New blog - hooray!!!

After numerous frustrated sighs, impatient finger taps, lost posts and battles to find anyone that could help, I admitted defeat.

Nelly's Eggs is no longer my live blog. It is saved & stored to look back on in the future as a wonderful record of all that happened in 2011 (realised that you can export your blog and save it on your hard drive so although hopefully still here I feel better knowing it is backed up too). 

And (repeat line one up to 'I admitted defeat') I finally have a brand new blog. Annoyingly this means that I now need to link up again with all my favourite blogs, but if that means I can post pictures and write again so be it.

If you are still interested in keeping in touch you will find the stories continue at Not Just Nelly.

Hoping I will hear from you there...

Nelly x

Dam shoes!

Mabel has issues with her new shoes, well in fact the whole process of wearing shoes.

Now I realise that in years to come this will very much change in the opposite direction but right now she will do anything to get them off. And no matter how tight I do the buckle (that's right buckle) somehow she can still wriggle her foot out. Last week I realised this too late as she threw one across the floor in John Lewis. Of all places!


And in her bid to remove them she also ends up having a good chew. The other day in the car I could hear her frustration at not being able to get them off then it all went quiet. I turned to find her sucking the bottom of one. She walks outside regularly now and the soles are pretty dirty on account of me encouraging her to get messy (bid to even out OCDD, aka OCD Dad).
"Argh man Mabes" I shouted back, "Out of your mouth"
She mumbled something on the lines of "take them off then" under her breath whilst by now slightly dirty coloured saliva dripped onto her coat. Am I the only parent who has to remove shoes on car journeys?


Notably whilst walking outside she has no problem with them, just when she stops. 


And unfortunately I too had my own shoe drama at work this week.


My place of work has a very large atrium entrance with offices pretty much all the way round the outside. Said area is normally pretty busy, it houses a security desk, lots of people milling, cash machines, seating area etc etc.


Now you know when you have a pair of shoes that need re-heeling but you haven't got round to it so they make a click when you walk. I'll be honest they aren't expensive enough to bother. But they are leopard print, comfy and do make me feel slightly brighter when wearing all black, on say, a Monday.


I was on my way out of work last week (busy time of day, lots of people also leaving) coming down the escalators that run through the middle of the atrium when one of the dam shoes got stuck in a ridge. Now of course I didn't know this until I pretty much flew off the last step (desparately trying to stay upright). Oblivious, I went to step off and my foot wouldn't come with me.


In my panic (because of course I did panic, everyone remembers the story you were told as a child of someone getting stuck on an escalator) I had saved my foot but left the shoe behind. Now 3 or 4 steps beyond the escalator bottom I looked back to see my shoe 'bobbing' around at the end, much like something left at the end of a supermarket conveyor belt. 


I considered just carrying on walking but then what if my heel-less shoe was left on the security desk for its owner the next morning. Or more to the point I would have to hobble in to collect Mabel from nursery in one shoe. 


So I limped back (how hard is it to retain dignity wearing just one heel?), waited for someone to come down after me (mortifying, I could see the smile he was trying to suppress) and picked up my shoe. Then with as much composure as I could muster (including a 'faux' searching my bag for something to avoid the eyes of anyone) I replaced my shoe and strided out.


Shoes, who needs them?


(Still having issues with images,not sure if these have worked)

Back in the game?

As you know I have had ridiculous technical issues with my blog which have meant I have been completely out of the loop for ages now.


As a result I kind of fell out of love with it, partly also due to a complete lack of time and feeling perhaps I had run out of things to say (as if).


Well, a couple of things have spurred me on to get back in the game...


The first, a double blind date with Fee to meet Emily who writes the fab blog Unravelled. Fee will no doubt have pictures so I will leave it there but shall we say the date seemed to go really well (oh God, hope this isn't one of those situations like in Guardian magazine where one party clearly had a better time than the other, though to be fair with it being the Guardian they are generally all quite PC and middle class polite so maybe I am o.k?) Anyway our lovely coffee date reminded me of what blogging can bring. 


The second, well I just missed the other blogs I used to read so regularly. The stories, the inspiration, the photos, the giveaways (though I was yet to win one). All such good fun. I had made my peace with not continuing my blog as a diary, since my initial goal was to blog about my pregnancy and I actually made it through Mabel's whole first year. But I didn't seem to have any extra time through stopping and actually I do find writing quite cathartic sometimes.


So here I am trying again. Not going to get frustrated. Not going to get all 'shutters down' if I can't upload a picture. Going to try on blogger and then if it doesn't work commit to setting up a new blog after today and linking it across. 


Oh and there was a story I meant to tell...


 It goes a little like this. Mabel and I started swimming lessons this week. I thought I would be all organised and put my swimmers on under my clothes prior to going and when I got there was really glad I had since the changing rooms were communal and tiny (it was at a hotel pool). The lesson went really well and Mabel, despite being the eldest by 6 months and therefore looking and sounding like a hooligan, did brilliantly with her first underwater swim.


Anyhow, we all left the pool and huddled into same said small changing rooms. Conscious that my baby (yes I know she is a toddler, in denial) could walk I let the others use the main bench along the middle and I stood awkwardly against a sink on one side. Mabel was far from pleased with the scenario of being changed on a towel on the floor but I persisted and set her up with a snack whilst I got dressed.


And then I realised the error of my previously organised ways. I hadn't brought any underwear. 
Nothing.
No knickers, no bra. What the hell was I going to do?
Stood there in a dripping wet bikini I eyed up my options in a slight state of panic. There was a toilet. But I couldn't leave Mabel in the communal area perched on a towel surrounded by an otherwise wet floor. And taking her with me was surely not feasible both on a hygiene and space front.


There was nothing for it. I would have to wait until everyone else was ready then get dressed. 
I pretended to be tidying up my things, fed Mabel some of her fruit (was looking at me like, 'back off, I want to feed myself thank you). But they were taking ages. All had young, screaming babies to dress and there was only so long I could stand around looking odd and now cold. 


So in my wisdom I decided to try and hold the towel up with my chin and pretend to put on my knickers followed by my jeans. Yep that's right, I mimed putting on underwear (which according to my brother is worse than just pretending I always go commando). 
It seemed to go o.k, there was a slight issue around zipping my jeans up in a hurry which I'm sure you can appreciate  (why do people go commando?) but at least I was half way there. I turned to pop my towel on the sink whilst I 'pretended' to get a bra and realised my biggest error of the day.
I was stood in front of a whopping great mirror. I had just mimed putting on underwear in front of a mirror. 


Devastating. 
I didn't bother with any further amateur dramatics, just shoved on my vest and felt the relief of it being a dark blue stripe and not white or more see through.


It crossed my mind to just announce to the group,
"argh I've done that thing where you forget to bring your underwear, ha ha" but just wasn't sure how it would go down. You don't want people to not laugh or worse think you are looking for offers of borrowed knickers. Or offering to try and help in some way. Argh just too cringy. 


So I don't know if I can go back. Well I do. It costs us £10 a week and luckily my frugality overshadows my pride / self respect. Hmm something in that!

Gorgeous Edinburgh, again...

Hmmm, now as I start to write this blog post I have not as yet come across the old egg timer / error message. I don't want to get carried away but maybe I am going to be able to write a blog post. Don't want to get carried away, maybe it was my threat of having to start a whole new blog????

Going to give it a try before continuing...

Just a year ago...

The laptop battle has been won, well actually lost in that we ended up admitting defeat and getting a new one. So you would think I could get back to blogging. Well apparently it is not just my laptop causing me problems. Twice using the new laptop I have gone to save and lost all that I have written. To my complete frustration and disappointment. On one occasion I announced to G Kisby that I was never going to blog again (‘glad you are being so reasonable’ he responded, dam him and his rightness). So I am still feeling a little disillusioned with it all at the moment but desperately don’t want to miss logging such a key event in our lives so hopefully this at least works….

Has anyone got any idea who/how you contact google about blogger issues? I keep getting an error message when I go to post with a reference code but despite having visited the forums/ contact the help options I don't get anywhere.... argh! Surely there is someone you can email?

Anyway, no pictures, since error message still flashing up every few minutes so not sure this is going to work...

Post written last week, Wednesday 25th Jan!

A year ago today…

We were just starting out on our crazy journey of parenthood. It has undoubtedly been the craziest, happiest (most of the time), hardest (some of the time) most amazing year of our lives.

Our baby turned one today so we were both on holiday from work to spend the day as a family.

We had a very enjoyable pub lunch (o.k maybe that part was more for us) followed by a great time at a local play centre. Mabel was treated with her favourite fish pie dinner and some highly non nutricious chocolate mousse.

This evening we reminisced about how our lives had changed and whether we had indeed parented the way we envisaged all those months ago. The ‘bubble’ of the those first few months, the constant walking to get her to sleep even just for half an hour in the day, giddiness when she started smiling, lying on the bed willing her to roll over for the first time, the mornings with her lay on my knee in bed whilst I ate cereal and chatted to her about the day ahead, her asleep on my chest whilst I wrote blog posts, first learning to turn pages and actually enjoy a book…too many memories to mention"MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">

And at one year old what is our gorgeous girl doing?

And yes I think we have parented the way we hoped. We undoubtedly over stimulate, probably over indulge, never without the best of intentions. But we also support each other in making joint decisions about her life, agree on our limits and how to manage the challenging times, talk about what is important.

Aside from our family day out we have also celebrated her birthday with a joint swim party with our friends whose twins turned one the same week, a play date with her NCT baby friends and a small family party on Sunday (a separate post to follow...hopefully).

And at one year old what is our gorgeous girl doing?

Well she walked a few steps on Monday night but has done nothing since. She continues to amaze us with her attempts at talking – ‘a poo’, ‘sit?’ (what is it?) and climbing.

Everythi-language: EN-GB;">Right the error message is driving me mad, I am off to try a few more email addresses to get this fixed!

Broken...

So it turns out it wasn't just our laptop that was broken... My blog is just not working. I can't post... So I keep trying and my backlog of reads stack up... It is so frustrating since when I get ten mins to update I instead spend the time battling to get it working. Oh well, I will keep trying and if this is published maybe there is some hope?

A big fat Christmas catch up

Due to some very frustrating laptop issues (still just hoping we can retrieve our photos, back them up, do it now!) here is a great big, late, picture-less Christmas catch up. Including Mabel turning 11 months old and an older post previously on decorating the tree.

We spent Christmas morning at home, Mabel had yet another virus which meant she didn't fancy opening any presents or eating pancakes for breakfast, we very much ate enough for her and indeed the entire country. Then suitably dressed in a red outfit, Mabel that is, we headed over to Manchester where we stayed in / took over Grannies house for the rest of the week (thanks Mum).

I discovered that some of the Christmas excitement from your own childhood is reignited upon becoming a parent. Opening their presents is as exciting as if they were your own, I took in the twinkling lights as if seeing through her eyes for the first time and they were all the more bright. I can't wait for such times as staging, sorry, welcoming a visit from Santa.

We received gorgeous presents; books, clothes, a bag for nursery (auntie Fee nearly crashed the car when I told her that once I took spare clothes in a carrier), her first doll (currently sporting a scratch from being thrown across the room, hoping empathy kicks in any time), bath toys and messy play stuff. Great food ( the legendary boxing day ham stepped up a gear with home made coleslaw & pickles), great drinks (2011 saw the return of the snowball, yum) and great company, lots to be very grateful for.

We returned to Hudds for New Year and as usual splashed out on good food and champagne. One of G Kisbys resolutions is to live for the moment and stop hoarding i.e You shouldn't die with champagne in the fridge. So we glugged Bolinger and due to a distinct lack of drinking throughout the previous year both then sat on the sofa struggling to stay awake. Party!!! We made 11.15- said with genuine amazement. And we also made some resolutions for 2012...

One of them was the vague and top line, 'be more organised'- as I said, too much alcohol.

I'll post them on the blog when we get round to deciphering what they actually are...ah the irony!

Oh and in the middle somewhere our baby turned 11 months old. She is attempting loads of new sounds, in fact she doesn't shut up. Think she has realised she needs to keep going to get a word in edgeways. She will stand on her own but so far no steps without the aid of a walker. Opening and closing are her favourite games, her fingers have little red marks where I have been too slow to avoid a minor slam. The dishwasher opening is a sound that will have her crawl at speed from anywhere downstairs. Like a hawk. You literally have a minute to load before her pesky little fingers arrive. We finally clap and wave. It just gets more and more fun...

Deck the halls...

Old posts, having finally accepted we will have to buy a new laptop I will publish picture-less...

Last weekend Christmas launched in our Huddersfield abode.
Normally,due to our combined love of this season, we do this a week earlier, so I was really giddy about getting started.

First stop, get our tree.

Now, we have a little history with trees. Ever since we first got together and g Kisby bought me a real tree for my bedroom at home. I loved it, loved the gesture, loved that every time I looked at it I was reminded of us. The tree however did not love me and literally dropped all it's needles within a week. It turned into a Christmas twig, to be fair if it was 2011 it would have been bang not trend. In 2000 it was very much not.

Then over the years we have continued to have drama. There was the year on our old house where g Kisby got carried away and bought a huge tree which when the net opened in our front room meant you couldn't see the tv and had to shimmy to get out the door. In a strop he announced we had to take it back. I got upset at the idea of a tree being unwanted and pleaded for us to keep it. I then realised he had no chance of now getting the large tree sans net back in the car so we ended up sawing off one side. It was an intereting look.

There was another year where size clearly mattered and we drove home with me sat with my head on my knee and a tree on top.

Then last year we got home to realise that our stand didn't fit and therefore the tree wouldnt stand up. G Kisby went out in the snow to try and saw it, I made useless suggestions like, "couldn't it be wedged with bags of sugar" and in the end we had to abandon ship and make a trip to b and q the next day to buy a new stand. Normally on these occasions g Kisby tries really hard not to get mad, I try not nearly hard enough not to humour his frustration, and the tree decorating event starts pretty quiet until in dolce jubilo, his favourite Christmas tune (what?)comes on and all is forgotten in favour of singing.

So this year what could go wrong? We were going for a smaller tree on account of the child, we had two stands, the decs were out of the loft ready, we even made a pretty quick decision on the tree itself ( g Kisby normally spends about an hour looking at every angle). He is a huge fan of the tree.

I tell you what could go wrong...trunk too big for the stand. What the hell. Our trunk was fat and a little wonky(is that ever good?) G Kisby stayed remarkably calm. An hour later he was using a meat cleaver, in the kitchen, to hack at the edge.
On the tip of my Tongue... "erm maybe a job for outside"?
As a large chip is made right in the middle of our wooden floor.

Anyhow it all worked out. We just have a 600page book holding it up.

We had a gorgeous time decorating. Mabel tried to eat the lights, mabel tried to eat the tree, mabel tried to eat the wrapped presents we used to barricade the tree. We watched elf, she loved the'this is not a toy' light decoration I bought for her and G Kisby only once asked for her to held back so he could check how even his lights were.

Let the festivities begin...

Both dark and light...

Is it normal that our 10 month old appears to have started to tantrum?

Now don't get me wrong I appreciate that a 2yr old tantrum is no doubt way worse but I thought I was immune from any kind of paddy for a while yet?

It is well documented that Mabel doesn't sleep during the day and despite improvements since grey rabbit landed on the scene it is still not unusual for nursery to tell us she only managed 20 minutes all day. And naturally this leads to a baby who is literally past herself prior to bedtime.

On a Thursday, perhaps due to the above, she does normally have a better day sleep wise and we will sometimes get as much as an hour and a half in one go. When this doesn't happen she is very grotty.

Today was one of those days. I have to admit it wasn't helped by my choice of activity - a trip to Eureka! with Uncle Mark (great museum, well worth a visit if you are in the Yorkshire area and haven't already). So so much brilliant stimulation.

And to my dismay we have also now gained a new element to being over tired / not getting our way (today wasn't the first time this has been apparent, I have just clearly been in denial). This is the 'back launch' and the 'it is the end of the world' tantrum.
The back launch is, quite literally, an action not dissimilar to that completed when doing the high jump, only without the finesse or the crash mat. The surprise back launch is one of my personal favourites. You know the type when she is sat on your knee on the sofa and only just catch a leg to save her fall.

The 'end of the world' drama tends to come in tandem with the back launch and involves 'get off me mummy' hand pushing away, struggling to get down, followed by throwing her head forward onto the floor and then screaming to be picked up again. Repeat x 5 times and you pretty much get the picture.

I am really really not looking forward to this happening in public. I am so going to be one of those parents who are judged for not 'managing' their child.
The only positive I can think of is that she will end up being so good at drama that she lands a starring role in a hit west end musical and the fact that neither G Kisby or I have a pension will all be resolved.

In which case, play on baby, you keep practising as much as possible.

On a 'lighter' note we popped along to the 'Festival of Light' in Huddersfield last weekend. It was sooo cold but we enjoyed the 'giant lobster' (what the hell?) Photographs are pretty poor on account of the camera struggling with the contrasts and my hands being nippy.

The garden of light was worth a walk through (Mabel and Belinda look completely unimpressed) and we did have our first experience of a carol concert, albeit a short one with the cold. I do love a good carol, especially with a brass band.

Ooooh bring on Christmas!

A green bean you say?

So a couple of nights ago I wake to hear Mabel coughing. Now this is not unusual, she is always coughing, but it was a particularly loud and continuous coughing fit. So much so that I eventually nipped through to check on her since it was becoming more like a choking sound.I went in and gave her a cuddle whilst rubbing her back.
A couple of big coughs later and something came out onto my shoulder before she snuggled her head into my neck and fell back asleep.

After putting her back in bed, half asleep and in semi darkness I removed what I thought was a big bit of phlegm from my top and popped it onto her chest of drawers thinking that maybe I should check it looked normal in the morning.

The next day I took it through to G Kisby who was getting ready in the bathroom,
"Look at this...it came out last night. How horrible, a dried up bit of phlegm"
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah it came out last night during a coughing fit"
"Babe, that is very clearly a green bean"

On second inspection it was indeed very clearly a green bean. Someone in nursery needs to learn to chop. God knows where she had been hiding that all day. Probably in the same place she likes to store an entire loaf of bread.
How annoying, to wake in the night and find you have a flamin green bean tickling your throat. What are the chances.

We have also had a sudden
 'talking' surge in the past week. 'Hiya' is now repeated to the extent that I am pretty sure she has no idea what it means. And perhaps more worryingly she does a good rendition of 'dirty'. Don't judge me, the pram wheels that she was trying to suck at the time really were dirty.

I asked G Kisby if 'hiya' counted as her first word?
"Ah really? I'm gonna go for no. I think it is just a sound" came the reply

In other words, let's hold out for a better one. She will be about 3 and asking,
"Hiya, why the hell is the pram in the house, the wheels are clearly dirty"

And we will still be holding out for something a little more profound!

No time like 10 months!

So the last few weeks have been a bit hectic.

I had yet another tummy bug (luckily Mabel and G Kisby were fine) which led to my usual teary trips to the toilet (I am incredibly bad at being sick, it makes me panic leading to G Kisby rubbing my hand whilst telling me to calm down - I can almost imagine the eye rolling behind my head. I certainly would have been doing so at the drama I make of it).

We have had pretty busy weekends involving some splendid sunday lunches and excellent company.

And G Kisby has been working lots on his assignment for uni - in true student style he has left it to the last minute to write.

Oh and not forgetting the ongoing moustache growth, ooooooh it is really freaking me out now.

Mabel is clearly not impressed and this photo was about a week ago. It has got worse.

The other day he asked me to lick his moustache. I think I was a little bit sick in my mouth. I don't think there will be many babies born in August.

Oh and Mabel turned a big 10 months old. She is becoming funnier and more strong willed by the day. I find myself employing the 'chop' to get her in the car seat / pram / high chair on a daily basis. In fact when at the Trafford Centre last week, due to the very public nature of the screaming, I did give in and try to carry her whilst pushing the pram. After a few minutes of getting no where fast I suddenly asked myself what the hell I was doing and regained control. A short tantrum later she was back in the pram (probably thinking, "hmm, I will let her win that battle but let's see who wins the war).

She copies you with "uh deee" (oh dear) and "aaaa ioooo" (a'tish'oo) and a personal favourite 'm, m, m'
"Ahh look babe, she is trying to say Mummy"
"Yeah. Or maybe 'more'?" he kindly suggested as she lurched towards the spoon with a wide open mouth.

She will point to lots of the right pictures if asked when reading a book (pussy cat is a favourite) and the flamin' Vtech walker continues to be her favourite toy. We did have a small face plant into the wall incident leading to our first blood whilst it was in use. It was absolutely nothing to do with a lack of supervision should G Kisby ask.

And as always, we wonder where on earth 10 months has gone...

'Sick' of nursery

So no one told us about nursery sickness. Pretty much ever since Mabel started nursery (a month ago already) she has had a full on cold...or an ear infection...or a tummy bug.
In fact I don't think there has been a day she hasn't woken up with snot dried all over her face.

We almost didn't send her again today since she had a temperature when I collected her last night and wasn't great first thing. But we dosed her up with our trusty friend (calpol IS our friend, even the doctor told me so, grrr to the midwife who told us to try and avoid it) and she got through the day.

I just feel really sorry for her and a bit of that old guilt thing about sending her in when clearly her immune system has only just started to recover by the Sunday. Apparently in time her immune system will get stronger and this will be less of a problem, I really hope so.

Source

On a slightly more light hearted note I texted G Kisby this morning, whilst sat in the car waiting for her to wake up so I could take her into nursery, suggesting he text Radio 2 for the chance to win some tickets for Chris Evans dine and disco as part of Children in Need.
"Text DISCO to this number babe, we might win tickets" I sent across by text.
"Is that definitely the right number?" came the response.
I checked.
"Oh no, sorry I've given you one of the digits wrong" I replied
"Good o. I appear to have just text Disco Gary to a gay dating number and if I just send my DOB they will get me set right up."

Uh oh.
Of all the things to text - disco. Love it!

Glorious North Yorkshire!

We are at home this weekend so decided to do some homely stuff.
I finally made chutney with the bag of apples we got from the charity shop (fill a bag for a £1, great idea to give your spare apples to charity)

I made spiced apple chutney ready for our legendary boxing day ham.

Then today we went on one of my favourite family days out – a gorgeous circular walk (hate retracing my steps) including a river, some fabulous countryside and a great pub. Mabel has an ear infection in both ears (sent home from nursery this week) so when she wouldn’t keep her hood up we had to improvise with a scarf...

For lunch we had thick cut ham sandwiches with plenty of real butter, home made piccalilli and chunky chips, washed down with a pint of local ale. All in front of a roaring fire in a gorgeously quaint beamed room.

Appletreewick, near Skipton, was a lovely little village with an even better name and a campsite right on the river which we hope to visit at some point and we also passed Bolton Abbey on the way home, a future visit required there too!

On the way back to the car we passed a field of sheep and I decided to impart a little animal knowledge on Mabel and G Kisby. About half the field of sheep had green dye on their behinds. I explained that dye is put onto the ram in an appropriate place so the farmer can see which of the ladies has been ‘fertilised’.

“Really?” he replied, half bemused, half doubtful (fair enough, I famously once told Alfie when about 3 years old that the large mammal we saw at the safari park was a buffoon).

“Yeah seriously. You can’t tell if a ewe is preggers until about 6 weeks before giving birth so this way they know” (o.k I admit I had to google this last bit because I only knew the first part)

I was sounding seriously credible until we walked out the other side of the field and G Kisby drew my attention to this:

Ah man. Really glad I didn't have to try and explain what might have gone on here!!!

Movember!

So G Kisby is sporting a moustache to raise money for Movember. I am all in favour since it is a great cause (supports mens health charities like Prostate Cancer) but lets face it, it looks terrible. Like some sort of 70's pxxn star. This picture was a week ago, it is far worse now. And according to G Kisby this morning, it might need some wax (OMG does that boy need any more excuses to buy products?)

"Do you not think I look like Tom Cruise with his moustache?"
"Erm, don't remember him having one?"
"In Top Gun?"
"...nope don't recall one?"
Strange how you can make yourself believe anything isn't it. Like when you go to the hairdressers, as I did last week, with a picture and say, "I want my hair to look like this?"
What you really mean is, "I want to me to look like this"
Funnily enough I was disappointed!

G Kisby was wrong on two counts.

Tom Cruise didn't really have a moustache in Top Gun (correct me if I am wrong - turns out he is quite handsome here, or maybe it is just the whole fighter pilot thing?)

Secondly, who is he kidding, Tom Cruise in Top Gun was about 18.

Couldn't in fact find a picture of TC ever having a moustache so I had to improvise.


See the resemblance?

No me neither.

For those who haven't heard this story, G Kisby 'claims' that on a number of occasions random strangers have approached him to ask if he was TC. Once in Starbucks in Manchester (because TC would be just popping in for a coffee), once in a slightly dodgy greasy cafe (begs the question what he was doing there in the first place) and apparently on a couple of other slightly less than clear times. 

I was never there.

Make of that what you will...

Knit Granny Knit!

Granny has been knitting! Mabel has a new cardigan and hat set which are just gorgeous - though obviously she won't keep the hat on so behind the scenes G Kisby is putting on a performance just to keep it on her head for 30 seconds for a photo.

We have been lucky to receive not one but two cardigans. This little green number was also knitted by the Granny, excuse the pale (sick feeling) parent in this photo - it was taken last Sunday morning.



So we have got through another week of work and nursery. Mabel has become much more settled and can be found happily playing when we arrive to collect her. Aside from the ongoing snotty face, and another tooth (5 now), she is making lots of new noises, will try and feed you food and give you kisses.

On a slightly separate note I have done a number of things this week which have made me cringe / laugh out loud. On Tuesday on a call to America in work I spoke to a lady who introduced herself as "Paaaadee". Now we all know that isn't her name but just the way she pronounces it, and I especially knew this since I had already emailed her earlier. Her name was Patti. And if unsure I could have just introduced myself back and left it at that. But no, for reasons I am unsure of I decided to say, "Nice to talk to you Paaadeeeee".

I couldn't believe it came out of my mouth. She must have thought I was completely taking the pxxx when I genuinely wasn't. So wrong.

In a similar vein I had another car breakdown on Monday night. Now it so happens that I didn't have a breakdown, I just thought I did. I swear there was a large clang then something dragging on the side of the car, like the noise when your exhaust falls off. Only when the guy arrived there was clearly nothing wrong. He asked where I had come from (think he might have thought an asylum?) and despite my assurances that it must have fallen off again just down the road (no of course there was nothing there but play along with me) he nodded along but with a slight look of fear. So when we were filling out the forms I decided to try and endear myself to him. How you ask? By using his broad Yorkshire accent. Now it wasn't a conscious decision but it just happened, and I really don't do a good Yorkshire accent - my "I was just turning th 'corner" sounding way too forced and unnatural. I was made to feel worse by the fact that he asked me before I went, "so you're not from Huddersfield then?"

"Hmm, what gave it away?"

Then finally, after a week of humiliation, yesterday I smiled at a dog. And not in a, "ahh cute dog" kind of way. In the way you would smile at a fellow human being when passing in a shop entrance. In a way that says 'hi there". I looked at the dog and smiled to be polite.

I was polite to a dog.

What is wrong with me? I am so not cool...

What time is it?

Is anyone else completely confused by the whole clocks changing thing?

I know it should be simple but I just can't get my head round the fact that you lose an hour. Now I can hear G Kisby in my head, "you don't LOSE an hour, you just change the clocks". But in my head we have lost an hour and how does that happen?

All day I do the whole, "is it 6pm or actually 5pm?"
To which I receive short shrift, "it is 6pm, just accept that it is 6pm and let it go"
("it is really 5pm then" I say to myself)

And babies clearly don't come programmed to manage a time change. So after deciding to hit the town last night to spend time with friends that we haven't seen for far too long, having a few too many glasses of wine so that things like, "lets get another round in" and "yeah I am up for staying out," started coming out of my mouth, then going for a late night curry and getting home about 1.30am, it was painful, yes painful to realise that Mabel's get up time of 5am was actually 4am (though it wasn't really, if you know what I mean).

Two of our best friends announced they are having their first baby - too exciting - I was giddy sharing and discussing the whole experience but being really careful not to give too much advice. I kind of think it is a journey you should travel yourselves, not cutting any corners and enjoying every bit of it along the way.

This afternoon in a bid to fight off the urge to nap (dangerous when so tired I find) we went for a family walk in the Autumn sunshine. G Kisby claimed he needed a farm shop pork pie to help with his hangover which meant we almost missed the sunset en route but just managed to capture the last of the days glimmer.

The light was just gorgeous, I think late evening sunshine might be my favourite time of day...

And Mabel debuted her bear suit, wouldn't you just love to be carried around wearing a fleecy all in one?

So I have realised, if I didn't already guess, that with a baby the reason you don't go out drinking that often is not the absence of a babysitter. No no, it is having to make up a bottle with a shaky hand, feeling slightly nauceous and counting in your head the hours till another sleep may be due. G Kisby nearly fainted in the curry house due to not eating all day so I decided to take one for the team and let him stay asleep.

Feigning illness in advance - the lengths some people go to to avoid a get up!

9 months on...

9 months ago today our lives were very different!

And oh my do our lives continue to change...

Mabel can now crawl but primarily she chooses to climb and wants to try and walk. She coasts along any furniture she can find and takes her hands off despite being far too unstable

She copied me tonight when I showed her I was giving Katie doll a kiss - too cute.

She has developed a love affair with her grey rabbit - whose ears are always wet from being sucked when she is falling asleep. She knows where all the flaps are on Dear Zoo (her favourite book by far) and loves turning the pages.

She copies you with an 'oh dear' noise after sneezing or coughing (which she does all the time since her constant nursery cold started).

She has definitely started to realise she has options. I regularly now have to employ the tummy chop to get her in the car seat / high chair or just to sit down for a second and I knitted her this hat (G Kisby calls it the condom hat - harsh) but she refuses to wear it. She'd take her coat off if she could negotiate the arms.

She never fails to laugh at her Daddy saying 'a tissue' (what the hell and I barely get a smile for the high quality entertainment I provide) and generally has such a gorgeous temperment.

I don't know how we got so lucky!?!

Blurgh!

This weekend has been a complete wash out due to a tummy bug hitting the girls in the house. Mabel and I visited nursery on Saturday morning for a baby signing workshop and on the way home she pretty much covered herself and the car in porridge sick. And once it had started it just kept coming all day, and all over us mostly.

"How glad am I that this has happened on a weekend" I exclaimed to G Kisby, "someone to help me clean up sick and give her cuddles."
About 2 hours later I realised just how glad I was that G Kisby was around as I started being sick myself. It was hard not to worry about Mabel dehydrating since she couldn't even keep water down but eventually just before bed time we did manage to get her to take a few sips. II'll stop there on the gory details but the night wasn't pleasant for any of us!

We had planned to get a load of odd jobs done and visit friends for Sunday lunch today. Hey ho, can't be helped, Mabel is much better today which is the main thing.
It did also make me stop and appreciate how lucky we are to normally be in good health. Looking after children whilst poorly must just be awful.

And while I remember, our first full week of new routine went well too. I already feel like I have never been off work, though for the first day it did feel like I was just visiting. I managed to avoid pulling out sudacrem when looking for lip gloss and enjoyed wearing my hair down and clothes not covered in dribble or snot. Though my feet were absolutely killing by Wednesday, clearly they are not used to be shoved into a heel. The evenings felt really short and she is so tired from nursery that it doesn't feel like quality time together but I try to console myself with the fact that she is tired due to all that positive stimulation and interaction. And avoid where possible doing jobs so I can concentrate on her for that period.

And oh my did I enjoy finishing on a Wednesday for the 'weekend'. I really appreciated our time together and still feel really lucky to have it since I know G Kisby would love some more.
So no doubt there will be some weeks harder than others but for now things are going well, fingers crossed it continues...

Late for a very important date...

At the weekend we were in York for the wedding of two of our very close friends. We planned to take Mabel but after much deliberation decided that it was more for our benefit than hers, what with being whisked out the ceremony and held when just wanting to crawl. We thought that she would be much happier in the capable hands of her Granny.

So on Saturday morning we head off to York, Mum kindly encouraging us to leave early so we had time to change and get ready at the hotel. We stopped at M&S to get a picnic, I was really hoping the room would have a bath. Enjoying our time together we chatted all the way, too excited about seeing our friends tie the knot and guessing what the dress would be like etc.

When we pulled up at the hotel I saw a couple dressed for a wedding walking in the main doors.
"How funny" I exclaimed
"Why would you get here so early"

It took me about 10 seconds.
"Oh my God."
"Did you check the invitation, you were really sure it started at one?"
"Yessss" I replied slightly firmly (obviously not)
I literally jumped out of the car while it was still moving and dashed to the boot to pull out the invite, knowing what it was going to say...
"Oh. My. God. It is about to start at 12. Park the car, park the car, I will check in"
It is 11.45 at this point.
So I dash past bridesmaids arriving, staff tinkering with bouquets, guests stood pleasantly enjoying the surroundings, lugging my case behind me, arms wailing about like a crazy, bounding over to reception.
"Hi, er we have been stuck in traffic (in response to some guests stood a little too close by) and I am here for the wedding pls can I have our key"
"Hello madam, nice to welcome you to our hotel today. Can I ask which name please" said in the absolute stereotypical way a reception speaks, up at the end
"The wedding which is about to start..." I try again
"Oh the wedding at 12?" glances me up and down, hair scraped back, jeans and jumper
"Yeah can you just give me the key, I will come back and check in properly afterwards"
"I will need to take a few details from you today madam.."
"Give. Me. The key. I will come back" said more firmly but as quietly as possible
 "I suppose I can give you the key but you will have to come back and..."
I literally swiped the key out of her hand and ran. I didn't even listen to where the room was so found myself running down corridors asking every other person the way. At one point they pointed me through the main area where guests were congregated, my eyes started searching for a fire exit.

So we just made the ceremony. I chose makeup over hair (clearly no time for both and wearing red without makeup turns starlet into hooker). G Kisby nonchalantly strolled up to the room just after me, having tried to park in the space reserved for the bridal car and no doubt taken the more direct route to the room following directions given at reception. I had that horrible feeling you might have a zip undone somewhere or knickers hanging out the back of your dress but apparently not.

And I am so so glad we didn't miss it. It was one of the most emotional ceremonies we have ever attended (Adele's version of Make Me Feel Your Love being sung sent me grappling for the hand towel - classy - I had grabbed from the toilet on the way in). The vows were personalised, they both looked so in love, it was just fab. We slipped back upstairs straight afterwards to dress properly so all was well.

A slight hitch later in the day with the bridal suite setting on fire (first time lighting the open fire in the main room underneath apparently, not the curling tongs I panicked were still on in our room) - a couple of hours in the car park, fire engines the lot - so glad we didn't take Mabel. But even that didn't overshadow what was a beautiful day, stood outside in October (?) sunshine, drinking champagne, celebrating the best day of our friends lives - lovely!

Nursery time - phase two

Oh my, where to start about the last week..

So following our intro sessions we had 2 full days at nursery prior to me actually starting work. The first one went o.k, Mabel managed a short sleep but seemed
fine although absolutely knackered by the time she got home.
Then the second was a bit up and down. Mum and I made the most of the rare opportunity to be without any responsibility and went for a shop in Leeds. I dropped her off, leaving a bottle since her sore teeth were stopping her eating.

Around mid morning I rang to check how she was (in true first time parent style). The reply came that she hadn't eaten her breakfast and had only had 20 mins sleep which was in a pram since all the beds were busy. When I asked whether she had then had a bottle instead I was told no but they would give her one over lunch if necessary. 

Now this left me a bit irritated since I really want her to settle and have consistency so on the 2nd day to be in a pram was annoying. I had that horrible feeling in my tummy and literally wanted to just drive home and pick her up. However, Mum was very good at counselling me on the need to keep some context. I was absolutely jumping to all sorts of random conclusions. I liked that it was a small nursery, knowing that there were just a couple of baskets (research points to them as good for babies to sleep in). And I had no idea whether she was even wanting food - just because I am a feeder (adults or children to be fair, I am well known for force feeding) doesn't mean it is right.
To make things worse, when I arrived to collect her the sheet we receive every evening on her day said she had eaten all her breakfast and slept for 40 minutes. I did try and question why the difference but didn't really receive an answer.

I found it really difficult to know how much to say. On the one hand I want it to be right, she is the most precious thing to us in the world, but on the other I am aware we are trying to build a relationship with the nursery and work together to get her routine right. I basically didn't want to just pxss them off. Hmmm tough call.

But it left me feeling really uncertain and disappointed.

We decided that since it was only the first week to let it go and see how this week went - in actual fact it has been much better. She has slept in her basket every day and we are now up to an hour in the afternoon. And despite still being exhausted end of day, when I collected her yesterday I was greeted with a big smile and cuddle before she crawled off to continue playing. And at the end of the day I would rather they were engaging with our child than filling out paperwork.

And for me going back to work has been a very positive experience. It has been fab to see all my work friends again, I am looking forward to new challenges from my slightly different role and despite of course missing her terribly I have really enjoyed using my brain and the rest that comes from not looking after a baby full time.

So I have learnt a few things this week...

- The world of childcare does take a little time to adjust to - for both us and Mabel
- Part of this is letting go of control and building trust - I fully appreciate that second time round it won't be nearly as hard!
- It isn't wrong to discuss concerns and talk to them about how that first week was for us, but perhaps not in the heat of the moment - so when the time is right I will give some constructive feedback.

Oooh giving some feedback, you see I am right back into work mode already!!!