Pages

Sunday 17 July 2011

"She's going to be in my family one day"

I was invited to the preschool Teddy Bears Picnic last week. It was pretty likely I'd be standing around for an hour, not speaking to any other parents and appearing to be a stuck up cow (my mom calls it 'aloof'), but for the sake of watching Miss J's face when introduced to Pink Bill Murray, I attended. 

Little NP was ecstatic to have me there and made a beautiful jam sandwich for us to share, with lettuce and teddy bear ham on the side (NP's philosophy: why make a choice when you can have both?)

I wasn't wrong: the hour was spent with everyone paired up with other parents they already knew, barely acknowledging anyone else. I played with the kids then had a nice sit in the sun. NP grabbed a bike and was soon joined by a little boy from the next-door (mostly evil) nursery. They sped around the playground track together for the best part of 10 minutes, talking, racing, waiting for each other to catch up. It was gorgeous. 

They came over to see me.

Little Boy: "This is my friend"
Me: "Oh right, this is my little girl, I'm her mommy"
LB: "She's going to be in my family one day"
Me: "Is she? Well that's nice, are you going to get married"
LB & NP: "Yes"
Me: "Are you having a nice ride on your bikes?"
LB: "Yes these are both Mini's and they have a V8 N"*
both speed off happily
Me: "Oh OK then"

must attempt to ingratiate more into acceptable parental society to get these two together more often. 

*This is what it sounded like to me, god knows what the last bit was meant to be, but I found it pretty damn funny

Saturday 16 July 2011

Breastfeeding Ettiquette

We were at RAF Cosford yesterday (interesting visit by the way, and free apart from car parking, I liked the hands-on science things and the Cold War exhibition).

We passed by a lady who was breastfeeding a small baby, probably under 3 months I guess (what do I know? It's been more than 3 years since NP was that small) poor baby had such a twist in her neck to reach the breast. But I didn't want to be a busy-body. I'm kicking myself now for not going over to chat to the woman. 

How do you approach somebody when you can see their breastfeeding positioning might be causing them problems? Do you leave them to it (like I did) or reach out a hand of friendship and support interference and judgement to help?

I don't really need to ask the internetz; I should have helped, at worst I'd have received the startled rabbit look of an uncomfortable person waiting to be told off; at best, a friendly chat.

Still don't know what I would have said though.

Thursday 14 July 2011

McDonald's Toys

Appropriate for a 4 year old?


Friday 8 July 2011

Daisy Chains in the Sun, a poem

My talented sister wrote a poem based on this blog post.
Daisy chains in the sun

I've never felt better
than when I've sat alone
making daisy chains in the sun.

I've never felt better
than when I'm sat alone
away from everyone.

I love to watch
the people pass by
and wonder what they've done.

Feeling so sorry
for all the children
whose parents seem no fun.

I’ve had enough
of monotony
and the empty lives you’ve spun.

Laugh like I'm different?
Well maybe I am,
but I like what I’ve become

Because I prefer
to sit alone
making daisy chains in the sun.

I think she should start a blog and post her lovely work, don't you? Especially while she's on summer break from uni!

This is the second time someone has used my blog for inspiration, which feels really nice.

Wednesday 6 July 2011

Gendered colours

I've been waiting for NP to develop some sort of gendered attitude towards colour, and recently I thought it had happened with Gary and Pink Bill Murray (whose name will surely be hilarious to a select few and ridiculous to all the rest)

Even though I said that Gary and Bill are boy names she insisted they were girls. 

"Why are they girls?" I asked, and I'm *almost certain* she mentioned 'pink' as a defining factor. 

So I tried a little gentle probing, "If they were blue would they still be girls?" 

She delivered a more withering look than I thought a 4 year old was capable of and said "Yes" in a tone that told me in no uncertain terms, "Mommy, you are the greatest dumbass in the world."