Travelling with babies

For Easter this year we headed over to England to spend a long weekend with my family. It was fantastic - lots of fun and good food, and it was great to spend some quality time with the family I don't get to see very often.

Unfortunately, it also meant sitting on a plane for one-and-a-half hours each way with a restless, fidgeting baby.

My little globetrotter

This wasn't the first time Lydia had been on a plane. In fact, it was her fourth trip to England in less than a year. I first took her to England in June last year, when she was a tiny baby of just seven weeks. On the flight to England on that occasion, she slept for the entire journey. On the way back she was awake, but calmly laid on my lap without making a fuss.

Her second trip, for my brother James' wedding to Kelly (see this blog entry), was at the end of July 2011. By this time, she was three months old, and had obviously developed a lot since the June trip. Once again she stayed calm on both flights, although we had to work hard to keep her entertained by playing with her and reading her the in-flight easyJet magazine.

The third time Lydia got on a plane was in December when we went to England for Mockmas ("What is Mockmas?" I hear you ask - all is explained in this blog entry). That, my friends, was not a fun flight. Lydia was very squirmy, and it was a struggle to keep her from screaming and crying. The flight back was much better, although she was still a bit restless.

What we learnt from these past trips was that it is incredibly important to make sure your children have something to do on the plane, something to keep them busy for the duration of the flight. Give them food, toys, games, whatever. Just give them something. Oh, and it doesn't hurt to cross your fingers and pray for them to be good.

Bearing this in mind, my wife Christelle and I were not necessarily looking forward to the flight to England for Easter. Lydia has grown up a lot since her last time on a plane; at Mockmas she was not yet crawling, whereas now she loves the independence of moving around wherever she wants on all fours. That meant getting her to sit still for the full ninety minute flight was probably going to be a much tougher challenge now than in December.

Tougher it certainly was. We stopped in a shop at Geneva airport to buy some colouring pencils and paper so Lydia would have something to do on the flight, and also brought some biscuits for her to snack on. Unfortunately, after boarding and taking our seats we were informed that our take off would be delayed by at least fifteen minutes to do a queue of planes waiting to depart. That meant Lydia would have to sit still for even longer than planned. Oh dear...

And, of course, Lydia wasn't happy. She understandably wanted to move around, as that's what she does the whole time she is awake. At her age she cannot understand why she isn't allowed to get up and move around, so naturally she moaned. We gave her a pencil and tried to get her to colour on some paper, but I think she is too young for this at the moment (she is only eleven months old) so it didn't keep her interested for long.

After that we fed her some biscuits, but that only brought a temporary ceasefire. Once she had had enough of the biscuits, the moaning started again. She cried, screamed, wiggled, squirmed and kicked at us, with my wife and I taking it in turns to have Lydia on our lap to share the burden.

I purposely avoided looking around at any other passengers on the plane as I knew we must have been getting a good few tuts and stares, with people muttering "Why can't they shut their baby up?". These kind of people are - generally speaking - inconsiderate idiots. Do they seriously think parents can flick an off switch on their baby's back to stop the crying? Or turn down a volume dial somewhere? Parents are often helpless to stop a baby crying, and can only resort to cuddles, food, drink or toys (usually a mixture of all of these) in often futile attempts at restoring peace. I remember once seeing an old-ish French woman on a flight telling a frustrated mother to stop her baby from crying. Another, more understanding passenger then told the old-ish woman to "fuck off". Well said sir, although the profanity wasn't strictly necessary.

When the flight finally landed and we trudged off to get through customs and collect our suitcase, we were pretty knackered. Lydia hadn't slept during the flight despite it being during her normal nap time, so was irritable and restless. I think it is safe to say we did not enjoy that particular flight.

The weekend with my family was fantastic. On the Friday night we had a drinks and a meal out with my friends while my parents looked after Lydia, giving Christelle and I the perfect way to unwind after such a rough flight. All throughout the weekend we had the nagging reminder in the back of our minds that we had the return flight to come on Monday, and with it the likelihood of once again being trapped in a tin can at thirty thousand feet with a whiny baby and the disapproving looks of many fellow travellers.

The return flight was once again at a time when Lydia should be enjoying her afternoon nap. However, given our experience on Friday we didn't hold out much hope that she would actually sleep on the plane. Lydia isn't a baby who falls asleep easily, and almost never falls asleep anywhere apart from her own bed.

As we took our seats on the plane, we fed Lydia some grapes that we had bought at Luton airport, in the hope that she would remain calm. Having eaten quite a few grapes (well, I say eaten, but what I really mean is she sucked out the juice and then spat the grapes out), she then began to show signs of being irritable once again.

Christelle and I exchanged a glance where our tired eyes both seemed to say "oh no, not again". Chris pulled Lydia onto her nap and sang gently in Lydia's ear, whilst also making sure Lydia had Globear (her favourite teddy bear) firmly in her grasp. Lydia continued to making little frustrated moans for a while, and then - all of a sudden - a miracle happened.

Lydia fell asleep.

She was on Chris' lap, in a plane, with lights and noise all around. But she still fell asleep.

From our point of view, this was a landmark moment. Totally unexpected, but thoroughly appreciated.

Despite us being seated behind a young girl of maybe three or four years old who screamed loudly at her parents on a very regular basis, Lydia slept through the entire flight, waking up just before we landed.

She was then as good as gold for the rest of the trip back home and until she went to bed in the evening.

Sometimes you just cannot predict how a baby will behave during a flight. Lydia has now been on a total of eight individual flights, of which she slept through two, sat calmly for two, squirmed and whinged through three and cried loudly through one. It really is a mixed bag.

I would like to offer some advice for anyone travelling with babies, but it really depends on the personality of the baby. If you have a baby who is generally calm and quiet, who can happily entertain himself with a toy for an hour or so then it is much easier; all you have to do is bring a toy with you, plus some food in case it's his meal time. If you have a baby that can sleep easily in any situation or location, then that's even easier - just do what you do to get him to sleep and you can then relax through the rest of the flight.

If you have a baby like Lydia who is active, interested in everything going on around her, and struggles to fall asleep if they aren't in their own bed, it can be a nightmare. Bring toys, food, drink, games or anything else that might hold their attention for a few minutes at a time. If there are two of you travelling with your baby then take it in turns trying to keep the baby entertained, to share the workload.

Most importantly, prefer yourself mentally for the worst case scenario of a terribly whiny, screaming, squirmy baby. It will help you to be ready for the battle for tranquillity, should it happen, and it will also help you feel truly surprised and grateful if the opposite happens.

Having said that, I'm still not looking forward to our next flight with Lydia in June...

The world through Lydia's eyes: Waking Up

It's dark. Very dark.

They must have closed those metal things over the window again.

I can see pretty well though. Over the last few months, my eyes have adapted well to being in the dark. Wonder if that's down to all those carrots I've been eating?

[big stretch, cough, small burp]

Ok, quick status report: I'm in my bed, lying on my side. For some reason my head is at the wrong end of the bed, again. Who keeps moving me during the night? I'm tucked up warm in my sleeping bag. I'm hungry.

Right, let's have a look around-- AAARGH!! What the hell is that??!?

Oh wait, it's just the giant stuffed penguin that Daddy insists on putting in my bed. Stupid penguin, can't wait until I can talk so I can tell Daddy I don't actually like penguins.

[punches penguin]

Take that you stupid penguin!

Right, back to looking around. Looks like nothing has changed since last night. Good - I don't like change.

Hmm, definitely hungry now. It's about time I got a clean nappy, too.

Well I know how to sort this out - same thing that works every morning, I'll just call Maman and Daddy...

Maman? Daddy?
Hello?
I'm awake! Feed me!
No wait, change me then feed me!
Hello?
Maman?
Daddy?

Hmm. They haven't answered. They always take ages to come. That is so annoying.
That little plastic thing with the light on it somehow makes them come and see me.

[stands up, holds onto the bed railing as close to baby monitor as possible]

This should be close enough. Here we go again...

MAMAN? DADDY?
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I'M AWAKE AND I'M HUNGRY!
IF YOU DON'T COME SOON, I'LL ADD AN EXTRA SOMETHING TO MY NAPPY!

[muttered noises from outside]

Aha! Success!

[door opens, Maman walks in]

Heh heh heh, works everytime.

Hey Maman! I missed you!
Come, let's see what's in my nappy.

[picked up and cuddled by Maman]

No, I don't want a hug, just change the friggin' nappy.

[Maman continues cuddling]

I said, I don't want a hug - I'm wet and hungry, just get on with it will you?
And where's my milk?

[pushes away from Maman, gets laid down on the changing table]

Alright, Maman seems to be learning. Only had to get a little bit physical that time.

[nappy gets changed]

Ah, finally. That's better, feel much cleaner now.

[Maman makes silly faces and noises]

Look, you've sorted out the messy bit, let's get a move on and feed me, shall we?

[Maman continues to make silly faces, sings songs]

I don't think she's listening to me.
I said, I'M HUNGRY! GIVE ME MY BOTTLE!

[kicks Maman in the face]

Don't make me hurt you woman!
TAKE ME TO MY BOTTLE!

[Maman tells Lydia off, picks her up]

Aha, success. Right, so kicking her in the face gets me picked up? Excellent, I'll remember that one.

Life looks like it might not be so tough after all!


...TO BE CONTINUED...

Living our dreams through our children

Recently I did some research on the Internet to find ways of encouraging a child's creative side, boosting their imagination and skills at the same time. I also looked for ways to help a child enjoy sports and being outdoors. My motives were to ensure Lydia's future could be whatever she wanted it to be, and that she wouldn't be stuck inside playing video games and watching TV while the world outside passed her by.

During my research I found countless articles about pushy parents, those who practically force their own children to do a ridiculous amount of activities outside of school, often to the extreme of depriving them of being a child. Examples of this include parents forcing their children to have insanely busy after school schedules, with ballet lessons, soccer practise, piano practise and various other musical or sporting lessons.

I read an article on the Psychology Today website (which you can read here) on this very subject. One parent in question wondered why her 9 year old son was complaining that he was tired all the time, despite the fact that she had set up a series of extracurricular activities for him that included "three team sports, church activities, scouts and ... piano lessons twice a week". When the psychologist mentioned that this might be the cause of his tiredness, she said she was simply giving her son all the opportunities that she never had when she was a child. This is probably very reasonable thinking, as we all want our children to enjoy their lives and have every opportunity available to them. However, this kind of thing has to be done in moderation.

In the article the interviewer went on to speak with the child, who mentioned that he missed playing with the other kids in his neighbourhood, doing activities like riding their bikes or having water balloon fights. A parent pushing their kid to do lots of activities might have good intentions, but there should be some logical limits. These children may well be learning instruments and actively taking part in sports - both good things - but they don't have time to indulge in the activity of a little something called childhood. We all say that children grow up too quickly, but through overloading their children some parents might be the reason for this.

The worst examples of pushy parenting that I found related to child beauty pageants. In all honesty, I had never heard of beauty pageants for children before. Beauty contests for adults aren't really that mainstream in England, but over in the USA it's far more common. However, I was very surprised to see that this kind of contest exists for children as well. One article I found (you can read it online on the Daily Mail website here) explains the extremes that one mother puts her 9 year old daughter through, just to try to win a beauty contest. This includes dying her hair, gluing veneers onto her teeth and - worse of all - waxing her eyebrows. This poor girl is only 9 years old, yet she's having hot wax applied to her face and then yanked off so she'll have the eyebrows that her mother thinks she should have.

If you thought that was bad enough, the same article goes on to mention a mother giving her FOUR YEAR OLD daughter a fake tan in the bath tub, in preparation for a beauty pageant. Seriously? I did a double take when I read the girl's age, I couldn't believe what I was reading. Apparently the little girl was crying while she was waiting for the spraying to start. Can't say I blame her really. That, to me personally, is awful parenting.

What kind of values is this teaching the young girls? That image is everything? Spending all your time (and money) trying to look good is the right way to succeed in life?

This got me to thinking about how some parents want to live their own dreams through their children. If a mother always wanted to win beauty pageants and be Miss Texas/America/World/Universe but never quite got that chance, she decides her daughter will have to do it instead. This isn't the daughter's choice at all - they are thrust into this world of hairspray and makeup, of fake tans, hair, nails and teeth, from ridiculously young ages, where they should be playing with dolls and My Little Pony instead of spending hours in front of the mirror with an obsessed mother and a suitcase full of cosmetics.

Similarly, I could imagine other parents who wanted to be famous musicians or footballers (or insert your favourite sport here) pushing their children to go down the path that was never open to their parents, either through lack of talent or lack of opportunity. Whether it is intentional or through our subconscious, we might actually be trying to make our children live the dreams we had for ourselves when we were young(er).

Ever since I began to imagine having children of my own, I started to think about how they would grow up. Like some of the pushy parents mentioned above, I wanted them to have as many options open to them as possible, to allow them to explore their own paths in life, wherever those paths might lead them. I knew that if my child told me they wanted to learn guitar then I would do everything I could to help them, likewise if they said they dreamt of being a professional footballer I would happily go to every practise session and match for moral support. However, I would never force them to do something they didn't want to do.

Looking to the future, I wonder how I can help nurture Lydia's creativity and imagination. I want her to have a creative outlet, a means of expressing her thoughts or feelings in some constructive way. Some people paint, others play musical instruments, some even write blogs... But how do you get a child interested in art or music or the power of the mighty pen?

Well, with computerisation that last one should probably read "mighty keyboard", but that just doesn't have the same ring to it.

At 9 months old Lydia is not quite at an age where she can display her creative, artistic side. I don't expect her to pick up a paintbrush, climb on top of her wardrobe and turn the ceiling of her room into a modern-day version of the Sistine Chapel. To be perfectly honest, I would be impressed if she picked up a paintbrush and didn't put it straight in her mouth.

I think it might be a good few years yet before Lydia asks me to buy her a Fender Stratocaster, or a pair of Adidas football boots. In the meantime, I'm focused on ways of finding out at this early age if she displays a natural talent for either music or art, or just to find happiness in doing some such activity. If I see she likes something, I plan to encourage her to do that, for as long as she keeps enjoying it.

Lydia, the talented
xylophonist

We've got the musical side fairly well covered. Lydia has at least three toys that have small musical keyboards on them, playing a different note for each key pressed. She also has a toy xylophone, complete with two small drums and a little cymbal to allow her to make different sounds with each hit of the drumstick. I've also tried giving her a couple of saucepans and wooden spoons to see if she would delight in making loud noises. Up until now, she hasn't really taken to any of these music forms. The closest she has come is shoving the drumstick in her mouth. These toys are around the house for Lydia to play with if she chooses; I show her how it is done (i.e. by pressing a few keys on the keyboard to play a little tune) but then leave her to try it herself if she wants to. If she ignores the toy then I don't force the issue.

We also sing to Lydia as often as possible, to help her pick up a sense of rhythm. I know research says that babies can hear music while they're still in their mother's womb, but I found it really odd to be singing to my wife's stomach, so I waited until I could hold her in my arms before I treated her to my questionable singing ability.

Children in general like the rhythmic sound of nursery rhymes, even when they are sung by a guy with a terrible, gruff singing voice whose attempts at hitting high notes sound eerily similar to the sound a man makes when hit between the legs. Regardless, I sing to her as often as possible. My knowledge of songs targeted at children is fairly limited, to I have often resorted to singing songs that I know. This means Lydia has at various times listened to the Stereophonics, Pearl Jam, Michael Jackson, Linkin Park, Usher, Elvis Presley and Elton John, all interspersed with the occasional rendition of "Mockingbird" and "Row, row, row your boat". At least I can say I'm introducing her to a wide range of music.

We play CDs of nursery rhymes, and also play her music by Mozart in the evening to help her fall asleep. Generally speaking, we're making sure Lydia is exposed to music on a daily basis. Hopefully this will encourage her to enjoy music as she gets older, but again this is her choice. Everyone has their own musical style, and if she ends up as a Slipknot fan then so be it (although in this case I would ask her to listen to their music with her headphones on).

On a personal level, one of my genuine regrets in life is that I never learnt a musical instrument. When I was young, around the age of 8 or 9, I started learning guitar at my school. It was in a class of around 10 students, lasting maybe 30 minutes or so. I don't remember learning anything, and unfortunately gave up after only a couple of lessons. Many years later, at the age of 19, I bought a Fender electric guitar and resolved to teach myself through books and DVDs and daily practise. Gradually, over the course of several weeks of sporadic strumming, my guitar playing decreased until it eventually sat in the corner gathering dust. Finally, I ended up selling the virtually unused guitar at age 27 to raise funds for my wedding. I said goodbye to my guitar and to my dreams of being a rock star.

My tale might have turned out differently if I had stuck to those early guitar lessons, or actually paid for a real tutor for my second attempt at learning. At 29, I think I'm too old to really learn an instrument, mainly because I simply don't have the free time these days (raising a child is quite time consuming, believe me). So, my dreams pass onto my children, with Lydia the first in line.

As mentioned above, I don't want to force her to do anything she doesn't want to do. I want Lydia to make her own choices. If she turns to me and says she wants to try learning the guitar or piano or any other instrument (hopefully not drums; we're on pleasant terms with our neighbours at the moment and I would like to keep it that way) I would happily encourage her and do what I can to let her give it a go. If she says she isn't really enjoying it, I would advise her to give it a bit longer and see how it goes, simply because she might like it when she gets better at it. I wouldn't force her to continue though, and if she really wasn't enjoying it I would agree for her to stop and move on to something else.

On an artistic note, as a child I enjoyed drawing. A pencil and paper could give me hours of fun, my imagination inspiring the scribbles on the paper. When I was around 10 years old, I won a colouring contest at a holiday camp in England. As far as I can remember, this is the only time in my life when I have actually won a competition. Progressing through to my teenage years, I showed signs of promise in art class at school, regularly getting A grades for my homework and classwork. My old art homework books are still in my parents' loft, so I might dig them out to see what my drawings look like now (in case my memory has been clouded through the years, distorting my view of my own skills at the time). I remember my art teacher was saddened when I opted not to take art as a course for my GSCE studies. I was quite good at it, but I always saw drawing more as a hobby than anything else. Since leaving school I would occasionally doodle on paper, but have never tried to do anything more arty than that.

I would like to encourage Lydia to try drawing, painting and colouring, and that should be fairly easy as children tend to enjoy scribbling on paper and making a mess with paint. When she is old enough I'll introduce her to crayons and paint, and see if she has fun with it. Hopefully she will, and will keep her artwork going, as it might prove to be a useful outlet for her emotions in the future.  If she does turn out to have a talent for drawing it will probably have come down to her through my genes; my wife' has a great many talents and skills, but drawing is not one of them, something she has proven through her attempts at playing Pictionary with me and my family. I know that the field of art is incredibly broad, and that it is unbelievably difficult to actually make a living as an artist, so would never expect my daughter to look upon being an artist as a future, but I would be delighted if Lydia simply enjoyed drawing or painting on canvas just for the sheer fun of it.

The same thing goes to any sporting activity. I know this won't necessarily help to nurture any creative side of her persona, but it would have many benefits in her life, both psychological and physical.

When I was young, I played for my village's rugby team, because my dad was an avid rugby fan who played for the village's adult rugby team for many years, and he wanted me to share this with him. Unfortunately, I simply did not like rugby. I didn't like standing around in the cold, or getting my clothes, hands and face all muddy from the rolling around on the ground that rugby requires. After a while, I convinced my dad that rugby was not for me. Fortunately for him, my younger twin brothers did like playing rugby, so they had that as a common sport for many years.

The combination of living in a small village with poor transport connections and a crippling personal shyness meant I didn't really find a sporting activity that I did on a regular basis. Football was my favourite sport, but the village didn't have a football team, so the only opportunity I got to play this was with my brothers (and later during Physical Education lessons at secondary school). My sporting side was relatively ignored, and to this day I don't take part in any regular sport. I don't think I was a particularly skilled footballer, and probably wouldn't have gotten anywhere within the world of football, but at least being part of a team might have built my teamwork skills and helped a bit with my shyness, with the possibly of making new friends.

For those reasons, I want Lydia to explore her sporty side. I would like for her to try as many sports as possible, and see if there is one that she takes particular pleasure in playing. Whether this is football, hockey, tennis or any other sport, I would be delighted if she became part of a local sports team. Again, I wouldn't push her to keep playing a sport if she told me she wasn't enjoying it. As long as she gets regular exercise in some form or other, that would be enough for me. This certainly isn't a way of me living my dream, as I was never particularly sporty. Ok, so at various times I played for the school football, hockey and athletics teams, but I personally don't think I was any good at any of them and couldn't imagine pursuing any sport further. I can, however, imagine going to watch my daughter's team play, standing on the sidelines shouting words of encouragement and support for my darling daughter, every inch the proud father.

Perhaps that is the main reason why some parents goes to such extraordinary lengths to push their children to succeed in all those activities, because of the sense of pride they get from seeing their child do well. That's perfectly normal - every parent wants their kids to succeed. It's just those darn pushy parents who take it too far, in my honest opinion.

I wonder if a hidden desire to be proud of my daughter is partly responsible for me wanting Lydia to be musical, artistic and sporty. Maybe somewhere deep inside me there lives a pushy parent, ready to replace Lydia's childhood with a hectic schedule of learning in a desperate bid to make her the successful musician/artist/sportsperson that I never was?

I sincerely doubt it.

I am already very proud of my daughter. Every time she does something new, often unexpected, I'm filled with pride. It never ceases to amaze me how babies learn things all by themselves. From rolling over, to crawling, to walking and everything in between, a baby's ability to teach itself is simply a thing of wonder.

Following Lydia's development has already been such a rewarding process for me personally, and I look forward to the future, watching her grow up and become whatever she wants to be.

...with a few gentle prods and suggestions from her loving father.

Oh, to be a kid again...

It seems like such a long time since I was a kid. The carefree days where the only worry was what mischief to get up to next, in a busy schedule of constant playtime interrupted only by silly things like eating, sleeping and school.

Those were the days.

The world seen through the eyes of a child is a wondrous, magical place, until we get older and the daily grind dooms us to a life of monotony and responsibility. The end of every school day brought such happiness to our young selves, a delight in the possibility of playing with our latest toy, or making houses and forts out of boxes and bedsheets at home.

The older you get, the less interested you are in playing with traditional childrens toys. The action figures are replaced by computer games, the Barbie dolls replaced by makeup and the latest fashion. The world becomes less a place of wonder and more a place of opportunity mixed with fear. Exams at school, going to college or university, finding a job or starting a career, moving out and beginning to act like an adult. It's a big, scary place out there, once you finally fly solo from your parents' nest and attempt to stake a claim to your own little piece of the world.

We never appreciate how great it is to be young until we become adults. As kids, we long to grow up quickly because we want to do what the big people do. Teenagers want to be old enough to drive and gain their freedom, and also to legally buy alcohol, whilst learning more about the opposite sex (once you get past the "ewww, girls have cooties" phase, that is). We want to be older so we can do the things that we think are the best parts about being a grown up, without considering all the extra burden the adults carry on their shoulders. Everything from bills to taxes to buying food and clothes, all things that children don't have to think about.

All they have to do, essentially, is be a kid. Play, have fun, use your imagination, be creative. Children, ultimately, are free. Ok, so they have to listen to their parents, do their chores and maintain a basic level of hygiene, but that's it. That's all we ask of them. The rest of the time they can do what they want (within reason, of course).

So many possibilities...

I remember growing up with my sister and my twin brothers, and all the games we would play together. Every summer we would get out our LEGOs and make a LEGO town on the floor of our bedroom. We would spend the entire summer just building things, occasionally adding a train track or an airport, which the little LEGO men would use to go on holiday (this usually meant putting them on the other side of the room until it was time for them to come home).

All the little LEGO men had names and their own houses; my first man was called "Stripey", mainly because he wore a stripey t-shirt. Ok, so my imagination wasn't overly stretched with that one.

The point is, nothing ever really happened in our LEGO town. It isn't the kind of toy that you play with, as the main idea is to use your mind to create something new. Occasionally we would spend an hour or so making it look as though their had been a car accident on the street, with bricks scattered across the road and the passersby looking on in shock or rushing to help. The rest of the time, we would build. The LEGO town would remain on the floor of our bedroom for the entire duration of the school summer holiday, and we would play with it for at least an hour or so every single day. LEGO is one of those timeless toys that inspires creativity, limited only by the depth of the child's imagination.

Plastic heroes

Action Man was another toy that was good value for money, as my brothers and I would play for hours making battles between the warring factions of plastic men. We would painstakingly set the scene, moving chairs, boxes, blankets and anything else we could get our hands on into place to offer hiding places to the defending army that was about to come under attack. In our minds we were building the enemy fortress, which the brave good soldiers would storm to wipe out the bad guys.

Hours would pass playing with our toys in this way, usually only ending because it was dinner time. It would then take an hour or so to tidy up afterwards, but we didn't mind because the game was so much fun.

When I look back at the days where every spare moment was a potential playtime, I always feel a pang of sadness at the realization that those days are over for me. I'm an adult, a husband and a father, with a job to go to and a whole stack of bills to pay each month. I have the responsibility of looking after my family. I can't spend my days building LEGO towns or helping Action Man defeat Doctor X.

Fortunately, all it not lost, as now I am a father.

My daughter has just turned nine months old, and is beginning to reach an age where she can play with her toys in a more meaningful way. Suddenly, I have realised that my toy-playing days might not be over just yet. I'm about to embark upon a playtime renaissance, and this time I'm going to make sure I enjoy it.

It won't quite be the same this time around as I doubt my daughter will want to play war games with action figures for boys. Action Man will instead be replaced by Barbie, and his guns and battles replaced by fluffy bunnies and tea parties. But at least I'll get to use my imagination again. I'll be able to switch my mind off of worrying about the finances and trying to act responsible and just have fun playing with my daughter, getting her to be creative and - above all - to enjoy her childhood.

As a bonus, some kids toys are aimed at both sexes. LEGO, for example, can be played with by girls just as much as by boys. I already can't wait for Lydia to be old enough to play with LEGO bricks (instead of eating them), as I think I will enjoy it as much as she will. In the meantime, we've already given her a tub of wooden building blocks to encourage her constructive side, and help her on her way up to LEGO town.

As you can see above, I've already started relieving my toy-playing days. I only hope that Lydia doesn't grow up too quickly, so I get to enjoy as much playtime as possible.

Crawling, crawling, crawling

I finished work for the Christmas holidays on the 21st December. Aside from the upcoming festivities of Christmas itself, the 22nd December looked like being a day like any other. Until something unexpected happened...

On my first day off, I was sat on the carpet with my 8 month (and 1 day) old daughter Lydia, trying to get her to play with one of her many, many toys. Christelle was sitting on the sofa next to us, and we both watched as Lydia propped herself up on her hands and knees and did her familiar bobbing motion. She had been doing this for a couple of weeks now, but would always end up rolling onto her back (and then usually giving out a cry of frustration). She couldn't seem to master the coordination required to actually move herself forwards.

So, we sat and watched as she continued bobbing on her hands and knees, expecting her to get annoyed at any moment. What we didn't expect, however, was to see her suddenly crawl several steps forward and reach out to grab the Christmas tree. Christelle and I looked at each other in surprise, both unsure if what we had just witnessed had really happened.

We quickly congratulated Lydia and then tried to encourage her to do it again. To our continued amazement, she crawled again. Tears of joy and pride welled up in both our eyes. Our little girl had worked out how to move around, all by herself.

I wish it could be Christmas everyday...

Earlier in the year, we decided that we wanted Lydia's first Christmas to be at home, for her to wake up on Christmas morning with the Christmas tree and decorations everywhere, and open her presents in her own home. That's why we ended up having an early Christmas - or Mockmas - in England in early December (see "A Very Merry Mockmas").

We also invited Chris' parents (Nelly and Bernard), sister (Caroline) and her husband (Pascal), round for the day, mainly because I had decided to try my hand at cooking the traditional roast turkey dinner and wanted to share this with them. I had never cooked a turkey before, although I did watch my mum prepare and cook the giant turkey we had at Christmas in England in 2010 (see "So... What's New?").

Plans for the turkey dinner started earlier in the year, as I chose what I wanted to cook as part of the meal. I wanted it to be as traditional as possible, to show my Swiss family how we eat at Christmas in England, so I opted to accompany the turkey with roast potatoes and parsnips, stuffing, carrots and green beans, all smothered in a nice gravy. I would have cooked Brussel sprouts as well, but I wanted everyone to actually enjoy the meal so decided to leave these out.

A Very Merry Mockmas

As mentioned in my last post (Countdown to Mockmas), at the beginning of December we headed over to England to celebrate our Christmas before Christmas, affectionately named Mockmas. This meant taking Lydia on her third flight to my home land - what a little jetsetter!



How to get a baby through
the security checkpoint

Admittedly the flight over wasn't as easy as it could have been, as Lydia was not in a good mood. A squirming, whinging baby does not make for good company on a flight, even if it was only for an hour and a half.

Needless to say, it was quite a relief when we landed and got off the plane.

Lydia cheered up straight away, even managing a nice big smile for her Nan when she picked us up at the airport.

A day of shopping was on the cards for Chris and I during our first full day in England, getting those last-minute presents for the family ready in time for Mockmas.



Lydia with her
great aunt Ruby

 In the afternoon, Ruby and Jack - my mum's aunt and uncle and therefore Lydia's great great aunt and great great uncle - came over for tea. We don't get to see them often, although my brother James had invited them to his wedding in the summer, and it was great to see how happy she was while giving Lydia a cuddle.

We had arranged this get-together for a while, and we could tell Ruby was looking forward to it. When arranging a time for her to come round, my mum had said "come round any time from 3pm", to which Ruby had replied, "I'll be there AT 3pm!".

She also gave her a Christening bracelet, which is something Lydia will be able to keep as a souvenir throughout her life. Aaaaah... :)
 

Countdown to Mockmas

Most people (mainly children) look forward to Christmas with such eagerness and anticipation, longing for the big day to finally come. I'm no different. I love Christmas - the food, the colours, the decorations, and most of all spending time with family. However, at the moment I'm not counting down the days until Christmas. I'm counting the days until Mockmas.

Yes, you read that right - Mockmas.

"Mockmas" was a term coined by my brother Adam for our family Christmas this year, which is taking place on Sunday 4th December. The reason is that we can't all be there for the real Christmas Day, so we are having our own pre-Christmas Christmas to ensure we all share in the fun and festivities together.

This year is Lydia's first ever Christmas, so we really wanted her to wake up on Christmas Day (the real one) in her own home, with the tree and decorations all around. I know that she won't remember anything of her first Christmas, but it's a special moment for us. The first Christmas that we'll share together as a new family. I'll even attempt to cook a proper Christmas dinner for my in-laws, allowing Lydia to have a blended version as well.

Both my brothers will be visiting their in-laws on Christmas Day this year as well, so Mockmas is our opportunity to have our normal family Christmas, albeit a bit earlier than usual. I'm looking forward to Lydia's face when she sees the decorations and the Christmas tree, and then the fun of opening presents. Again, she probably won't realise what's going on around her, but we will enjoy it nonetheless.

I know my family is looking forward to it as well, and I'm happy that we will all get to share this moment together.

Just means that I need to sort out all the Mockmas presents before next weekend. I've already bought a few but not all, with some people harder to shop for than others... Fortunately, last minute Mockmas shopping shouldn't be too stressful as all the other shoppers still have a couple of shopping weekends to go until their big day, leaving me free to casually saunter around and pick up what I need (and possibly stop at Burger King and/or Subway if need be).

Ho ho ho!

When translations just don't work

Switzerland is a very multi-cultural country. Well, it would have to be, considering it has 4 official languages (German, French, Italian and Romansch).

The fact that there are so many official languages means that the vast majority of products sold in Swiss shops and supermarkets have names and descriptions in at least two different languages. Coming from the UK where all products are packaged with English descriptions, this can be both a shock and a source of amusement.

Sometimes I come across items in shops that I think look interesting, such as a sandwich in my local Coop supermarket. When I turn the packet over to see what's inside, I find that the ingredients list is written entirely in German. Scheisse - ich spreche keine Deutsch! This means I have to take a leap of faith and hope that the contents of my sandwich don't contain too many e-numbers or unmentionable animal parts.

On the plus side, some product packaging can be very entertaining, as sometimes the translations don't really work. This is particularly prelevent when it comes to the use of English words, or words that in the local language are perfectly acceptable but their English counterparts have an entirely different effect.

My favourites are shown below.

This is fairly innocuose, simply being the producer's way of showing that the type of carrots in the tin are baby carrots. The reason why I found this so funny was because I imagined someone asking "What's in the tin?", with the response being "It's carrots, baby!". Oh how I chuckled...

Going quackers for Christmas

I am a massive fan of Christmas. I love everything about the festive season, from singing along to Christmas songs and putting up the tree and decorations, to the big turkey dinner and spending the day with family.

It's a time of year when everyone seems to feel more positive and happy. Whether that's because they are dreaming of gorging themselves on chocolates and mince pies or because they just like shiny decorations, people are more fun at this time of year. It may only be mid-November, but I have already seen some Christmas decorations hanging out of people's windows in my village.

We bought our tree and some decorations a couple of weeks ago, but we won't be putting any up until we get back from Mockmas (my mum's cleverly-coined term for our early Christmas celebrations) in England at the beginning of December. That hasn't stopped me from getting into the Christmas spirit though.

In the last couple of days I have found myself singing some Christmas songs to Lydia, including such classics as Bing's "White Christmas", Elton's "Step Into Christmas", Jonah's "Stop the Cavalry" and Mariah's "All I Want For Christmas Is You". Singing those famous songs made me feel all Christmassy, and I decided to do some Christmas-related searches on Google for some inspiration on how to either celebrate Christmas or the decorations we could put up.

One of the first things I found was this:

Penguins dressed as Santa and Elves!! What could be better than that??

This has very quickly become possibly my most favourite picture of all time. It's from the March of the Christmas Penguins at the Everland attraction park in Yongin, South Korea in November 2010. I have never had any particular desire to go to the Koreas, North or South, but I think I now have a very good reason.

In fairness, these penguins were probably a bit warm with the extra layer of clothing, given that the temperature in Yongin mid-November tends to be about the same as these penguins' (they look like the African/Jackass penguin species from the Spheniscus order) local habitat temperature. Might have hampered their ability to swim as well...

Anyway, I am a massive fan of Christmas, and I love penguins. That's pretty much what this blog entry is about - I just wanted to share the picture of Christmas penguins with the world.

Seriously, are there any better photos in the world?

Hooray for Christmas and hooray for penguins!