Stolen Cereal.

A dirty face and a box of stolen cereal. 

When I picked Roman up from Bryan's parents home he was running around with his cousins  and I fully expected that he'd be stuffed with food and other treats (and he was.) The minute we got home we were in the kitchen - Roman making a beeline for it as soon as he was free of his buggy straps. He begged for food; rice cakes, lollipops, nice drinks, even a strawberry jam roll that he normally eats for lunch. Figuring that he must be growing I offered him a rice cake but he only ate half of it.

"CEREAL!" he chanted, very excitedly, once he spotted the box. When my back was turned he took this as his cue to grab the box while standing on tip toes. He ran to the living room, box in hand, and dug deep until he got a nice handful of the stuff. "Roman," I said gently. "Did you take the cereal without asking?"

Roman: "Chocolate cereal! Mmmm!" 

He certainly wasn't apologetic or guilty about his thievery and even when I caught him in the act he kept digging into the box and stuffing his face with cereal, cheeky as you like ;).

Broom Boy.

It got to bed time today when I realised I hadn't captured Roman's day in a photo - it was an awful day; awfully tiring, awful people being awful and generally just awful. I was going to quickly force myself to snap a photo randomly and then talk about our day...but honestly? I really didn't want to do that. I didn't have the energy or motivation and it just didn't feel right to be writing about false positives on such a down day.

Well, luckily Bryan had snapped this in the morning - our little man carrying out act of service three doors down on our street for some lovely neighbours that we know from church ;). I laughed my head off when I saw this photo, but it's true; Roman loves to be a little helper, especially when he can be in complete charge of whatever task is expected of him. I'm not entirely sure that he's much help in this situation above but I'm glad Bryan left him to it, childhood is about discovery and the freedom to discover and I feel that too many parents are just too quick to tell their children they're doing it wrong, i.e not the way they, the parent, want things done. 

That's just not our style as parents.

Euro 2012: Roman Learns A New Word.

Roman learns a new, or lots of new, words every single day. He then loves to repeat them over and over. A few days ago it was 'Granpa Work' (my dad, whose last name rhymes with 'work' and coincidentally he works an awful lot) and a few more days ago it was 'football.'  

Roman's first coherent word was 'Dada' at around 7 months, so that boy has been practicing his speech for sometime now. With the European world cup on at the moment it's no wonder that he has picked up on this word. My goodness do I find football boring as hell! If Roman becomes a footballer then I'll live with that but right now I quite honestly don't understand the fascination with the 'beautiful game.' 

Now whether we had a Roman or Eliza let me tell you this scene would be no different apart from the gender of the child sitting with Bryan. Roman wasn't really interested in the football and instead decided to flip through his photo album until he got to the picture of him, as a new baby, with my dad. 

"Granpa Work!" he told me, full of excitement. 

"Oh! They nearly scored a goal there!" Bryan shouted soon after.

Photos and football. I wonder who Roman takes after? ;).

Engrossed.

We're always so busy (and tired) that sometimes I feel like this project is last on my list of priorities - but it should be somewhere near the top of my priorities. I need to keep reminding myself that I won't get this again, there are no do-overs and the time is now.

Today I spent a rare morning speaking to my sister on the phone for what seemed like ages, playing catch up with her. Throughout the whole phone call Roman pretty much entertained himself with Bryan's computer chair and the many boxes around him. This is why I love toddler hood. While I don't make a habit of this kind of thing he can and will entertain himself, with my supervision. That's how I know babyhood is far behind. And that's a painful excitement. 

When I got off the phone - or rather Roman hung up on the call while speaking to his aunt - I watched Roman play. I studied the funny and quirky things he does. I laughed, smiled and inside I praised everything he did. He has his ways and they are uniquely his. He took the wheels off his pirate ship and tried to stuff them into the jigsaw box, this kept him busy for quite some time and I was more than happy to just watch. I didn't tidy, organise or clean or work on anything this morning because I was incredibly busy with my anthropology exercise: watching my son. Soaking in the moment, holding onto this precious time. 

Bubbles.

I was all set to tell you about our very successful toy swap today (swapping his massive toy box full of toys for three smaller boxes full of 'new' but actually old toys ;) and it went very well. He was excited for the change-over and was even more excited when he discovered the pirate ship, with pirates, in one of the boxes. I took many photos to document the swap but then he did this. 

I was running us a bath, while trying to get lots of other things done at the same time, and Ro took his chance to run through and rub some 'bubbles' on his head ;). He used to call them 'bubbos' but lately his speech is becoming so clear and so developed - my big boy. He was absolutely laughing his head off when he caught sight of himself in the mirror like this and while I tried to hold back my laughter, I simply couldn't. It was hilarious. Though next time I think I will keep a very close eye on him when the bath is running ;).

Roman's New Coat.

A new coat meets Roman. Roman and the new coat meet the garden - the wild, wild garden. He loved the coat, he didn't want to take it off, and once it was off he'd plead to have it back on.

I'd just like you to know that Bryan took the above image - he's quite proud of it, as was I when I saw it. I was so sure I'd taken it ;).

I decided it would be good to try and tame this wild garden of ours, starting with pulling up some weeds. No one told me that gardening is so difficult and well...totally messy. Of course Ro tried to join in, imitating all the huffs and puffs I made as pulling up weeds requires some exertion of physical strength that I'm apparently lacking in.

I gave up when the bottom half of the garden looked somewhat reasonable again - that's okay, right? I'll start again tomorrow and maybe make it our project for the week. Today, being out in the garden like that, reminded me that Roman loves nature; being out in it and exploring the environment around him.

This happy face says it all. Tomorrow and as long as the weather is good, this is where we'll be. Even if it means I'm sitting at the back door watching him play in the garden.

Sleepy.

Eyes still glazed over, the fingers slowly coming down from his mouth. This is the boy I get post-nap.

Popcorn In The Air...

This is the face of the boy who walked into the kitchen and, with his nose, discovered that popcorn was not far behind him. "POPCORN!" he yelped at me. "Mmm, popcorn." He disappeared into the living room where a bowl of unwanted, slightly sun tanned, popcorn lay in wait. These were the bits and pieces of popcorn that we hadn't wanted to eat this afternoon, while we attempted to watch a movie (our Internet timed out a lot) as Roman was over at gran and papa's house. 

I came through to the living room to catch him eating all the rubbishy bits of popcorn. "MMMM! POPCORN!" he declared, shoving fistfuls of the stuff into his open mouth while I watched from the sidelines, totally mystified at his popcorn obsession. I haven't really been one to munch down on it in the past but the funniest thing happened when I got pregnant: I became obsessed with it. If we went to the cinema or the scent of cooking popcorn filled my nose I needed a piece of that stuff, I was drawn to it and would even eat the rubbishy burnt bits left over in the pot. It was disgusting. And today, that memory came back to me. This popcorn obsessed toddler was a popcorn obsessed fetus in utero.

I have a feeling that popcorn will be in all our futures ;).

Jesus and Burgers.

I'd like to introduce you to Roman's dinosaurs; Jesus (on the left) and Burgers (on the right.)

Oh that boy. I'd love to see the world through his eyes ;).

Pirates.

Today I made the mistake of not locking the bathroom door while I used the toilet.

I don't normally lock it, unless I want privacy. Lately Roman has taken to coming into the toilet, pointing at me and saying, "ewww" in this fake American accent so I've started to lock myself in because, quite frankly, I don't enjoy being heckled while using the facilities ;). 

So today; in comes the little toddler and of course he says, "ewww" the minute he eyes me on the toilet. Today it wasn't such a pronounced eww I'm glad to report but that might have been due to the fact he was making a beeline for his pirates. I bought the pirates at the shop yesterday, they're just cheap foam pirates to stick on the tiles when he's in the bath, or failing that, on the tiles above the sink. 

Yesterday he got really annoyed at not being able to reach the tiles to stick them on so, of course, this was my fault and he proceeded to freak out at me; screaming, crying and moaning about the situation. "HELP! MUM! PIRATES! HELP!" I 'helped' as best I could but my best simply wasn't good enough - I was either too slow or not doing something the right way. He lost it. I declared an early bed time and this upset him even more. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" was his reply. "PIRATES!" at this point I was chastising my choice of 1. buying these stupid things, 2. letting him see them and 3. setting them up in the bathroom sink. Not smart, definitely not smart. I'd lost all my patience and good feeling by this point so I went to the living room and shouted through to Bryan, who was suffering with this mysterious illness we both now have, to take over. "I'm too annoyed with him. You need to step in." Previous to this I'd said to Roman two of the most horrible things I've caught myself saying to any child...and I feel so ashamed of myself!

1. You ruin everything.

It was my fault. I'm the adult and I should have had control over myself, and the situation. I should have planned for his mood to be going south (it was very near bedtime) and this kind of activity didn't suit that mood. It was silly of me, but I wasn't thinking straight because I was so ill and didn't want to just tell him no once he got the pirates out of the bottom of the buggy.

2. You're being a pest. 

While this might be true, it's not nice to say. There are better ways of saying it - or you know, just not saying it at all. Who does it help? That's what I need to ask myself. If the answer is 'no one' then my mouth is better shut and my energy conserved for better things.

Oh.my.goodness. I feel so low when I think about that today. I wasn't brave enough to mention any of this yesterday - and was on the cusp of this stupid illness that has completely thrown me today. I felt like a really awful mother yesterday because I was so tired, so done and nap time felt like it came and went so quickly - I wanted to cry when he woke up because I wasn't ready to face it all over again. I wanted my mum to take care of things, to just be there but I had to face my responsibility and it was an overwhelming task. 

So when he reached for the pirates today, right before having to go out, I prepared myself for what might happen next - an all out screaming and crying fest. Well, he was fine. He accepted he couldn't stick them onto the tiles himself, built a bridge and got over it. He was also very patient watching me stick them on, looking for pointers as to where he might be going wrong at sticking them up and attempted to stick them a few times without getting annoyed. "Mum, look! Juice!" he exclaimed, holding up a foam telescope that must have looked like a large bottle of juice to his two year old eyes. "Look!" he said, grabbing the next piece, "TREASURE!" and when we announced it was time to go out? Well he got down from his step, turned to wave at his pirates and said, "bye, pirates!" without any sign of upset or distress. 

I suppose these tasks are all about timing, getting things right and not purposely setting things up, but being spontaneous. About catching children mid-day/morning, when they are in a happier mood, and doing stuff with them then. We've done painting close to bed time, something I would do again but anything that involves me in the task; gardening, baking, playing at the sink is a no go. I've learned my lesson well, but only through gritted teeth, plus some trial and error ;).

Mini Helper.

This afternoon as I was in the kitchen unloading some washing I left the room and returned back to this scene - my helpful little man vacuuming the kitchen floor. This is a big deal because he is so, so afraid of our vacuum cleaner - he clings to me like a baby koala or he'll run to hide somewhere. 

Of course, as soon as it was turned on and doing it's thing he resorted back to baby koala mode ;).

Escape.

Trying to make his escape, while simultaneously blocking himself with his stool ;). I appreciate the logic and skill applied to this escape but I think it's safe to say he's going nowhere.

Being A Boy.

When I discovered, on the day he was born, that I had a son it felt right. Internally I said to myself, "this makes sense, it's right to be this way." And since then I haven't looked back.

I'm glad I have my boy to brighten my days, to challenge my patience, to guide me through motherhood and entertain me constantly. Today was a happy day, a day full of sleep and a day where he was a little bit cheeky. After he'd done something particularly cheeky in the living room I turned to Bryan and said, "he's just so cute, even when he does his naughty things. You want to be angry but most of the time I just pretend to be angry because he's so cute." He knew he'd been cheeky - he kept running between us both saying; "cuddle! Kiss! Sorry, good boy!" ;).

He then scaled the couch with his helicopter in tow and began to laugh about the whole thing.

Fathers Day.

This is Roman's '1,2,3, JUMP!'

So today was Fathers Day. Bryan let me sleep in, got me breakfast - and brought it to me - and he got up with Roman. He then helped me get me get my stuff together and more than once encouraged me to get my rear out the door. 

I had an idea of what I'd like to get him, but I never ended up doing that. Roman is too young to understand the concept of Fathers Day but I've always tried to include him in it. Instead of any material gift Roman gave Bryan the 'gift' of a cuddling in session on the walk home to church. Our little boy was exhausted, didn't want to walk and so Bryan lifted him up, with Roman's chin resting on Bryan's shoulder and my flowery bag slung over his other shoulder. This is manhood at it's finest; a man who can do all of these things comfortably. 

And this wild boy of mine will one day become a man - it fills me with such joy and reassurance that Bryan is his dad, to show him how it's done ;).

Love.

We attended a wedding this morning in Falkirk, where we lived for nearly two years in our little flat. Where I tried to make friends, to fit in, and felt like an outsider for the first time in my life. I don't how 'well' I coped with it, to be honest. It was hard for me because everything was new for me and I really hope my mood and my feelings didn't rub off on Roman in a bad way. 

To mix the past and present like we did today was odd - time has moved on, it's changed us all and yet it feels like it has stood still. I think everyone we spoke to commented on how much Roman has grown. "He's so big now," they'd say. "He's grown so much." He has. He really has. There was a time I had this baby who'd crawl everywhere and now he's this toddler-boy who gets into everything, who is just so different to that baby I once had. 

While he has indeed grown he still needs the comfort of his fathers arms when he is on the bus and tired out after a busy day. He still needed me throughout the wedding ceremony - which was beautiful. I love weddings and I love love - to cuddle into. He still needs us, he always will, even when he has found the love of his life.

Indescribable.

I don't really know how to describe today. With all factors considered (boring details, really) it should have been a disaster. I'd had little sleep, little to no motivation to do anything and, as ever, Roman tipped all of his toys out on the living room floor. He was extra huggy resulting in me having to lose an arm as I vacuumed and held him - 2 stone of toddler and doing my housework was never something I saw for myself in my future ;). 

I made a decision during the hours of 1-2am (1-2am because I'm not sure what time it was, I just couldn't sleep and the stereo snoring from my husband and neighbour didn't help) and that decision was to get this house in order; to have a pathway free of toys and books, to have an empty washing basket, to have a vacuumed hall. Once these tasks were done I'd have reached my nirvana. I forgot one factor in all this; Roman. He either loves to 'help' - which effectively means I have to let him imitate whatever I'm doing, not get annoyed he's making more work for me and cheer on the sidelines once he completes a task - or wants 'cuddle!' because he's scared of our Vax. 

Then, as I was bleaching the hell out of my oven door, he came padding through to see why I was gone for more than a minute. "Don't touch this," I told him. I told him again because I don't want to deal with a toddler who attempts to eat a concoction of neat bleach and grease. I realised I hadn't needed to tell him twice, or even once, he already knew. "Clean it, mummy!" he cheered me on as the steel wool met the glass on the oven door. And once I had completed my task? Well there came the praise for my good work; "All done! Good boy, mummy." 

Looks.

Sometimes I don't know who he looks like and that's when I remember, he looks like Roman ;). He has my chin, lips, face shape, button nose and the upper half of his face (eyes, eyebrows, forehead and hairline) is so like Bryan's. But he looks so like my dad whenever he smiles or is up to something cheeky - or as my sister said, 'he looks like dad when dad is having a mad half hour.' Ha. 

But he's Roman. He's not a carbon copy of me, Bryan, my dad, my mum etc...he shares genetics with us so it's no wonder he looks like us but he's Roman. He looks like Roman, suits his name and I can't imagine him as anything or anyone else. And even though he's only been with us for two and a bit years, it feels like he's always been there. My little side kick, my friend, my son, my baby and my boy.

The Olympic Torch: Waiting.

A few weeks ago a notice came through our door from our local council; the Olympic torch was coming to town and the relay would be starting at the end of our street!


If you've been held captive since 2006 and don't know about the Olympic bid between Paris and London - and that London won the bid - then you'll also not be aware that the Olympics will be held in London this summer. When I moved to London in 2007 I was quite pleased that I'd be living in an Olympic city and even went so far as to delude myself that I would get a ticket for an event - it didn't matter if it was the egg and spoon race, I wanted to be a part of it. Well, it wasn't to be for little old me. I moved back to Scotland, got married, had a baby and the rest is history.


And speaking of history, even though I grumped and complained about the ethics of the Olympics, I still went to see the torch relay because that is history. And as a mother to a future Olympian (ha! But you never know!) I kind of felt it was my duty to witness history with my child at my side. Well, it was amazing and not only that but I practically rolled out of bed, walked a few footsteps with my camera, my child and my husband to see it. Much better than an Olympic egg and spoon race event.


To read more about our Olympic adventure press 'Read More' for more photos and words.

Big Boy.

Lately it's been hard not to notice that Roman has been growing. Rolled up jeans have had to dramatically be completely unrolled, and other people have started to notice the recent stretch this little man has taken. It's sometimes hard to accept the fact that one day he'll not be a toddler, not be a child, not be a teenager and will be a man. I can't imagine such a time but when time passes so quickly like this I know the time will come - and it will all happen before my very eyes.

Today was getting overwhelming so I took him outside. He picked me 'flowers', shoved them up my nostrils so I could get a good smell and there was a heart stopping moment when he pulled on a pipe - and nearly ripped it off the wall outside. We then walked to the shops and once we were done I felt exhausted so I had a little sit down on the bench at the supermarket while Roman ate peanut cookies. A rather well dressed elderly lady approached us and asked what age Roman was.

"He's two," I told her, thankful I wasn't trying to tally up his age in months.

"Oh my goodness!" she chirped in her clipped accent. "He is a big boy! I thought he was four when I saw him. It's all those biscuits he's eating!" Eh, okay lady. I told myself she must not have any children because although Roman has grown he doesn't look four years of age. I was surprised when this woman told me she was waiting for her daughter, I suppose time obscures your view and I don't want that to happen to me. I'm thankful that I have this project, the patience and sanity to complete it and that I'm always going to have these moments, even if I can't freeze them as they are and jump into them when I forget them.

Balancing Act.

When it comes to food there is a balancing act; a little of what you fancy, but not too much and everything in moderation. Or that's what I'm trying to pass onto Roman.

Today we ate chocolate tart and strawberries - he loved it. We spent the afternoon together, just us two, watching Wallace and Gromit and The Grufallo's Child meanwhile eating our goodies together. "PENGUIN!" he shouted when he saw Feathers McGraw appear on the screen. "Big bad mouse!" he told me as the shadowy outline of the mouse appeared on screen in The Grufallo's Child. He snuggled in when his 'cake' was done but not for too long before he retrieved his beloved cat and snuggled that instead ;).

I'm This Boy's Mother.

He was a little happier today which was definitely a welcome relief. 

Everything is so magnified for him right now; when he's tired he'll lie in my arms, chewing his hand and allow me to baby him. When he's hungry he'll act like he's starving and hasn't had a meal in a week. When he's upset he goes all out; screaming, throwing himself down on the floor and if I'm nearby he might grab my hair or claw my face. And when he's happy? He's really over the top happy; big giggles, big smiles and full of cuddles. 

This time, this toddler-hood, is really tough sometimes. He needs me like a newborn needs the breast and a warm set of arms nearby. He needs me like a new baby needs to be swaddled close. He needs me in the way that he needed me when he was this screeching prehistoric sounding little creature that I didn't know how to soothe or settle. When we have these moments where he needs so much of me - and so much for himself - I now better understand why people say that parenthood is for life. 

I watched a documentary today and the undertone topic on top of the main topic was motherhood and how others interpret their versions of motherhood. The interviewer questioned the mother about one of her very strange choices in mothering her children. When the mother replied that she'd cut them off if they didn't act according to the way she wanted them to live their lives the interviewer simply said the following;

"Motherhood is one of the strongest human instincts possible. How will you shut that off?"

Her reply doesn't matter because when the interviewer said this my mind raced. I had to pause the documentary for a second and think about the heaviness of such a statement; first of all, is that true? Or is it simply not about truth, evidence based truth, and simply about our preconceptions when we think of motherhood. I don't know but I think it's 'true' in my situation. This week has given me much food for thought; a lot of time to reflect better over these past two and a bit years I've had as a mother, I haven't thought this much about my role as a mother and parent ever. I've thought about running away, giving up, shouting, screaming, crying while crumpled into a ball in a corner and everything in between throughout this week because it's been one of the hardest of my life. But I'm here; I'm present and I'm trying so hard to be gentle because the biggest thing I've learned this week is that being kind, being gentle and being the change I want to see in the world (baldy quoting Gandhi, I know) is the only place I know where to start from. 

Running away won't solve anything, so I have to face this head-on. I'm this boy's mother. And sometimes? It sucks when it's so challenging. But, with all that said; this is where I want to be. I want to spend my twenties and thirties nurturing this little man. I want to spend my forties, fifties, sixties (and hopefully beyond) seeing how he grows and the path life takes him down. I want these moments pictured above and I'm willing to take the challenges if that's what it takes.

Pushed Out.

Being so far away from my own family is strange - it's been a new development in my life since 2007 but I can't get used to it. Bryan has his parents a street away, several family members nearby and Roman has grandparents, cousins and other family he see's every week. Today I got thinking about this. How they are bonded by blood and I'm just 'there' through marriage. I hope that feeling changes but I wonder if this is how others feel around their husbands/wives/other halves family?


Bryan's - and Roman's - side of the family is different from mine, different to what I'm used to and while it's something I rarely talk about today I want to talk about feeling pushed out. We left Roman with his gran and papa today, like we do every week, and as soon as we got to within viewing distance of their house Bryan completely changed - his demeanor, his posture  - and as we got inside his accent changed. I remember the first time I noticed this and it made me laugh. It reminded me of my dad who does the same thing around different people and there's me; I've always tried my best to be polite to others but treat everyone the same, speak in the same accent and try to be relaxed around people. I'm constantly nice, even when someone is being mean...unless I know them fairly well and then I defend myself ;).


When we got round to the garden, where Roman was hanging out, he looked at me and said; "daddy?". 89% of the time it's this plea for dad, or daddy, and I'm always the bad guy. I hate it, there's no two ways about it. It makes me really, really sad and angry. Not angry at Roman but at myself. I must be doing something wrong, I tell myself. When I tell him no, when I take things away from him, when he's tired he'll still want the comfort of Bryan's arms. I tell myself it's nice that they're so bonded but the truth is that it makes me think I'm not at all bonded to Roman - it's not a jealousy for the bond father and son share, it's a worry that I've messed up and done something wrong. It's a worry that I will be forever pushed out. 


I was feeling at the end of my last rag when we were at Bryan's parents because Roman kept doing lots of cheeky things and I kept telling him not to do it and, of course, he kept asking for cuddles from Bryan. I suppose it didn't help that I have no energy or patience today but honestly, it challenged my nerves. I just wanted to say to him; "fine, go to dad. I'll just stand back and let dad do everything since you love him so much and hate me so much." I didn't. 


When we got home he was worked up and tired. So was I. I threatened to not take him swimming next week which is a stupid thing to threaten - 1. he doesn't understand or react to threats and 2. I'm not going to opt out of that just because we're tired and fed up. We're allowed to be tired and fed up but it taught me that I need to seriously watch what I say. This week has been hell, no two ways about it. Nearly every single day we've had melt downs and pleas for daddy - as if I'm a poor substitute. I've felt pushed out, stressed out and really miss my extended family. I hope that next week will be happier for my sake and Roman's. 

Busy Day.

Today was one of those sweaty and stressful days - yet it managed to also be happy and one of the best days I've had all week. We started out the morning in the kitchen trying out the new stool I bought for Ro yesterday - he was overjoyed at being eye level with the worktops and being able to get hands on with helping me. 


This turned out to be a power struggle in the end; between me, Roman and the mixing bowl. I would let him mix for a few seconds and slowly but surely he'd lift the whisk to his mouth - I managed to grab it off him before it got to his mouth but this really annoyed him. So he got his own mixing bowl while I mixed the main bowl behind his back. He then had a melt down when I took his mixing bowl away to be washed. 


He had a massive/mother of all melt downs. Screaming, shouting, scratching his face and there wasn't a thing I could do. He'd scream, "CUUDLE!" at me but when I cuddled him? He'd become wild in my arms and squirm free. Turns out he was hungry - nothing else soothed the bad mood apart from half a pitta bread and a cuddle. 


In the afternoon I decided to try out swimming with Roman on my own, at our local leisure centre, and words can't express how incredibly fortunate I feel to be able to walk there. It went well, better than I expected it to be and anytime he wasn't in his flotation device he clung to me. We undressed and dressed quickly, I got to have a swim (more of a paddle with my back legs while I was navigating the flotation device from one end of the pool to the next) and Roman did a great job kicking his legs when I told him to. We also shared a moment laughing at the people coming down the chute and once we got dressed and out of there Bryan was waiting for us, which was a nice surprise :).


To top off the day we arrived home to eat up some yummy cakes. 

It's A Toddlers Life.

A little stretch, a yawn and a nose pick. Life as a toddler is this.

Emotions Running High.

We're having a few challenging days this week because of limited naps. He wasn't sleeping brilliantly at night so we tried to limit - and even cut down on - naps. However very quickly we both realised that he needed naps. Without them he crashes in the middle of the day and is quick to get annoyed with everything.

Today was one of those days where he woke early from his nap and then was completely fed up for the remainder of the day. I was under the impression that he'd fall straight into bed and go to sleep but I couldn't be more wrong. When I went to get him - to change his nappy and put him back to sleep - he was as happy as a clam. He wanted to have a shot on his potty and read a book with me as well as lavish me and Bryan with cuddles.

Sometimes I don't understand the quickly changing moods and sometimes, and I say this very shame-faced, I can't contain my own frustrations with the moods. I'm used to toddlers; I've been around them far longer than I've been around newborns or one year old's and yet I feel like this toddler, Roman, is teaching me things I've never dealt with before. I didn't think that would be possible, but it definitely is. Every child really is different, my dad told me that when I was a teenager after he expected each of his children to be the same, but I didn't really hear what he was saying - nor did I really believe it. Now I'm living it. And for the majority of the time I'm loving it and when I'm not loving it, I'm praying to love it - and for myself; that I can keep up with all these shifts of emotion, that I can be three seconds ahead of my own changing emotions and keep them in check accordingly and when I get it wrong that I will have the strength to forgive myself.

Sweeties.

No childhood is complete without an overdose of sugar now and then, right?

Right.

So today when I found these forgotten about Jelly Tots (and I did a victory dance when I discovered they were vegan) in the back of my storage cupboard. Roman likes them but more than anything he loves to share them - seriously. I have never met a two year old that loves to share his sweeties so much and I can tell you he didn't get that from me or Bryan. 

Roman likes the sweeties fine enough but he won't gobble them up quickly; he likes to pick them apart and peer at what's inside and I would say that he prefers his vitamin over these sweets ;).

Briarlands Farm.

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With our feet and public transport as our means of getting about our options can be limited when doing things with Roman. 

When the weather was better I decided to check out some local venues that could be fun and educational to visit but felt a touch disappointed when I realised that Briarlands Farm was completely inaccessible to us. The main thing that drove me towards it was the idea that we could pick our own strawberries - which we ended up not doing at all today! Ha.

Luckily my sister Fi and her boyfriend Neil came to the rescue when they came along with us to the farm - and were able to take us there. It was fairly cheap to get in and while they didn't have many animals on display (which was disappointing) Roman was quite pleased with the animals they did have out. Especially the 'pinks' - his name for pigs. I think if he could have managed to squeeze himself in there with them he definitely would have ;). 

I was glad we went - even if the animals were fewer in numbers than expected and the strawberries were all picked by 4pm - but I think Roman was very tired out when we got home when he had a massive melt down - the melt down to top all melt downs, it was truly horrendous to watch because he was clearly distraught and very, very tired and there isn't an awful lot any parent can do in that circumstance. I'm happy to report that he went off to bed relatively happily - and quickly - and while I'm a big advocate of expressing yourself, whether for better or worse, I don't like the thought of him going to bed with some unresolved sadness lurking at the end of the day.

Haircup.

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His hair grows like mine; thick and fast. A haircut (or 'haircup' as he calls them) is in order nearly every single month and that can be a pretty stressful event for everyone. He twists and turns as the clippers come near him, usually followed by tears. It's usually awful and I dread it. I hold off on the haircuts as long as I possibly can but lately I've noticed he was sporting a barnet Donald Trump would be proud of - complete with his own toddler ponytail - and so it had to go.

He wasn't keen on the haircut but he's slowly growing to deal with them a little better. In the end we were reduced to putting him on Bryan's computer chair which worked out to to be the best solution to our little problem. Along with this letting him cut* 'Char-ey Bear' (Charley Bear's) fur made him less strange with the whole thing.

*A little note for my mum who made Charley Bear: the clippers weren't actually turned on so no bears were harmed in this process ;).

Burrito Baby (Toddler.)

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When he comes fresh from the bath I love to wrap him like this, the way I wrap my burritos. He's okay to be wrapped up like this and I find it so cute to watch him waddle through from our small bathroom to our living room and then gently unwrap him from the towel.

Today was a messy day; a day with gran, papa and his cousins. This bath was definitely a must, the burrito wrapping was optional but a must for me ;).

Belting Out A Number.

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When I saw this photo I laughed my head off. "I got a really great shot of him today," I told Bryan, feeling rather pleased with myself - and this project. It's no secret that lately I'm feeling really deflated with it all and sometimes I worry I'm snapping the same photos. Well I think this little photo puts all those fears to bed. 

If you glanced at this photo - what would you think? That I'm some kind of cruel mother who makes light of her sons sad moods or perhaps that my two year old is in fact a dinosaur. Well it's neither. He's belting out a tune that came out three decades (Black Box - Ride on Time) before his birth. 

Listen to the song and put this picture to the test - when the chorus kicked in, this is where he lost himself in the music ;). When the music ends there are constant pleas with me to put the 'woah, woaahh' song back on. "More woah, woaahh!" to be exact. And when that song goes back on? He's so serious! Like a child in a talent show who focuses a lot on being the best. Also, he turns every sound and beat into music; case in point when we were on the train a few weeks ago together he looked up at me with a huge smile and said '"DANCING!" then busted out a move from one of his routines (yep, he makes up his own moves and routines depending on the music) to the noise of the train rattling along the track. 

He's a musical little thing; full of soul and passion for the music.