My Phobia..

So I've never written about this as I have been concerned that by publicly revealing my weakness the information will fall into the wrong hands and will only be used against me. 
However I'm pretty sure everyone around me now knows my weakness. Now and again it reveals itself and due to it's total weirdness it becomes a talking point and travels through the people around me like like waves. 'Here, did you hear about that weirdo Amy?' 


So here goes, ready for it...

**stands up, dusts off self, clears throat**

I, Amy, have a fear of baked beans.

Yep.
I'll let that sink in.
I suppose you have some questions?

Amy's Phobia FAQ

Was there a bean related incident that lead to this affliction ?
Nope, they're just disgusting.

Does this fear extend to other members of the bean family?
Nope, although not entirely fond of other bean related foodstuff I can push them to the side of the plate like a normal person.

Do you like spaghetti hoops?
Love them

What is it that you dislike so much?
It's the entire disgusting combination, the gross bean, it's minging bean juice. Yuk yuk yuk. 

Now what? Have a compulsion to play a bean related trick on me? That appears to be the reaction of many.
I cannot tell you the amount of times I have been on a night out, ordered a drink at the bar, reached into my bag for my purse only to find a tin of baked beans.  If you were scared of dogs would I put a dog in your handbag? No. I wouldn't.
One night, coming home from my shift at work at 11pm I reached my house and was greeted by my name written in beans in the path leading to my house.  I stepped over it, not looking down, keeping very calm and collected and trying not to smell the beaniness. Finally got to the front door, reached to the front door handle to find the handle was covered in BEAN JUICE. What a bunch of bastards my friends are. That was a traumatic night.  If you had a fear of spiders would I write your name in spiders at your house and cover the door handle in spider juice? No. No, I would not.

Now that Joel is 18months old and is eating all round him people seem to be of the opinion that he is a deprived child not to have beans in his diet. 
But tough luck son. You will live a beanless life. I will not have beans in my house, tainting my cook wear. He can eat spaghetti hoops until the cows come home but I'm sorry, no beans. He does not lead a deprived life. 
Vegetarian children are not deprived without meat. 
Vegan children are not deprived without animal products.
Children with bean phobic mothers are not deprived without beans. 

One day Phil got in big trouble ...

Phil said 'but he LOVED them' - irrelevant.  He'd probably really love cigarettes if you let him smoke. 
Not only did he sneak out and feed him undercover beans, but posted it on Facebook. I had to cope with a bean contaminated child but also with every idiot within a World Wide Web radius commenting on my fear.  People would approach with their ridiculous menacing face and snarling laugh. Smug face 'Joel had beans then?' Smug face. 
I suppose when he is older and at school I will have to cope with the possibility of bean exposure at birthday parties. I SUPPOSE in that case as long as I do not see the bean eating, if he doesn't spill any on his clothing and is hosed off before he comes through the front door he can try some. Ugh. 

Oh. And my evil and satanic lovely and beautiful sister and law did this. 

Going to make a couple of onsies for her children made from cotton wool. Because that is her fear. Everyone has their weakness.


What's your weakness? 

Toys for Toddlers

Is that an appropriate title for this wee blog?  I'm not sure if Joel is a toddler.  He has only turned 1 year old this month but he has been walking since the age of 9 months.  He seems too young to be called a toddler but yet to0 mobile to be a baby.  Is there something in-between?  Pre-toddler?  Baddler?  Tody?  Answers on a postcard please.

So christmas and Joel's birthday were both less than a month ago and my house is completely overrun with shiny new toys and books.   The first christmas and the first birthdays are both big events and Joel was absolutely spoilt by our generous family and friends.  To be honest he hasn't had the opportunity to play with all of the toys properly yet.  The sheer amount of stuff is overwhelming.  But now that the glitter and excitement from the party season has settled I have removed all the toys out of sight apart from only one box.  I change the toys in this box regularly to allow Joel to rediscover toys and focus on one activity at a time.

So here are the success stories so far...

Wooden Truck

This was given to Joel by his Granda Stephen.  It was bought at Ikea, who have a great range of wooden toys.   This truck needs a good oiling as I lets out an awful squeak as you pull the string and roll it along.  The reason I haven't oiled it yet?  I'm pretty sure thats the reason Joel enjoys the toy.  He is not interested in the magnet crane that picks up the magnet blocks, he just likes to pull it along, making noise!

Incy Wincy Spider

Forgive me, I can't remember who bought this to Joel.  Does that make me an awful person?  He just got SO MUCH!  If you are reading this please make yourself known!  Joel loves this book, it is a familiar nursery rhyme to him as he sing's it at Song and Rhyme Time, a local library book.  It is also one of the regulars that we sing at home.  Joel loves Song and Rhyme time, he loves all things music. This book has a series of buttons he can press when prompted by the rhyme.  His favourite button to press plays the whole rhyme in jolly music and he has a good bum shake and head bop followed by lots of clapping.

Red Plastic Shaker

This was bought by his Nanny Heather and Granda Mike.  It is part of a bigger musical instrument set including a drum, xylophone, and clacker.  Joel also loves the clacker,  he would clack all day if I didn't remove it sometimes (cheers Nanny Heather!).  He shakes his shaker and walks in circles and shouts and roars. I'm sure he thinks that he is singing, very funny to watch.

Lawnmower

This was given to Joel by his Auntie Paula and Uncle Ray.  A forward thinking present that will serve well in our garden when we move from this flat to our new house.  Joel was cautious of this toy to begin with as the pull mechanism is very noisy but Joel soon warmed up to the lawnmower, in particular the petrol can part?!!

Bead Maze

This toy was originally a hit when Joel discovered it in 'Robert's of Bangor' when Joel was getting his feet measured for his first shoes.  Informed that the toy was from Ikea, Granny Jo put it on her list to buy for Joel for christmas.  Sometimes this toy is very serious business and Joel looks like he is hard at work concentrating when moving the beads, sometimes this to is hilarious as Joel laughs as he pushes the beads and they bang together.

 There are far to many toys to mention, and books too.  But there is a serious favourite from the party season that sits unchallenged at the top of the toy pile, and it was all contained within this small, plain box...

Yep.  Pom-poms.  My mum is a talented knitter and crocheter.  Joel loves to dive into the corners of her living room and pull out her wool and unravel her projects.  For christmas mum was working on beautiful crocheted wreathes to which she attached crocheted flowers and pom-poms.  Anytime we were at her house during this time Joel could be found swinging pom-poms and flowers, gathering them up and throwing them around.  And so for Joel's birthday mum decided to make Joel his very own box of pom-poms.  He loves it.  Joel loves to concentrate on unfolding and opening the box, and marvel at the colourful contents.  He empties the box, sometimes throwing the pom-poms around the room, sometimes deliberately placing them was if sorting them out.  He puts them in the box again, takes them out, in the box again, out again.  Then he carefully chooses two, one for each hand, ambles to his feet and begins his procession around the house swinging the pom-poms in circles.  He makes excited noises and giggles.  He hands you a pom-pom but only teases and as you reach out runs away with it again.  Sometimes he hands over the treasure but comes back to get it again, hands it to you, takes it away again, using you as a prop in his pom-pom game.  He plays a game with Granda Stephen where Granda hides a pom-pom in one of this hands or pockets and Joel squeals with glee when he finds it again.  I love that this magic box excites his imagination.  

So, who would have guessed it?  Box of pom-poms at the victorious top of the toy pile this season.  What was the most successful toy in your house this Christmas?  I'd love to hear!

Inner crazy lady..

Put that shocked face away! Don't act like you haven't had to restrain your inner craziness now and again!

Remember when your perfect tiny baby had to be dragged into the freezing cold (in my case, it was March and it was snowing like crazy) to be marched over to the doctors to get their first injections and check up. Stripped down to their wee bare skin and placed on that hard scale to be weighed, poked and prodded and measured.
All the time tiny Joel cried and cried that new baby cry.  I knew if I just picked him up and held him close he would settle but all these very important checks had to be done to be written on the special red book. I resisted the urge to shove those meddling nurses and doctors aside, knock them to the floor and scream, "just flippin leave him alone!!!! He's just a wee baby!!!! " but I resisted the urge as I knew it was all for a good purpose, to check that Joel was developing as expected and meeting his milestones.

Then they sat me in a chair and stabbed him with a needle (gave him his injections).
The whole experience was very stressful and traumatic.  I was aware of what would happen before the appointment and I thought I was prepared for it but couldn't help getting a bit flustered and stressed out.  There was a part of me that wanted to leap out of my clear and slap that doctor with a big open hand and leave her cheek red and stinging, leave him alone, leave my baby alone!!
If that's how I feel in a controlled situation that I have time to fully prepare for you can imagine I am bloody brilliant in an emergency.

A few weeks ago my mum and I decided to take a trip to Rowallane Yuletide Fayre.  It was held in a National Trust property.  I think this is the last 'fayre' I will be fooled into going to.  You know the type - pay an expensive fee to gain entry to what effectively is a field with a selection of over priced jams/chutneys to buy?  Well this fayre was particularly woeful in my eyes.

We were greeted by a lacklustre Santa.  Even Joel wasn't convinced.  

The stalls were all squashed in spaces without enough room to browse.  I spent my day getting in peoples way with the pram and apologising and finding myself trapped in awkward corners with a grabby baby in my arms determined to knock anything over within his grabby range.   I traipsed round after my mother who examined the knitted offerings.  A crocheted flower broach was selling for £6.  Now I am far from claiming any crocheting skills but my mum is pretty nifty with the crochet needle and is convinced she could whip one of those brooches up in half and hour!

There was a sorry looking donkey parked up in a grass area.  They were charging £3 for a donkey ride - that is a lap of the grass area that could not have lasted more than 30 seconds.  Shameful!

Anyways, thoroughly disillusioned with our yuletide experience we decided to take a walk around the gardens and grounds of the national trust property we had paid to be ripped off in.  My inquisitive 11 month old, newly on his feet was itching the stretch his legs and explore.  We didn't get very far.

We moved away from the hustle and bustle through an archway which lead to a landscaped garden.  There were a variety of beds arranged with various foliage and flowers and rectangles of pristine grass, all separated by a gravel walk way.  Expecting hoards of yuletide enthusiasts the organisers has cordoned off the pristine grass with red and white ribbon.  The ribbon was flickering in the winter wind and Joel was fascinated.  We stood at the ribbon while he grabbed for it and played with it - who needs toys eh?

Then before we knew it he had ducked under the ribbon and was waddling across the grass making a dive for the ribbon on the other side of the grass.  His enthusiasm for ribbon seem to grow with each step and he was soon half running across the grass.  My mum made a dash for it round one side of the grass area in an attempt to meet him at the other side.  I faffed about, considering crawling under the ribbon, considering following mum and then just watching in horror.  As I faffed and mum ran Joel made a grab for the ribbon on the other side.  The pathetic ribbon gave way under his weight and he lost his balance falling face first and banging his face off the gravel.
Oh he cried.  And so he should have, he had split his wee lip and there was blood everywhere and there seemed to be an large bruised egg rapidly appearing on the centre of his forehead.
A few passers by tried to be helpful offering first aid kits and sympathy but they only served to spook Joel and made him more upset, and made me panic listening to their comments 'oh, there's quite a lot of blood, isn't there?'  One member of staff suggested I take Joel to the St Johns Ambulance who were on site at the entrance to the gardens.  Yes that seemed like a good idea.  I would feel much  better if he was given the once over, so off we went.


I found the St. Johns Ambulance van.  A man sat in the front seat, engrossed in his phone.
I tried to get his attention by waking in front of the van and looking in.
I tried to get his attention by standing looking in his window beside him.
I knocked the window.
He looked out the window, questioningly.
I pointed at Joel.
He half opened the door of the van, phone still in hand, eyes flickering between me and his phone.
'Hi, he's just fallen and split his wee lip open, would you have ice or and ice pop/lolly to take the swelling away and soothe his mouth'
'Nooo...we wouldn't have anything like that...' He moves to close the door, barely casting an eye on Joel.
In my head I grab the door handle and pull it open, kick his stupid phone out of his stupid hand and shout "DO SOMETHING!!!!"
In reality I say quickly before he closes the door, 'it's just there is quite a lot of blood here, you wouldn't have anything?'
'No, I mean we have ice packs but that wouldn't be much use to you'
Dumbfounded I muttered 'ok?'.
In my head I punched him in the face and stole all his stupid ice packs.  Not unreasonable.

Can you believe him?  I know it is a volunteer organisation, but if you don't want to help people don't volunteer!  I know it wasn't exactly an emergency, Joel was as good as new after a slice of wheaten bread in the on site cafe, but they are there to provide a service and he didn't so much as cast an eye over Joel.

Although Joel looked a bit beat up and bruised for a few days I think the experience scarred me more than it scarred him.  He was well looked after and doted upon in the cafe by the staff and they even sneaked him a wee ice cream with his wheaten to try to reduce the swelling.  This incident just served as a cruel reminder that Joel is not longer a baby, rather a tearaway on the cusp of toddlerhood, this incident probably the tip of the iceberg in terms of accidents and injuries ahead.  He can no longer be wrapped in cotton wool, its terrifying.

Go on, reassure me, tell me that your mind goes into panic mode and you have to restrain your inner crazy lady?

No?

Anyone...?