Save the Rage!!

So, does anybody else partake in this really poor form of parenting?? I know it's really wrong, unfair and not in the least bit productive but I can't help myself.

Just in case there are people reading this who don't know what I'm talking about (saints!), I'll explain. Saving the Rage is when your child does something that warrants a good telling off but you're in public (library, doctor's surgery, train) and you don't want to draw attention. So they get away with it (or at least receive a reduced scale telling off). Until they are home when you can really 'go to town'.

I inflicted said bad parenting on Little P recently. As I've mentioned in a previous post, I really enjoy the weekly shop with my girls so I was furious when Little P's behaviour ruined it for me. To give a bit of background, a few days earlier she had bitten Little N on the arm. Not to sound like one of those 'my child can do no wrong' mothers but this really was out of character for her. They had been playing nicely and the next thing I knew, Little N was distraught. I asked Little P what had happened and she immediately told me she had bitten her and apologised profusely to both of us. Poor Little N was left with a mark on her arm and I was devastated. It certainly took longer for me to forgive Little P than it took her sister. I really lost it and told her biting was one of the worst things you could do and how sad I thought it was that she wanted to hurt her little sister with whom she had been playing so nicely (I was a bit dramatic). 

After Daddy came home (and I made her tell him what she had done!) she seemed sufficiently remorseful so I tried my best to let it go. Upon reflection, and with a bit of objectivity from Daddy, we decided she had probably been testing her boundaries and was just curious to see what would happen. I thought that after the telling off she received she would never do it again.

Skip forward a week and you'd find us at Tesco doing our shop. I was having a nosey of the yoghurt selection when a shriek emerged from Little N followed by big, fat tears rolling down her face to heartbreaking wails. Once again, I hadn't a clue what had happened. I asked Little P if she'd seen her bump her head on the bar. 'I bit her. Sorry, Mummy'. And sure enough, poor Little N's index finger had been chomped. I grabbed her out of the trolley (that they were sharing) and she was completely inconsolable. 

I muttered a harsh few words to Little P under the deafening screams coming from her sister. Cue every man and his dog coming over to see what was wrong. There was literally a queue of old ladies (all concerned she was fed up with shopping/was hungry/was tired) to whom I had to explain what had actually happened. By this point, Little P had completely lost it and was also howling from her seat in the trolley. I wasn't angry with the spectators, I actually thought it quite nice that they were all so worried(/nosy). I was just getting more cross with Little P. Not only that she had bitten AGAIN, but my previous preaching must have fallen on deaf ears. After an assistant from the cheese counter had been over to see if there was anything she could do, the crowds finally started to clear. 

In all the fuss, Little P had received a fair bit of moral support from the old dears in such comments as 'you didn't mean it, did you?' and 'aw, you won't do that again, will you?'. Feeling like I didn't want more attention and that it would be a hindrance to me to set them off again, I chose to store my rage for later. So I tried to carry on with my shop; although Little N refused to go back in the trolley (would you get back into a cage with an animal that had already bitten you?). It transpired that Little P had taken comfort in the words of her supporters and was feeling better. She even risked asking if she could still have her treat. The nerve! (apparently one of the ladies had told her she was 'sure she could'. 

The car journey home was quiet. The littles were just chilling but I was brewing. Poor Little P must have forgotten the whole thing by the time we got in and was so confused when I suddenly let rip at her. This is not effective parenting, people. They have no clue what's going on by this point, you (the parent) have had too much time to think about it - they are not an adult (Daddy, mostly) whom you are trying to outsmart in an argument. 

I wasn't teaching her anything, I was just being mean. Mean because I felt Little N (who had most likely forgotten the whole thing) needed some justice. It wasn't the first time I'd saved the rage and sadly, I doubt it'll be the last...

In good news, this was over a month ago and she hasn't bitten since!

Baby Birthday Eve

I'm sitting in my living room having a gin after racing around today preparing for Little N's 1st birthday tomorrow. What?? One already?? I know it's such a cliché but this year really has flown by. 
Little P and Little N could not be more different; I presumed, as they were exposed to the exact same upbringing, they would be very similar. Compared to Little P (just turned 3) Little N seems so much smaller and so much more dependent on me. I returned to work (actually started a new job) full time when Little P was 10 months old and she was fantastic. She loves people and it was a treat for her to go to Nanny's house or to our child minder's (both of whom she loves dearly). She and I were both ready for that change, we both love company. Little N, on the other hand, only has time for me and her sister (and sometimes Daddy if he's being good).
I don't know whether I've somehow rubbed off on her because she will probably be my last little baby or whether it's just her personality but I know I'm not sorry. She's so cuddly and affectionate with me and I just want her to be my little baby forever. 
This anniversary has also reminded me of a time before Little N was even here. When it was just Daddy, Little P and me. I have to try really hard to remember a time before Little N, despite there being two whole years of it. Little P is so laid back she embraced her baby sister and has taken the liberty of showing her the ropes of being my baby (eat everything in sight, food or otherwise). My sister (who has three lovely children) told me the biggest change for her was going from a family of 3 to 4. She said you go from being a couple with a baby to full on family mode and I think I agree. My priorities have changed. I no longer crave the career I once did; I'd rather be at home with my girls. 
So, happy first birthday to my beautiful little baby girl. Thank you for being so cuddly and for loving me so much. And thank you, Little P, for being an amazingly flexible little girl who is so proud to be a big sister. (Daddy, I think you're alright too). You are my world!

I Burnt the Baby...

Oh my goodness... Nobody could make me feel any worse than I do about this. I am the person whose baby got sunburn.

On Saturday a friend and I took Little P and Little N for a picnic at nearby Cosmeston lakes. It felt like lovely picnic weather. The sun was out but there was a nice breeze (damn that bloody breeze!) and we set up camp on a picnic table. Little N stayed in her pushchair while Little P tore through the bag of birthday presents brought for her by our friend.

I remember commenting that I had forgotten to return my suncream to my nappy bag after Little N had unpacked it the other day (so if we're looking to blame anyone here, she sealed her own fate!) She remained in her pushchair with the hood up while we chatted and ate and she wasn't really in the sun at this point.

Once we'd eaten we moved to the playground so Little P could have a play (and we could have a bit of peace, truth be told). Our friend had brought a picnic blanket so I got Little N out to have a play with us. The air was cool enough that we all kept our cardigans on and that's a rarity for Little P who drops layers at every opportunity. An hour or so must have gone by before we decided to get an ice cream and head home.

It wasn't until a couple of hours later I noticed Little N's cheeks were very rosy and she was quite irritable. I didn't even think it was sunburn to begin with as it hadn't been that warm. It then dawned on me as the temperature of my own face rose... (Then the back of my neck, my chest and a little patch of leg). Somehow Little P managed to escape any damage, probably due to the shade offered by the pirate ship).

I was so upset! I am the last person I expected this to happen to. I'm usually so careful as I have quite pale skin myself and no interest in tanning. They (and I) are usually slathered in factor 50 and I regularly reapply (my health visitor even told me off for overdoing it when Little P was a baby). I made the mistake of seeking the advice of Dr Google only to be met with horrific images and a fresh wave of guilt (advice - do not Google sunburnt baby).

Luckily, by the morning, her skin looked back to its usual colour and her temperament was as it always has been (worried and uneasy, in case you're wondering). I wasn't so lucky and am still looking a bit pink.

I'm now left facing the decision of whether to keep them indoors for the rest of their lives, lest I forget the suncream again or to buy them some kind of all-in-one beekeeper protective outfit. I certainly won't let my guard down again and allow that gentle breeze to lull me into a false sense of coolness while the scorching sun silently attacks me and my babies!