Journey from hell? Or heaven sent?

After yesterday, I will never complain about a car journey again or get cross with anyone I travel with. We spent the weekend in London catching up with old pals and generally having a lovely time. I say we, although N had to come back to Bristol on Sat night due to a complete overload of work! He missed his train and ended up having to spend £60 on a ticket but hey, that's life right?

So, I stayed with a very dear friend, we gossiped til past midnight (yikes!) and our kids played beautifully. On Sunday morning I met up with my antenatal friends for a rather fine roast in one of Tooting's eateries. All was well with the world and we departed at 2.30, in perfect time for O to have his afternoon nap and with F fed to the hilt so that she'd sleep too.

By the time we reached Newbury on the M4 I have to admit to feeling a little smug. Both kids were still beautifully asleep and the journey was going well. I even decided that I would pre-empt any meltdowns from the babster by stopping at a service station about 25 miles outside Bristol. This was largely so that I could tell Nick how thoughtful and responsible I'd been - last time we made the journey F lost it after I took the executive decision not to stop but press on for home! It was not something I would ever wish to repeat.

Am I glad I took that break. For a number of reasons... Three miles or so after our stop, the traffic was grinding to a halt. Nothing that unusual. When I noticed that there was literally no traffic coming up behind us and nothing coming in the opposite direction I realised there must have been a serious accident. I called N and tried to find out more from the radio. O and I finished a packet of mini cheddars and sipped some water (which thankfully I'd bought during our pit stop).

To cut a long story short, we didn't move one millimetre for three and a half hours. Me, a toddler and a baby. It was hard but actually very salutary. It taught me a lot, namely:

- In times of need, people are very kind and resourceful. I had lots of offers of help from women whilst lots of boys took the opportunity to play footie on an empty stretch of motorway!
- Driving is a hazardous pastime and I am extremely grateful that we weren't caught up in the accident. Some families' lives will have changed - possibly forever - yesterday.
- Live in the moment. What is happening now is what's happening, and there's no point wishing it otherwise. There were several moments when I almost lost it - F crying, O pouring water over the gearbox - but managed to hold it together. I know this helped the kiddies keep calm too.
- O is great company! We sang songs, pressed lots of buttons on the dashboard, counted cars and all sorts.
- Breastfeeding means you never run out of milk!!

So, no matter how hideous our next long journey is, it'll be hard to match a three and a half hour stationary delay!

Vinny Jones or my son?

I have an image in my mind of an incident with Vinny Jones and the lovely Gazza several years ago where I believe Mr Jones grabbed a certain part of the fat one's anatomy and gave it a right yank. Well, although O hasn't gone quite that far yet (and F doesn't have a willy, so perhaps not the best analogy), he is displaying distinctly aggressive and footballer-like behaviour.

To wit (can't believe I have actually written that. Note to self: I am not Jane 'Could I trouble you for an interview on the lawn Mr Darcy?' Austen. Or Bridget Jones.): Oliver looks like he's going to kiss his vulnerable and cute sister. At the last moment a look of the devil passes across his face and he headbutts her. Hmm, nice.

I know this is normal and that it is a passing phase, but I can't help feeling fiercely protective towards the little lady and just fierce towards the big bruiser (relatively big of course). Ridiculous phrases pop into my head like 'He's old enough to know bettter' or 'Little shit, he's being deliberately malicious'. Of course, he is finding it difficult to share me and accept that F is here to stay. He is also very cute with her every so often and I get glimpses of how they will be together in a few months. But it's hard not to lose it with him.

So, my latest parenting tactic is to out-calm O during tantrums. I set myself the challenge of being completely unrattled the more rattled he becomes. Or making him laugh. It doesn't always work but when it does it feels good. I hate battling with my darling boy, especially when he seems not to want to battle, but at the same time can't help himself. And I could undertake a PhD in the art of distraction...

What's going on?!

Not a lot if this blog's anything to go by. I could've sworn I'd posted something just a few days ago, but it appears that was the 3rd May and now it's the 16th...! I've had a ghastly cold and husband has been hogging computer with all the work he's doing. And son appears to be turning into Damien... what's that about terrible twos?

Baby is now crying so better sign off. Short but sweet. Suffice to say we are all present if not entirely correct. Summer is coming, Bristol is humming and we're all well. xx

Vortex...

time is doing something weird at the moment. It appears to be a matter of weeks since my last post... sorry folks.

I'm typing with one hand as F is asleep in other arm so I'll be brief...

- O's birthday was lovely. Perfect weather for a few little pals in the garden and an impromptu picnic.
- Easter in Wales was fun but knackering. Headline was that F slept til four several nights in a row. All went belly up when we got home of course.
- Just spent a few days in cornwall with N's bro and glam girlfriend. They casually did 40 minute runs along the cliffs and barely raised a sweat. Jealous, moi? Yes. Inspired to eat less cake and do more exercise...!