Yucky Days Are Lovely

It was a very, very yucky day in the Swampy Town.

Despite being the middle (or, to be more precise, close to the end) of Summer, it felt more like the very depths of horrid Winter. It was rainy. It was cold. The sky was a menacing shade of charcoal grey. 

It was the sort of day when Outdoor Pursuits seem the definition of loony.

And so Tiger and her Cackle Mummy decided not to do them. They decided, between the two of them, to eschew All Of The Outside Things and, instead, do ...

Precisely not very much at all. Inside.

They cuddled like two sleepy bears in Mummy's big bed. They read an obscene number of stories. They ate banana, custard and rusks (Tiger) and chocolate, chocolate Quik and gluten free biscuits (Mummy).

They rolled on the floor (Tiger and Mummy). They did some research into Pluto (Mummy is still convinced it is a planet). They chewed on a giraffe (only Tiger but it did look like great fun, Mummy thought).

They listened to Triple J and danced to Macklemore and Cosmo Jarvis.

They practised sitting up (Mummy is pretty good at this usually, but on lazy days like this, even she needs practise).

They did some more cuddling.

And they both decided that Yucky Days Are Yucky ...

But they are also Lovely.

~ Love, Miss Cackle x

Mars ain't the kind of place to raise your kids ...

Unless one of those kids just happens to be ...

A TIGERISH SORT OF KID!!!

Because, now, along with Tiger's love of all things dino, we have a new obsession ... SPACE (Where you can NOT RIDE HORSES - I still can't hear the word "space" without thinking of Dear Hugh in Notting Hill).

It started when Tiger fell out of her Boosti. Scrambling madly for Another Thing To Pop Tiger In While Mummy Does Stuff, Daddy Bear found ... A Rocket Ship!

Of course! Why didn't we think of it earlier? A rocket ship is the PERFECT solution to where to pop your eight month old while you do the washing up! 

Obviously, Tiger's rocket ship is not a REAL rocket ship, but when Tiger is in it, she IS a real astronaut (or is it cosmonaut these days?). She is the picture of concentration and studiousness as she practises "flying" her craft with her buttons and controls. And I have taken to reading her astronomy pages from Wikipedia in place of stories, to broaden her Space Knowledge (did you know that there is an extinct volcano on Mars which is the second highest peak in the solar system? The highest peak is actually on a protoplanet called Vesta. Firstly, THERE ARE VOLCANOES ON MARS? Secondly, THERE IS SUCH A THING AS A PROTOPLANET???).

I'm loving learning with her. I have to admit I'm a noob when it comes to spacey stuff. Tiger knows approximately as much as I do. Except I refuse to tell her about the controversy surrounding Pluto's planet status. PLUTO IS A PLANET, GOSHDARNIT!

This weekend, I'm hoping to take her to the planetarium at the museum, to continue her "Spaceducation".

In the meantime, we'll keep flying our rocket ship together, off to worlds unknown. And it will be lovely.

We might be there a long, long time ...

~ Love, Miss Cackle x

A Letter from Cackle Mummy and Tiger to Daddy Bear

Dear Daddy Bear,

It is your Cackle Wife and Tiger Daughter here. 

We decided to write you a letter today after we met with Lovely Miss K and The Tall Man at the cafe down the Very Long Road.

We met to say our farewells to LMK, who is going on a Very Big Adventure to live for awhile in the home of Haggis and Harry Potter. No, not Hogwarts. Scotland.

Cackle Mummy and you went there together BT (Before Tigesy) and completely fell in love with the place, and Cackle Mummy knows how much you want to go back.

And we will.

That's what this letter is for: to tell you that Tiger and I have decided we are going to go back. Together. As a Little Family. Because how much more awesome will Scotland be if we add the awesome of Tiger to it?

Cackle Mummy is looking at ways her writing might help take us there, and when we sell the mint green cottage, that will help as well.

So here it is: the goal.

The Little Family will go to Scotland next year. No arguments. Tiger isn't taking no for an answer. Tiger wants to see where her very special breed of Tiger comes from, in part. And Cackle Mummy wants to sit again where JKR sat and penned those wonderful books.

And we BOTH want to see how happy you will be, in the land of your Braveheart forebears.

So are we agreed? Team Little Family to Scotland in 2014?

How utterly, brilliantly LOVELY will that be?

~ Love (always and forever), Miss Cackle (and Tiger) x

My Kitchen Rules

My Kitchen Rules has started again.

It seems strange to get so sentimental over a lightweight reality cooking show, but here am I misting up.

And it's not just because Manu looks so gorgeous he can bring even this non-Francophile to tears.

It's not even because half the food makes this non-foodie feel a bit queasy in the belly.

It's because, for the past three years, I've associated MKR with pivotal moments in my life. While I've been watching, Big Things have been happening in my life.

I watched it for the first time two seasons ago. I watched it not because I was interested at all in the premise - like I said, I'm not a foodie. Cheese, tomato sauce and chip butties are my idea of gourmet heaven. I watched it because my elderly auntie loved it and encouraged me to give it a go. I watched it so we'd have something to discuss on our weekly coffee dates - something in common.

She loved dissecting the previous episode over coffee and cake. She had her favourites and revelled in dissing whoever had been the most "villainous" in the kitchen this week.

Not long after the season finished, my aunt suddenly passed away. 

A year later, remembering our weekly MKR debriefs with fondness, I tuned in again. This year, I was pregnant with Tiger. And, not far into the pregnancy, I became very sick and Tiger's journey into life became a hazardous, tenuous one.

I watched much of this season in hospital. It was a distraction from my anxiety and desperate pleading with whatever powers were out there that Tiger should make it into the world.

As the season drew to a close, she did.

And now she is here. I am watching the first episode as she sits near me on her Daddy Bear's knee, batting his chin with her tiny mittened paw as she does every night before drifting off to sleep.

Tonight, she ate a baby version of bangers and mash for the first time - a special treat to celebrate the first episode of this series.

I'm still not a foodie. But I am, now, looking forward to learning to be, with Tiger at my side. I want to bake cakes and make casseroles and be a "proper" mum. 

And, who knows, one day we might watch this show together, and debrief as my aunt and I did. 

Or, like me, she might prefer television talent shows like The X Factor. We might watch this together. Or we might watch Doctor Who or Friends reruns.

Whatever our traditions are, I know they will be lovely. But, in the meantime, I'm watching MKR and feeling sentimental. 

And wondering where I'll be when it starts again next year.

~ Love, Miss Cackle x

Stop Being So Hard On Yourself!

I've heard it so often it has almost become white noise.

The people who say it mean well, of course, but either they haven't done this parenting thing before, or they did it a very long time ago, or they have very bad short-term memories.

Or else, more likely, they do remember, they do know, and they are just saying it to make me feel better.

"Stop being so hard on yourself."

They say it when Tiger has a boo boo. They say it when she is teethy. They say it when she throws a tanty (so far, only a one-off). They say it when I express concern I don't respond as well as I should to these little incidents in Tiger's life.

They say it when I get sick and I KNOW I'm not at my best.

They say it when I worry I'm not the best possible mummy to Tiger all of the time.

Which I know I'm not. Some days I'm tired. Some days I'm stressed. Sometimes I KNOW I could do better. Some days I just feel like a Terrible Plop. And it helps me to say this out loud (or on Facebook or Twitter). It helps me to say, "Help. I really suck at this today. I'm not fishing for reassurance, or to be told I actually am a good mum. I just need to let it out. I don't mind if nobody responds, but if they do, it's lovely.

And I do appreciate it when they say "Stop being so hard on yourself."

Because I know I need to. But it's hard. And I know that every single one of the parents, or grandparents, or aunties or uncles who say that to me have, at some stage, been hard on THEMselves, too. Because we want to be the best parents or grandparents or aunties or uncles that we can be and occasionally we fail and it makes us feel terrible. Because we care. Because we know these precious little people deserve the world and the best and we want to give it to them all the time.

I think the fact that I am hard on myself makes me normal. 

I think it means I'm the same as all the other parents - the ones who care.

And I know you all care. And I know that one day you will feel as if you've failed. And you will tell me.

And I will say, "Stop being so hard on yourself."

~ Love, Miss Cackle x

Tiger's boo boo

I am officially the Worst Mother Of All Time.

I should have listened to my Tiger yesterday. The Boosti is The Devil, and she obviously knew it. Because today, as I was madly trying to get Stuff Done, I popped Tiger in it and ...

Tiger fell out.

She had got her Link Toy caught on her foot and bent forward to retrieve it and fell, tiny-tiger-head-first onto the lino.

Clunk.

Oh golly gosh, I had never heard a louder or more horrible Clunk in my entire life.

Nor had I heard a louder or more distraught Tiger Scream.

Of course, I did not do the sensible thing (as discussed with Auntie J the day before) of being all calm and happy and pretending it never happened.

I Freaked the Heck Out.

I was convinced Tiger had sustained a horrible and life-threatening skull fracture / brain injury / horrific trauma that would in later life lead to severe PTSD.

I grabbed my baby and I hugged her more tightly than I had ever hugged her before and said, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay" for about, oh, half an hour - long after Tiger had stopped screaming and had totally forgotten about it and was intent on trying to eat my tee shirt.

She doesn't APPEAR to have any residual injury or upset from her little boo boo, but how can I be sure?

And how can I EVER stop feeling that I am the Worst Mummy Ever?

Tiger KNEW the Boosti was Bad News and I ignored her.

My poor baby. She is Lovely. And I am a Terrible Person.

~ (Somewhat subdued and guilt-ridden) Love, Miss Cackle x

Tiger Does Not Want To!

Normally, Tiger is a very placid, happy and accommodating baby. She is very easy to be around, to take places, and to entertain. She is independent and very content in her own company.

But yesterday, a Series Of Unfortunate Events combined to make Tiger ... well, let's just say the words "tanty" and "mother of all" were used when describing Tiger's mood to Daddy Bear. And perhaps not in that order.

The First Unfortunate Thing was that Tiger got all teethy again: red cheeks, red nose, drool flood, the whole miserable lot.

The Second was that builders came and were Very Noisy Indeed, wakingTiger from her nap.

The Third was that Tiger and Cackle Mummy had to wait for a Very Long Time at the doctor's - way past Tiger's nap time.

And then, when Cackle Mummy and Tiger got home, the builders were still there, being Very Noisy Indeed, so cackle Mummy decided they should wait until the builders were done before trying for another nap.

And THEN Cackle Mummy tried to put Tiger in her Big Girl Sitting Up Seat while she made a quick bite to eat.

THIS was the straw that broke the Tiger's back.

Tiger DID NOT WANT to sit in her Big Girl Sitting Up Seat.

She also DID NOT WANT to lie on the floor. She DID NOT WANT a rusk! She DID NOT WANT HER TOYS OR A STORY OR ANYTHING ...

EXCEPT ...

for a Mummy hug.

Instantly, miraculously, despite Tiger NOT WANTING All Of The Other Things, the very instant Cackle Mummy pulled her into her arms, her smiling, sweet-natured Tiger returned.

And then, once the builders had gone, Tiger finally got a nap.

After her nap, she did want a rusk and her toys and a wriggle on the floor.

BUT ...

She still did not want her Big Girl Sitting Up Seat!

And, even now, she DOES NOT WANT it.

This makes Mummy gulp, as the Big Girl Sitting Up Seat was the last standing soldier in the Army Of Things To Put Tiger In While Mummy Does Stuff.

Now, the only thing for it is to try and hold Tiger while Mummy does All Of The Things.

And work extra hard on the Getting Tiger To Sit Up By Herself Without Thinking It Is Fun To Hurl Herself Backwards.

We're getting there. Tiger just needs to learn that sitting up is not a game but instead a valuable and important part of Being A Human.

But at least for now Tiger's once-in-a-blue-moon tanty is over - and, really, a tanty that is cured by cuddles isn't actually that bad - and she is back to being The Tiger Of Awesome.

And Also Lovely.

~ Love, Miss Cackle x