Always One Step Behind

I am currently attempting to potty train Tay. Good; Kooks and Squash did it like pro's! I showed them the potty, took off their nappy and sat them on it. They were dry. Seriously, they were as good as that. There were never any accidents, and I was a proud, if somewhat smug, Mamma.
Kooks and Squash were both 'model' children. They were well behaved, did as they were told and looked cute all of the time. They took to the potty immediately.
Tay-Tay? Well Tay does what she wants when she wants. She is well behaved when she is doing what she wants to be doing. She rarely does as she is told, unless it is something she wanted to do any how. She looks cute all of the time, and refuses to take to her potty.
Now, everyone in our household is completely enchanted by Tay. Such is her charm that we can never help but laugh with her. She is fiercely independent, bossy and cunning. Let me give you an example...
Tay-Tay started walking at an unknown time. I have no date as to when she took her first step. When she is grown and has babies of her own, she will look at me and ask when she took her own first steps, just to compare with her own child. I will tell her, that because of her cunning ways, we'll never know. She has herself to blame and my terrible memory cannot be blamed this time. Why? Because she kept it a closely guarded secret. We had our suspicions that she could walk...I was in the kitchen one day and literally heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet coming from the living room. I raced through and she was sat on the floor playing with her toy. Where I had left her. Another time, I was sorting laundry upstairs. Tay and Squash were playing in his bedroom next door when he left for a moment. He heard a noise and rushed back in; Tay-Tay was running across his bedroom. She stopped and dropped when she spotted him. Of course I rushed in too, but she was acting all nonchalant while Squash and I scratched our heads.
It became a frequent thing in our home. Someone would spot a prancing Tay; she would stop and drop. So, one day, the FFALWL and I decided to just go for it; we sat a few feet apart from one another and encouraged our secret walker to take a few steps. She did...then screamed. She was so pissed she had been busted; the secret no longer hers. Fast forward a few months and she felt comfortable enough to show the world how clever she was. She was 15 months old by then.
Everything Tay has accomplished, she has perfected before showing us. She had us believe she couldn't talk until I heard her talking in her sleep one night. The FFALWL and I grinned like happy fools outside her bedroom door; not so cunning in your sleep huh!
Now we are potty training. It seems she is doing her usual. She will only pee next to her potty. She turned two in April and I'm anxious to get her started. We bought her the poshest of potties we could find and we had truly thought that she would be with us on this one. The kid hates wearing a nappy and insists on running around butt naked all day long. We have even had embarrassing episodes of her stripping of infront of perfect strangers. Surely she would like to potty train?? Wrong; she hates it. This posh potty has a lid, a toilet roll holder, wet wipes holder, converts to go onto a normal toilet and well, she should love it. Right; she loves it. It's her place to sit occasionally when she catches up with Peppa Pig and has a light snack. Mamma got smart and bought a Peppa Pig chair to carry out such activities and then allows her to run around butt naked in the hope that she'll sit on the potty and 'accidently' Pee. In. The. Potty. Wrong again, this is what happened this morning...
She sat on her Peppa Pig chair, drinking tea, watching Peppa Pig. When she was done, I took off her nappy and replaced the chair for the posh potty. She sat down and I carried on with my morning housework. The next thing was Tayla rushing through to me in the kitchen squealing, 'ah pooped Mommyyyy, ah pooped on der!! Ohhh Mannn!' I rushed through with her, foolishly hoping that there would indeed be a poop on der. 'No Tay, you wee'd...there, not on der'. (Because Daddy is a Texan and Mamma is a mix of German and English, the little one is owner to an accent which never fails to raise a smile. Even when she wee's on der...).
So, it seems, here we are again. Tay-Tay doing what she does best, and leaving us a step behind. Perfecting her art before presenting it to the world. Be it walking, talking or well, weeing in a more appropriate place, I guess she'll do it  and show us in her own time. We'll watch her present her art as a pro, rather than a novice.

A Grumble Between Two Loves

Last night after the kiddies were all deposited into their beds, the FFALWL and I did what we do every night. I threw the scatter cushions back into their rightful positions on their rightful couches. He took his iPod out of his pocket and put it in it's docking station. I scooted the footstool over to the two seater couch in preparation for four weary feet to rest their weary bones. He looked through our Sky planner to see if there were any recordings to catch up on. We both headed outside for a cigarette (don't judge, it's our only terrible weakness) and caught up on each others day and what, if anything, we needed to talk about. A fairly fail proof schedule which happens every evening. Without fail.
What normally happens next, is we go collect our drinks which the FFALWL had speedily made when docking his iPod, we venture back to the couch, then press play on the Sky remote...and snuggle. We usually watch Mock the Week. We always laugh the entire way through. Again, don't judge, it's another of our only terrible weaknesses...
But during our first terrible weakness, we started to grumble. The FFALWL had told me had put out an email at work, asking all the guys if they want to go on a day out golfing. Perfect, they all deserve a break and I was happy for him. But then he said 'I am going to speak with the Ombudsman and see about you wives doing something together too so you aren't just sat at home.' Hmmm...OK, I was starting to wilt a little here. I checked with him that this would be on the same day. 'Well yeah...'. I was wilting some more. So I told him, 'Honey, I'm glad that you're going to go off with the boys for the day. You guys deserve the break! But why do the wives all have to be the ones to entertain the kids? Why can't we go off and you boys be entertainers for the day? After all, out lives are revolved around entertaining the kids.' He told me he was thinking of me, and thought I'd be happy to get out the house and see other people while he's off with the guys. I told him I appreciated his sentiments, and I truly did; I could see what he was saying. He couldn't see what I was saying; all he could hear was criticisms and that I wasn't being very thankful.
So there we sat, drinks in hand, feet on the footstool, the guys on Mock the Week desperately trying to lighten the mood, and me trying to explain to the FFALWL that I am thankful that he was thinking of me, and it was nice of him to do so. But he couldn't see my point. I couldn't see his. The silent stand-off began.
Now, I am a talker. If there is a problem, I want to talk about it until it's resolved. We then kiss and make up and nobody has to try and sleep with a heavy heart. If I am wrong, I will always put my hands up and say it (unbelievable I know, but true nonetheless. A lesson I learnt through a failed marriage). This time, for once, I couldn't admit liability. I had hurt his feeling, I had apologized, there was nothing more I could do.
After our evening fail-proof-schedule-which-happens-every-night, without fail, the FFALWL heats a baby bottle, I lock up and we meet up upstairs in bed...and snuggle. Last night, I went up alone and we didn't snuggle. I had a clear conscience for once and I intended to sleep like a baby. No chest hairs tickling my nose, no human inferno cuddling against me...I could sleep covered by the duvet the entire night! But I woke with a heavy heart; my apologies hadn't worked and there was nothing more I could do.
The FFALWL came downstairs and said, 'So are you going to continue being pissy, or apologise?' HUH?? Then I realised; I always apologize first. I always broach the subject and make amends. The FFALWL, having never had a long term, serious relationship before me, didn't know how to make said amends. Time to teach my man a lesson. I told him I will not be apologizing; I had done so countless times already...and I walked away. Lesson one. He came to me and said, 'Although I don't know why I should be apologising, I will...'. I told him to think again...and I looked away. Lesson two. He came back and said he understood, he loves me, he's sorry. I said thank you, he gave me a kiss. I wished him a good day at work, he winked. My heart was no longer heavy.
My reason for this latest post is not to 'air my dirty laundry in public' (ugh, I detest that saying). Nor is it to boast of a very rare occasion where I am right and he is wrong (OK, maybe a little...), but for an acknowledgement, that we don't always have to admit liability for a quiet life.
And I would also like to offer my strong silent Texan an apology in advance should there be any grumbles over me outing him for being wrong this time...and revelling in it. OK, and loving it too...

Bubbles Which Don't Always Go Pop

This past week something happened. The little bubble in which my little family resides wobbled. It wobbled about so violently, it threatened to pop. So I told myself we need to stay low and huddle together in the middle, and our bubble will stabilize; it would no longer wobble; it wouldn't pop. In our little bubble everyone huddled together, but the bubble continued to wobble. I didn't get it...I thought we were huddling together, doing what we could to keep our little world intact. I felt confused and disoriented, I felt as though I wasn't doing all I could to protect the little bubble in which my little family resides.
This past week I have had a feeling of discontent and uttered many grumbles. Its as though I have had the worlds troubles balanced squarely on my shoulders. Something did not feel right in my little bubble.
Then, after a monster grumble, I saw it...Mamma was so busy running around trying to please the people of her world and look after their every whim, that the bubble still wobbled. The bubble was never going to stabilize if Mamma didn't stay low and huddle with her family. Mamma had to be a part of the huddle.

And so this is my first blog post in a number of days. I have had a million and one things I have wanted to say, but this day, I knew I had to listen. To me.
I am one of those people who try and see the positives in anything. I can rationalize most things. I am great at giving advice and listening to others. I try to be perfectly polite as often as I can be. I also try to help as many people as humanly possible. I am generally a nice person which something I am proud of. I am also as tired as your average stay at home Mum. I get tired, I get lonely, I get bored. This happens rarely, but it does happen. Occasionally. And in a previous post, I wrote about how good we all have it. I stand by that. We do. But I think its also OK sometimes to say, 'You know what? I know I have the perfect life, but I'm fed up. I'm tired, I'm weary and I need a break.'
So wherever you are, whoever you are. Whatever you're doing or supposed to be doing whilst reading my latest post...just know that its OK to let it all hang out sometimes. It's OK to steal a few moments for your self, it's OK to say all is not well in your world sometimes and it's OK to know that although you may not be huddled with your family all of the time, your bubble will not pop.