into the ball pit of doom. Any other burning soft play issues to add? Whack them in the comments below! BoOOM!

And here’s a video of Phoenix in full soft play action, the theme tune of Gladiators (of course), note his hard core resistance to tears despite taking it on the bridge (bless), he’s so advanced! And did I mention his feet smell glorious enjoy x

http://www.facebook.com/v/10150608515806743

There’s no easy answer…in fact I wish I hadn’t written the question, as can’t answer it. You become a family, a unit, and yes you do lose a bit of the ‘twosome’ power you created in another life, but you gain so much more in your status as a ‘family’. What you can never prepare for however is the sheer wave of new stuff there is discuss, plan and argue about. No one will prepare you for the tiredness levels in your house which will climb so high you’ll wonder what the hell you let yourself in for. You’ll argue over who is most tired and then forget what you’re arguing about because you are so tired. But all the time you’re seeing it, every day, the magic – the smiles, the cuddles, the stories, the walks, those little moments that are what being a family is all about….and they make up for everything.

I realise I am fortunate to have a one-off husband who is kind, caring and emotionally generous. We are relatively untraditional in our roles and share the childcare, both take him to nursery, both choose his clothes and both feed him…… Hmmmm, actually that last one is not true at all, I handle all food and cooking. In fact despite the fact Ben has been looking after Phoenix one day a week from when he was 5 months, every morning without fail just before I’ll leave for work he’ll say ‘what’s he eating today?’ – what?! Food! Look in the fridge!! And whilst we’re on this train I should add that I will never empty the bin (yuk), Ben pays all the bills as I can’t count, I don’t think I’ve see Ben use the washing machines and I have nothing to do with the car apart from drive it really carefully and park 1 metre away from the curb at all times in fear of scratching the wheels. So there we go maybe we’re not so modern after all

I think we’ve adapted our relationship really well to parenthood. We do argue more of course but fortunately Ben could win awards for his ability to turn a shitty situation into a comedy or a cuddle. But then something happened. Ben decided he’d train for the marathon. Sigh. Yes I know: what a marvellous thing to do. Isn’t he so brave and so fit! Oh how I marvel at his fitness, what a hero, a greek god, an adonis a real athlete! Ugh. I just can’t bear it. I know, I know I sound like a moany old witch, but the moment the training started it just cut right through me. I will be so relieved when the whole thing is over.

Our Saturday mornings now consist of the following routine:

- 6.30am P-man wakes

- 6.40am ‘please no, not on weekend. A lie in, I would do anything for a lie in’! (that’s me)

- 7.00am Breakfast for Phoenix, Ben eats and drinks strange things out of large white tubs (he’s an athlete so he needs these things you know. I don’t think they’re steroids. I do hope they’re not)

- 8 – 10.45 Ben goes off for his run (wow! Gasp!)

10.45 Ben comes in ‘buzzing’ off his run. Buzzing?!!! Why not wheezing!? He’s het up on antioxidants and powders and all proud of himself

11.00 I slope off to aerobics with a big scowl on my face knowing I will burn no where near as many calories as he’s just done and will be exhausted for the rest of the day because I really could have used a lie in after that week at work etc etc

But this whole saturday morning exercise ‘tag in’ routine is not the worst part. It’s the phone calls. They usually start before he’s through the front door. They are the calls to other boys that are taking part in the silly ‘race to run as far you can’. They discuss their best miles, their fitness, the latest gels and magic beans they’ve chomped on, when they might need new trainers, the running apps, running clothing, running pants….It’s just SO boring!!! And so time consuming!  Fo the rest of the day if I try and be all spritely and arrange a family activity which may possibly involve us all moving his legs. he’ll go all serious and make the following statement: ‘I just want you to understand how many miles I’ve ran today. Today I ran 17/18/19 miles, do you actually know how far that is?’. And I haven’t even mentioned the evening ice packs and groans for much needed massages. Arrrrggggghhhhhhhh!

I swear if it was just us two I wouldn’t give a crap, I probably do some training with him, but when there’s a child in the mix there’s this kind of unspoken rule about doing your own thing. I really do think it’s great he’s doing it, but for every mile he runs I feel like I should be owed something – where’s my freedom miles!

So I’m not sure what the conclusion of this post is – don’t be a bitch? Um, don’t do a marathon? Probably not but there is just this: you really do have to laugh. Family life and parenthood, warts and all is at times just greatly amusing. The silly things you do, the crazy things you think, the situations you get yourself into, it’s quite mad. And then some idiot goes and starts training for a marathon…..give me strength….

Here is also the Phoenix film from our trip to Bali in December edited by Ben Martin, athlete extrodinaire and my real life hero …

Well I’m sitting here in the airport in New York, thinking, what can I do for the next hour.  With a pile of work waiting for me on my desktop my thoughts turn here…my blog! My long, long neglected poor blog! It’s been ages since I’ve blogged and I know I’m becoming quite sporadic with my entries, so thanks for coming back! But it’s so hard to find the time these days. I know, yawn, not a great start to my blogging come back by boring you with busy-ness!

So Happy New Year all! 2012 hey? Jeeze, it sounds so futuristic. Like Blade Runner or Jason Bourne. I’ve recently been thinking about the 2000′s. You know when you were younger and found out the year your parents were born and were like ‘oh my god, you’re ancient!’, imagine how old the 80′s is going to sound to a digital cyber baby born in the naughties!? I was interviewing some kids last week for work and asked them when they thought the cut off for ‘young’ was. Apparently it’s 25. Bugger. Happy bloody new year.

Apart from thoughts on ageing, my attentions this year are turning to new, exciting subjects such as switching from cot to bed, when to have baby number two and….potty training! I thought I’d buy a potty the other week. I know he’s still a bit young but I thought it would be good to have it around to get him used to it. It’s a one that shaped like a turtle so it’s caused a great degree of interest. I’d only had it two days when I thought ‘right, let’s give this a go’. I saw a usual pooing facial expression creep across his face and started exclaiming ‘ooo, let’s try the potty! Yay the potty! Phoenix’s potty!’ Bemused at my somewhat over enthusiastic burst of afternoon energy (I’m usually shot to bits by 4pm), he followed accordingly and sat on the potty straight away without really having to show him what to do. He sat there quite content for ages and when he stood up, lo and behold, there is a was, a poo! A whole poo. In the potty! It was SOOOOO exciting! I never wanted to be one of those mums who celebrated poos and wees but sod it, it was god damn beautiful! A real live potty poo. Since then we’ve had a couple of wees on there but no repeat glory moments like that one. So I’m not sure what my plan is, I guess I’ll just keep putting on there before bed and then gradually build it up, prob start properly in the summer when there’s less clothes around. He hates having his nappy changed (unless I hold my nose and screw my face up and shout pooo which is apparently hilarious) and does tell me when he’s about to do it so there’s signs he’s thinking about nappy free days. I can’t wait, life without nappies! I’ll save so much time!

So anyway, from poo to New York. I’m here on a work trip. Sounds exciting doesn’t it? It’s a bit exciting, but really I’d rather be at home. When the plane was taking off I had a momentary flee of panic when I wanted to dive through the cabin and put the handbreak on (I assume planes have handbreaks), but I didn’t fancy prison. It felt so weird to be flying away in the opposite direction to my little boy. It’s the longest I’ve been away from him and am missing him terribly. I can’t wait for my cuddles when I get home.

There was something I wanted to bring up in this post and it is this: Whoever came up with the calendar is a bloody idiot. Was it those Mayans? You know, the ones who’ve predicted the end of the world in 2012? Well, great, thanks for that too. Happy bloody new year to you too. Well while I’ve got your attention you doom and gloom bringing Mayans, I’d like to point something out about the weeks in your calendar. They don’t have enough days, they are completely useless. Now, I know you’ve probably heard us say it before, what with it being a favoured british expression n’ all, but: “there’s just not enough days in the week!” (said with a bourbon and cup of tea). But I would like to explain why there are not enough days in the week, and propose another system. There’s too much to do. It’s ridiculous, we can’t go on like this. I’m getting frown lines, children are telling me I’m past it, I’ve started panicking if I see I’m awake past 10pm, I fall asleep during films (although if it’s war horse this is forgiven. I love animals and was sad when he went into that war, but if anything that war came back happier than ever with a shiny glossy coat), I just simply need more time!

So here’s what I suggest we do Mr Mayan (oh and by the way, may I just take the time here to compliment you on your beautiful mayan temples, you really showed those egyptians who was the master of stone stacking in geometric shapes):

Days 1 – 4 work

Days 5 – 10 mummying: park, arts&crafts, playgroups, baking, stories, swimming

Day 11 house beautifying and shopping

Day 12 exercise, sex and eating out (in order of choice – some of these may need to also be incorporated into the above, depending on, um, ahem.)

12 day weeks. This is the answer. And I propose this would work for others too not just mums. For example when your kids have left home you can replace 3 of the mummying days with ‘looking and buying pretty things’ or ‘city break’ (hmmmm my retirement sounds expensive, should probably get back to doing some work). 

Oh my flight is being called. I arrive in London tomorrow am where I’ll spend the weekend catching up with my boys, going to the gym, making banana bread, doing the washing, finishing a report, not watching war horse and then be ready to go back to work next week. And this my dear mayans is why your calendar sucks.

*the author can confirm at a later date that none of the items mentioned above in the afore mentioned weekend were completed. Zilch, not even one (expect for not watching war horse again, thank god)

15 hours. It was, how can I say? It was….okkaaaayyy. It was no where near as bad as I thought it was going to be, but it just okay. There were no real hairy moments and there were no real good moments either e.g. sleep, it was just okaaay. And that’s what made it so long, god it dragged and dragged! He was fine talking off and landing, no probs with his ears or anything like that, he was generally unfazed by the whole thing in fact and he particulalry enjoyed the highlights of every traveller’s journeys – the travelators at the air port ‘ooooo!’, the shiny floors (perfect for car playing) and the snap snap of the aeroplane seatbelts, ‘yay!’, there were so many things to keep him amused! However I think we made it round about above Germany when I heard the first: ‘park? Mummy, park?’...hmmmmm, how can I explain this? 

The sitting still in one place for 15 hours wasn’t really his thing, I lost count of the number of LRP’s I did (laps round the plane). The escape doors were a particular object of fascination: No you can’t push that lever. No you can’t grab that fire extinguisher. Nope you can’t open that hatch either. Actually, we’re on a plane, you can’t really touch anything. And no before you ask again, there is no park at 50,000 feet. How about another LRP? Yay! 

On the first 12 hour flight we had a bassinet seat which is one of the ones at the front where they attach a little cot to the wall. If we hadn’t had these seats and been crammed into a row I think I’d have been at the escape door myself. That little space between our legs where he could stand up and drive his car (and me) up the wall was a matter of survival. It was really tough keeping him entertained for so long. The ipad is awesome and I was well stocked on new apps and films but there is one fundamental annoyance I have the ipad. Now he knows where the main button is he is obsessed with pushing it, which of course takes you away from whatever you’re on, and then he gets annoyed again and you have to put it back on again, and then the whole thing starts again. This gets somewhat annoying after the 20,000 time. He did look very cute in his new headphones though and Cars 2 was a real god send.

I went through some strange thought processes whilst doing my LRP’s and trying to keep him amused. Angry thoughts targeted at general ‘plane people’ as I decided I would label them, crossed my mind, here’s a taster of my aeroplane brain… ‘why the hell don’t they have soft play areas on planes? It’s so selfish’…’instead of first class, they should have a kids party room where all the families are allowed to go and eat jelly. In fact I hate how they make everyone parade through first class when they get onto the plane. Oooo look at where you could be sitting one day if you work really hard. Ugh. Everyone should be given blindfolds’…. ‘the air hostesses should be forced to dress as clowns and put on shows regularly’….’why the hell don’t they give out colouring packs any more?! Is it too much to ask for a little crayon!?’….’why do planes give me spots and make me look ugly? And actually why are the air hostesses getting more attractive as I get less attractive. Stop sucking out my beauty! And my soul! Give them back!’ and so on and so on…..

They turned all the lights out as we flew through darkness and everyone was dropping off around us. This was of course middle of the day for us, so Phoenix was in full swing, no chance of sleeping at all. It was around this time when I think one of my favourite Phoenix plane moments occurred. He toddled down the aisle, stopped at a sleeping man, tugged his arm and shouted ‘Tea? Tea?’. Oops. Ah if only; toddler stewardesses, hmmmm, there could be something in this.  So after several failed attempts at getting him off to sleep we had one last shot and I stood singing to him by the fire escape until he nodded off. Unbelievably I was able to move him into the bassinet and he was off. Yes! I sat down and closed my eyes. We’d done it, he had to go all the way now. Suddenly, BinG! Lights on! Everyone awake for breakfast! Grrrrrrrr. SO BRIGHT! And everyone shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! What do you mean he woke you when you were all sleeping?! I don’t care! Shhhhhh! By carefully manoeuvring the blanket amongst the peering eyes of other parents, we managed to create a ‘blanket eye cover’ so he still had darkness over his eyes but could also still breathe – what desperation!!! I think the staring parents were either thinking ‘kudos to you. nice moves’ or possibly even, ‘Oh god she’s resorting to suffocation techniques’. In total he slept for four measly little hours, but on the plus side it did mean when we arrived at midday he went down for a nap for a couple of hours, and then we woke him for a swim and dinner and then he went to bed in his usual bedtime routine, boom, bang on Bali time from day one. Textbook travelling parenting I’d say. So  there was hope afterall.

So here’s my low down of plane tips with travelling with toddlers:

1) Ask for a bassinet seat. If you don’t get one just punch people until you do get one. YOU. WILL. NOT. SURVIVE. WITHOUT. IT!!!

2) Take lots of new toys. They have be new. Old ones WILL NOT cut it. Little cars and click clack bricks were the best success stories of our flight.

3) Trunkis totally rock for airports. That and travelators of course. Get on them and just keep going.

4) Take raisins. If you think you’ve got enough, just take more. The whole food thing was a bit of a nightmare. take easy wins, it’s not the time for broccoli persuasion.

5) Get an ipad. How on earth did anyone go long haul without one (god I’m a snob).

6) Scan your territory. Mark out the baby haters and the ‘family friends’. Sleepy Z ended up being flung into the lap of a ‘baby hater’, it didn’t go down well’

7) Be friend air hostesses by forcing your baby to be cute and entertaining. Once you’ve got them hooked make them do as much as they can for you and don’t feel guilty.

8) I used a really small childs rucksack for all his changing bits. I found this really handy to store and fling around and no need to take loads into the loo.

9) Do homely things. I brushed his teeth and put him in his PJS and it was only when I did that he went to sleep.

10) Don’t forget that it will end. You will not be in the air forever. It feels like it, but at some point you will be on holiday! And until then, enjoy those LRPs!

More Bali adventures coming to a blog near you soon!

Ems, Ben, Phoenix xxx