Jemjabella is 10!

And what a weird thought to contemplate, blogging ‘here’ for 10 years.

It’s almost bittersweet, because of late I’ve been hiding away from the bloggy world. A combination of continuous workload + raising a toddler has taken its toll on my time and inspiration, but actually, the real cause of my ‘disappearance’ has been the feeling of Being Watched.

Never before in 10 years have I let anyone dictate to me what I should and shouldn’t write (perhaps unwisely at times; not every post has been… err, sensible) and yet here I am admitting that I’m letting an unidentified threat push me away.

Whatever I decide to do with myself in the long term, the reality is that jemjabella.co.uk isn’t going anywhere. 10 years is too much of my life to let go.

Geo-targeted SEO fail

Had to break my hiatus to share this gem, as discovered by my colleague Jamie:

Queen of the Potty

Isabel has shown a vague interest in the potty on and off for… oh, ages. We had a potty around the house from quite early on, both to normalise the whole peeing-in-a-pot thing and because when she was still actively stool withholding I needed something to squat her over. Anyway, as her interest increased I actually became more and more reliant on nappies. Backwards step, but the thought of trying to potty “train” a toddler during pregnancy was somewhat daunting.

Anyway, while we were on holiday last week, Izz obviously got fed up and decided to take matters into her own hands. I don’t know whether it was because we’d taken disposable nappies on holiday (the thought of a nappy bucket full of wet/pooey nappies for a week was a bit stomach churning) but she started taking herself off to the potty, pulling her trousers down/nappy off, and peeing. Can’t exactly avoid the issue if she requires no intervention from me!

Took the bull by the horns on Sunday and stuck her in some shiny new pants, and she had just the 1 accident when something spooked her in the garden. She went in to nursery yesterday with just pants and lots of spare trousers and didn’t have a single accident. Not only that, BUT — and this is huge, but probably only makes sense if you’re aware of the back-story with Isabel’s poo problems — while I was cooking yesterday evening, she shouted out to me “muuuuum, I need a BIIIIG POO” then took herself off to the potty with a book (wonder who she gets that from) and did just that. No fuss, no holding, no straining or tears. I couldn’t be more pleased :)

Little Holiday

We spent last week in North Wales in a posh central-heated caravan; our last holiday as just the 3 of us (although we went with Karl’s mum). Lovely to get away from the stress of work — don’t get me started — and housework etc. It was supposed to piss it down with rain all week but was surprisingly nice, if a tad chilly.

Unfortunately, the caravan had a flat screen TV. As a no-TV household generally you’d think it’d be nice to have access to the ‘free’ entertainment but it was a pain in the arse. Isabel, who has previously shown absolutely no interest in TV, became obsessed… asking for it within seconds of waking and throwing complete melt-down tantrums when I said no. I wouldn’t have minded her watching it, we were on holiday after all, but I quickly realised that children’s TV these days is puerile shite interspersed with grating adverts clearly designed to trigger the words “mummy, I want…”

Seriously, I caught the last 5 minutes of In The Night Garden (I think?) and was having to hold back the urge to swear at the TV. Nonsensical tosh. Contrast this to the good oldies: Dangermouse, Button Moon etc where people spoke real English and there was some semblance of a storyline.

Anyway, aside from that it was all fine and dandy. Not a great idea to share a teeny queen size caravan bed with daddy + toddler when you’ve got a huge bump, mind you.

The next Van Gogh?

Isabel drew Daddy:

Pretty good likeness for Karl, as I am sure you’ll agree.