I’m running a course in handling conflict in a fortnight for some corporate clients. It occurs to me that I need a mini-version of this course for dealing with the phase our son, Monty, is currently experiencing. I posted a question about it on TwinsClub and have had some useful answers so far. I reckon most good ideas will come from this forum. It seems like such a rich source of valuable experience for us.

In my post I said that Monty’s tactics seem to be as follows:

“1 Don’t answer Mummy and Daddy, just suck thumb and stare blankly at them.

2 Scream when they turn the television off EVERY night. Howl and cry as loudly as possible. Switch on turbo tantrum booster if necessary.

3 Refuse to obey simple commands.

4 Don’t eat supper; especially when they ask me if I want something and I have said yes to it.

5 Change my mind frequently.

6 When they lift me up to dress, undress, or make me do anything else not on my plan become an instant slinky and collapse in a heap.

7 Don’t tell them what I want or don’t want. Make ‘em guess. It seems to really annoy them.

8 Throw a tantrum as soon as they turn off the light at bed-time.

9 Do the opposite of whatever I’m told unless they’re just trying to trick me into doing what they want.

10 Nod and say I understand simple commands and then, when challenged, pretend I haven’t a clue what they’re talking about.

11 Just occasionally nod and say yes ok I would like to go on the naughty step.

12 Always be on high alert for opportunities to annoy Mummy and Daddy or misbehave.

Although we use the naughty step and occasionally confiscate toys, we need more options. Serious heart to heart talks have no effect either. We have “How to Listen so Children will talk” etc but I haven’t the time to read it for a few weeks. I’m hoping there’ll be some useful nuggets of wisdom in there.

Progress on this issue will be reported in the coming weeks, months and years no doubt.

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At first I thought I’d get a definite “No, Daddy, I don’t want to do that,” but on Sunday Monty took his first ride on a horse ever. He’d always been a little intimidated by horses, but the circumstances were different this time. We were at a party in Surrey hosted by some cousins. During the morning before lunch, children were being offered pony rides. The fact that we didn’t make a big deal about it probably helped Monty feel happy about the idea too.

After taking the obligatory photos I held his hand and walked next to Monty and the pony. I was surprised at how much he enjoyed it. When Charlotte asked him how it was he said he’d had a good time, pointing out how bumpy it had been. So far so good.

Let’s hope he has a few more positive experiences like this. I get nervous about riding as I haven’t done much of it and, as a boy, I once rode a horse which got a bit too flighty for me. It nearly put me off for life. I’d hate to see Monty, Tilly and Scott have the same experience.

Lone Ranger

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From Wheezing to Casualty

It started with some wheezing and before you know it, Charlotte had to take Tilly in to St George’s Hospital for bronchioilitis. Initially we weren’t too concerned, but our local GP thought it best to be safe so yesterday Charlotte had to take Tilly to the hospital. I guess the doctors have to play safe just in case. Anyhow, drama averted and after a check-up with the in-house paediatrician, Tilly was discharged and returned home.

I never know how worried to be about things like this and maybe I don’t get worried enough. I just assume everything will work out ok somehow, so I wasn’t crawling up the walls with fear. It definitely helps that Charlotte is the same, that is, unlikely to panic.

I didn’t know what bronchiolitis was or what we should do so I had a look at the Twinsclub forum and found a question and series of answers there. I can’t help raving about Twinsclub. It’s an excellent resource for all things about parenting and babies. If you have twins and need any kind of advice or help from other parents then join up asap and you’ll find it an excellent source of useful information.

So, the long and short is Tilly is fine and Daddy is better informed.

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A while ago I was forewarned by a fellow poster on Twinsclub that after the twins were born I should expect to have to leave my blog aside as life would be too busy. At the time I didn’t see the problem. Why would I? I already have a career and a family, I thought, what difference can two more babies make?

Ha ha ha, you idiot, I now think to myself. How I laugh at my naivety in the face of what would become an overwhelming and huge life adjustment. And I’m still not adjusted yet (I’m sure many family and friends will agree). I realise that underneath my apparently calm exterior I really haven’t a clue just how topsy turvy my life would become.

One day I will probably look back on these times and be amazed at how completely ignorant I was at what was going on all around me. But maybe I will also recognise that this oblivion to the surrounding chaos was essential for my survival.

Anyhow, this is why my blogging has been more intermittent lately. Nevertheless, I’ve managed to post a few up on here and I’ll keep on doing so as long as I can.

My way of coping at present is to just put one foot in front of the other and try to tick off as many of my daily to-do’s as possible and not be overly concerned where I fail or fall short. I know that this phase (and that’s surely all it is) won’t last more than maybe twenty or thirty years tops. All I have to do is keep facing forward and ticking off the to-do’s.

Have kids. Tick
Blog. Tick
Sleep. Tick.
Eat. Tick.
Work. Tick.
Retire. Tick.

Watch the children grow up, graduate, leave home and get married and have their own children….. (half a tick. Well. We have at least made a start, after all.)

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Names in our family are fairly straightforward. Daddy is Daddy, Mummy is Mummy, Monty is Monty and both Tilly and Scott go by their names as you would expect.

The other day I came downstairs from my office and walked into the living room where Charlotte and Monty were watching television. Monty looked up at me and with a jovial smile said “Hello, Luke!”

This was one of those times when I was literally stunned by his words. He can be really funny. He knew this one was a winner too - I tickled him mercilessly telling him what a cheeky monkey he was. He kept replying that no, he wasn’t a cheeky monkey, he was Monty. And then added a few more Hello Luke’s for comic effect.

Unlike his father, Monty doesn’t wear out a good joke through constant over-repetition. He hasn’t done it since, making it all the more memorable. And he is quick. When he sees something is funny and gets a laugh he works it well to maximum effect. And then he’s off looking for new material.

It’s hard being continually upstaged by a two year old. I just hope I have the good grace to let him become the comedian he is undoubtedly becoming.

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OK, it’s time for me to address this age-old “Why, Daddy” problem and my utterly ridiculous and childish attempts at a suitable resolution. It always starts innocently enough before disintegrating into a verbal ping pong match. A few days ago I had a fine example of how the conversation with Monty goes while driving to Richmond Park for our weekly run.

We were driving along quite happily, listening to “Chug Chug” (Monty’s name for the first Tin Pan Annie cd). On a stretch of what is usually an empty road at that time of the morning, I had to slow down and wait for a scaffolding lorry ahead to reverse around a corner and park before I could go ahead. Monty pointed at the lorry and said, emphatically “Look, Daddy, that lorry’s going backwards”.

“Yes, it is”, I agreed.

And then it started…

MONTY: Why’s it going backwards, Daddy?

DADDY: Because it’s going to park in that street there.

MONTY: Why, Daddy?

DADDY: Because it’s going to unload the scaffolding.

MONTY: Why, Daddy?

DADDY: Because some people want to put a new roof on their house. (Bit of a guess)

MONTY: Why, Daddy?

DADDY: Because they let it fall into a poor state of disrepair (I had committed myself to answering every question to his satisfaction until I wore him out, even if it meant taking a few liberties)

MONTY: Why, Daddy?

DADDY: Because they just don’t understand the value of their property and now they’re having to pay the price for their neglect (not necessarily a bare-faced lie; let’s call it creativity in motion)

MONTY: Why, Daddy?

DADDY (Pausing for dramatic effect and then, deliberately and with the utmost sincerity) Because, my boy, we all have to pay for our sins eventually…

You see? Parenting can be so much fun!

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When it’s a Dressing Gown.



Daddy, in his gigga with Tilly and Scott

You know how children develop nicknames for some words or phrases they can’t pronounce? Well, one of my favourite ‘Monty’ words which replaced ‘dressing gown’ was ‘Gigga’. No idea how that came about but it was so persistently used that eventually I gave up trying to persuade him that in our house we all wore dressing gowns. I fact, it wasn’t long before we all started wearing giggas too.

I suppose we hadn’t used the term for quite a while - maybe we just didn’t wear our giggas over the summer.

But then a few days ago, while we were playing on the sofa after breakfast I mentioned something about my gigga. Monty asked me what a gigga was. I was stunned. I pointed at my dressing gown as if to remind him. He looked at me and, without batting an eyelid, “It’s not a gigga, it’s a dressing gown Daddy”.

My heart sank. He didn’t even remember. Charlotte and I looked at each other sadly as we realised he really is growing up fast. I’m glad I’m blogging about some of these incidents. One day we will all have forgotten them and hopefully a scan of the archives will bring all these happy memories flooding back into our lives.

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So we were changing the nappies of Tilly and Scott the other day. Monty was with us and just after we removed Tilly’s soiled nappy Monty pointed at her, and asked curiously,

“What’s that?”

Quick as a flash I answered, as matter-of-factly as I could.

“That’s her front bottom”.

Immediately I cringed at what I’d just said. I’ve no idea where I first heard that name, but I have subsequently heard it used several times. And I really don’t like it. But I also didn’t have any options. Well why would I? I’m a reasonably normal bloke. And blokes don’t discuss this kind of thing at playgounds when supervising our children. Instead, we talk about the rugby and important things like that.

However, I do recognise that sometimes I need to drop my guard and ask for help in matters like this. So I thought I’d better go and get help from a grown-up, or, better still, a whole group of expert grown-ups that I know (the ever-excellent Twinsclub forum).

The answers I got to my post there encouraged me to pen a few lines. I’m no poet, so don’t be too harsh in your literary criticism.

I asked Twinsclub for help today
I got many answers, I’m pleased to say
“What do you call their private bits?”
Their answers had us all in fits.

For boys their list comprised just nine
You’ll agree, I’m sure, they look just fine
Do Da, Dinkle, Doodle, Taggle or Tinkle
And Widgy, Wiggy, Willy or Winkle

For girls the list was twice as long
Almost enough to write a song
How about Bitbot, Bits or Foo Foo
Or even Ninny, Foo or Loo Loo?

Maybe Mini, Penny or even Tinkle
Or Fancy, Flower, Peach or Twinkle?
Front Bottom, Wee Bum I don’t think so
Whistle and Foof? Sorry - also a no no

It really is difficult to find good names
It puts my creativity to shame
“What do I think of using Giblets?”
Next you’ll suggest I call them Niblets.

I’m not too keen on using Fairy
And I doubt that we will go with Mary
In fact I reckon we’ll avoid a tizzy
By keeping it simple with Willy and Wizzy

(Luke takes a bow)

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I sat on the sofa last night trying to watch a comedy Charlotte had recorded for me last week. I had both Tilly and Scott stuck to my chest, each taking it in turns to see who could cry loudest. We were getting into a daily routine, it seemed, of both of them crying all night and sleeping all day. And now it was night-time, the little vampires had woken up. I had changed both of them so it wasn’t the nappies. Apart from looking a tiny bit jaundiced, they’re both perfectly healthy, so that wasn’t the problem. Charlotte had fed them not long before. So it shouldn’t have been that either. So just what was it that made these two tiny, furry-headed creatures cry so loud? Boredom? Disapproval of Daddy’s taste in programming? Or just doing their job, i.e. sometimes breaking into spontaneous tears for no other reason than to practice their vocal chords at a time that suited them and nobody else? Ah, yes, that was it.

I cuddled, I whispered, I patted, I stroked, I kissed. But all to no avail. I thought about the idiotic design of the human body where both sexes have breasts yet only women can breastfeed. It’s not that I’m weird or anything, but it did occur to me how great it would be if I could whip out my man-breasts and feed them. I mean they’re almost big enough. Regrettfuly I ruled out this option. I even went up to see if Charlotte was up to trying a feed. But when I saw her sleeping soundly I thought the better of it - she hadn’t slept properly for days and was due to get up not long after to feed them anyway. So I let her rest and returned to sofa in our darkened living room to lie quietly with Tilly and Scott on my chest again, trying their best to suckle my t-shirt or my neck - nice try guys but don’t hold your breath.

An hour and a half later Charlotte woke and came downstairs to find us all on the sofa, Scott having finally fallen asleep about 5 minutes before and Tilly, still in full voice. Daddy was looking and feeling just a bit frazzled.

I passed over our “little cherubs” to Charlotte and thought that before I went to bed I would go and post a cry for help on Twinsclub, the forum where I get some of my best tips. I then managed to get a few hours’ sleep, which in hindsight makes me realise how ironic it can be that having useless man-breasts can actually be quite useful.

So I was looking forward to reading the gems of wisdom on Twinsclub this morning after breakfast, knowing how fast some of the members reply to messages. And what I found was both reassuring and disappointing in equal measure. Reassuring? Don’t worry, we’re doing everything right. Disappointing? Expect this behaviour to last several weeks or more. I suppose I knew that already. I was just hoping for some magic cure. Because there is one really isn’t there?..

We can’t change the bodyclock. We can try to introduce routines though, which we’re doing. Keep the house dark and quiet at nighttime and bright during the daytime.

It’s all part of parenting babies. And it’s no different with twins, just a bit more demanding.

I wonder… If only I could get them to synchronise their crying….

Sounds like another question for Twinsclub.

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