Don't mention the war

Expat life in the UK is a funny old thing at times. Most of the time I honestly don't think about it. I feel at home here, having lived a considerable part of my adult life in this city. Sometimes I realise how many people in Glasgow aren't actually from Glasgow, but mostly, everyone is "just" a person to me, there's barely much thought spent on where people were born, how they got to live here and why. In fact, this is what I noted very early on just after arriving here in 1997. People would chat to me and the questions "where are you from" or "what brought you here" would sometimes not even come up in conversation, and if they did, it was much later than what I was used to in the other countries I've spent time in.

Things change mightily though when there's yet another football event on. I've found myself in pubs watching footie when England was playing Germany and it felt like I was surrounded by Germans, and initially I was sure that all these Scots around me must have a Germany granny. They didn't. Next match Germany v Albania and nobody turned up. Germany v Scotland - all those German grannies were forgotten big time (even I shouted for Scotland...). Personally, I feel offended if someone supports the German team just because they want England to lose. I'd like people to support a team because they like it, have an affiliation with it, and not because they happen to play the one team everyone hopes will lose.

On the other hand, having watched enough England v Germany fixes on TV, I'm sick to the bone of the references to 1966 and THE WAR. For eff's sake, it's just football and we're not at war right? And if you continue to use vocabulary as if we're fighting a war on the pitch, I'm starting to share those anti-English football team feelings of those around me. For eff's sake, it's just football and we're not at war right?

Or are we? The discourse around the war is actually interestingly different in the UK compared to Germany. Here, it's about winners and losers, about military strategy and remembrance day. In Germany, it's about liberation and the horror that was the Holocaust. I've never seen myself as a member of a country that lost the war. To my generation, and even my parents' generation, the UK, alongside with the US and France, liberated us from evil, suffering, destruction and hunger. If ever there was a war that had to be fought, it was the one against the Nazis. And to me, it was not a war against Germany, and never will be (the Marshall Plan speaks volumes that it wasn't a war against the people of Germany). In fact, I listened avidly to BFBS, my favourite radio station in Germany, my cousin worked for the US army and we all just loved having the Brits and Americans in the country. So much so we didn't actually want them to leave (they were good for the local economy). (note: things were probably a bit different in East Germany but that's not for me to discuss,) As to feeling responsibility for the Holocaust - the only responsibility I ever felt was to put extra effort in ensuring that this would never happen again, regardless of where.

So the discourse around football matches and any discussion of the war that sees England as the winner and Germany as the loser is more than alien to me. It worries me because it assumes that there is animosity still, revenge that is played out on the football pitch. From Germany's side of the fence, there isn't, and that's the big joke - England commentators making a big fuss about nothing, and I'm trapped in between explaining again and again how a match against England is nothing special to me, the German.  That above all, I'm not at war with anyone. Oh, and I find that Faulty Towers sketch probably funnier than any Brit, because it holds the mirror to the British about their obsession with the war, it is oh so clever and hilarious.

At times though I'm not sure if my interpretation of things comes with the mercy of the "Nachgeborenen" the generation born after the horrors. The generation that has the luxury of being able to claim not to have any responsibility for 7 million people murdered, and many more dead due to war, displacement and famine. My whole family was affected by the war and I never knew my grandfathers, my mother stopped her education to help in the home when her father died due to a war injury. It reduced her options in life and cut her education short when she must have been quite talented. Many friends of our family were displaced and suffered hardship after the war, while our neighbour lost her whole family to the gas chambers.

So I can relate to the people who tell me of their losses. The son who never knew his father because the Germans killed him. I know the same story from the other side. But while I blame Hitler and his madness (rather than the Allied Forces), the son, now the age of my own father, blames the Germans for his loss and his mother's suffering. And for all I try to explain, my argument remains shallow, and there's nothing I can offer to bridge this river. In the end, he who suffered a loss, I feel, has the right to explain that loss for himself and make his choice of blame or responsibility. It's not about whose discourse is right or wrong, better or worse, and it's most certainly not my place to change minds, but to respect his views. Even if it means that I'm the German to him.

Finished Object Friday: Crochet T-shirt Yarn Rug

Ahem.
It's a finished object.
I like it.
But it's all wrong.
My excuse: my first big crochet project. But the crochet bit is fine, just the counting and increasing isn't, and I'm not quite sure what happened because I really tried to get it right.
Ah well. the kids have adopted it as the perfect princess / fairy castle carpet.

In it: lots of memories. T-shirts of women's 10ks, Glasgow-Edinburgh cycles, Celtic Connection t-shirts, Mike Scott and other music t-shirts. Plus some charity shop finds. 13 t-shirts, one big heavy and colourful rug.

I could take it back and try again, maybe I will, but not just now. I've got some unfinished project to finish off, because I'm in the finishing off, and not the starting again mood.

And anyway, doesn't she look cute sitting on it? Who cares about the waves.

United we will swim!

A good few years ago, when I'd first arrived in Glasgow, I had a lovely Wednesday evening routine. I would meet up with my friend and colleague who stayed locally from me and we'd go to the ladies night in our local swimming pool. It was a fabulous weekly treat, right in the middle of the working week. First we went for a swim in the wonderful Victorian bath, and it's dim lightening which so reminded me of traditional Turkish baths. Next up was a session in the Sauna, a dip into ice cold water, some steaming in the steam room too. There were always sociable and interesting people to chat to in the sauna, and it was nice and inclusive where everyone felt comfortable with everyone else. The evening was finished off with a yoga class. It was pure bliss.

And then they closed the pool.

I tried to keep up the routine at other locations, but nothing was the same, nor did the distance to travel do any good for having a weekly routine.
When the pool was announcing the plan to be closed, we were instantly gutted. Such a beautiful historic building, right in the centre of the maybe most densely populated part of Glasgow. It didn't make sense. While we were gutted, others were up in arms. On the day the pool closed, people chained themselves to the building so it couldn't close. It was then occupied for weeks. No, months. There was a vigil 24/7. I did but a couple of meagre day time shifts, but there were many who for months spent hours and nights in front of the building.

The campaign to save our pool made me think about what it was that I liked about it. I'd never rationalised it but the campaign bit by bit did. The inclusivity was due to it being right in the centre of a very diverse area of Glasgow, which traditionally is an area where people who come into Glasgow from other countries settle. It's an area not too far from the centre, with lots of local shops, a self contained part of the city, close to a wonderful park yet with house and rent prices that are affordable because the tenements of the area are old and not greatly looked after, with no gardens, so they are not the same quality compared to those nearby, partly because many aren't owner occupied. Lots of migration to the area meant that middle class folk preferred to move somewhere else. There were homeless hostels nearby and yet, the shops run by people from many countries provide all you can ask for, and having lived there, I felt safe and snug there. The pool was right in the centre of it, and its Victorian built meant that it was perfect for anyone who didn't want to display their body to the public. There are no windows and the changing areas and ways to the sauna were separate for women and men. I wasn't conscious of it, but admittedly being body conscious it must have played a part in my choice of pool. And yes, it was the one place where I had conversations with total strangers, some disabled, some of different skin colour, of different faiths and different backgrounds to mine. I didn't find it worth mentioning at the time, it was only later, in the pool of the neighbouring council, where the middle class population won't talk to strangers, that I noticed what was lost.

The campaign went on. A charity shop was set up, fundraising continued, the Govanhill Swimmers went around the neighbourhood in swimsuits practicing their swimming on dry land, i.e. the streets of Govanhill. There was a community garden. A local councillor was elected to push the case in the council. A singing group was established who penned songs about the pool and its closure to well known melodies. There were art projects too.

And so it went on.

On Saturday, 11 years (!) after the pool shut its doors to the public, it was once again opened to the community. It marked an extraordinary victory. And yes, victory it is. I hate to use words like that, but 11 years of relentless campaigning and the refusal to give in and continue to campaign for what we all knew was right paid off. As much as the powers that are had decided to take away the one community facility this empoverished yet vibrant part of Glasgow had, that decision was wrong and the pool is once more open to the community. Still dry, it has entered the first phase of being developed into a Wellbeing Centre. In maybe a year and a half or so we will hopefully be able to swim in it again, and I can show my girls where mummy used to swim. I so can't wait.

It was very emotional seeing the huge crowd who turned up for the opening, and being able to see the pool from the inside again after 11 years. It seemed like nothing had changed, yet so much had, so much effort for this moment to happen. Govanhill, for all that counts, is richer for having gone through this community campaign and stands as a glowing example what community power and persistence can achieve, even if the politicians have turned their backs on Govanhill.

Oh yeah, Peter Mullan and Nicola Sturgeon opened it. It's good to have some well known people support the baths and to get the launch into the news, but the work was done by the campaigners. So I didn't take there photo, sorry.

Finished Object Friday: The Urban Aran

I've not knitted an adult sized item in, well, maybe 22 years. It's funny how knitting fell by the wayside, especially it occupying such a prominent position when I was a teenager. Was it that knitting fell out of fashion in the 90s? Was it that my last completed jumper just wasn't right (it's still sitting in my wardrobe, I can't bear to get rid of it, and won't wear it because it's all wrong)? Or was it that other things too over?

I restarted knitting when pregnant with Cubling. Like many do. Knitting for little ones is just a nice start, and it was actually a knitted duck that I saw in a shop which got me going (made for my nephew who was due 12 weeks before my own first born). The inspiration provided by a knitting friend was also not to be underestimated (you know who you are!). So I knitted blankets, hats, cardigans, soft toys. Most of the patterns in my favourites still are of that calibre, because my knitting time is still rather limited. Then I was given yarn which had been lying in some cupboard waiting to be knitted into a cardigan. After this friend had her second baby, she decided it wasn't going to happen and gave me the yarn. And, considering Mr Cartside has been a bit short changed in most of my knitting frenzy (he didn't get more than a mere pair of socks so far) it seemed only fair that the yarn should be made into a cardigan or jumper for him.

I trailed Ravelry for a pattern that I liked, that he liked. It struck me that there was very little in the line of jumpers/cardigans for men, and those that I found, well, they weren't my cuppa. Eventually, I stumbled across, the one and only, it was oh so perfect - we both loved it, the yarn was the right weight, and Jared Flood had adapted it. Ok, the latter had nothing to do with the whole thing, but somehow getting knit designer celebrity endorsement doesn't do much harm. Our minds were set on the Urban Aran, version Jared Flood.

Then I realised that the original pattern (from Paton's Street Smart booklet) was out of print and that Jared Flood's notes on how he adapted it were useless without the original pattern. Not one to despair I explored all resources at hand, the wonderful internet, and the wonderful people on the internet who are total strangers, and oh so generous. So in the end, I got my hand on the pattern. 7 months later, here it is - with zip, collar that could be a tad longer and sleeves that could be a tad shorter, but hey, it's not that bad. Oh yeah, and I adapted the pattern too, I always do a little bit. The pattern itself is quite easy once you get into it, though it needs a bit of attention paying (I didn't and made a few tiny mistakes).

Sorry for the quality of the photos, we're down to snapshots these days of PhD writing up and toddling little ones which translates to being with the kids by myself .most of the time and as a consequence not managing to take great photos.

Musicophile

I'm a person who can get passionate about a whole lot of things. Pre-children, I sometimes let myself drift by my passions. I travelled, learned languages, read books, and above all, I listened to music. Like any teenager, I eventually found the kind of music for myself that was oh so meaningful, oh so different to what other people were listening to, oh so telling about who I thought I was/wished I was/was sure I was. I would go to some lengths to enjoy the music I loved live. And like anyone else, I clung onto that music and go back to the handful of voices of my youth.

It's not that there isn't great new stuff out there. Just the discovery of great new stuff doesn't tickle the passion button anymore. Mild interest has replaced it. It must be middle age, or the constant grind of juggling work, home and family has rubbed off the writing on that button.

Every now and again, the passion for music that is still there, hidden underneath nursery rhymes and Disney soundtracks. Once a year, Celtic Connections comes to town and boy if I had known at 23 (when I first heard of the festival and considered travelling up from England to it) that I would end up living in the city of Celtic Connections, I'd have been one happy bunny.

So last week I went to what must been my umpteenth Luka Bloom gig. I'm not counting, but I definitely treated both my girls to his music live in utero, and the first time I saw him play live was in 1990. And after both pregnancies, on of the first gigs I went to was your man too. Or at least one of the other 4-5 other musicians who provide my soundtrack of choice and happen to grace Glasgow every so often because they go under the ever widening banner of "Celtic".

On such an evening, when the cold gig turkey that early/late evening nursing of a newborn/toddler brings about is finally overcome by a shot of the wonderful pleasure that is live music, it's like a wave of feel goodness that washes all over me and gets to every cell of my body. There are memories of wonderful nights spend with wonderful yet geographically distant friends, the memory of late nights, of my travelling days and all the things seen and learned, the people I met, the friends I made, the lessons I learned, the illuminating conversations I had. All at once, so many beautiful memories, so much feeling alive with it all.

22 years ago, I travelled from Cabinteely, Co Dublin (north west Dublin), to Dun Laoghaire, Co. Dublin (south east Dublin) and back to listen to his music. All I can say is that I wouldn't have undertaken such a mad journey for many musicians. I was 20 and didn't even know if I would get transport home that night. On Wednesday, with the in-laws looking after the kids, it was a short comfortable hop in comparison.

And then, I went up to the man himself and brought out the understatement of the year, when I simply thanked him for the music.

Happy Birthday to U., who shared many of the gigs with me and unfortunately didn't manage to make it here for last week's. There's always a next time!

in Wonderland

If given free choice of where to go, there is no hesitation where our trip should be headed. "Alice in Wonderland!" it is to be, and so today, yet again, Cubling and Snowflake were in Wonderland, having tea parties, opening doors and drawers, growing and shrinking, exploring deep holes in the ground that are really only mirrors. I love the way Cubling goes up to total strangers and share her observations full of enthusiasm, and I hate how those strangers simply ignore her and with that, deny the child in themselves.

Admittedly, some of the optical illusions of The Science Centre's Mind works were rather baffling, in spite of explanations and all. I still can't quite get the Ames room. I guess there's no shame in wonder.

And Psst, did you know that the annual membership of the Science Centre is cheaper than 2 visits with the Planetarium? Just saying.

Supporting your bilingual child with the Language Hub

As a parent who is raising her children bilingually, I'm acutely aware that the main risk for my children's minority language is the fact that it's mainly me who speaks it with them, and that "me" is someone who could also speak English. My kids aren't daft, and from their point of view, there's no need to speak German at all. We got around this conundrum through two long holidays without dad in Germany and it worked wonders. But now that the holidays are 7-8 months in the past, slowly their effect is starting to wear off. To keep the minority language alive, it is crucial to introduce social activities for the children where they are exposed to the minority language outside the home and realise that both languages are useful.

Thankfully, if you're in Glasgow, there's not just a German playgroup but now also an exciting new place for pre-schoolers and primary school aged children where they can learn a second language, or where bilingually raised children can get some extra input and support for their "other" language. I'm really intrigued that this is happening here, because Glasgow isn't that big and it feels a real privilege to have this option. I haven't tried it out yet, but will do so soon. There is a choice of classes available and I particularly like the relative short blocks that are both affordable and will fit into busy lifestyles. While I'm waiting for my older daughter to join the next block, I was keen to find out a bit more about the Language Hub from its director Michelle Gordon.

What gave you the idea for setting up the Language Hub?

My personal interest in languages and language teaching are deeply routed in my earliest childhood. I grew up in Germany with my Scottish father, my German mother and my two younger siblings. My parents always strongly believed in the advantages of speaking different languages and therefore, naturally, raised us bilingually. Having left school, there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to pursue my interest in language further and to possibly teach it myself; and I did.
My whole life I have experienced what it means to be able to speak more than one language; the advantages it offers and the understanding of different cultures it has given me. I now have two children of my own and they grow up bilingually.
Making a second language accessible to your child  – either in a home or classroom environment – is a very special gift as it will always make your child an even stronger person. 
I am very passionate about language learning as it is a subject very close to my heart. So, in 2011, I decided to set up The Language Hub Ltd in order to offer foreign language learning to (pre-)school children.


What happens in the courses, what's your teaching method/approach?

Our classes are very interactive as the children are continuously encouraged to actively participate. This is achieved with the use of toys, games, songs, dance and arts and crafts ensuring the children are engaged, learning and having fun all at the same time. This applies to all classes, especially to the pre-school and P1-P3 classes. With older children, reading and writing exercises can also be included but generally the oral use of a language is more important at this stage of a child's (foreign) language development. I feel it is important that children at this stage should consider themselves as little as possible as part of an active learning process as this sometimes can dampen the enjoyment factor.


What is the age range and what languages do you offer?

Classes are on offer at the moment for 3-5s, 5-7s and 7-11s who are keen on learning German, French, Spanish or Italian. We also offer language support classes for bilingual children with German, Spanish, French or Italian as their second language. However, we are always happy to add other languages so if you cannot find what you are looking for on our website please get in touch.

Did you encounter any challenges in the early days?

All in all, it took ten months from deciding to go for it and set up the company to starting with the first class. But with two children and a part-time job I am actually surprised it did not take even longer. The biggest challenge I guess was starting the business without any financial assistance and having to rely on what is left from your normal household budget. Also, not yet having my own premises was a bit of a difficulty as finding adequate venues was not as easy as I had hoped in the beginning.

Now the biggest challenge is convincing parents how valuable foreign language learning actually is for any child. Adults very often find it difficult to comprehend that children do not learn languages in the same way as adults do but that children's brilliant little brains do it for them without any effort.


What are your plans for the Language Hub?

One of the future goals is to get permanent premises for The Language Hub Ltd. It was always my dream to incorporate different venues and activities for children under one roof if possible. This would include a language school, a multi-lingual nursery, an after school care club, a baby/children cafe, a children's library and so on....and who knows!

What's you top tip for raising bilingual children?

With all bilingual children, it is vital to understand their individual connection and identification with their second language and their individual confidence in using the second language. Therefore, children should only ever be encouraged and supported, and not forced in any way, to make use of their second language in a manner that best suits their individual state of mind.
It is important to acknowledge why children sometimes use their second language actively, some totally refuse or others only seem to use the language in certain situations or at some particular points in their lives.
From a speaker’s perspective, speaking a second language can make you a part of something but can also single you out depending on the situation. Therefore, a child can feel either special or intimidated by second language use.
The regular passive input of the second language is very important. Even if a child refuses to use its second language over a long period of time the passive input will stay with him or her and a child will be able to access this input when he or she feels like or needs it. This is why we offer our support classes for bilingual children.

Rag Rugs all around

The better half of my evenings last week were made making t-shirt yarn. And what better to make out of all that loveliness than a rag rug! But wait, this is not the only way to make a rag rug. In fact, there are a few approaches to brightening your home up with handmade rugs.

Thankfully, all three ways of making a rag rug were trialled at the latest StitchUP. I had my mind set on a crochet one, with all that colourful t-shirt yarn and my still rudimentary crochet skills, I knew I needed a helping hand to get me started. By now it measures 3/4 of a metre in diameter and it's growing quickly. It's an ideal starter project, and quite satisfying because it's so super quick, while giving the beginner plenty of single crochet  practice. Result: I no longer feel I'm holding the yarn in the wrong hand AND I can crochet while holding a baby toddler.

Tutorial:
Make a chain of 6 stitches. Close to a round. single crochet into the hole as often as you can- I aimed for 10 but only managed 8. It's important you know that number.
Round 1: In the first round after this, increase the same number of stitches; i.e. single crochet into one stitch, then make a chain, single crochet into next stitch, make a chain etc.
Round 2: single crochet into next 2 stitches, make a chain, single crochet into next 2 stitches, make a chain until end.
Round 3: single crochet into next 3 stitches, make a chain repeat until end

To put it differently: you increase your number of stitches from the base round in every subsequent round. So in round 5 you single crochet 5 times, then make a chain; in round 10 you single crochet into 10 stitches then make one chain etc.
As to crochet hook: well, it depends on your t-shirt yarn. I used size 9 but that was on the tight side of things.

So this is an image of my work in progress, and considering I've only just learned how to crochet and this is my first proper project, I'm pretty pleased with it.

Next up is the one that I will be doing another time because it's been on my mind for a while. It's made from hessian (a type of rough linen/jute, the kind that used to be used for potato and coffee sacks). You will also need fabric scaps, approximate 2 inch long and 1/4 inch wide and a tool for threading (there are professional tools for this but a crochet hook will do failing all else). For a detailed tutorial, and more images, visit The Patchwork Heart:

Finally there's the no sew woven rag rug, also made from t-shirt yarn. It's pretty straight forward too, and as there is an existing tutorial I will spare my breath here and just point you to it.

All three methods are super simple - and yet you'll end up with a beautiful addition to your home, while recycling/upcycling fabric that is no longer useable.

You may end up not wanting to actually step on your rag rug, though.
Pray tell me, which one's your favourite?

Let there be T-Shirt Yarn

For a few months, there's been a fabulous initiative happening in the south of Glasgow. It's trading by the name of StitchUP and oh, it is so to my liking. Once a month from 6-9pm, one can drop into a very cosy basement of a very nice cafe, and get crafting with fabric and yarn. There's a state of the art sewing machine, fabric, buttons, threads, felt, all kinds of pieces, knitting yarn, crochet hooks and more. People come along and share their skills, and every instalment of StitchUP has a couple of projects that people may or may not make. One evening, I brought my knitting that needed a bit of a push to get finished, and I ended up showing someone how to change colours while knitting. Another time I made crochet snowflakes which really helped me not lose my very basic crochet skills and expand on them at the same time.

It's family friendly, so I can bring my kids, which is of course not particularly conducive to getting a project done (especially if your preschooler is so fascinated by the sewing machine that she needs constant supervision lest she brakes the needle or worse the machine) but everytime I went, I came home having learned something new.

Next up will be rug making. Which is just fabulous because for about 4 years I have been meaning to make some rag rugs. I collected and stored old t-shirts ready for making t-shirt yarn. Finally, I got to dig them out and start making t-shirt yarn, ready for the next StitchUP where the yarn will be made into a rag rug.

T-shirt yarn making is great fun and there's a bit of magic going on. It's extremely therapeutic I found, and nothing beats preschooler joining me at midnight for a round of tugging and spooling. Such a special surprise when my wee ghosty came down the stairs and joined me in some magic yarn making.
The magic lies in the fact that one t-shirt makes much more yarn than you think. And this is how:

For a tutorial, you're best visiting craftpassion - I can't really explain it any better. To get you started, it's important you have a proper pair of fabric scissors because otherwise you'll just get rather aggravated. You will also need t-shirts ideally with no print and no side seems (so many women's cuts don't work). Obviously the bigger the t-shirt the more yarn you'll get, but even so, a medium or small t-shirt will still yield rather a lot, so don't dismiss them! I have used t-shirts with some print and it's not all that bad, but you don't want to have too much print as it'll affect the quality of the yarn. Finally, check the label - the t-shirt should be 100% cotton. I'm not really sure what happens if it's not but may try out just to be radical. Once you're set, go to craftpassion for your tutorial. The magic happens when you get to tugging your yarn. For some reason (er, magic) the yarn lengthens when you do that, at least doubling your yarn length. I get quite a thrill out of that, and so did Cubling.

You may be able to get some more t-shirt supplies from charity shops, however I found that plain, side seem free, 100% cotton t-shirts are not considered to be good enough to be sold in charity shops, maybe they tend to be too plain. It may be worth while building up a relationship with one or two charity shops and telling them about your passion for plain cotton t-shirts and get them set aside for you before they go into the fabric bin. What worked for me was just asking a few friends and colleagues for unused old t-shirts.

Apparently, now that I've got t-shirt yarn, I'm all set to crochet (!!!) my rag rug. This is where StitchUP comes in - there is no way I could actually do that by myself, even in the age of youtube, I need someone to show me and to check that what I'm doing is actually what I'm supposed to be doing. So I'll be bartering t-shirt yarn for expanding my crochet skills ;)

Next up I'll run through a few ways of making rag rugs, but I'll wait with that until I actually know how to make them!

Goal posts

When Mr Cartside came home exceptionally late tonight, I ran off the things I'd achieved today. And somehow it occured to me that I'm not quite sure when exactly the goal posts of what constitutes a successful and satisfying day had changed.

Today, while entertaining 4 and 1 year old without major tantrums and shouting (an achievement in itself), I started off by matter of factly refusing to dress 4 year old and lo and behold, she did it all by herself in no time. At this point I knew I was in for a winner. When 1 year old even ate her breakfast, there was no stopping me. I proceeded to doing two loads of washing, hung them up and tidied away dry laundry, emptied, filled and ran a load of dishes in the dishwasher, took down Christmas tree and all festive decorations, baked a bread, pumped up tyres, walked without a buggy (but with balance bike and trike) for 45 mins to meet someone for lunch (I usually take the car), had lunch and an adult conversation, walked back (if with 1 year old asleep in the most uncomfortable position on the trike), cooked a healthy dinner, bathed both on my own, got both into bed on my own. I read about 5 books to them during the day too. The TV wasn't on, and what's better even, 4 year old didn't pester me for a DVD. I didn't shout, there was only minor incidents of "toddler trapped in trike" and "I should have taken buggy after all but what the heck, she loved her first ride in the trike" and they both settled beautifully at the end of the day.

High 5s all around.

Nothing exciting, in fact, it's all extremely boring, and still, I feel awfully smug, because I know how exceptional a day this was to manage all this.

I guess it's called being a parent, for better or worse.