Grace is normally a bit stroppy on her birthday but Daisy was in fine form and loved all the attention/balloons/presents and cake.
We took her to "build a bear". She liked it a bit. She liked the noisy hoover in the Disney store far more, and threw an amazing tantrum when we tried to leave the shop without it.
We gave in, then pretended we were not with her when she pushed it round the shopping centre singing happy birthday to herself at the top of her voice whilst clipping people's ankles.
We now have a pretend hoover, two mini shopping trolleys, one walker and a pretend lawnmower at home. The kids (and friends) take it in turns to race them round and round and round and round the kitchen until I am so cross if I were Michael J Fox I would morph into Teenwolf.
We just got back from a lovely holiday in Centreparks with James' folks.
His dad (Pip) got a mobility scooter which Grace called his "pram" and kept wanting lifts on it. It had two speeds. Tortoise or rabbit. I think it might have been based on a rabbit with one leg. Even Bliss was beating him.
James and I hired bikes with buggies attached to tow the kids and swimming gear along in. Who wants a relaxing holiday when you have three small children? Certainly not James, who kept challenging me to races - then taking shortcuts to beat me if I actually managed to make any headway. I think he thought he was in the Tour De France.
All I wanted was a lie in.
At the end of the week James' folks took the girls back to Berkhamstead and James and I "nipped" up to Manchester to see The Stone Roses.
It took us seven hours to get to Manchester. Another hour to find the hotel. Another two hours to get from there into a taxi. Another half hour before the taxi gave up and we walked... and another two hours before we finally got into Heaton Park...
And then I had a funny turn.
"Oh dear" I said, surveying the 80,000 crowd "I am not sure I like this. It's a bit busy"
"Did you think we would be the only ones here then?"
"Don't be funny James. I think I am having a panic attack, I AM, I AM having a" ...
Just the The Stone Roses walked on stage and I began sobbing and cheering and dancing like a madwoman.
"Alright now, are you?" Said James, before he himself got caught up in a group hug with lots of other 40 year old sobbing men.
I think Bliss had just as much fun with Vikki, who had her overnight. She spent the whole time flirting with Vikki's husband. Bliss is a giant ginger flirt and knows just what she is doing. Acting all coy and batting her lashes. Crying when she is ignored, opening her mouth wide for snogs. Honestly...she is a pint sized version of her father.
Grace is in her last term at nursery. I feel sad that our first baby is growing up - but she is so ready for school and so excited about going.
Daisy is not at all ready for nursery. Although she is now saying more (In fact, it's like having an echo as she parrots the last two words of our sentences) - she is still very clingy and demanding.
She refuses to eat her breakfast, but wants to eat Grace's instead (Bliss is always happy to hoover up Daisy's uneaten breakfast though). She refuses to have her teeth brushed, but will suck toothpaste from the tube (If she can wrestle it from Bliss' vice like grip). She won't have her hair brushed unless you feed her chocolate buttons (See above comment re Bliss and wrestling).
She brings heavy musical books over and demands you read them to her, but then turns the pages too quickly for you to do so. If you try and explain this to her she drops the heavy book on your toe, echoes your "OW BLOODY HELL" back at you and laughs in your face.
If she can see you are genuinely in pain however, she can be very kind. She will lick the sore toe and then do loud smacky kisses all over your face, before ensconcing you in charlie cloth so you can't see where you are going and trip over again.
We trip over a lot in this house.
Bliss is at a scary stage where she uses props to pull herself up to standing, but often selects inappropriately weighed items to do so.
IE: A chair = good to use for supporting weight.
Grace's lunchbox = bad to use for supporting her weight.
When she falls over she does theatrical crying until she is picked up and then nips you with her sharp teeth for making her wait.
Bliss is a real-life sausage machine. She cannot put something in her mouth without pushing something she ate earlier out her bum (At the same time). It's impressive, if not a bit annoying.
Daisy makes a MASSIVE fuss about it. "Mummy mummy, Bliss POO, EEK, POOH! URGH mummy POOH" and flaps her hands about... But when Daisy does a poo herself she refuses to admit it's her and runs off when you try to change her.
We spend alot of time cleaning up poo.
I also spend a lot of time doing the walk of shame (Picking up nappies ripped from bin liners by filthy seagulls from up and down our road.)
James has offered to lend me a florescent coat and grabber from his work for the job. All heart my husband isn't he?
He was pleased to get back to his beloved garden having soaked everything with Miracle Growth before we left. We came back to Day of The Triffids. He was over the moon of course. If I only I could excite him as much as weed killer does.
Bamboos used to excite him the most. But he could not stop plucking leaves off them.. so now we just have tall bare bamboo stems that sway silently in the breeze.
I call him Russell.
Lawns are his latest craze. We are rarely allowed to tread on ours now, in case we stunt it's growth. It's quite annoying that my husband will spend hours hunched over on bended knee to pluck non-existent moss from the lawn (sometimes at night, with a head-torch) but indoors, will stomp on discarded biscuits, wet wipes and half eaten snails with gay abandon.
He also does not seem too upset about the mud he brings back into the house after one of his moonlit lawn patrols/bamboo plucking sessions.
Perhaps I will start having more picnics.
Latest photos here