It takes two...

As I cried into my not-so-Cheerios at the prospect of turning 36 and lamented the fact that birthdays used to be something to look forward to, I consoled myself with the prospect of Millie's second birthday just five days hence. Yes! All that pent up energy and excitement could now be directed into fashioning Peppa Pig out of royal icing and wrapping treasure hunt prizes. It's not everyone's cup of tea I'm sure, but I live for this sort of mumsy stuff. Cue preparation for a camping trip with family and friends.



It was a great Lakes weekend, as they always are. But this was made even better by having a troop of little-uns chasing rabbits, creeping over bridges guarded by trolls, running about fields playing chase and eating copious amounts of jelly. I'd quite forgotten how much pleasure could be had from eating jelly. You can view the highlights here.

I still can't believe I'm the mother of a two year old, but then I still haven't come to terms with the fact that I carried on getting older after 27, which is when I would have liked to pause the ageing process. Oh well.

While you hear a great deal about the terrible twos, and believe me, my girl can scream for England when required to do something she doesn't want to; what they don't tell you is that it is also a time when they are displaying their most loving, affectionate and funny behaviour.

Life becomes a delicate balance on the pleasure/ pain scale. I hold my breath and count to ten during the 'episodes' and focus instead on all the lovely stuff. A typical morning can be characterised thus:

* I am greeted by a bright-eyed Millie and a squeeze of a hug (pleasure)
* This is rapidly followed by a stand-off as to why she can't watch yet another episode of Peppa Pig, cue thrashing and wailing (pain)
* Pause for breakfast (breathe)
* Battle ensues over nappy change (pain)
* Getting dressed is conducted at a glacial pace as she likes to 'do it myself, Mummy' (entente cordiale)
* This is rapidly followed by repeated cries to take baby for a walk, which increase steadily in pitch and volume until I have hastily put some clothes on the right way around and we're ready to go (pain)
* Then take buggy, baby, monkey, pet haggis (don't ask) and other assorted paraphernalia for a jaunt around the block and have fun chatting to passersby and looking at interesting things like sticks (?!) (pleasure)
* About half way round she inevitably gets bored/ tired. I then carry buggy, passengers and Millie all the way back home (pain, and yet another reminder as to why I must renew my gym membership)

This could all explain why I'm looking and feeling so much older than my rapidly advancing years these days. God help me in another 12 months...