ailbhe: (Default)
5 years 6 months (almost)
21kg approx, 112 cm high
Shoe size: 11.5H
Very long )
ailbhe: (Default)
The house was a pit and a disaster, so we left it behind. We stopped at Elle's Baguettes for sandwiches ) and then posted some party invitations at the post office, and then I cycled us in to town and out again to ERAPA.

We went down by the river ) and then we arrived early for the home ed group. We had our lunch and the first people to arrive were people I already knew and so it was lovely and pleasant.

Everyone had a lovely time until Linnea came up to me sulking. I was non-pushily nice to her for a few minutes and extracted the fact that she doesn't want to play that game because it's "horrid," a word which, as Susan might say, "real children never say." Further queries elicited the information that the game was robbers and cops. And she wasn't allowed to be a cop, apparently.

Emer found a doll as large as herself to play with, which was disconcerting to catch out of the corner of my eye.

So Linnea didn't mind much when we had to leave early, and we arrived in John Lewis in time to get both children fitted for new sandals. It was a bit of a production. ) and Rob phoned as my transaction was ending and I told him where we were.

So I brought everyone back to the Parents' Room and while Linnea was sitting on the loo Rob came and found us. And we talked briefly about dinner and I made a couple of phonecalls to sort out money and we went out somewhere Linnea remembered going for Freya's fourth birthday, a little over a year ago.

They had a good, cheap children's menu so that was lovely. I had a brief interaction with neighbouring diners, because I am an interfering kind of person. )

After we had finished our meals - during which Emer demonstrated that spaghetti-twirling is easy really, but eating very hot food is hard - we had to cycle home without lights. Well, I had a rear light. I didn't enjoy that. Rob and I both had hi-vis vests on but he'd forgotten his lights and my front dynamo-light wasn't working. We must look at that soon.

Emer fell asleep on the way home and is in bed asleep even now. Linnea did some of her restaurant-kiddie-pack puzzles while Rob made up her bed and now she's gone to bed too.

My turn next.
ailbhe: (Default)
Emer and I woke about six and drifted back to sleep again, and then woke again about eight when Rob left. We played in bed for an hour, tickling and bouncing and counting toes and talking about breakfast ("A big bowl of elephants? Airplanes on toast?" "No, a raaaahhhhh!" "Giraffe?""No, a yion, raaahhhh!" "OH - LIONS for breakfast! yum!") and then I had m antibiotics and my painkillers and my coffee and we went to wake Linnea; Emer and I sat on Emer's bed and hid under a red blanket until Linnea was overcome by curiosity at the giggling.

I stripped Linnea's bed and stuck the bits in the washing machine, and gave them breakfast - muesli for Linnea and noodles for Emer, no idea why but there you go, she did try to eat them crunchy but opted for soaking them after all. The dishwasher is loaded and going. The children are washed around the edges.

It has been a peaceful, friendly morning. And now I'm going to spoil it all by saying something stupid like "Let's go out."

But we do need to buy them sandals - we have sandals a size too small and a size too large for both of them - so that might help. Both children like the wrong-size ones enough to insist that they fit :(
ailbhe: (Default)
Should I buy Linnea this coat? I think I like it. I expect size 6-7 would be big enough.


Mar. 18th, 2009 08:53 pm
ailbhe: (emer 2y2m and linnea 4y5m)
I stood on the doorstep and the children were halfway down the street, just within earshot. Emer was looking at Linnea's scooter, which has flowers and a logo.

"Dat my name," she said.

"No," said Linnea, "those letters aren't in your name. Look, Ill show you one that's in your name."

I asked her what she shower her, later, and she held out one finger on her left hand, and put three fingers of her right hand against it, to make an E.

I asked Emer to pick some books up.

"I tan't," she said, "oney scissors."

She thought about it for a while, then used her fingers like tongs, and picked the books up without cutting them. But both hands were scissors, not hands - that was very clear.


Mar. 18th, 2009 06:53 pm
ailbhe: (Default)
A month ago I was chipping ice off the washing line to hang laundry up - which I did wearing a coat and gloves.

Today I was out there in my tshirt, jeans, and open-toed sandals, hanging wet washign slowly to relish the sun on my shoulders.

The children didn't want to go out but in the late afternoon I brought the bike and scooters into the front hallway and opened the door, and we played on the footpath outside for 30-45 minutes. Linnea has about grown into her huge scooter now so she, Emer and I have one each. She isn't keen on her bike though. She wants the saddle a little lower.

The sun shone, I opened the windows and played music so we could hear it in the street (though sadly not as loud as some cars) and it was lovely lovely lovely.

If I weren't slightly crazed with purely physical pain, all would be magnificent - as it is, things are pretty damn good.

And the weather is forecast to continue charming.
ailbhe: (nana)
My mother's siblings - M(f), P(m), herself (f), M(f), E(f), D(f)

My mother's children, all female - D, O, G, A, N.

My mother's grandchildren - 6f, 1m.
2002 D-> O(m)
2003 D-> S(f)
2004 A-> L(f)
2005 D-> O(f)
2006 A-> E(f)
2008 O-> F(f)
2009 D-> C(f)

There's another one due in 2009, September time, so that will make up for 2007 nicely.

I must get photos of everyone and make a family tree picture for my children.
ailbhe: (Default)
As my aching tooth, my over-thirsty four-year-old, my toddler and myself were crossing the pedestrian shopping street today, a man who was stopping passers-by waved his beer can at me.

"Young mum!" he cried, "have you ever been paintballing before?"

I said "No thank you," but thought of lots of other things I could have said if I could have been bothered, later. "I'm older than you," for a start. "I don't need to, I have children." "That beercan looks very unprofessional, aging bachelor."

Honestly, everyone else says "'Scuse me" before they start their pitch - what made him think "Young mum!" was a polite way to address anyone?

Perhaps he was drunk.

Apart from that, we enjoyed today's sunshine. Emer and I spent time in the garden before the dentist appointment, and then we all walked around searching for a pharmacy, hampered by my being slightly crazed with pain so I couldn't really think of what the most efficient thing to do was. We found a Superdrug with no pharmacy counter, and then a Boots which did have one, and then made our way by degrees to Moondogs, failing to buy Linnea a new coat or jacket in a few places in the meanwhile. It probably wasn't the best day to try, to be honest.

At Moondogs we had coffee and cake - actually, the children had purple squash, which is about as stimulating - and then we walked home, gathered our wits and the birthday gift, and went to Iz's fifth birthday party. It was lovely and low-key and we had a lovely time. Linnea's will be in a hall this year but I was pleased to see that someone other than me has low-key food-and-games ideas.

I need to print off Linnea's party invitations and post them. And see if I can't do something labour-saving about a cake.

I went out to dinner with a friend on Friday evening and left my phone at home. I must do that again.
ailbhe: (Default)
It's a lovely day for laundry - I've done the handwashing, even - and swinging on the swing and seeing on the saw and bouncing on the trampoline. And it's a lovely day for mowing the lawn, ish, and raking the winter's leaves off it, and finding all sorts of toys hidden in the long grass.

If this continues we'll have a usable garden by the end of the week - one people could come and sit in, even.

It's glorious weather.

Poor Linnea will be FORCED out into it shortly. She'd rather stay in the front room looking at books. Why she doesn't want to look at the outdoors is beyond me. But she has to come to the dentist with me - no choice there!
ailbhe: (Default)
I went to Boots to buy an electronic comb but it wasn't suitable for use on very small children so I got a Nitty Gritty, with which I have already tortured Rob. Now his head is clear I'm about to give him a buzz with the clippers, which should solve THAT part of the problem at least.

It's funny, he hardly noticed them but Linnea was madly itchy and covered in little sores from them.

Lousy day

Mar. 12th, 2009 11:18 am
ailbhe: (Default)
Poor Linnea is eating biscuits and crying, because I just fine-combed her hair. And the part she doesn't realise is I didn't use the finest comb, so it will be worse next time, when I've found the best fine-comb. She has raw scratched spotty parts behind her ears and at the back of her neck, and lots of brown dirt stuck to her hair - I don't know whether that's louseshit or eggcases, because eggcases always looked white on my dark hair but perhaps they look brown on fair hair.

She's also very very upset that I put the lice down the drain. She wants me to find a kinder way of dealing with them. They might get lost and not be able to find each other again. Their mothers will be upset if they can't find the babies. Stop it!

I only found four adults and lots and lots of juveniles, so it looks like a fairly recent infestation, so it ought to be easy enough to keep on top of. I only had one adult in my own hair.

I have a passionate hatred of lice. Until I was eleven, I sat next to a child who was never treated for headlice, and I got finecombed and covered in foul-smelling insecticide constantly throughout the school term. My hair was unusually fine, and very long, and very very thick (it's much thinner now, though just as fine).

I'm really angry at the lice for what they did to my daughter. Her neck looks sore. She has little spots of blood on her scalp. And they left dirt in her lovely hair.


Mar. 10th, 2009 11:13 pm
ailbhe: (Default)
Rob and I are both doing better today - he slept almost all night through and I had several chunks of more than an hour each. Which, compared to Sunday night, was brilliant.

This morning Linnea woke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and pottered about on her computer while I stayed in bed with Emer. I got up before Emer properly woke and did laundry and dishwashering and tidying, and then when Emer woke we all had porridge. Linnea and I were dressed to go out by ten o'clock but Emer wasn't until closer to eleven, but that's ok. She doesn't like being dressed.

We went to Lidl for orange juice and bananas and carrots and other things which are available in organic, fair-trade, or British (ie kinda localish) cheaper than the market sells them. I also caved in and bought silicate grapes (ie nonorganic) imported from the other end of the planet. Bad Environmentalist No Biscuit.

After that I compounded my sin by eating in McDonalds, which I'm always ashamed of because of their international eeeeebil, and then we came home and I finished doing laundry and tidying the bathroom, kitchen, and dining room for the BfN people. I put the stairgate in and cleared the kitchen and got coffee on, and it was almost ready by the time the first person arrived.

The lesson went well.

Rob arrived during the post-lesson chat, and so I could leave for the True Food market without waking Emer. Linnea was just as pleased to be left behind too. I got a lot of useful shopping done and had two cups of tea and several interesting-to-me conversations. I absolutely have to get out more - this is really important. Maybe if I take up yoga it will help.

All I ever think about are money and babies, babies and money. Oh, and environmentalism and politics.

I think this third week of PMS is doing a number on my self-perception because I am not in a good place right now.

I crept into Linnea's bed in the night because I had persistent anxiety about her continued breathing.
ailbhe: (Default)
Rob was up all night with Linnea. I was up all night with Emer. Both children were hot, sweaty, and scratching like loons. And peeing like rivers.

Today they are both cranky and not hungry, but apparently well. I'm cranky and starving and grouchy and clawed.

The cats were sick in the night; Rob cleaned up two parts of a dead animal from under one chair, in the middle of the night, and I cleaned up a heap of undigested catfood from under another chair this morning. I'll also have to wash the coats which were on the floor, as they were affected too. Yuck.

It's an absolutely gorgeous day and my children are wiped out by either a lowlevel virus or the party and sugar from yesterday.

On the plus side, I got their clean laundry put away, the wet bedding in the washing machine, dinner is on, the dishwasher is running, both children are dressed, and I had a coffee.

I think I'll get myself dressed now and have another one. (I do my housework in my pyjamas. I'm not sure why).

Don't ask.

Mar. 8th, 2009 11:16 am
ailbhe: (Default)
We all had a rotten night. Linnea came into our bed with bad dreams. Emer came into our bed with pointy elbows. Emer in particular was very distressed and kept headbutting, kicking, and hitting. In her sleep. I kicked Rob awake so he could put the sleeping Linnea back in her own bed.

It was horrible, and I await with interest the bruise patterns.

Needless to say we were all too knackered to go to Meeting today, especially with a birthday party this afternoon, so we're still here; Rob and Linnea are in the attic doing DIY and Emer and I are in the dining room discussing the family of white elephants living under the dining table (they like coffee and potatoes with mayonnaise, but they don't wear hats).


Mar. 6th, 2009 04:12 pm
ailbhe: (Default)
Emer is napping. Linnea is watching telly, which is sort of like napping.

I'm kind of tired. Between painting and cutting and knitting and house-making and non-verbal reasoning and all the normal things of eating and washing and tidying and so on, it's been a noisy and non-stop kind of day. I am now - don't faint from shock - sitting down at the laptop, but I find that the pot of tea I made "a minute ago" has gone cold and nastily opaque, so I will make another one.

Still, I got dinner in the slow-cooker, so that much is sorted. Rob prepped four days' worth of food last night after dinner.
ailbhe: (Default)
around the tree, out of the rabbit hole, and off goes she.

Forty times without stopping.
ailbhe: (Default)
I've made toast with the last of Monday's white bread. And I have coffee.

It's a good morning so far. I had a nasty dream which woke me before the children or the alarm, but it didn't leave a bad taste in my brain. Alien invasion and every citizen a spy, combined with Emer staying still so she wouldn't be spotted and Linnea trying to find somewhere better to hide - either she did or she didn't but I never found out.

I've managed laundry and dishwashing and childwrangling. The radio is interesting, for a change, and I'm learning stuff about brains. And fire.

Emer and Linnea are in good moods and very friendly.
ailbhe: (Default)
I loved the Maggie books. And quite liked some of the Kevin and Sadie ones. But a nice moon always makes me think "a braw bricht moonlicht nicht the nicht".

We had a gorgeous moon on Saturday night, and Emer and Linnea had a lot of fun looking at it. It was even right on our street, at the end, so we walked towards it until we had to stop to go into our house.

Linnea thinks there are astronauts living on the moon wondering what it would be like to live on Earth.

Emer says "No fink so."

Today went well. In all, we had four adults and five toddlers and one baby, today. Lucky I did a big baking earlier in the week because I haven't had time since. I hope to get some fresh done tomorrow.

I really must read up on how to bake bread with a soft upper crust.

And show Rob Chocolate Fix, the game Linnea played.

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