because it's worth it - by Theo

I was asking whether the sacrifices and stresses of the course were worth it, and the answer is: yes. I'm really, really enjoying the teaching. It's hard work, which some of the concepts proving to be an intellectual challenge, while controlling the students is an even bigger one. But on the days when I pretty much just teach, whizzing from one class to another, it is such a buzz, especially when the students come up with something even better than you'd hoped for.

Mind you, I'm not so into it that a day back at Uni -with a 9.30 start and a 3.30 finish- didn't feel like a holiday!

My new life by Theo

I left for work this morning before Rosie woke up, at 7.20am. I helped out in a PSHE class based around living costs, observed a science lesson, taught Animal Farm to Year 10 for a double then spent the rest of the day marking books, planning lessons and preparing resources. I finally left at 5.15pm.

Rosie insisted Kate do bath time this evening - usually I do - hence I've got ten minutes free to write this blog. I'll go up in a bit, read stories with Rosie, then, after she's gone to bed, I'll probably work til 10ish planning lessons, editting one of my assignments and preparing resources.

'Is it all worth it?' I wonder....

(to be continued)

The Kings By Kate

Since we've been back in Bristol, in an effort to try and shore up my dwindling Spanish and encourage Rosie's budding bilingualism, we've been attending a weekly Spanish-speaking playgroup. La Casita has been running for more than twenty years, run by a succession of Spanish and South American parents (well, mums mostly) keen to encourage their own children to keep up their Castillano - and as an Hispanic oasis for themselves.

Latinos are highly sociable beings in my experience and in that vein, La Casita hosts a number of spin-off family parties to keep the group love alive through the year and celebrate a few of the more important cultural events in the Hispanic calendar. One example being the El Dia del Muerte, as mentioned in a previous blog and, a couple of days ago, a fiesta to celebrate El Dia de los Reyes.

For Spanish children, the main present-giving date in the Christmas calendar is Epiphany, January the 6th, when the star-following Three Wise Men turned up with their gifts for the infant Jesus Christ. In Spain it's a huge event and we witnessed the massive parade they put on in Madrid (less than three weeks before the birth of our daughter, as it turned out) where sweets were flung out to the eagerly waiting children (who used stepladders and upturned umbrellas to maximise their catching ability, much to our amusement).

The fiesta put on to mark the occasion by La Casita in Bristol was a far more modest affair, but endearingly Spanish in its friendly but slightly chaotic atmosphere. From the momentary panic that they didn't have enough Kings for the all-important present giving (Theo narrowly escaped being drafted in when other amenable dads stepped in to take on the roles); the determined singing of some Spanish carols by one brave soul while most of the children point-blank refused to join in; the wonderfully hilarious "ninos buenos" speech given by (Caspar? Melchior? Balthazar?) before the gift giving; to the meat-dominated fare in the buffet and the merciful presence of some authentic Spanish turron.Rosie was slightly bemused when it was her turn to approach the improbably bearded "kings" on the stage to get her present, but she received it gracefully enough and even managed a "gracias" when reminded by Theo. She had already raised a few smiles among the people surrounding us when she realised the "kings" were doling out treats from their three huge sacks by shouting, "Regalos! Regalos!" (Presents!) in excitement.

After unwrapping her gift and giving her new book a cursory glance, she spent the rest of the party either running into the kitchen at every opportunity (she was fascinated with the lock on one of the cupboard doors and demanded Theo's keys so she could try and open it); munching a few carefully-chosen items from the buffet; or plonking herself meaningfully in front of a family with loaded plates in the hope they might offer her a biscuit or piece of cake. Theo and I were partly mortified and partly entertained by that last stunt. We have to hand it to our little girl, she's got some chutzpah.

She doesn't know much about art.... by Theo

...but our daughter knows what she likes. When we took her on a little trip to the City of Bristol Museum, she legged it through most of the galleries until she found....

strange beginnings - by Theo

2012 began for Kate and I at 1.20am when we were woken by a hammering at the door. As you might expect, this came as a surprise - we were expecting my parents but not that early. The knocking came again. Throwing on my dressing gown I ran into the bathroom and leaned out the window to see who the hell it was - there was no way I was opening the door at that time of night!

It was two police officers. They asked me to open up. So I went downstairs and unlocked.

"Can we speak to Marilyn please?"

I thought they had the wrong house - ours doesn't open onto the street listed on our address, but the street to the side - but no, they didn't. They had received a call about a domestic violence incident at our address from somebody called Marilyn Monroe*. I explained that my wife was called Kate and shortly after Kate came down to join me at the door to confirm her name and that she was fine. The police officers, mystified as they had confirmed the address by radio, bid us goodnight and happy new year.

I really hope it was only a prank call, or that whoever it was gets the help they need - dv is no joke. Good to see that the Avon & Somerset Constabulary doesn't think so either.

*name changed to protect identities - but the real name was of a similarly famous actress.

Driving around for Christmas - by Theo

I had had the silly idea that, since we'd moved back to the UK, spending holidays driving round the South West visiting family were a thing of the past. What a foolish notion.

Deciding that GKK (our clio) wasn't up to it, my parents kindly lent us their BMW (after we'd driven to their house for the Yuletide festivities) for our visit to Cornwall. Rosie had a splendid time on Christmas Day, with many of her favourite people (and cat) being there.

Despite all the driving and the disturbed nights (even when Rosie doesn't wake up, she's such a fidgety sleeper that we invariably do), it was wonderful to see everyone. We'd spent the night with my parents - Cathy, Kate's mum had joined us too - then headed back to Bristol on Boxing Day for a party at Pete and Ems' place. Rosie spent much of it delightedly spinning round in their office chair or falling backwards off their sofa onto a pile of cushions. Then, on the 27th, we dropped Cathy off at the airport and headed down to Penwith to stay with Becky (Kate's sister), her husband Dan and their tribe of four children - or, as Rosie calls them, 'the cousins'!


Rosie was in her element - a house full of books and toys, a big garden to run around in, and four doting older playmates. I even got to relax a bit and read a few books!
Day trips out to Kate's dad and grandparents in Falmouth, and to friends in St. Ives (Jon and Sarah) were also on the itinerary, and on the way back, through fog and rain, a stop with the Presswells in Devon. Again Rosie was having a fab time with her cousins there, but the presence of a puppy (Mylo) made her a bit nervous and was why we weren't staying for too long.

It was, as usual, a lovely trip, especially for Rosie who revelled in seeing everyone. But goodness did it feel good to get home!

A heartfelt thank you to Laura Veirs by Kate

One of the things I had been dreading when it came to parenting was that music category known as Children's Songs. Even before Rosie's advent, I had already heard too many brittle ditties with sickly, high-pitched vocals laid over the kind of artificial synthesiser arrangements a self-respecting Kraftwerk-lover would rightly eschew with contempt. Or indeed any self-respecting music-lover. Some of the tunes from Disney cartoon musicals pass muster (I will happily listen to The Jungle Book OST on repeat) but otherwise there are far too many that I believe are given second-class musical treatment simply because the songs are aimed at children. It's both cynical and patronising, in my view. Not to mention exquisite torture to long-suffering parents who are forced to listen to the horrible things over and over every time they get in the car with their pint-sized offspring.

So when I heard Laura Veirs' arrangement of Jump Down Spin Around played on BBC 6Music, I was immediately interested to hear that it came from an entire collection by Veirs aimed at children (inspired by her own experience of new motherhood).

I'm not ashamed to say there was a high degree of self-interest in our decision to buy the CD for Rosie as a Christmas present. Anyone with small children knows if they like something, they will want it repeated ad nauseam. And ad infinitum. I was determined to find something Theo and I could bear to listen to on repeat as well.

And I'm pleased to say Tumble Bee by Laura Veirs absolutely fits the bill. Theo and I are totally charmed by the folksy arrangements of (largely) American traditional children's songs. But what would Rosie think?

She was immediately intrigued by the cover art and the little booklet that came inside the CD, so that was a good start. Then we put the CD on and held our breath as Rosie listened to the first track. There was a infinitesimal pause after it ended, then Rosie shouted; "Again! Again!"

We breathed out.

In fact, Rosie called for an encore on every track played and happily danced to Tumble Bee and bounced in time on her new trampoline (another Christmas present) for the rest of the afternoon.

She has since settled on Why, Oh Why? as her favourite track from Tumble Bee, but that's okay. Because we like it too. A lot.

Christmas come early - by Theo

Tomorrow we're heading to Cirencester for Christmas Day with my parents - Kate's mum is also joining us - and we're hoping to get away reasonably early. Realising that presenting Rosie with a full stocking from Santa, then demanding she abandon her new (or newish - Santa's big on second hand) possessions to get into the car for an hour was just begging for a tantrum. So we decided to go all European and arrange for Saint Nick to come a day early, after Rosie's nap.

Rosie woke up from her nap a good 40 minutes earlier than usual, catching us a bit unawares (Santa hadn't even begun putting Daddy's stocking out), and the sight of a big pile of brown paper parcels outside her door freaked her out a bit.

When she finally calmed down, she became engrossed by the first present she unwrapped - a squeezed ball-globe - to the extent that she didn't unwrap another for a good half-hour and barely went on her new (£3.20 on eBay) trampoline except to retrieve said ball.

That soon changed when she discovered the joy of chocolate money, and then the hunt was on to find more. Luckily, as there wasn't any, she was soon engrossed by some new books. Predictably, and rather depressingly, the four Spanish books weren't as popular as the single English one - a 'Little Princess' title.

As Mummy's mango bodycream threatened to become a point of contention (Rosie wanted to open it and, probably, eat it - "I like mango!"), we wheeled in the big package which grabbed her attention. "It's Thomas!"

I think she's going to be hugely disappointed when she discovers that it's merely "a" Thomas. Still, plenty of fun to be had in the meantime.