Today has been extremely trying.
The small one has a cold, and therefore has been stuck on turbo-whinge mode. You’ll know by now that my son is fond of several things; among them, putting himself in mortal danger and getting stuck in things, but above all else whinging constantly, as previously noted, like a wasp stuck in a jar. I could provide more video evidence but I’m sure you all have your own annoying children to listen to.
He’s always been the same and I have pretty much given up hope of him waking up one day and thinking you know what, it’s a beautiful day! I have literally not a care in the world! Maybe I’ll be jovial instead.
|I didn’t come up with the name of this blog by accident, you know.|
He’s also fairly ‘clingy’, for want of a better word. He loves his mum (that’s me, in case you weren’t following that closely) and making up the list of things he does not like are; not being with me, not being able to touch me, waiting patiently in a separate room without potential burning hazards whilst I attempt to provide nourishment, and of course, letting me pee on my own. Soon, I will update you all on how he is getting on at the childminder’s (spoiler alert: not very well, so far).
Some days, I genuinely wear ear plugs around the house, just to take the edge off.
I do wonder though – am I in part to blame for his general whingebagginess? After all, I was probably a much better parent when I only had the one child, and she is pretty much whinge-less in comparison. Apart from towards end of my second pregnancy, when I was a grumpy, tired, fat, very pregnant mum, I was far more well rested and, ergo, more patient the first time around.
Second children (and subsequent ones, I imagine – totally not going down that road) do get a bit of a raw deal. Mine, along with many the world over I imagine, was definitely on the receiving end of some less-than-stellar parenting.
At something gut-wrenching like £15 a lesson (I know!) it’s definitely one of those businesses that sees new parents coming. The small one has never had a lesson in his life.
Conclusion: On the odd occasion that both me and Daddy have been on hand to take the Whingelets swimming, he has shown he can ‘splash splash splash’ with the best of them. It’s probably not related.
|Aged about three months. No reason really.|
For obvious reasons, he didn’t get to go to any baby groups at all unless they were the kind where you could drag along a loud clumsy toddler too. At about £8 for 45 minutes it’s not something that a stay at home mum can really afford, either.
Conclusion: Baby sensory goes a bit like this: “Oooh look at these pretty lights! Oh that’s right, you can’t, you’re asleep.” It’s probably not related.
Babies don’t need toys. You learn this pretty quickly, once you already have all the toys and they are sucking on the remote control. Toddler toys are already taking over the house; buying more is an insane idea.
Conclusion: He can chew on plenty of toys we already own. It’s probably not related.
No, we didn’t dress my son entirely in pink dresses but by the time we were on number two we knew a lot of people with kids, and there were a lot of hand-me-downs doing the rounds. Boy’s clothes are too boring to spend actual cash money on with the exception of these smashing dino PJs which I have to share with the world.
|The eyes of a madwoman at 9.07pm on a Friday|
Conclusion: He doesn’t seem to care. It’s probably not related.
2014: Steamed organic vegetables, mushed with expressed breast milk and served with love and patience (maybe I might be over romanticising it slightly). No sugar, processed food, salt, and definitely no fast food!
2015: Ready Brek, table scraps and whatever he can forage, usually whatever beige food the big one has dropped.
Conclusion: Despite best efforts, the big only really eats beige food now anyway. It’s probably not related.
|Tackling the main food groups of rice cakes and crisps.|
The big one got to dictate her own routine, and then that of her younger brother. Sadly, she could not dictate when he decided (and still decides) to wake up for the day so whilst she will put in a consistent seven til seven, he is more of a ‘go to bed at 7, scream til 8 and sleep til maybe 5am’ type. His naps are atrocious, and he often gets woken up to go pick his big sis up.
Conclusion: Gina Ford may disagree, but it’s probably not related.
Pushing for those milestones
First: Come here! Go on, you can do it, just put one hand in front of the other! YAY! She’s crawling, quick! Put it on Facebook and phone Grandma.
Second: Oh will you just bloody well STAY WHERE I PUT YOU? Can we get a cage?
I have to admit though, I did not record the milestones for either child, unless this blog counts. I kind of wish I’d started it sooner, at least then I could pretend it had a purpose to it.
Conclusion: Yea… It’s probably not related.
OK so, in conclusion, maybe it isn’t down to the parenting, inferior though it may be.
On the flip side, being number two he got two parents who had seen that shit before (literally) and an older sister who loved, and still loves, the bones of him, even if sometimes she tries to show it by sitting on his head. So maybe, son, you should lighten up a bit. Little dude, it could definitely be worse. Mummy still loves you, even though you’re an epic whingebag and you make my brain hurt.
Cheer up, OK?