Untired

Our special treat at bedtime is two chapters of the Petit Prince (in German), read by me, after a story from daddy. Tonight, after a day spent festivaling at Streetland and going on the scariest of rides at the carnival, she announced after the end of the second chapter "Ich bin gar nicht müde" (I'm not tired at all). "Kann ich mit dir kuscheln?" (can I cuddle with you). Of course you can. She turned around to me and within a blink of an eye I could hear her heavy sleepy breathing.

Slowly I picked myself out of her octopus embrace and covered her with her blanket. She wasn't even in her bed, she'd fallen asleep on the bottom bunk.

Cubling, my love, tiredness does not exist for you, just sleep. You will go on and on, with your endless energy, and I have yet to hear you admit that you are tired (ok, except for when I wake you in the morning). Maybe  you really aren't tired, maybe you would bound on trampolines all night if only we let you. But that cuddle of my untired girl was special and to have you fall asleep in my arms was too. Because, these days, it doesn't happen much anymore.

Hip hip hurray!

The past few months have felt a bit like an episode out of the book "when will it be spring?". Time is relative in the three year old mind. There is no concept of days, weeks, months. Even "tomorrow", though uttered, may mean something entirely different.

She had wished her birthday to come, like a fairy. And wished it again. A groundhog day question of "when is my birthday?" "Is it my birthday yet?". So we measured time in BIG STEPS. When it's spring, it will be your birthday. When will it be spring? When the flowers are blooming and the trees pop their new leaves out of their buds.

Every sign of spring was noted, explored, watched. Snowdrops caused enthusiasm, so did crocuses, though they confused with their many colours, surely they can't all be the same plant? We watched buds turn green and the slow progress of the daffodil stalks.

Because, above all, it will be your birthday when the daffodils are blooming. Because, four years to the day, you were born to a sea of daffodils, with a daffodil song humming in my head, a song half remembered, well loved, a bit like your birth itself.

And here you are, little fairy princess mermaid, 4 years old, an independent little big girl, confident in your world, the most sociable person I've ever seen, ever on the go, with an exhuberance of emotions that is unrivalled. Today, at last, we were able to wake you to the soft words of "it's your birthday". And all day you celebrated that you were four years old, and that you would be four all the time now. So proud to be a big sister, convinced to be taller than daddy even. How you loved every one of your presents, the puppet theatre and hand puppets that I spent every possible 10 minutes of Snowflake's rare evening sleep time trying to sew together in time, the Disney Princess jigsaw and the Hungry Hippos game, the fairy that your granny and granddad sent you, the Prinzessin Lillifee purse from your Munich friend, the many books - all promises of fun times we will spend together.

Maybe this will be the first birthday you will remember many years to come. I hope that we will remember, how proud and happy you were to be four. No longer a baby, not a toddler even, you are indeed your very own self, your own person on her own two feet.

And I love this person to bits.

To lie or not to lie

What a great start to the day - after eating her breakfast (by herself and even quickly, is this my girl or what?) and asking to "play the chalk a wee minute" before "I don't want to go to nursery again!"; she comes up to me, delight in her eyes, and announces: "Ich habe das Stuhl gemalen with chalk!" (I drew on the chair - you'll get the "with chalk" bit. Notice that we have a one article proposition for German grammar; everything is "das" at the moment and I'm sure many a German language student would love her take on gender. Linguistic gender that is.) Realising that chalk isn't as bad as permanent ink, I managed to stay calm and composed this time (I'm not very good at calm and composed at the moment so was rather pleased with myself) and commented that she knows that furniture is not for drawing on and that's what the blackboard is for.

Her response: "Then I didn't malen on the Stuhl. No I didn't."

What a prime example of wishful thinking. We have reached the stage where she'd bend the reality on anything just to "say" the right thing. Suffice to say I don't trust that she washes her hands after the toilet, that she wipes her bum after the toilet that she... you get the picture. I think this is a normal stage, just that it's taking  kind of over because she does a lot she's not meant to do (or doesn't do what she's meant to do) and subsequently whitewashes her actions. I know she doesn't mean to lie, that she means well, but that doesn't exactly help to tell truth from fiction.

At the weekend we visited a windfarm (more of that later when I manage to wrestle down Lightroom to edit the rather spectacular photos I took) and her question prior to arrival was if there would be any animals. Well, there were birds, does that count?

She did something else really funny the other day and I'll share should I manage to remember. Mr Cartside, to the rescue?

On young love and marriage

"Mummy, when Snowflake is a wee bit older, I want to marry her. Can I marry her?"
"You can't marry your sister unfortunately."
"But I can pretend to be a man!"

Cubling to a dad at the outdoors playgroup she had met for the first time:

"Are you married?"
"No, I'm not"
"But you need to get married!"
"I don't think so, I don't believe in marriage."
"But you need to dance! It's fun and you can wear a beautiful dress!"

Where I try to be more Zen about it all and fail

Just as a postscript to yesterday's post, no children were harmed. I got loud, and a tad short tempered, but nothing that couldn't be sorted out. It was more a feeling of frustration, and unhappiness how things were turning out. I'm getting better at controlling my frustrations and not shouting, but it's a hard lesson on me.

But Houston, we have a problem anyway.
Yes, part of the problem is sick kids - nothing to be done about that, it needs to be sat out. Just that Cubling was a lot better today and after taking the adapted Cesar Millan mantra/advice from Mwa to make sure there's exercise first to avoid tensions , we did that. Out and about in the woods, totally and utterly child led, our favourite yes-environment, going with the flow, being 100% with her, reflective listening and all the other tick boxes of model parenting. We had so much fun.

What was the reward? Within an hour of being home, a stomping, screaming, shouting, making herself almost sick pre-schooler, a very special performance which I'm sure was audible in the whole of our neighbourhood. Not that I care. Maybe I do a little bit. Why? Because I said that 1hr of TV was enough now and how about preparing dinner now (notice I framed the "no" in positive ways and didn't just say "no").

Jesus Mary and Joseph, where did I go wrong? We sailed, yes sailed, through the "terrible twos". They were cute and adorable twos. Now we have constant whining and whinging, refusal (to eat, to get dressed, to follow any type of simple request, to speak German), defiance, anger, and drama. Drama above all, everything is drama.
Any necessary control is by threats and rewards - the latter works sometimes, the former only if it's a serious threat, and I'm not comfortable using either. I mean, I'd rather not bribe my child into appropriate behaviour.

So here I am trailing parenting sites, trying to find a solution because above all, I do not want to have a relationship with my child which is disrespectful and a constant power contest. I lived through a relationship like that, didn't like it yet couldn't change it. I know how important it is to change this.
I'm even considering parenting courses, if it weren't for the fact that I know the content of them. I know the theory, I practice the theory. It ain't working right now.

This too shall pass, yes maybe, it's just a phase. A bloody long one though and grinding my nerves one too Maybe it's related to baby in house. Maybe she's picking it up from nursery. You see, she's a lovely, funny, if extremely energetic girl, she's not like that really. It's an act, and a flipping annoying one.

While baby has decided to also start whining constantly (which is not an act of course and I worry my head off what's up because she's not a cry baby at all, and if this is really just down to a mild viral infection). Can someone stop the noise please before my head explodes.

Suggestions on how to turn around the drama and making a mother daughter relationship fun again are very much invited (oh and I know the obvious stuff, and we don't do time out because it upsets her too much). After all I want to enjoy this year of maternity leave, the idea is to spend quality time with my kids and I honestly don't know what's up.

Of robbers and policewomen

Daddy: Look, there's a policewomen over there. If you ever see a robber, you can go to her and let her know.
Cubling: What's a robber?
Daddy: It's a person who comes into the house and takes something away, who steals something. But it can't really happen because they can't come into the house. (note the attempt to not cause any worries, as she suffers badly enough from nightmares)
Cubling: What about if you leave the door open?
Daddy: That's right, if you leave the door open, a robber might come in and steal your plastic dinosaur.
Cubling: But what about my dinosaur can scare the robber away?
Daddy: But it's only a plastic dinosaur, they're not real so they can't scare anyone. (note attempt to stress that dinosaurs do not exist anymore and aren't scary as she regularly has nightmares of dinosaurs)
Cubling: I know that. I'm only telling a joke.
Daddy: I see.
Cubling: A person who steals something can be lady too. And a policeman can be a lady too.

Lesson in gender equality successful. Mummy and Daddy in stitches.