Don't cause friction here

On the surface sharing is an unambiguous concept. Splitting things equally, taking turns, giving something of ours to someone else when they have none. When we use the word with our children however sharing loses its wholesome halo and darkens. Consider its definition from the persective of a child or a parent.

The lad sees twin1 sitting quietly in her room playing with a small plane she dug from his toy box where it has lain neglected for about a month. He tries to peel her fingers from it whilst shrieking "she's not sharing with me". He emerges from the screamfest victorious and lavishes his fascination on the hitherto forgotten toy. Having asked her to share with him, he is now operating a 'possesssion is nine tenths of the law' policy in the face of her reaching fingers and tear stained face.

Last week I took my three to a friend's house so that we could gnaw to death a bit of gossip while our children had a play. Twin2 and the friend's youngest daughter had the same taste in toys which inevitably led to a tug of war accessorized by the kind of screaming which puts blood vessels in their eyes at risk. I leant over and said "darling can you share the doll with your friend?" What I really meant was "give her the doll, go and find something else to play with and forget the fucking doll. Don't cause friction here."

Aren't we teaching our children just the most wonderful lessons?

The world's easiest teatime recipe

I'm a bit of a twat when it comes to cooking. I absolutely love it and rarely see it as a chore, even after a long day of relentless childcare. Sometimes I spend a Monday morning preparing the whole week's evening meals to store in the fridge. Most days I have cooked dinner by about 10am. Often in the afternoon I visit friends or have them at my house and don't want to have the question of 'what's for dinner?' hanging over me while I enjoy their company. As much of a twat that I am, however, there are days when the prospect of cajoling three littlies to consume the kind of meals which make Jamie Oliver all excited makes me want to stab myself in the eye with a rusty can-opener. On these days I take the children into the garden, hand them all a can of rice pudding and a teaspoon and sit back with a glass of white wine. Five minutes later they are all in the bath, tummies full of the kind of carbohydrates which aid lengthy sleep and the kitchen is in the kind of state which makes me smile.

Sunday was a cracker of a day. The sun shone with spring warmth and we threw a birthday party for the lad. The bouncy castle was installed by 9.30am and bubbles filled our garden. All 3 chiddlers had a nap so at midday the husband and I blew the froth off a couple and played swingball. A couple of hours later and the party was in full swing. Nothing could be more wonderful than a garden full of shrieking, happy children and their relaxed, sun warmed parents. Twin1 ate more cake than anyone should put inside their body, twin2 was wide eyed at the joy of dummies (why couldn't she have stumbled upon that little miracle when she was a baby?) and the lad hauled his birthday brontosaurus around in delight.

I love being around lots of people. I'm not particularly private or much of a loner, I can talk the arse end off a donkey and am never the first to leave a party so Sunday was pretty goddammed perfect.

lad turns 4

I awoke this morning to the question "Mummy am I four now?" I sleepily smiled a yes and pulled my big, grown up four year old son in for a cuddle. We have had the most wonderful day. The birthday present of a brontosaurus model was a massive hit, he chatted to my parents and brother on skype, played swing ball with the husband's parents and giggled with his sisters and cousin. At his request we went to the airport and watched planes land and take off followed by McDonalds. I watched twin2 turn into a deranged lunatic in her efforts to protect her bottle of juice and vowed to choose water next time.

Tomorrow we have all lad's friends round to enjoy a bouncy castle in the garden. He has been entranced at the 'getting older' part of his birthday. "Is it still my birthday? Am I still four?" And informing strangers of his age all day, brimming with shiny eyed glee. I am so proud of my little lad. He loves conversation and finding out how things work. His favourite programmes on TV are David Attenborough narrated nature documentaries and cookery programmes featuring Jamie Oliver. His happiest days have been spent helping his Daddy pour concrete into foundations and planting the vegetable garden. He has a great sense of confidence in himself and others and is fantastic company. He can concentrate well on a task and is interested in talking to adults. I love my special little boy. Happy birthday, son.