I love you Mummy...

... and I don't want Daddy.

L is going through a phase.  And it's a phase that's making all of us miserable (including S&A who don't like crossness and crying - who does?).

To put it simply: she doesn't want Daddy. Ever.

The other morning, when we woke up, B was first in to her room.  L took one look at him, screamed "Go away! I want mummy!" and slapped him in the face. This is not an isolated incident.

Let me put this into context.  B is an awesome father. A friend of mine was telling me this morning about something she'd read in a (nameless, sorry, I didn't catch a name) blog about whether you married a good husband or a good father. I'm either really lucky or really good at choosing, because I got both. B is amazing. he's hands-on, patient (mostly) and prepared to be climbed on, puked on, and generally run ragged.  Even better, he works from home, so he's here all the time.

But L doesn't want him.  In the end I refused to come downstairs until she decided to be nice to Daddy, and eventually that worked. But it's horrid. I don't like being cross with her; she can't, surely, like screaming and shouting; and it's really, unbelievably, hurtful for B who utterly adores her.  It's also knackering for me, because guess who has to put on all the pairs of shoes, get all the cups of milk, read all the stories, fetch all the toys that she's left elsewhere, push all the pushchairs and, of course, empty all the potties...?

I realise it's just, as I said, a phase, and somehow I found it heartening to discover during a whingy phone call that my friend LC is going through the same thing with her daughter, so it's clearly not just us.  But this really isn't one that I, or B, want, or have the heart, to wait out.

ps. I started this yesterday, and never got round to posting it.  Of course last night, she and B were absolutely best of friends.  Just by force of circumstance he ended up doing her bath while I was with A&S, and they had a wonderful time during that, and stories and into bed.  I heaved a huge sigh of relief, only to wake up to her demanding Mummy again this morning....

Her own sense of style

Allegedly Suri Cruise, aged 3, has her "own sense of style".  In Suri's case, this apparently means she chooses to wear button-up shoes and lovely coats with velvet collars, and always looks beautifully put together in a manner reminiscent of those pictures of your granny in about 1932.

L also has her own sense of style and chooses to wear, well, ahem, this:

Possibly they get it from their mothers.

BMB craft market

Stop Press!

The BMB craft market group, for designers, makers and shoppers is now open for business here.  Spread the word!  The more the merrier.

Oh, and especial thanks to Brit in Bosnia for the idea. 

Plan B - children's t-shirts - the details

I've (very flatteringly, thank you all so much) had a couple of queries on the t-shirts. So here's the small print.

I can make them in any size you like. I get the t-shirts, or vests (for babies) from John Lewis so they're good quality and wash well.

The fabric is all Liberty print (I'm not sure if you can see that in the pictures, but it is) and so basically you can specify any colour you like and I'll just make sure I've got something appropriate, or I'd happily do something specific (spots, stripes etc) if anyone had any great ideas.

I could, also, by discussion, do other items too (I've done a duvet cover for L with a big flower on it, and another friend has suggested towels which I think would be rather nice).

Basically the sky's the limit and I'm happy to do whatever people want.  Three hitches:

1. I can't do anything before Christmas... I'd love to but I've got to do some for S and A (who will be one on Friday!) on top of everything else.
2. The timescale is two weeks from order to delivery.
3.  If anyone has a particuarly long name we may have to think creatively - so all you Persephones out there, would initials do instead? Or long sleeves and the name down the arm? 

And the real nitty gritty.  The price. I'm just going to go with what they set at the shop which is £25.99.  Part of me is aghast, part is delighted that they think that's what they're worth, but either way, I've said I won't undercut them.  Things other than t-shirts by negotiation.

Oh, and if you're still reading. At Brit in Bosnia's suggestion I'm going to set up a BMB group for crafty mums selling crafty things.  One for this evening when I haven't got babies who need getting up, but I'll let you know when it's up and running so let me know if you're interested in joining.

Plan B - Children's T-shirts

You read it here first.  The one and only original, Plan B hand-embellished children's t-shirts are now on sale at a shop near you.  Well, they are if you live near the Fulham Road in London. Otherwise they're not, but I've got to start somewhere.

And I actually started with making a t-shirt for L for her birthday.  When I say "making" what I actually mean is "buying from John Lewis and applique-ing her name on the back".  But I was rather pleased with it so then I made some for my nieces (more identical twins - allegedly it's not hereditary, but...). And my sister-in-law is friends with the lady who owns the shop and....

....the rest is history.

To be honest, I never actually thought it would happen.  No false modesty here, but these are not professionally-made t-shirts.  They  have the charm of the genuinely home made... or something, so I got an incredible sense of achievement yesterday when I was told they were on the shop floor of what is, in all honesty, a very posh and not at all "delightfully amateurish" shop.

Now, I realise I'm not going to make my fortune making children's t-shirts from the comfort of my kitchen table with the sewing machine I got as a present for passing my GCSE's, but I am so excited by this.  It feels like a real step towards finding something that I can do that is mine, and isn't just washing clothes, wiping noses or waiting for my children to grow up.

So cross your fingers for me and wish me luck.  All we need now is for someone to buy one!

Oh, and ps, although I know some of you might disapprove of this, clearly if anyone does want one, you know where I am...

By George, I think she's got it!

I'm almost afraid to post this one in case I jinx it, but we might, just might, be there with the potty training...

We left L, the Sunday before last, insisting that she didn't want to wear a nappy because "Molly doesn't wear a nappy in bed".  And the thing is, she hasn't worn one since.  And the last two nights - she's been dry!

I don't know if we just hit the right thing at the right time, or whether the tip from Potty Mummy to buy her a new potty (which we did that afternoon) was the right one, or whether, perhaps more likely, she, all machiavellian, power-hungry, two and a half years of her, simply decided that she'd had enough of toying with us, but somehow, suddenly, it seems to be working.

She's pooing in the (new, Thomas) potty (why did no-one tell me how much more gross poo is when smeared all over a potty than when smeared all over your delicious daughter?) and telling me when she needs to go. ("Mummy, I don't feel very well" seems to be the phrase of choice, quite why, I have no idea).

And, as I say, we're putting her to bed with no nappy on, lifting her for a wee when we go to bed, and then she is (or has been for the last two nights) dry in the morning.  After six months of swearing and of half-believing she'd never do it I feel like I've won the lottery.  Admittedly dry sheets and no nappies aren't going to buy me the entirely new wardrobe I'd like, but for the moment, I'll take them.

What shall we do with the poorly baby?

Or perhaps, more accurately, what shall we do with the perfectly ok, if disgustingly snotty, other two?

We've got a cold.  It's just a cold. It's not flu, swine or otherwise, it's not norovirus (incidentally when did that stop being "stomach flu"? It sounds much more scary these days, and I'm pretty sure it's basically the same thing) and its certainly not any one of the millions of terrifying afflictions which seem, at 3 am, to lurk out there in wait for my children.

But while A and L are combining being full of snot with being equally full of beans, S is feeling miserable.  She's fevery and tired and wabbit (great word that. B uses it. I don't know if it's Scottish or just in-law-ish, but I love it) and what she really wants to do is be cuddled.  Constantly.

But I can't. Because I have L and A, and what they want to do is play, and argue, and snatch toys from each other, and giggle at each other and go out "Mummy, pleeeeeease", and play somewhere that isn't our living room, and shout.  And I can't see a way to make the two combine.

At the moment, of course, they're all in bed. But I am girding myself for the moment of wakefulness and the juggling act that is normality.  With an added dose of cold.