Jacob's new bedroom in pictures

Wardrobe - for the bargain price of £5 once we'd doubled our Tesco vouchers for Easter. J-cub isn't particularly keen on Toy Story, but we thought this would last longer than In The Night Garden or Peppa Pig, which were the other options.

The bed - before we'd dispensed with the duvet. Star lamp from Ikea.

Nemo curtains (naturally), futon for guests.

Ikea Trofast toy storage with useful play surface.

Ikea Billy bookcase with all J-cub's crap most important Things.

Very happy J-cub on his bed, before all hell broke loose.

With the curtains shut, it looks like an aquarium. Note J-cub having a happy lie down in the bed, again before he decided that nothing was going to make him sleep there.

We're so very happy with it, it's calm and happy and useful and epitomizes J-cub's Jacobness. We've spent so much time in there over the weekend, playing and starting to put up pictures and wall decals (we didn't want it to be too exciting at first - we obviously failed on that front).

The saga of moving from a cot to a bed

It's high-time that I updated with our experience of moving J-cub from his cot into his new bedroom, and into a bed. As I've mentioned, he has been sleeping so much better recently, that we were starting to seriously doubt whether or not this was a good idea, before he'd even set foot in his new room.

The background: J-cub is a week shy of 26 months. He's a big boy, and when he stands up in his cot (it's a cot, not a cot bed), the rail is below the level of his nipples. He's been able to get his foot onto the rail for months, and I think it's only luck that he hasn't got out. Also, he rolls around a lot at night and wakes himself up smashing into the bars. Soooo, we decided that we should make the move to a bed, less far to fall than if he got over the cot side. As he's in the box room, and overflowing it, we thought we'd switch his bedroom for our second bedroom/spare room/study. We've spent the Easter holidays doing just that - making it all lovely and pretty and nice, taking him to Ikea to choose a bed, and hanging out with friends whose little ones are in beds, so that he could see them in action as it were. (Incidentally, while we were in Ikea I put him in one of the cots and he climbed straight out, which added fuel to my argument that it is Time).

He's been so so excited about his 'big boy bed'. I got the room finished while he napped last Monday, and when he woke up we went in to have a look at it. He totally loved it, he was so excited, he played in there for a good couple of hours, including lots of pretending to go to sleep in the bed.

Cut to bedtime - he was very keen to go to bed (asking to go to bed instead of having a bath etc), and when we got up there he was happily tucked into bed, and had a story. He then asked me to go downstairs (which is our usual routine), I kissed him and left. I came and sat quietly downstairs, then as I could hear him chattering excitedly to himself, I went up to settle him again. In retrospect ... big mistake. HUGE.

He wanted to get up and play, I kept trying to settle him. He got more and more upset. Lots of tears, and tantrums, and he got out of the bed and then refused to go back in. He was happy enough playing, but very, very tired, and very fearful when I mentioned the bed/sleep. I eventually got him settled down again, and I left. There was silence for 10 minutes, and I think he dropped off, then he started screaming again.

This went on for FOUR HOURS. I tried lying with him ("No Mummy No!"), stories, nightlight on and off, quiet, singing, our usual tape of lullabies - changed nappy ... everything I could think of. Thankfully Jamie was home and we could take it in turns.

I offered to bring the cot into his new room, he didn't want it. At 11pm we felt like we had to give up, popped him back in the cot in his old room, and he was asleep in seconds.

I was left feeling awful, all conflicted about what I should have/shouldn't have done, and how to move forwards from there. I thought he was ready, and I didn't think it was safe for him to stay in the cot. We couldn't take the side off the cot now because all the study furniture (computers, lots of guitars and junk) are in his old room with just his cot in the corner, so it wasn't safe. I could have taken the cot into the new room, with the side on or off. Or packed the cot away so it wasn't an option.

It was one of the hardest 4 hours of my parenting life.

And on Tuesday he went to nursery, so we didn't have any time during the day to spend time up there acclimatising. At bedtime on Tuesday, we went through exactly the same situation again. Completely exhausted from the night before, we gave up after just an hour, and put him back in the cot.

Jamie was home with him on Wednesday, and went through the same at naptime, and he slept in the cot. During all of this, J-cub was positive when we mentioned his new room, always answered "Big boy bed!" when we asked him if he wanted to sleep in the bed or the cot, and shook his head when we asked him if he wanted the cot.

We had just about decided that we would take the bed out of his new room, and replace it with the cot, when Wednesday bedtime came around. In a flash of inspiration, I had removed the duvet and spare pillows, leaving just a familiar blanket wrapped around the mattress as a sheet, a very thin cot pillow, and a Grobag.

J-cub has slept in Grobags since he was born, and we were of two minds as to whether we should change to a duvet or not. He really likes duvets, so we thought we'd give it a go. But I think they were just too hot, and he couldn't get comfy under one. He had been very resistant to having a Grobag, once he'd seen the duvet, but when I removed the duvet he seemed to forget all about it, and went into the Grobag without a fuss.

I had sent Jamie downstairs, and having got J-cub onto the bed, and into the Grobag without a fuss, I sat down and started reading. I read, and read, and read. J-cub alternated between cwtching up against me, switching the light on-and-off, and lying down. He didn't once try and get out of bed, and he didn't start shouting "No". And slowly, slowly, he drifted off to sleep.

We didn't hear a single peep out of him until 6.50am the following morning, when he called for us rather than getting out of bed and going for a wander.

And the following day he napped in his bed, after just 25 minutes of reading, and the time has got shorter and shorter ever since :D. He hasn't again asked for the cot, he's told everyone about his big boy bed, and everyone is happy. Ecstatic.

I really, really thought we'd done the wrong thing. I was of half a mind to move everything back into his old room, despite the two solid weeks of work we'd put in to swapping everything around. But it all came up rosy in the end, and J-cub loves his new room with a passion.

Really? Has a year just flown by like that?

When I started to write the date on the whiteboard before school started this morning, I was gobsmacked to realise that it was International Star Wars Day. And immediately, my blogpost from this time last year popped into my head. I can't believe it's been a year since then, it feels like about a second ago. If you didn't read it then, go and read it now.

Today, E and I laughed, and wrote the date a thousand times, and giggled and nudged each other every time anyone mentioned the date. We talked about our favourite scenes and characters, we watched Lego Star Wars stop-motion animation youtube videos for our reinforcers after school.

I even relaxed my no-Star-Wars-related-play at breaktime rule (although I was happy to record that he chose to play football instead).

I wish that I could have shared my dear husband's barmy take on tomorrow's AV vote - read it here, it's hilarious - but thought it might be a little over E's head. It took me long enough to convince him that Star Wars was fiction, rather than a documentary.

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More soon on the saga of the new bedroom - but I just wanted to remind everyone to get out and vote tomorrow. Say yes to AV.

Sleepless in Swansea - An Update

So I need to get this post written in order that I can fully document the nightmare that is trying to introduce J-cub to his new bed.

If you recall, back in January I posted about our attempts to change J-cub's sleep habits using the No-Cry Sleep Solution (NCSS) for toddlers. I'm still raving about this book to all and sundry, although I've yet to come across anyone who's had quite as much success as we seem to have.

Back then, it was taking up to an hour to read him to sleep. We had a delightful few months where it would take less than 15 minutes, and then the time increased, and increased, and increased, so we were often up there for 1-2 hours, reading calmly and quietly while he trampolined in the cot, and giggled and laughed and chattered away, until he eventually drifted off. It wasn't a great hardship, but it really did eat into our evenings and we were starting to feel that we were doing something wrong.

Then, about a week ago (so right in the middle of Operation Move J-cub's Room), he suddenly cracked falling asleep On His Own. I posted the following status on facebook:

Beth is confused... 2 mins of reading to the boy, he stood up and started trampolining in the cot, I said "are you going to lie down and listen to the story?", he said no, so I said "night night then", and came downstairs. Now there is silence. No calls of "Mummy?", no crying, not even any more bouncing. He can't be asleep, surely, after 2minutes, not when we've been averaging 1.5hours of reading to sleep recently...?

And it really was that simple. He just went to sleep on his own. The following night, 5 minutes of reading, then he told me to go away, and went to sleep on his own. Then 1 minute the next night. The night after that, I posted the following:

7 minutes tonight. But I did get caught up in the story I was reading, I could probably have left earlier. I think we've cracked it. What we really need now, is to tip his life upside-down by moving him to a new, exciting bedroom, with new, exciting furniture and pictures and toys and then change the cot for a bed he can get out of and see what effect that has on this awesome new falling-asleep record. Yes.

And there is the crux of the matter. He finally, FINALLY, figured out how to self-soothe (with a high-five to all the other parents out there who choose not to leave their children to cry, but instead instill a sense of comfort and security in their children by always going when they call), right at the point where we had an all-new exciting bedroom and an all-new get-outable big boy bed.

What were we to do? All of Jamie's crap from the study were shoved into Jacob's old room, with just his cot left in the corner. J-cub's new room was beautiful and ready for him. We couldn't back down on our plans then, it would be unworkable, with Jamie unable to use his computer and miscellaneous stuff, and a whole big bedroom just waiting there....

Why you should always check tide tables

Some friends Jamie went to school with spent the last 2 weeks in Wales on holiday, finishing up with 5 days camping nearby at the Three Cliffs Bay caravan park on Gower. We went out to see them on Saturday - the weather forecast had threatened thundery showers but it was glorious and sunny, albeit ridiculously windy.

Three Cliffs Bay is a weird mini-estuary type beach, with a tidal river winding out around the beach and pouring into the sea, cutting the beach off from the cliff-path. There are large stepping stones to take you out onto the beach, but once across you're then foiled by the river doubling back in front of you to cut the beach in half again, meaning that you have to wade if you want to get onto the beach proper.

Having negotiated our way across the stones, we decided not to bother getting out onto the beach itself, and just settled down on a sand spit so J-cub could run around a bit and dabble his toes in the icy cold river-water.

And we got so distracted by rescuing various toys that he kept throwing into the water, that we totally didn't notice the beach (above) disappearing (below)...

Until the water was suddenly lapping around our toes and we beat a hasty (and slightly hysterical) retreat back beyond the tide line. It was at this point that we realised that not only had the beach disappeared - so had the stepping stones. And it was fast approaching half past 6, we had no food for J-cub's tea, and Rowan and Mark had dinner reservations at a fancy restaurant. While J-cub happily surveyed our consternation from on high...

...our friend Mark went to investigate how deep the stones were. At just over ankle-deep, and with the tide still coming in, we decided to risk it. J-cub clung to me for all he was worth and Mark waded across the river alongside me to catch us if we fell. But we didn't. We reached the other side safely and I berated myself for not checking the tide times before we came out. Because I always do. I was brought up to respect the sea, and I forgot, and it laughed in my face.

Still, I'll remember next time. The above picture shows me lying down to calm my beating heart, with J-cub berating me to "Det UP, Mummy!" He then spent the rest of our time there throwing rocks and sticks into the river, in an attempt to copy Mark who was expertly skimming stones.

Then he crouched for ages at the edge of the water, dipping dry stones into the water to watch them change colour.

By the time we left, the tide was on its way out again, and the stepping stones were almost visible. We live and learn.

An owl's versatile toe can move backwards and forwards

The wonderfully gorgeous Skip at Skippedydoodah tagged me with a versatility award, diolch Skip! (That's me showing my language versatility, innit). In googling versatility (not because I don't know what it means, but just to find something interesting to use as the title for this blog post), I found the above quote. And looked no further, because what could be better than the versatility of an owl's toe?

So I have to share 7 things about myself then pass the baton on to some more deserving peeps.

So, hmmm.

1. I love horses. I realised the other day, at a babywearing picnic where the subject suddenly turned to horses, and lots of the ladies there had horses or loved horses or take their children riding, that I don't think I talk enough about them as people don't seem to know this about me. I grew up totally and utterly horse-mad. My bedroom had not a single inch of wall visible - it was all covered with pictures of horses, all my shelves had model horse toys on them, and my bedroom floor was a complex stable yard made up of cardboard box stables bedded down with sawdust and with teeny haynets made from those little nets you get chocolate coins at Christmas in. It drove my mother batty. I worked 5 jobs throughout my teen years to pay for my 2 ponies. I was heartbroken when I had to leave my horse when I came away to University, and again when my sister didn't have time for her a couple of years later and she was sold. Riding is too expensive, and it makes me sad that I can't do it any more. But when I can't sleep, I have an imaginary house with 2 stables outside, and I can go and see my horses there. Because that's the kind of nut-job I am.

2. My first doll was called Batty. I was given her when my sister was born, and I remember it perfectly. She was a Tiny Tears, and I loved her with all my heart. My mum tried to persuade me to change her name to Patty. But no, I was adamant she was called Batty, and so she remained. 2 days ago, I found her in a bag in the loft, and brought her down for J-cub. He took one look at her and shouted "No baby! Jacob baby!" and threw her on the floor. J-cub likes pretending to be my baby at the moment, and no-one else can get close.

3. There's a fairly common dessert, which begins with a P and consists of lots of little round things, which I can't bear to see or hear the name of. I can't look at them, I can't smell them, and if someone mentions them I think I'm going to be sick. That's enough of that.

4. I have had at least 20 jobs. Let's see. Babysitter, cleaner (houses), cleaner (holiday homes), dog-walker, riding instructor, waitress, play-worker, catering assistant, silver-service waitress, cloakroom attendant, barmaid, nightclub door money-taker person, credit controller, billing analyst, customer service rep, receptionist, Yellow Pages deliverer, electronic note taker, support worker, braille translator, DJ, teaching assistant, and behavioural therapist. That's 23. Well done me for being fickle.

5. I was 11 miles away from the epicentre of the 1989 earthquake in San Francisco when I was 10 years old. I have never experienced anything more frightening, and can clearly remember every second, plus the 12 hours or so afterwards while my Dad drove us as far and as fast away as he could.

6. I love going out and doing exciting things with my little family, but I get more excited about coming home and looking at the photographs I've taken. I'm not really sure what that says about me.

7. And since it was Skip that tagged me, I'm sure she won't mind me pinching one of her's, since I had the exact same thing happen to me. Here's Skip's 4th thing:

#4 – For years I pronounced “foliage” as “foilage”. I finally realised when I had to read aloud in my A-LEVEL English Literature class and it came up several times in one passage, to the accompaniment of the hysterical laughter of the other students. I was 17. It was bad, seeing as I am meant to be a writer.

And mine - for years I pronounced "inevitable" as "ineh-vit-able". I finally realised when I had to read aloud in my A-level Biology class and it came up once in the first paragraph, to the accompaniment of the hysterical laughter of the other students. I was 17. It was bad, because I already felt pretty stupid around all the Doctors-to-be who were in my class, and I still dwell on it every time I come across the damn word, 14 years later.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

So thanks for that last one Skip, and for the tag. As Crush would say in Finding Nemo, "Noggins, Dude".

And noggins go to the following...

Rhian at Working Mum - amazing Mammi and awesome friend who copes admirably well with everything life chucks at her. I <3 you Rhian ;)

Emily at The Tangled Yarn - musician, smallholding creator and lovely new Mum.

and Issi at Peekaboo Me! - cos it might just remind her that it's *whisper* almost a year since her last blogpost, and I miss her writing! No guilt trip at all, just <3 to you issi ;) x

Conversations with Jacob

It seems to have crept up on us - the fact that when J-cub turned 2 less than 2 months ago, he was saying single words, with the occasional 2 word sentence chucked in (albeit gobsmacking us with one 6-word string), but we're now having conversations with him all the time, and the abstract concepts he's capable of vocalising are a far-cry from the nouns he was using back then.

In the hour today since he's been awake after his nap, we've had the following exchanges:

Me [lifting J-cub out of his cot]: "Jacob, you're going to have about 2 or 3 more sleeps in your cot, then you're going to have a new bed!"

J-cub: "Big boy bed. Big! Big Jacob Weemeeya!" [Big boy Jacob like Amelia]

Me: "That's right! You'll have a big boy's bed just like Amelia's." [points to J-cub's new bed standing up in the hallway]

J-cub: "Big bed mine! Happy!"

A little later, at snack-time...

Me: "Jacob, do you want some Cheerios?"

J-cub: "No. No snack. Snack! Couscous! Dat couscous, dee." [That couscous, please]

Me: "Okay, do you want Quorn pieces in it?"

J-cub: "Yes! Yes dee Mummy!" [yes please Mummy - accompanied by enthusiastic nodding]

J-cub happily sits and eats a whole bowl of couscous with Quorn pieces and red pesto, shunning the Cheerios in the snack pot in front of him.

He had some milk afterwards, drank about half the cup then handed it to me and said...

J-cub: "Enough! Didge. Muck didge." [Fridge. Milk in the fridge]

And now he's pretending to eat his welly boots, and laughing cos he knows it's funny to eat footwear.

And yesterday when Tilly had the audacity to sit on the sofa when J-cub also wanted to sit on the sofa, he came and crawled into my lap and buried his head in my chest...

J-cub: "No Tilly no! Get down Tilly!"

Me: "Listen, Tilly's purring. That means she's happy to sit here with you. Are you happy?"

J-cub: "No! Jacob sad" [made a sad face and hung his head] [I may have laughed a bit, but then I kindly shoved Tilly off]

Me: "Are you happy now?"

[J-cub looked at me from under his fringe and laughed]