Officially a Toddler

For four days now I have been treading very carefully. Listening carefully. Watching carefully. And waiting, with baited breath, for the inevitable to happen. The transformation should occur any day now. It's only a matter of time.

Big Tot and I talk about it constantly. We watch and we wait and I tell him that his own transformation occurred early. He insists this is because he eats up his vegetables (yellow pepper only) and does regular exercise (bum-wiggling) but I suggest it may just be because he was born with the temperament of an angry wasp. His progression from baby to toddler was monumental, as I remember from the black eye he gave me on the morning of his 2nd birthday.

The Terrible Twos

But Little Tot seems to be stumbling aimlessly into Toddlerdom rather than using the confident strides of his older brother. His 2nd birthday party came and went and although he was utterly dismayed by the parcels and cards shoved in his face, and appalled by the prospect of sharing his toys with guests at his party his preferred coping mechanism was 'Retreat and Regroup'. Regrouping with me, of course. For snotty kisses and teary cuddles.

And I'm not going to lie. Little Tot is more than partial to flinging himself on the floor in protest at having to leave the park / not being bought every toy he desires / being put back into bed for the forty-seventh time. But the flinging and the crying and the screaming seem to be over pretty quickly. Now there are two questions that spring to mind here. Are the tantrums truly shorter than the ones I observed in his brother or have I simply adjusted my tantrum-o-meter levels in order to cope this time round?

Little Tot is at that awkward age when he is slightly too young for The Cool Rule Book but old enough to understand most of my instructions. So I thought I'd give the naughty spot a pop. And, inevitably, the time came round when Little Tot bashed Big Tot hard on the head with a toy, not once but twice (with a very clear warning in between) and so I led him to the famous green plastic stool in the corner of our living room. "Hitting your brother was very wrong and now I want you stay here until I come to get you."

The famous Naughty Spot

On that note I quickly ushered Big Tot into the kitchen and briefed him on our game plan. "Ok, your brother is probably going to get off the naughty spot lots of times now because we've never done it before and he doesn't really understand what he has to do."

"Not like me Mummy."

"No, not like you."

"Yes, because I've been on there lots of times before haven't I? How many times do you think? Maybe ten? Maybe thirty? Maybe three billion squillion?"

"Sweetheart, that's not the point right now. What I'm trying to tell you is that you have a very important job to do . . . "

"Ooh, what is it? Do I have to wash the car? Can I wash the car? I think it needs washing because there's a big massive huge bird poo down the side and . . "

"No, no, no, it's nothing to do with bird poos or cars! I need you to not talk to your brother. Not look at him. Not play with him. Not say anything to him at all ok?"

"Oh, is that all? That's easy. That's boring. Then can I do a better job after that? Then can I get the bird poo off the car? And Mummy?"

"Yes? What?"

"What's my brother doing now?"

"Oh God! I don't know!" And with Big Tot's annoyingly sensible prompting I dashed back through to the living room, just knowing I'd see a very vacant naughty spot and probably a trail of destruction in its wake. Broken toys. Torn up books. Decapitated teddies.

But there he was. Bottom lip still trembling. Still sitting, very obediently, on the naughty spot. Well have you ever?

My quick mental calculations told me that the time spent discussing bird poo with Big Tot in the kitchen probably added up to the required two minutes that Little Tot needed to be detained. So I knelt in front of him, explained again why he was there and said I'd like a kiss and a cuddle and for him to say sorry. I waited for a slap in the face, a screaming fit or the hurling of the naughty step at my head (all of which I have experienced with Big Tot, by the way) but instead he threw himself into my arms, smeared snot all over my lips (which I like to assume was a kiss) and squeaked "'Orry" in Big Tot's general direction.

After that we were all exhausted and it was time for a bit of CBeebies. Oh how I regularly thank the universe for Mr Bloom and his band of root vegetables.

Mr Bloom, you are a godsend

So now that Little Tot is officially a toddler, I guess I need to prepare myself for anything he throws at me. I am safe in the knowledge that I can handle tantrums of a wild and unruly nature thanks to the previous efforts of his big brother. But will I be able to handle the wobbling of that adorable bottom lip? Only time will tell.

Go well,

Abi



To find out how The Cool Rule Book or the rest of the Cool Rule range can help you and your toddler, visit www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

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To Boost or Not to Boost? - Day Four

Good news everyone. The detox headache from Hell is subsiding. It looks like that Helen McCrea knows her stuff after all and will, indeed, boost my body with her detoxing wisdom.

Breakfast: Mushroom & onion omelette and strawberries, Lunch: Salmon fillet with salad, sugarsnap peas, homemade houmus & celery stick with cashew butter, Dinner: Quinoa stuffed peppers, salad & homemade houmus

I've felt a lot better today, although any improvement on yesterday is a good thing. I've even swanned into Holland and Barrett and scooped up deals on cashew butter, almond butter and various life-improving bags of nuts. I'm getting rather good at this health lark.

My workout today was a tad easier too. I've given myself the permission to adapt Helen's suggested exercises around my dodgy knees so whether I'll burn the desired amount of calories is doubtful. But Helen insists that the main thing is just to bloody well move and I'm definitely doing that.

There is one little thing though, that is a tell-tale sign that I'm not quite with it. And that would be the shortness (or perhaps total disappearance) of my patience with the Tots.

Big Tot insisted he should try out the rope swings on the way home from school today so off he trotted. After approximately five minutes I was cursing whichever insane person thought up rope swings in the first place. Big Tot whinged and cried and shouted and screamed because he didn't want to swing on the ropes without holding on to me and that involved hair-pulling and coat-tearing I was simply not willing to endure. Meanwhile Little Tot had thrown his dummy and his toy train into a snowy, muddy abyss and was cranking up the volume too.

I think I did well not to throw myself into the snowy, muddy abyss.

Finally at home and Big Tot decided he had tummy ache. Using my ingenious mother's intuition (or plain common sense) I knew this was not the case. Yes he wanted to lie down on the sofa. Yes he wanted to play Super Mario Kart. And yes he wanted a blanket. But no, he did not have tummy ache.

The modern cure for all ailments

So I urged him to recall yesterday's events when Mummy had gone to bed because she felt poorly. That's what we do if we're feeling poorly, we go to bed for a little rest. So I got him into his pjs, tucked him in with a book or two and explained he had to stay there for half an hour to see if he felt any better afterwards. This did not go down well.

I thought I might teach him a lesson about telling the truth and simultaneously get half an hour to myself to prepare that night's detox dinner, but what I actually got was a bellowing voice every few moments: "How many minutes left now Mummy? Is my time nearly finished? Shall we count them down? Is it a million minutes or is it a thousand minutes? How many minutes left now?"

Shortly after doing his time, Big Tot ate three pieces of pizza, a portion of chips, two choc chip muffins, a pot of custard and a banana. Tummy ache indeed.

So when I checked the Body Boost Facebook page tonight, I poured over Helen's words about the experience me and the other ladies are going through:

"More fortunate people retreat to India or Thailand to detox. Us poor souls do it whilst raising kids, working and running houses, businesses and god knows what else. So give yourselves a huge pat on the back."

 Aw thanks Helen. Now can I go and  lie down on the sofa with a blanket and play Super Mario Kart?

Go well,

Abi


Make discipline fun with your tots with my fab Cool Rule range at www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Learn about Helen McCrea's brilliant healthy living ethos at www.femalefitness.co

To Boost or Not to Boost? - Day Two

Surprisingly enough, after Day Two of my crazy Body Boost shenanigans, I am feeling very full and satisfied. Not too long ago I polished off a plateful of cod, salad and quinoa and I have to say it really hit the mark. That may have something to do with the fact that I was so hungry I could have eaten a scabby horse, but nevertheless, I will go to bed with a happy tummy.

Breakfast: eggs, tomato, cucmber & olives, Lunch: Butternut squash soup & salad,
Dinner: Cod, Quinoa & roasted veg & salad

It's been another busy day of supermum-type activities, the highlight of which may have been a rather terrifying trip to Tesco. Not terrifying in any exciting or dramatic way. Nothing that's going to make any local headlines. But terrifying because of the devastating effect that it had on my bank balance.

"I'm just popping out to get some basics," I hollered to the hubby before rugby tackling Little Tot into the car seat (he is oh-so-good at the archy-back thing). And in my mind I had developed a brief shopping list of basic things I needed if I was going to do this 10-day detox any justice.

I'd already bowed out of the optional list of health supplements which detox guru Helen McCrea had given me. When you're wondering how on earth you're going to pay the gas bill, it's never a good idea to splash out on digestive enzymes.

And because I'm vegetarian and not tempted by the majority of protein options on Helen's 'allowed' list, it was time to stock up on fish and eggs. And a barrel full of leafy greens, of course.

So I swished swiftly past every single Easter egg offer in the entire building (much to Little Tot's dismay) and selected only the healthiest detox-type items which I felt sure Helen would pat me on the back for, had she been tagging along.

Supermarket Sweep

Only two days before Tesco had swiped a load of cash from my bank account after I'd done a mega-family shop. So, I sailed up to the checkout to pay for my haul of body boosting goods, knowing that I only need worry about myself. Just a few quid would see me through the next few days of detoxing.

Just a few quid? After the smiley Tesco lady had hammered my debit card for fifty five pounds, I staggered out to the car park in a state of shock. Fifty five pounds?!

I was just thankful Little Tot can not yet understand such concepts as eating on a budget and would not, therefore, breathe a word to his father on our return. The receipt went quickly into the bin. The food was packed into the fridge in record time and I turned the subject to football as the hubby walked into the kitchen. Works every time.

Never mind. Tomorrow is another day.

Go well,

Abi


Transform the life you share with your tots and visit www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Find out about Helen McCrea's genius fitness and detox programmes at www.femalefitness.co

My Radio Story

I've been feeling rather keyed up recently because coming soon in the Cool Rule social calendar is The North East Baby & Toddler Show. Now there's nothing I love more than having a chance to rave about the Cool Rule range. It's fab to show parents, grandparents, childminders and carers how the Cool Rule Book and all the other fab Cool Rule products can transform the life they share with their toddler.

Looking forward to it!

So imagine my glee when I was asked by the organisers of the Baby & Toddler Show to go on BBC Radio Newcastle to further rave about The Cool Rule Company. And the glee was cranked up a notch when my good friend Maxine was also invited to join in to chat about her party-in-a-box business, Life's A Celebration. And that meant we could both plug our brand new joint venture, Moment Makers, a fabulous new at-home party experience for mums. Triple whammy or what?!

So for several days of blissful smugness, Maxine and I agreed that we shouldn't overthink it. Surely our natural enthusiasm would steer us into the direction of making radio art. This was, after all, only a few moments of recorded interview and would be edited and polished to perfection by the BBC's experts.

And that's when I got the call from the girls at The North East Baby & Toddler Show. "Erm, Abi, we've just found out you're going to be live on air. The Jonathan Miles Show. And it'll be a ten-minute interview tying into Mother's Day and International Women's Day. That's ok, isn't it?"

Of course I agreed that it was. That I wasn't at all phased by the change. That I knew all about talking into microphones and speaking eloquently and making an instant, meaningful connection with a radio audience. Of course it was ok.

So Maxine and I made good use of our time. Key messages were practiced and confirmed. Notes were avidly written. Radio voices were tried out. Panic was formed but quickly squished by messages of good luck from our friends, family and customers. It was all going to be alright. Big deep breath now. It was all going to be alright.

We arrived mega-promptly in the morning. Forty two minutes early to be exact. And the receptionist behind the rather magestic BBC desk directed us up to the canteen and assured us somebody would come and collect us for our interview. There was plenty of time for the supping of coffee and the re-checking of our notes.

Time well spent

Well, long after our coffees had been supped we started to wonder when someone was going to whisk us off to our interview. Surely we should be expertly surfing radio waves by now. We took it upon ourselves to go back to the reception desk and enquire.

As soon as the receptionist rang through to the correct department, a very harassed looking lady burst through a random door and shouted "Abi! We need you now!"

Maxine and I struggled through an intricate silver turnstile (which I considered hurdling over in the drama of the moment) and then raced down a corridor after the harassed looking lady who was jabbering away about some mix-up and a change in receptionists and how the girls from the Baby & Toddler show had been filling in for me. Filling in for me? Just how late were we?

Next thing we knew we were (silently) bursting into the Jonathan Miles studio. Now this was not the entrance we had envisaged. No jovial introductions, no explanations of the technical workings of the place. Nope. Just Jonathan Miles asking one of those poor girls from the Baby & Toddler show just why, exactly, women should continue to be internationally celebrated each year (oh lordy), as Maxine and I waited to be integrated into the whole experience.

And so the integration began. Mr Miles seemed rather intrigued by the whole naughty spot thing which was not really, as I recall, in my notes but I went with it anyway (I felt like putting him on a naughty spot for not coming to collect us from the canteen). And I did manage to squeeze in some info about The Cool Rule Book and how it's helping families across the nation. And then it was cue Maxine and her few seconds of fame.

Watch out Jonathan Miles!

I reckon Maxine and I did the best we could with the few seconds we were given and when I listen back to it, I marvel at how solid our voices sound considering we'd just done a full-on panic-sprint down an unnecessarily long BBC corridor.

Maybe we didn't get to chat about all the things we'd hoped to, but at least we'll have fun recounting how the mighty institution of the BBC was able to lose us in its very own building.

Have fun, go well,

Abi




The North East Baby & Toddler Show is at Newcastle Falcons, Kingston Park on Saturday 16th March from 10am - 4.30pm. Check it out and book your tickets now!
www.northeastbabyandtoddlershow.co.uk

Click on the iPlayer link below to hear us on the radio (available until 15th March 2013). Scroll along to approx 1hr 22mins to hear the point where we burst into the studio!
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0151ld1

Find out why the Cool Rule Book and the whole Cool Rule range is sweeping the nation at:
www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

Find out how Maxine can help you with every party you'll ever have at:
www.lifesacelebration.co.uk 

Discover Moment Makers, the fantastic new at-home party experience for Mums at:
www.facebook.com/momentmakers or www.makethosemoments.blogspot.co.uk

The Silent Parent

How odd. This is what I thought during the lead up to February's half-term holiday. There was no sense of dread, no sweaty palms, no saving of pennies to spend on absurdly overpriced comics or loud, garish soft play centres. I was actually quite looking forward to it. Big Tot and Little Tot are getting on so well together at the moment and after a mostly lovely Christmas break I thought to myself, I can bloody well do this. And I can enjoy it too.

The hubby was absent and off in the land of work as per usual, so I accepted my lot, closed my eyes, and started my visions of merriment. I envisaged enthusiastic beach exploring. Energetic nature walks. Imaginative storybook sessions. Hilarious games of hide and seek. Nothing could stop us. We were going to have fun, fun, fun.

Surely, this is how it would be?

Or maybe not.

Two days before break-up and the dizzy spells started. One day before break-up and a tickly cough had me demented. The day of break-up and there was a headache, earache, sore limbs and a sadly depleted attitude to the whole idea of any type of school holiday. As Big Tot's teacher handed him over to me at 3.15pm that day there was a look exchanged between us. We knew we were in completely different worlds she and I. She was sauntering off to relaxation, quiet and calm. I was trudging into sickly despair. And my kids were leading the way.

And just when I thought I could add no more symptoms to my list, you'll never guess what happened.

I lost my voice.

This has never happened to me before. I woke up the first day of the holidays and knew something was wrong but it wasn't until Big Tot walked into the bedroom grumpily demanding the iPad that I realised what had happened.

I had a good cough (owch). And a splutter (owch again). And I did my best to arrange my mouth into a shape that would surely make a noise and answer Big Tot with some cunning reason why iPads were not suitable for this time in the morning. It didn't happen. And he took the iPad.

While I was brewing a coffee and Big Tot was catapulting Angry Birds, I imagined what this meant for us. How could we explore on the beach if I couldn't scald Little Tot for eating seaweed? How could we have imaginative storybook sessions which lacked a storyteller? And never mind that, how could we even perform our basic daily tasks with a mother who couldn't use her best bossy voice?

Just then Big Tot realised something was amiss.

"Mummy? Why are you quiet?"

I tried. I did. But my answer was just a croak. So instead I crouched down to look my son in the eyes, gestured at my throat and did a kind of magic vanishing flourish with my hands, hoping he'd tune into me with some kind of awesome mother-son connection.

"Your neck is going to explode? Cool."

Okay then.

An hour later and Big Tot realised no neck-exploding was going to occur. So with some further gestures and my best attempt at a whisper he finally got it. He remembered his teacher losing her voice before Christmas and helpfully informed me that she found it again so I really didn't have to worry.

And that's when I got my mojo (if not my voice or my good health) back. Voice or no voice these holidays were not going away and if Big Tot's teacher could teach a class of thirty children without the power of words then surely I could manage my own children in the same fashion.


Eye contact was the real lesson of the week. Just crouching down, being on their level, and looking at them with whatever emotion I was trying to convey was powerful stuff. I always thought I did that anyway but now I will be very mindful to do it even more.

We did a bit of doodling, Big Tot and I. Mainly when I just couldn't answer his questions with the power of mime and dance. And let's not forget that this boy asks a lot of questions. "Why can't I stand on the dinner table? Where is my Super Mario hat? Why can't I play on the iPad for a thirty-seventh time?"

My genius artwork

And after a while, I realised that this child doesn't always need an answer. I realised that after a while he just forgets what he's asking and swiftly moves on to something else. Suddenly the reason why wood is brown isn't so intriguing. And the crucial need to know whether Batman lets Robin have annual leave is not so paramount. This came as a massive relief to me. Now I am freed from being the all-seeing, the all-knowing. A burden that was, if I'm honest, pretty hard to bear.

Little Tot was pretty considerate in that he didn't really care if I spoke to him or not, as long as I was there to climb all over, be covered in drool, have toys pushed in my face and have unwanted food chucked in my general direction. He got stern looks for the food-chucking but the rest was endurable.

And, at the risk of blowing my own trumpet, I have to say that The Cool Rule Book was a bit of a lifesaver. I could use it to point out when Big Tot was not performing up to his usual standard of teeth-brushing / toy-sharing / dinner-eating and, more importantly, when he did something wonderful, I could point at the reward section at the back, we'd exchange a knowing smile and then trot into his room to stick balls in his happy jar. And not even a word uttered.

Silent rewards

We did end up spending most of the week at home simply because within the confines of our little bungalow I could make the whole silence thing work. As my voice worked back to a whisper, we ventured out to see a few friends, and as the whisper turned into a voice we did, after all, end up in a loud, garish soft play centre. What the hell. It did the the job and, do you know what? the Tots didn't ask me for a thing the whole time they were there.

That's my boys.

Go well,

Abi



To find out more about The Cool Rule Book and all the other fantastic parenting products the Tots have inspired, visit thecoolrulecompany.co.uk

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning

The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is an enormously important element of any parent's working day. The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning is a skill, a strategy, a complex set of tactics woven around other equally important obligations. And, as I have discovered over recent years (and you will no-doubt be jubilant to realise) The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning can be learned.

Let's get something clear first of all. I recognise the importance of cleaning. Honest I do. I understand that cleaning one's home rids it of bugs and germs and all things horrid that might inflict bad health on the typical family. And I am happy to clean to this extent. Nobody wants to deal with a puking toddler, especially if you are also partaking in the puking.

But in recent years, as I have morphed from a career-driven, independent party-goer into a family-driven, sleep-deprived party-dodger, my standards in the realms of cleaning have slipped somewhat.

It took a while though. During the golden age of Big Tot's baby months when he couldn't walk, talk or smear evidence of his shenanigans anywhere, I was still fairly happy to roll up my sleeves. Plus, and let's not forget this important fraction of my background, my husband is from a very old fashioned part of Eastern Turkey where women are expected to do EVERYTHING. Clean, cook, scrub, rub, dust, fold, polish, and they will positively spit if you try to do it for them. Hence I have spent a considerable amount of time sitting back and watching my hubby's sisters whirl around like dervishes in a cleaning / tidying/ caring for many, many children type of frenzy. It's no wonder I felt I should occasionally partake in a bit of dusting.

But as I moved away from Turkey and into a more Western lifestyle; and as the golden age of Babydom ended and Toddlerhood hooked in its claws, The Avoidance of Proper Cleaning has emerged as a very helpful strategy to get me through each day. And as I spend a good percentage of my time performing the domestic tasks which I believe to be unavoidable (washing dishes, cooking, washing clothes, ironing, shopping etc), I think I can be forgiven for cleaning only when absolutely necessary.

Here are my hints and tips for the Avoidance of Proper Cleaning:

• TIDY . . . Tidying and cleaning are very different beasts. Tidying is far, far easier than cleaning and will give the spectacular illusion that the house is clean. And it can be done as you go along, so long as you realise it will never, ever end. 

• AIR FRESHENERS . . . A sure-fire way to give the impression that you have just finished an energetic cleaning sesh. Close your eyes and breathe in the pine forest, the cherry blossom, the ocean spray or whatever else takes your fancy (emphasis on the closing of the eyes).

• NET CURTAINS . . . It is a fact that direct sunlight streaming into your home will highlight every last bit of dirt you have failed to remove. If you can't live with net curtains, then just go out and come back home after dark. It's better that way.

• GLITTER . . .  This is easy if you have small children. Sprinkle glitter everywhere and blame it on a crafts session with the kids (everyone knows glitter is notoriously difficult to remove but it will also mask your real dirt in a sparkly mirage).

• BAKE A CAKE . . . This may sound odd but if there is the smell of a freshly baked cake in the air, other senses (such as sight) will be dulled and any amount of dirt can go unnoticed.

• CANDLES . . . Flickering candles give the impression of a nurturing, soft ambience a far cry from an unloved, unclean home. Out of reach of little hands of course.

• START A PROJECT . . . If you have kids then you've got an excuse to start crazy projects which will ultimately defer from cleaning. "I couldn't clean the bath because there's a giant cardboard Spongebob Squarepants in there."

• BABY WIPES . . . There is always a packet within reach in my house. Did you know they clean anything?

• BASKETS . . . If in doubt of where to put something, stick it in a basket. Seriously. Every room should have one.

• CHEAT . . . Spot opportunities for a cheat-clean. Wipe down the tiles during a shower, get the kids to throw soapy water at the car . . . it's not great, I know, but if you want to Avoid Proper Cleaning then you must be committed to cheating once in a while.

• PATIENCE . . . Just remember that one day the kids will be old enough to take over most Proper Cleaning and there is no need for them to know about this list. However, you could print it and keep it in a safe place for them until they have their own children.

• START A BLOG . . . Always, always more important than cleaning.

Adhering to this list gives you lots more time with your children: tickle-time, treasure hunts, superhero role play, block-building, forest walks and the discussing of hot topics such as the Origins of Snot. I know it's important for kids to learn how a household is run, and that they should definitely contribute to it more as they get older. But, right now while my two are mere whippersnappers, I am happy with my slippery standards.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to light a candle.

Go well,
Abi
xxx

P.S. If you want to see how else I spend my time when I'm not cleaning, go to www.thecoolrulecompany.co.uk and browse the gorgeous happy living products I've created for toddlers and parents!