First (half) day at school seemed to go very well. Special pancake breakfast, as requested, then we walked up the road. Hordes of parents (and children of course) but we found M her little gang from preschool and left her to it. She tells me they played outside, where she ran around with her preschool friend and also, most excitingly, H, who was her bessy mate at preschool before starting school last year. They had a story, drew a picture, answered the register, and she managed to tell them she should be Maggie not Margaret. They had a snack (at snacktime. Which is different from playtime) and I picked her up before lunch. We came home and she watched Mary Poppins. Does it get much better than that?

Fell over and grazed her knee on her way there this morning.

and when did she get so grown up?

She finally has enough words to warrant a list for the record, though we are still mostly at animal noises and made-up (yet consistent) words. It’s quite interesting to compare with M’s list, which was much longer at much younger and did not contain television characters or junk food:

baa – sheep
dawdaw – dora (the explorer)
ssh – fish
(dog noise)
dog
(pig noise)
(monkey noise)
no!
bi – (scuit)
gokgok – chocolate
toast
js – drink
cake
mummy
daddy
car
key
whee
clip clop (horse or high heeled shoes)
rarat – rabbit
boo – nappy (“poo”)
dododo – hen (cockadoodledoo)
moo
spoon
buzz
bee
bear
teddy
cot
clock
rah – (lion noise)
beebies
baby
gok (sock)
duck
owl
ba – marmite
sss – snake
book
uh-oh
hiya
allgone
ball
moon
tea
up
there

I spent the morning with a new friend, as I have become aware that poor Tamsin spends nearly all her time playing with (or near) big girls and has hardly any playmates her own age. Come September she’s going to be billy no mates if I don’t do something. My new friend spent the whole time putting Tamsin’s new friend on the ubiquitous naughty step, even though as far as I could see she was not being the least bit naughty, while saying oh she is very tired we had a bad night and she started early this morning. Yet the child was not allowed to go for a nap because NapTimeâ„¢ was at 1. This is not my style – we don’t have a naughty step and I was entirely taken aback once when a visitor asked me where ours was as she wanted to put her child on it. But when the new friend asked me what my discipline technique was, I hedged, ummed and ahhed, muttered something about not being a fan of The Step, and changed the subject. So I am trying to get it clear in my own head (hence this long rambling post).

(She also looked at me askance when I gave the wrong answer to the question “do you have a routine?”)

I’ve been thinking a bit even before she asked, in the way that surely all parents of preschoolers or second toddlers (who are far more toddler than the first ever was) must, about rewards, “incentives”, punishments and so forth. I know I don’t usually go in for talking about my parenting philosophy (for want of a better term: I hope you do know, dear reader, that I am very much not the sort of person to have a parenting philosophy of any description) but bear with me and I’ll tell you all about the weeds on the allotment again soon.

So, I’ve been doing some reading – ivillage, naturally; Alfie Kohn; Faber & Mazlish; Scott Noelle; Naomi Aldort (though I cannot finish this book it is not for want of trying. It is far too preachy yet hand-wavingly unconcrete for me, but that’s not it. The main problem is – forgive me, I know she is American; I know I should translate; I know I should just get over it – I just cannot get past the very idea that I should say gee, what a bummer to my kids. Shudder.) For those of you who are reluctant – whyever would that be – to dash straight down to Borders*, this article gives you an idea of the sorts of ideas I’ve been mulling. Interesting, eh? (Topical, too, as this was in the news today.)

I am not entirely anti reward. If I didn’t reward myself with a lovely latte and a biscuit, goodness knows this house would be even dustier than it is now. But. This week as I collected M from preschool I was told that today she had got three stickers and as a result could choose a lurid lolly to take home! Wow. So, not unreasonably, I asked M (as her tongue rapidly turned blue) what the stickers had been for. One, she was pretty sure, had been for eating all her lunch. (This sets me off in a whole other direction: food battles is one of my things: especially with girls in this day and age, we pay as little obvious attention as possible to what and whether they are eating. But moving swiftly on). The others….nope, not sure. Being good, possibly. So I asked Katie, the preschool teacher. Who told me they were for “erm, stuff like sitting still and things”. Surely, surely if a child is being encouraged to build up her three stickers so she can get a lolly, someone in charge, and most definitely that child, should know what they are being given out for?

So: I continue to ponder in a conclusion-less manner whilst never getting out of the house without screeching get your shoes on right now! Which works: shoes go on and we are out of the door in a flash. It would just be nice to do it in a more peaceful fashion.

Of course I didn’t say anything at preschool. My other piece of parenting philosophy, which is as well applied to preschool and everybody else as children, is pick your battles.

*or your local independent bookshop

Just back in, and feeling the need to lie in a darkened room. Today’s plan had been the library until I cleverly remembered about the Unison strike. A diversion to soft play seemed clever, and also avoided the misery of town-on-the-bus-in-the-rain, only I somehow failed to realise (dur) that the schools would also be shut for the strike. Hell. On. Earth.

Blue horizontal stripes seem to be the last word in preschool chic, so once Maggie had gone she had gone, never to be seen again. Tamsin enjoyed the toddler area for a while – she doesn’t get to spend much time with toddlers so it was good having people to refuse to share with – but of course, being 20 months going on 4, wanted to play in the big bit. The slide at Wizz kidz* is very big and very fast, and there were an awful lot of children, so I had to go in too. Which was fine (actually it was good as we were all narky with each other this morning but have come home friends) but wasn’t exactly the lovely sit down with a coffee and a book I had envisaged when we left the house.

Thank you for your flapjack tips: I left the last batch in the tin overnight to get really cold and it was much better. You still very much needed a plate, as it disintegrates if you breathe on it wrong, but it can at least be attempted without a spoon. Today’s question involves bread: how do I make pumpkin seeds stick to the top? I can put them in the mix, which is fine, but when you buy a lovely expensive loaf from Betty’s, as I generally do when I visit my sister, it has seeds on the top too. I put them on but they never fail to drop off when I turn the loaf to tap the bottom. I’m wondering if I should be sticking them on with an egg wash, as their crust is a bit shiny.

*Why oh why?

Another allotment supper: we are having potato salad made with Charlotte potatoes, which are fantastic. I still have half a row of Epicure (“proper” new potatoes), which are absolutely delicious but require about 3 or 4 plants to be dug to get enough for a meal. One plant of Charlotte provided 1.4 kg today! I don’t know whether they are just a more prolific spud or if it is down to the layer of Pete’s special composty manure spread in the bottom of the planting hole. And you can see how lovely they look. Um, sorry, where was I…a potato salad made with Charlotte potatoes, dill and tarragon, and a shallot, all of which were grown with my own fair hands. You can also see some beetroot in there, and some assorted lettuce, which we will eat tomorrow.

Tamsin has learnt no!

We had a fine home-grown supper last night: cold roast beef (not from the allotment, clearly), new potatoes, baby carrots, basil and baby courgettes (some with flowers still attached). I felt very proud. Briefly, until I remembered The Weeds. Today, I picked (and ate before anybody else spotted it) the first ripe tomato. I only have two plants this year, after last year’s blight disaster, and am wishing for more. They look nice, tumbling over the sides of the chimneypots I acquired from freecycle.

It’s been very mundane here (hence no blogging). I had my hair cut for the first time in 6 months; we tried again with flapjack; Cameron went on a course; I did some work for the first time in a month. Are there any domestic goddesses out there? It tastes nice but never fails to collapse into crumbs. There must be a trick.

Tamsin is 20 months now, and trying to drop her nap. I remember driving miles with M at this age: with two, I just can’t do it. Nor can I sit upstairs with her for over an hour. If she doesn’t go off nicely, or we are not in the car at an appropriate time, she doesn’t get one. Which doesn’t affect her nights at all (she doesn’t sleep any better if she has it or does not: we wake every couple of hours regardless), probably a sign that she doesn’t really need it. If she has one, she doesn’t go off until 8 or 8.30 in the evening; if she doesn’t, she is grumpy from around 5* but asleep by 7.30. We are being very laid-back about it (apart from my near-unbreakable no sleep after 4 rule); she either has it or she doesn’t. We are managing about 3 a week.

*Currently raging because I put away the paddling pool.

I was quite worried yesterday – M went to preschool for the whole day (9-5) and it was just looming over me. I no longer know what to do with just one toddler! What did I used to do when M was 18 months? She had been asking and asking to go, though, curious to know what happens in the afternoons (it turns out that they have sandwiches and play musical statues and it is just great), and I will have to get used to it in September, or 9-3 anyway, so off she went.

T and I actually had a very nice day. We took the bus to town in the morning for a quick coffee/babyccino (I know I was slightly disparaging about Starbucks’ babyccinos last time, but they are free which has to be a good thing) then to the library for “storytime”. Which, oddly, involved musical instruments and songs but only one story. The librarian recognised me and asked if Maggie was in school now, which is always gratifying and makes you feel like you belong (fancy remembering her name!), and we picked up a new book for M – see below. Came home on the bus, quick bite of lunch, then T went off for a nap in the car at the allotment.

I got loads done: dug a nice round pit, filled it with a layer of grass clippings, having watched Joe Swift do exactly that on GW on Friday and persuaded C to cut the grass on Sunday. Put the soil back on top, constructed a fairly shoddy wigwam (having left my string at home) and got the french beans in – alternate yellow and purple all the way round should look really good! Put seeds of both in between the poles, too, to hopefully keep them coming a bit longer. The PSB has flowered, apart from one plant, so I picked the last little shoots from that one and dug two plants up to compost. They are great big tree-like plants which entirely filled my compost bin so the other two will have to wait in the ground until it has rotted down a bit. Picked our first salad for tea – all the seedlings that were in the wrong place – side-effect of having a 4-year-old sow your seeds – plus a couple of pigeon-pecked little gems. Along with the last bits of broccoli made a very nice salad (there’s nothing like fresh leaves).

Came home to make some chicken-liver sauce for pasta then it was time to collect M and not a scrap of housework done!

Now, books. We’ve read the Faraway Tree series to M and she’s really enjoyed it; enjoyed the chapter-by-chapter installments (rather than a book you read all in one go) and the level is just right. I am struggling to find anything similar so any suggestions would be gratefully received. The librarian was most helpful and provided pamphlets and ideas; I came home with an “animal ark” book, which is really too grown up* and an Olga da Polga, which I think might be OK.

*I’ve read the first two chapters and we’ve encountered a son upset because his dad is remarrying: she is only just 4 and really more suited to pop biscuits and fairy spells.

Very fuzzy because of little fingers on the lens (and my mobile isn’t the best camera ever) but here is Tamsin having her first ever babyccino. Shortly after buying both girls new sandals: they are costing me a fortune!

That’s one-and-a-half. Properly a toddler and definitely not a baby any more. She’s less verbal than Maggie was at this age – look – whether through second-child syndrome, ie being ignored a lot, or necessity, as I’ve become a better mind-reader, we don’t know. But she understands everything you say to her and can communicate everything she needs to so who needs words. Marcel Marceau eat your heart out. (For the record: duck (any bird), cat (any 4-legged creature), mummy, dada, ma-ma (Maggie or more, depending on context), up, baba (bunny – I think – or baby hannah her doll), hiya, shhh (fish), beebee (cbeebies)*, whee!, plus rororo (your boat).)

She loves music and songs and is never happier than when pointing to the ceiling with gusto during wind the bobbin up, or clapping her hands because she is happy and she knows it. She is practising very hard just now to jump with both feet, and loves to do spider-monkey jumps across the sofa or whizz round the house on her wheelybug. She is most independent and strong-minded and Will Not hold my hand on request (so gets carried rather more than she would like: must try again with reins). She gives big sloppy kisses – again, entirely on her own terms and not on request – and is a giggler. Also a squealer, which I hope very much is a short-lived phase. She’s fantastically helpful when unloading the dishwasher, putting all the baby items in the drawer…but cannot be persuaded to load the washing machine, which Maggie was great at.

Happy one and a half, baby Tamsin!

*Last week when I was laid out on the sofa being poorly, she climbed onto me, settled herself down, pointed most insistantly at the television and demanded beebee. She bounces along with Carrie and David most amusingly.

Spring seems (shh! don’t jinx it!) to have arrived at last. My cucumbers have finally germinated; the second row of potatoes has been planted; the apple tree is going to burst into pink any day now; and the weeds are making up for lost time. But hoorah for being able to go out without layers.

Yesterday we went without layers to the park, for the first time since…gosh I don’t know but we certainly haven’t been this year. Maggie had taken to saying mournfully every time we drove past that it had been aaaaaggggeeeees: she was right. It was really fun, I had forgotten – and lovely now T is big enough to go on things and enjoy it as well. Here she is enjoying the slide at the zoo on Monday, too. While we were on our way to the park I spotted a poster for a new dance class in the village: perfect! M has been mithering to go to ballet for months now – I hadn’t done anything about it, partly through sloth, partly through a general feeling of being quite scheduled enough already thank you, and partly because I was just not sure whether she really wanted to do it or just thought it was what girls did. Anyway, we went for a trial today – big success. Huge. Holly, who had been her bessy mate at preschool before she started school last September, was there and she (Holly) had a pink ballet outfit and pink shoes. It just doesn’t get much better than that when you are 4. Tamsin and I spent a pleasant three quarters of an hour in the church graveyard (I like graveyards and she likes climbing and jumping, so we were both happy), peeping in occasionally to see what they were up to. M was right in the thick of it pointing her toes (in trainers, unfortunately, as I hadn’t provided ballet shoes), skipping, waving her hands and being a starfish on demand. She’s gone to bed a very happy little girl.