Those of you who dislike “my kids are so cute” blogs might like to skip this one but I need it tonight, to remind me that sometimes she is adorable (unlike this afternoon when she was a horror. But I don’t care to remember that bit.)

M: there’s a monster upstairs!
Me: well, you know what to do – say BOO to it (this is our standard means of dealing with scaries, from the barky-dog-next-door to the troll who lives in the spare bedroom).
M: but it’s not a troll.

The walk with Harvey went rather well although she seems to have got the idea somewhere along the way that he’d been taken to the doggy doctor to have his bark removed (so she was quite surprised when he barked over the fence at her today). She started out extremely nervous, clinging to me and whimpering, progressed through walking quite casually next to him, to holding his lead (How Proud she was) and then when we said goodbye he got a big hug. I suspect only Harvey has new best friend status and that those annoying Westies will still be screeched at, but it’s all progress. I felt like a good mummy that day.

Cameron noticed some spots on Maggie’s back on Wednesday night which, after some research, we decided might well be chickenpox. I heaved a sigh of relief as that might explain this week’s “challenging” behaviour; also, I’d like her to get the pox over and done with. Took her along to the doctor yesterday who after much umming and ahhing decided that it might be chickenpox, a very mild case. Of course I immediately cancelled today’s soft play – although the doctor hadn’t seemed overly concerned about quarantine, content with a vague warning to stay away from pregnant women (and that only when I asked). I hadn’t intended cancelling anything else until Pewari, via the age-old method of not speaking to me until I did what I was told, impressed on me the seriousness of pox infection and persuaded me of my moral duty to cancel the hairdresser today too- I’ve never been sent to coventry on msn before! So we are incubating.

Except today we have reverted to the original diagnosis of bites from a globally-warmed insect (and worried once again that the clinging and crying and being unreasonable is a phase not sickening). Hair is still off, but we are going to go next door and meet Harvey the labrador pup. We are, ahem, “blessed” with barky dogs living on both sides; every time we go out they come and watch us until Maggie screams in terror. I can’t do much about the yappy westies on the right, but Harvey lives on the left with friendly people so we are going to see him – M is hoping very much she will be allowed to hold his lead – in the hope that she will no longer be quite so frightened once she knows him. Fingers crossed he doesn’t jump up and try to lick her or (God forbid) growl.

The best thing about a 4-month-old baby is the way, when they are glad to see you (which they generally are), they wave all their legs and arms in the air like a stranded bug as their face splits open with smiles. Whole-body happiness. (Of course the corollary is whole-body sadness: when crying or uncomfortable she is miserable all the way down to her tiny toes.)

Both of them! Simultaneously! At the same time! I don’t quite know what to do with myself – must not waste it online – apart from worry that M is sickening for something. She asked to go, with hot milk. Almost unheard of. (Am hoping it is just a combination of not sleeping well last night – next-door’s dog was barking and keeping her awake and frightened – and me really over-acting when she had a nap in the car yesterday “wow! that’s great! isn’t it lovely when you have a daytime sleep! mmm, I always feel great after a snooze…”)

I have a new nephew, so huge congratulations and lots of love to Suzanne, Chris and Mia and welcome to the world baby Callum!

Tamsin did her 16-week growth spurt right on time, so my weekend was mostly occupied with feeding her and changing nappies. She rewarded me with her first few giggles and learning to wave a rattle about. We did manage to fit in the purchase of a new fridge-freezer, and arranged for a man to come and look at our living room with a view to making us a bookcase. Busy busy. Of course it rained all the time so all allotmenteering was off; I am going to forget about growing spuds and take up ark-building.

Mummy’s girl – she likes a nice coffee shop.

I’m enjoying being a celebrity again: taking a toddler out and about doesn’t elicit quite the same smiles and coos of welcome. I had assumed, with Maggie, that we got so much attention because she was a western baby so fairly unusual – I have now reached the conclusion that it is merely because I have such very cute babies: we were quite the centre of OAP attention in Chester today. (What do you mean they coo over all babies? Don’t be silly.)

Back to work, that is. Easter was my mental deadline for returning, only I’ve just realised it is Lent (even though we haven’t had pancakes yet) so that day is looming fast. Tamsin still seems tiny and I just can’t imagine how I will find the time – yet having spent much of today embroiled in a, ahem, “debate”* online (must get out more), perhaps I should. I was wondering today whether I could have somebody do my ironing if I did go back: that would make the hassle worthwhile. The only reason to go back – apart from the obvious financial rewards which, believe me, are not nearly large enough to make working-till-midnight appealing – is that I’m concerned if I take too long out and lose my contacts then it will be a bridge burned.

I think what I am going to do is approach one or two of my sources (Cath, this means you!) and take on a little to see how it goes. I could do maybe one article or slide set every couple of weeks? That doesn’t sound so bad (until you realise this is a return to evening and weekend working and I frankly do not have a problem filling my time). Maggie is probably going to do 3 half-days at preschool from September – one more than at present – which in principle frees up another few hours. Except it might be nice to spend that time with the poor neglected secondborn. Perhaps she would like to swim or sing or just have some attention.

*Early weaning. Sigh. This is robustly debated every few weeks on ivillage and I generally steer well clear – as I do most rows – only this time it was on my board and the woman provoking it is not a regular boardie but a…not quite a troll as she belongs on the neighbouring board…let’s say troublemaker. She has posted recently on at least 4 boards extolling the virtues of early weaning and telling everybody the government guidelines are nonsense. I think she might be sponsored by Cow & Gate! Of course she’s entitled to her opinion, but a) she has one child aged 9 weeks, b) people lurk these boards and deserve to get proper information and c) she is just plain offensive. So in I waded.

Tamsin’s first facing-out ride in her sling: she doesn’t look anything like her sister, does she (link is playing up a bit: scroll down to June 22nd)? Old ladies in Britain have fingers that are just as pointy as their Japanese counterparts, yet all seem to think she is a boy. Not sure why, given that she was wearing a pink T-shirt.

Poor baby was not well yesterday: the perils of having an older sibling. High temperature and bunged-up nose, ergo couldn’t really breathe, ergo couldn’t really feed, ergo didn’t sleep. (Though I don’t feel I can really complain as it was the first bad night we’ve had with her in 3 months.)

It’s about time I wrote Tamsin’s birth story.
I’d had Braxton-Hicks contractions every night for a week, varying from strong and regular but not painful to painful but irregular. So Sunday night, getting what felt like indigestion pains every half hour or so, I didn’t think anything of it – I was only 41 weeks pregnant and fully expected to go at least another week. Went up to bed as normal and fell asleep as the pains stopped. Only to wake up at 4.30 with what I thought was trapped wind (it really took me ages to realise I was in labour this time. “You’ll know” everybody says – I must be very dense indeed.) (more…)

Tamsin is having a growth spurt (right on target for getting into size 3-6 month outfits) so today has gone feed-poo-feed-poo-feed-poo-sleep. And repeat. Meaning my day has gone feed-change-feed-change-feed-run about screeching and tearing out hair trying to wash nappies and provide food and entertainment for Maggie. Very hard going when single mumming again (he’s back tonight, hooray). I haven’t even managed to get out in the lovely sunshine despite good intentions and hopes. Although naturally I have been online (I can type one-handed while feeding a baby. No worries.)

Actually we did just knock up some blueberry and coconut muffins earlier. Ahem (buffs nails, looks modest yet smug). Pretty tasty and super-easy. Crumbs, bowls and spatulas (etc) everywhere still with little prospect of getting them tidied away in the near future, and tomorrow is Super Stress Morning (TM) as we try to get to swimming on time. Bring on the blizzards I say.