Day four

A pretty uneventful day really, if you discount being up all of Wednesday night with a sickly 1 and a half year old. I decided we'd have a 'quiet day' at home milling around. The children have been fantastic, spending most of the day just lining up baby dolls, feeding them, putting them to bed and having tea parties, as I imagine most girls under 5 are happy doing. I kept feeling I should be doing something to entertain them, go for an excursion or somethign fascinating, but was careful to remind myself of an old bit of wisdon 'if it aint broken, don't fix it'.

As the girls were getting well and truly into their imaginative role-playing, I considered it best to take a back seat...though sitting down reading the paper is never an option such as I have on the daily commute into work. Nope, time apart from the children as a house-husband means I am free to do all those other things - like bring in the washing, which I did do today (hooray). And putting away clothes (which I will leave till tomorrow). I also discovered a bag full of wet clothes from our trip to the beach, which would normally miraculously get emptied, washed, dired and put away without any effort from me. Alas, this week, it's me in charge, so the wet clothes are now getting mouldy. I shall have to do something about this another time.

I've decided there are far too many clothes being worn in this household. I shall suggest to DW that the children all wear dark brown smocks Monday to Friday. There's also too many meals being eaten in a day. Or not eaten. I think one enormous meal midday would be better. And nothing with tomato sauce, which is too messy. The other advantage of jsut one meal would mean less poo. I have spent more time responding to 'Daaaaadddddy, can you wipe my botttttoooooom??' or changing nappies than I have at meetings at work.

Having said all that, I am really enjoying spending more and more time with my children. They are a real delight and so interesting, and have made me laugh a lot this week. We spent almost the entire afternoon sitting on a trampoline together having a pretend rabbit casserole out of pieces of grass....this wild imagination possibily due to a lack of TV in our house? Whatever, they seem to just make amusement out of anything at hand. I intend therefore to give them all just a pile of grass and some sticks for Christmas this year.

As for the chicken pie, I served it up again last night. I't's now being fed to the chicken, who still hasn't laid an egg all week.

I'll give her 2 more days then I'll threaten to turn her into a pie myself.

Day three

I am more fun than 'fun Bobby' off Friends.

Today we have been on a miniature steam train! (see picture of actual train). It cost us £9, for me and three kids. Youngest daughter wasn't supposed to go on, as she's under 2, but I must of looked a bit pathetic as the kindly lady at the counter let me take her anyway. She is, after all, remarkably advanced for her 18months, with now 30 words in English and several Bristish Sign Language lexicons. (I have become a proud, smug SAHD - stay-at-home-dad in 3 days). Anyway - this was the main fun-outing of today. The little train choochooed it's way around a forest, over bridges and through tunnels, stopping off at mock miniature old-fashioned stations along the way. We sat at the front, which I thought would be more fun, but (I should have realised) spent most of picturesque trip choking on sooty smoke coming from front of lovely little authentic steam train. Child number 3 sat on my lap (which was an effort as i had my knees under my chin, such was the size of the seats) and insisted on crying all the way round, partly because of the soot, and partly at the sight of the creepy stuffed animals we passed en route. To be fair, she still has a fever and was not being herself. Needlesstosay, I'm glad nobody took a photo of us; it wouldn't have made a good advert.

We accomplised much today, me and my girls. After a massive tidy-up session this morning, everything was spick and span and looking like a show-room. I put on some Mozart, settled myself on the sofa with all three and did some reading practice with DD number 1, who is doing very well I must say with her phonetics and can now read a whole book (not Lord of the Rings). At this very perfect moment in house-husbandry competence, dear wife (DW) came in unexpectedly to pick up something she'd left behind and was most impressed. Thank you, God.

After this, we hopped in the people-mobile, and scooted off to the pet shop to buy straw and hay for the chicken and ducks and rabbit (the rabbit! I haven't fed him for three days! blast it). We then went on to Mothercare World to buy DD2 a new baby dolly, as her special treat for staying in her own bed for 2 weeks in a row (very momentous). Then a trip to the supermarket to buy lunch (much easier than cooking at home, and no mess), which we ate in the car on way to steam train. We also ate ice-creams, but we won't tell Mummy.

When I arrived home, all was well, so I decided to make a chicken pie. Bold move! Never having made pastry before, and wanting to impress DW still further, I consult Queen of British cookery - Delia Smith. I find a 'quick flaky pastry' recipe. Perfect as it is now already 5.30pm and kids should have eaten half an hour ago. They are now getting very irritable. I get all the ingredients together, then read on to see that Delia (bless her) directs that I should put the butter in the freezer for 45 mins then grate it into the sieved flour. Grated butter?? Then I'm supposed to wrap the dough in clingfilm (why?) and put it in the fridge for a further 30 mins. And she calls this a quick pastry? Blow that, I thought, and chucked it all together, pounding with sheer aresenic-hour (5-6pm) frustration and glugging white wine as I do it. I can't roll the darn thing out as it all sticks to the breakfast bar surface and won't come off the rolling pin. I piece it all together on top of my pie filling which is rather too gooey. DD3 helps me, but she is looking a bit queasy at this point so I'm a bit careful not to take my eye off her. The concoction gets slammed into the oven, and DW finally walks through the door. Relief.

The pie turned out to be more of a crumble, inedible really, and wasn't touched by any of the children. sigh.

And Dear Daughter number 3 puked again. All over me. Nice.

Day two

It's 9.50pm on Tuesday night and we've just returned for an afternoon and evening at the beach. A fun outing ticked off my list. My friend Ben and his two boys bundled into our 7-seater with me and my 3 girls, and off we all went to the coast for father and offspring time of fun and frolics.

I was in two minds whether to go. Dear daughter (dd) number 3 threw up last night - all those blackberries and crumble from day one. What a waste! She's also been running a fever today (great timing...of all the weeks to be ill!) so I wasn't sure howI'd manage another puking episode on the beach. However, I decided to go for it, as the others were jumping up and down desperate to go and I would have really been unpopular if I had pulled out. So I gathered together plenty of towels and those wonderful all-purpose must-haves called 'wet wipes' and took the risk.

Needless to say, we had a great time au bord de la mer. Dd1 and 2 jumped in the water with all their clothes on (I'd forgotten their swim suits....well, I did have lots of other things on my mind); and I also - great fun Dad that I am - went for a swim in my clothes (I had also forgotten to take swimming shorts). Of course, the girls were able to sit in towels in the car on the way home. A bit of foresight would have helped me realise that I didn't have this luxury, and Ben really didn;t want to be sitting next to a naked driver for the journey home (being stuck in traffic could also have caused a few stares). So I drove home in shiveringly wet shorts. Never mind, it was all good fun, and we ended our excursion with a fish and chip supper on the sea wall. Which dd3 vomited up on the way home.

DW also had a great time and went out for a meal with her friends on the course (I'm concerned she's getting a bit too used to all this new freedom). So it's now quite late, the kids are asleep in their now sandy beds, and the house is looking a bit untidy. I also forgot to put the washing on. And I haven't yet done my prayer time. No chance of another episode of 24 tonight, then.

House-husbandry: Day one

The hen didn't lay an egg today. Stupid chicken. The one day I planned a whole activity centred around the children collecting the egg and then us boiling it up for lunch. It was particularly mean of mother hen as she has been laying on time every day for about 2 weeks.

The rest of today went as follows.

845am - dw (dear wife) leaves house to attend the course she is on for the next six days. She hasn't far to travel (in fact only next door) but is uninterrupatable all day for next 6 days. Did I mention that?

9.30 - all three children have now finished breakfast. Most of it is on the floor and milk is spilled all over the table. I am calmness personified and merrily chant the mantra 'there's no use crying over spilt milk'.

For the next 45 minutes dd1 and dd2 (4 & 3 yrs respectively) want to play 'camps' in the living room. This generally consists of messing everything up, removing throws and cushions and rearranging occasional tables around the room to create a marquee-effect where you crawl under, have a tea-party and mostly stand or sit on your sister's hair and scream. I let go of the need to maintain a tidy house and fuss around the kitchen straightening and cleaning things up. Kids are calling for me to come and help with the camp, to which I reply many times "coming!" and don't really. I then overhear dd1 saying "oh I wish uncle Stu was here to help with making camps!" at which I drop everything and propel myself into the living room and enthusiastically throw myself into pegging throws into cushions and creating a campsite out of my sitting room that would rival a cub scout weekend away. I then crawl on my belly like a good fun Dad and don't mind at all when my hair is trodden on. I am great at making camps.

When we finally bore of that, I suggest a walk on the Common (very nice countryside woods and things nearby). I take the pushchair but encourage oldest 2 to walk. It's all very lovely, we pick blackberries and the sun is shining, and they're getting lots of exercise. Scoring points with wife all the time, here. Until 2 big dogs appear out of nowhere and all three children burst into tears of panic and insist on being pushed the rest of the way around the rough terrain. Me - continuing to pick blackberries while being stung by nettles as pushchair is now very heavy.

We go home and have lunch, then make crumbles out of the blackberries.

I put dd3 (19 months) to bed after lunch. But what normally takes an easy 5 mins of me lying next to her in her single bed, today - strangely - takes 45. As she just about falls asleep, dd1 bellows out that dd2 has just weed all over the carpet (which she never normally does). DD3 is now wide awake and I sweat it out for 10 mins more, envisaging the wee soaking into the carpet as I lie there.

2 hours, one sleep and a card making session later, we head to the trampolines next door, where my friend Ben is also babysitting his two boys as his wife is on the same course. The next 2 hours fly by as the kids run off playing together and Ben and I discuss our vegetable gardens and arrange a further viewing of 24 on DVD. All good.

Wife returns at 6.15pm, and I proudly have a shepherd's pie on the table (left over from yesterday admittedly) and crumble in the oven.

We've survived. I now have a stinking headache and have forgotten to bring in the washing from the line, but am off to watch that episode of 24 with Ben. And Jack Bauer thinks he has a busy day! tch...

Until tomorrow...

House-husband for the week

My stay-at-home wife is not staying at home as from tomorrow. She is on a course every day for SIX DAYS. 9am to 6pm.

And I am off on 'annual leave' (hmm we'll see...) so am becoming full-time house-husband and stay-at-home Dad for our three children under 5 years old, for the week. In fact, it's more than a week...it's SIX DAYS, and that includes a Saturday. I am of course told that it's only what DW (dear wife) has to do every day. But I say that doesn't include a Saturday, so I am already a martyr in my book.

Of course, I've had our three on my own before. A doddle. But this is a first for six days IN A ROW. (sweat).

I have some good ideas planned. We'll have a really nice time. We'll go on picnics. We'll visit places. It be plenty opportunity for some good father-and-3-daughters bonding time.

Lest I think it'll only be a bundle of laughs and fun outings, I have been told I must remember all the other things that make up a stay-at-home-mum (SAHM)'s working week and do them. Namely: Three meals a day to be cooked, fed to the kids then washed up and put away (thank God for the dishwasher. I aim to use one plate each for all 3 meals), put the washing on (every day), hang the washing out to dry and take it in again, (again, one set of clothes for the week); feed the rabbit (every day...well, he can eat the grass for a couple of days), feed the ducks (see earlier post...I don't mind that bit), keep the house tidy (I won't let them play with any toys this week), homeschool DD (dear daughter) number 1 by helping her with her reading and writing, homeschool DD number 2 who needs more practice writing her name and needs to do some more pages of her 'letters and pictures' book that DW made, make sure DD number 3 (aged 19months) has afternoon sleep. Bath and clothe all three DDs. Have nice meal ready for DW for when she returns home at about 6.30 every evening.

In addition I must remember to clean the bathroom at least once, make sure DD3 has time without nappy on as she is potty training (yeah, right...not this week), do my prayer time (a full hour), go to Mass in the week with all three toddlers on my own (I really don't think this is necessary and am sure the Church would not expect me to be so excessive), write a thank you card to our friends for nice meal last night, and post it; get children to make a birthday card for a godchild (I'll buy one and they can sign it...or just add kisses); do the weekly shopping and put it away in cupboards. AND...have a lovely time and be present to each of them throughout the day by doing lots of nice fun things. With a smile.

Well, it's all impossible I say. There's no way all of that can be done by one person without a nervous breakdown of some proportion. And how come we've suddenly got so many children anyway? And who's idea was it to homeschool? That can certainly wait a week. I'm all for letting them learn through play. In silence. Or in front of a DVD; they can be so educational.

Anyhow, I plan to keep a blog diary of these next 6 days. Though, when I'll have time to write it I have no idea. Something will have to give...

The harvest is rich!

Who says organic home-growing your own veg isn't worth the effort?

Pah! Just look at these fine carrot specimens. Not the conventional Eurpoean shape or length, but packed full of goodness and living things with crawly legs. Which is a sign - in case you didn't know - of the product's naturalness and purity. For a worm, maggot or other such minibeast wouldn't dream of approaching those nasty supermarket chemical-ridden varieties. Which means if you have a bug-ridden apple, it means there are good things in it, so you must eat it. Enjoy!

Here's some more samples from our bumper crop. Two courgettes. And some runner beans.

In fact, since this photo was taken we've been over run with runner-beans. we have 9 plants, and their taking over. Thing is, we don't much like eating them. They look nice growing, anyway.

We've also had some rather shrivelled looking cucumbers, some tomatoes and lots of herbs.

And Mother Hen (see previous post) has, these last 4 days started laying again.

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Anyone know a recipe for runner beans and eggs?