The Bed-time Tango.

Moving your child to a bed is a big decision. Some parents are forced into it by their offspring deciding to become trapeze artists over night, clambering over cot sides and springing onto the floor in one graceful swoop. When not so graceful, these midnight escapades can end in tears, with bumped heads and carpet burns aplenty.

I wasn’t one of these mums. My son never tried to, let alone succeeded in escaping the prison bars of his cot. So you might ask why I decided to move him to a bed at all.

I’ve always been an advocate in not ‘baby-ing’ your baby, and I don’t make much of a secret of the fact I hate seeing 3 year olds with bottles and dummies, or in high chairs and cots. Add into that, the fact that my 2 year old is far too big for a travel cot, meaning we are stuck in our home until he can sleep on a mattress, and the striving for maturity that he seems to be going through lately in every way other than speech, I thought the time had come to move him. As he is starting nursery in three weeks, I wanted him to be settled into the bed by then, so decided to bite the bullet last week.

First the good news: It looks adorable. I was not prepared for the metamorphosis his cot would go through in order to become a bed. In fact, we thought it was just a case of taking off the sides. That’s why we started the process at 6.40pm. Once the cot sides were off, it didn’t exactly look right, so we cleverly decided the next stage would be to find the instruction manual. Turning to the right page, C read out step number one. “Completely dismantle the cot.”


An hour and a half (and a lot of peppa pig) later, a very tired boy was put into his bed, thrilled and yawning.

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The bad news: It hasn’t exactly helped his (or my) sleep. When he isn’t coming into our bedroom at 4.30 in the morning with his buggy and baby from the playroom in tow, shouting “Maaa..?” I am lying awake in bed anyway wondering whether it was the right decision to forgo a bed guard, because apparently C fell out of his bed countless times in his childhood and it ‘never did him any harm’  ….

This craziness on my part means that every hour or so, I pause in listening out for potential ‘falling’ noises, and I tiptoe into his room to see what position he’s in. moving his limbs out of precarious ‘will he wont he?’ positions. Cue night vision camera and a lot of crossing fingers that the flash doesn’t wake him. And when the latter doesn’t work, a lot of running away cursing.

The horizontal sleeper.

Although not worrisome  as probably the least likely position to fall out of bed in, (unless he is going to land standing up) this is a bit of a puzzler. How did he get into this position to begin with? I can only imagine it was managed with incremental shuffling further and further clockwise. Even then, the geometry doesn’t seem quite right.

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The now you see me… 

So glad we had the bright idea to pad out the ‘gap’ with boxes, because right now that appears to be the only thing stopping my son from being wedged into the teeny space between bed and wall. Next thing to be nervous about, that he will inadvertently kick or headbutt the wall, resulting in an avalanche of those (only mostly) soft toys. Wonder whether I will recognise the thump of photo frame hitting toddler?

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The furtive play
Coming out of my own room at various times of the evening, to be greeted by the following, fills me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, “R, it is the middle of the night and you should be in bed, not secretly playing with your Vtech laptop in the hallway.” On the other hand, “R, well done for not disturbing us, and could you please learn to entertain yourself so effectively without my help during daylight hours?”

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The where’s my cup? I want my dri-… Zzzz…
It’s not just babies that fall out of beds. Objects are also suddenly not where we left them due to these cunning contraptions. This clever position shows that he obviously knew where the likely hiding place for his cup was… if only he could summon up the strength to stay awake for another…few… millimetres. So close.

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The cosy I love my bed

Seeing my tiny newborn all grown up and in a big boys bed, is definitely one for the baby journal. Tucked in properly, lying on his pillow, out for the count to the rest of the world, he looks so peaceful. Would it be so terrible if I just had the quickest of cuddles?

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It took a lot of training but….

I have finally taught my 2yo to do the dishes! 🙂 I knew he would come in handy some day.

Testing the temperature of the water….

Good! Washing up…

Of course, I do seem to spend double the time the washing up would have taken drying off the rest of the kitchen and clearing up broken bits of plate…. And the ‘washed up’ utensils don’t actually seem that clean… But there’s a reason they call them baby steps right?

Reassure me parents of the world, it’s only a matter of time before I can spend my days reclining on the couch while my toddler takes the place of a costly eastern European cleaner correct? (He already has the English language skills down pat.)

Look, do you want it done quick, or do you want it done right?


No Two Ways About It, That’s Strange. (Part 3)

Calling out across the world for help on explaining this one.

I was lucky enough to be thoroughly spoiled with a day-trip to Venice yesterday for my 25th birthday. It is truly tourist-ville, with every street corner overflowing with the unique list of items which Venice is famous for. Each stand or small shop was full to the bursting with decorative masks, Murano glassware, and Gondola themed trinkets. Of course, as it was Italy, you also cannot escape the Carbs infatuation, (I knew I’ve always wanted to go there for a reason) and you cant walk ten yards without spotting Pizza or Pasta in one form or another.

This was one form I wasn’t expecting. In nearly every shop, there was a section like the below. This was the only one I saw however with the helpful/confusing sign up, which made me think I may be missing something about the phenomenon. Any ideas?

If this is typical Italian cuisine-I’m just glad we didn’t have time to go to a restaurant. Is this really such a must-have in the pasta department? I have to say, the UK are missing a trick, as I’ve never seen it in Tesco.

Explanation or not, I’ll stick to fusilli thanks.


Try not to call Child Welfare Services but…

Seeing as I walked in on my (too quiet) son in the following tableau this afternoon…

Do you think I’ve make medicine the ‘go-to’ answer, just a few too many times in his short life?

Luckily, it even takes me a good ten minutes to wrestle those lids off the darn bottles.

No two ways about it, that’s strange.

Just had to share this photo I snapped yesterday on my way home. I looked, looked again, and then just had to have tangible proof. There was no film crew, no one else staring, and I wasnt sure that on retelling the story, that I’d be able to capture exactly how it made me feel and do it justice. So here is my present to you, you can almost experience the moment firsthand, how you might have felt being me, when I noticed this family walking a few steps ahead of me.

WEIRD. Just genuinely weird. Are they en route to a Denim convention? A B*Witched lookalike competition? Are they simply the most unimaginative family ever? I will leave it to you to decide.. But one thing is for sure. There is something very odd about this.

The Plot Thickens.
note: Once I’d snapped my snap (Ironically outside Snappy Snaps) I overtook them on the left. Upon seeing me, the girl was then very clearly heard saying in my direction, “She’s wearing a jean skirt.”

Any and all ideas to make me less confused gratefully recieved.