I looked on with envy. We had just boarded a train to Bath. Lauren, Lauren’s Daddy and me. We had successfully boarded, collapsed the buggy, squashed it into a heaving luggage rack to the tuts of people around us, hauled the changing bag and other necessities with us and stuffed them overhead. We had found our thankfully prebooked seats, which were obviously not table
seats, front facing or near a luggage rack as requested and sat down with Lauren on my knee. So having got my breath back I glanced around and saw a man, a single passenger, easing in to his chair having got settled with his Ipad, his coffee and his panini (or panino as it should actually be called. It’s no wonder the British are useless at languages). I just looked at him and thought,that is bliss. An hour and half of pure ‘you’ time. Quiet, relaxing, nice view, tasty snack. Oh it made me nostalgic for the good old days of train travels, that is the ones pre Oct 2010.

However, I shouldn’t moan. It could have been a lot worse. Lauren was pretty well behaved, even if I did have to pick up the crayons a helpful guard gave us about 300 times and even if my hair was a bit bananay by our destination. Plus that man didn’t get to sing songs to a small child who then walked round the streets of Bath singing ‘It’s not about the money, money, money’ at the top of her voice. It was pretty in tune although the enunciation definitely needed some work.

So we spent a lovely day with our friends and their new baby in Bath and all was well. At the hotel in the evening, we decided to do Lauren’s usual bedtime routine and then put her in her buggy and walk around to get her to sleep, then go out for dinner somewhere accommodating. Nice idea in principle. 7:30pm, set off, Lauren looking sleepy. 9pm, still walking around Bath.

Lauren hyper, chatting about lights and cars and policemen and tunnels. I am also carrying her and have been for about 20 mins. She’s pretty heavy now. 9:15pm back in hotel room. Lauren refusing to sleep in cot. 9:30 Lauren asleep on our bed, lying on top of me. 9:45 having debated going to get takeaway and realising neither of us had any will left to do it, sat in the dark, watching a TV quiz show on silent, eating the only food we had. Rice cakes and petit filous. It doesn’t get any better than that.

Back in London, we had a christening to attend. No worries for me about what Lauren would wear. She was in a lovely dress and cardi from our Confiture collection and of course her little Startrite shoes. Head to toe in Trotters. Perfectly pretty and didn’t she know it. Here she is modelling her outfit from all angles.

We’ve been so busy at Trotters this week with everyone stocking up on summer clothes, shoes and suncream. I joined the rush earlier and took Lauren to Turnham Green store to buy her a sunhat and some canvas shoes.

The shoes were easy. Plain white canvas, simple and effective. Lauren proclaimed them “nice” and they were bought.
The hat was a whole different story.

Something I’ve heard a lot at work this week:

“He just won’t wear a hat!”

I think some parents, maybe those who don’t work in a children’s store and see this every day, think their child is especially difficult in this regard. No, let me reassure you. They’re nearly all the same!

I think most of us battled through winter trying to persuade, cajole or brainwash our children in to wearing a fleecy, warm hat. By end of February, many had succumbed. So, now surely hat wearing is accepted? NO. Summer hats are totally different from winter hats and the process beginneth again.

This was my second attempt at buying a hat. Last week when we went in, I tried about 6 on and every one she pulled off her head and shouted “BABIES!”

Today she just pulled them off her head and got sillier and sillier as I chased her round the shop trying to get a photo of her for this blog.

As you can see I gave up. Here she is sans hat, trying on her shoes and I think telling bunny where the shoe department is so she can get some nice shoes too.

So, I have had to resort to last year’s headwear which for some reason, she will accept for at least 5 minutes before removing. How sweet are the shoes? I thoroughly recommend them. Easy to wear, lightweight and you can stick them in the washing machine.

Don’t despair though. It seems sunglasses are very acceptable. It’s clearly because mummies all wear them and therefore they’re grown up. She loves hers and I have taught her to say “peace man” when she puts them on and do a peace v sign. We’ve certainly amused some passersby this week with that one!

If I had to describe Lauren in one word that totally sums her up right now it would be ‘opinionated’. In what feels like an overnight change, she has developed forceful and inflexible ideas about everything from food, to clothes, to acceptable activities.

So it was serendipitous that we’ve got a new book in Trotters called ‘French Children Don’t Throw Food’. I highly recommend it. It’s controversial and you won’t agree with it all but it’s funny and thought provoking and definitely a step up from dull, dull, dull parenting books.

The main thrust of it is that French parents are much more disciplinarian than British or American parents. They insist their children do as they’re told and don’t accept no for an answer. A much used phrase is Ces’t moi qui decide or ‘it is me who decides’.

With this in mind, let’s take a recent example from my life.

Lauren and I are getting ready to go out. She’s strapped in to her trike and ready to go.

“No shoes. Wellies.” She says.

“No poppet, you don’t need wellies it’s not raining and we’re not going on the common to play”.

“Wellies!”

“NO, Lauren. You’re wearing pink and your wellies are red so they won’t match.”

“WELLIES!! Uhuuuh huh” cry, whinge.

“Lauren, come on, don’t be silly. You won’t look pretty and if anyone from work sees me, I’ll get sacked for crimes against style.”

“Wellies, wellies, no shoes, noooooo shooooes.”

“Okay. I’ll get your wellies.”

Now, I am guessing that the average French Maman may not have given in at this point and on reading this would tut tut and thank goodness she wasn’t so weak. She would also not have soaked a cheese and potato pie in ketchup just to get it down her child (WHO doesn’t like chesses and potato pie?! SO fussy nowadays) and then had to suffer the consequences for several days afterwards when every dish, other than pudding or soup, would be refused until the “KETSUPS, KETSUPS” was provided.

And I think Maman’s probably right in some ways but not all. Maybe having said no, I should have stuck to it but I probably shouldn’t have said no in the first place. Why shouldn’t she wear her wellies? She loves them so much. We have to put them on over her sleepsuit in the morning otherwise she won’t eat breakfast and she even wanted to wear them in the bath last night! Now that would have been ridiculous but where’s the harm? I say, don’t say no for the sake of it. Going along with the madness is more fun anyway.

Probably not unsurprisingly, all this choosiness has coincided with her learning lots of new words all at once. I had a proud moment on Sunday when at Chiswick House she pointed to a bird on the river and shouted “coot”. I was impressed, as was her father. He still can’t remember the difference between a coot and a moorhen even though I’ve told him a zillion times.

Later that day, relating the tale to Lauren’s granddad, thinking he could share in the pride, he says disparagingly,

“Well, someone’s obviously taught her that, haven’t they?”

Erm, yes, clearly. We weren’t suggesting that Lauren has psychic powers, or that she had gleaned the name through Mother Nature by reading universal vibrations. Of course someone’s taught her! I was just happy that the admittedly rather intensive ornithology tutoring she’s had has paid off. That’s all. Gosh, I thought everything was getting easier with grade inflation these days and that would be enough to get a B in GCSE biology but it seems she’s going to have to work much harder to impress her nearest and dearest. We’ve taught her ‘pangolin’ for next time, which as you’re surely aware is an armoured animal from the tropics. If that doesn’t impress him nothing will!

Wow, I am very popular at the moment; my little girl has become my little Klingon. It seems I must be the most amazing mother because she simply can’t bear to be parted from me. If I should think for a second about leaving a room with her in it, she makes her disquiet felt by repeating “Mummy, mummy, mummy” in the most sorrowful voice she can conjure up, which becomes gradually distorted by little sobs.

Yesterday when I left for work I am told she stood at the front door, arms outstretched, doing the same routine. Now whilst in many ways I find this sort of adoration quite flattering and it clearly shows who is the better parent (he tried his best bless him) it can also be a teeny weeny mite irritating.

She’s also randomly decided that two of her stuffed pals are her absolute best friends. Having never previously shown any attachment to a cuddly toy, monkey, dolly and Lauren are now virtually inseparable. Not only must the pair of them be in full view at all times, but monkey must be in his dress (I always thought of him as a boy but Lauren clearly disagrees) otherwise we get “Dress, dress” in the whinge voice.

So now, I can completely empathise with all those mums in Trotters who buy four identical Jellycat toys because that particular lion/doggy/bear is their child’s favourite and the risk of losing the toy is simply too great for all concerned. The old, non-parent, rather judgemental me may have thought these mothers somewhat over-anxious or over-indulgent. Not anymore! I am with you! And also, just a warning but I’ve seen it happen lots of times where a mum comes to buy a replacement toy and it’s discontinued. They don’t make them forever you know. Buy now!

If you never need to use a replacement toy, take a top tip from one of our design team at Trotters. She has a daughter who was 18 this year and saved the spare version of, in this case, the Little Princess and presented it to her on her 18th birthday. There were apparently a lot of tears! Ahhhhhh.

Well, having said all this, I am not overly worried about the clinginess. There are other signs that Lauren will grow up to be the independent, strong woman I hope she will be. See below……..needless to say this was a trip with her nanny (you wouldn’t have got me anywhere near that thing. I’d have been crying for my mummy if that was round my neck!!!)

You’ll have all read on the blog about our spring/summer photo shoot. I was really pleased that Lauren was asked to be a model again again. OK, let’s face it, my colleagues who choose the children have to ask her or it might be slightly awkward. How to tell someone their child isn’t attractive enough hmm.

Anyway, I approached the session with some trepidation and rightly so as it turned out. Honestly, it wasn’t good. Mini tantrum before the first set of shots, tantrum when not allowed to eat a brown, (half-eaten by another child) apple, leading to me giving in and letting her eat the apple. Tantrum when I took apple away from her to take next lot of photos etc etc. Bow pulled out of hair about 4,000 times. Tricked her in the end though and here’s a good tip: put two in at once and mess around a lot with the second one and they pull that out and don’t realise the other’s there. Ha!

A minor victory though. Generally I left feeling rather stressed and cross with Lauren. At least the model pickers will be able to excuse her on behavioural grounds next time!

On a positive note, in the moments of calm we had, it was so nice to chat with the other mums there and lovely to see our collection being worn. All the children were so sweet and beautiful and the clothes looked absolutely gorgeous. Also, Lauren loved playing with the pirate and his fluffy parrot, as did the other children…

One of the nice shots of Lauren is on the website and it’s her wearing a duck dress, which as our regular customers know is one of our classic designs. It was so lovely then for me when Lauren’s nanny, Tama, told me her Mum dressed her in Trotters and still has many of the items she wore when she was little. One of them is an original duck dress, shown below. Isn’t it fabulous?! In those days it even came with handmade fimo buttons. Amazing. Our designs have certainly evolved since then, and we don’t do such strong colours now!

If anyone else has kept any Trotters clothes, we’d love to see some photos or old photos of your children wearing them. The older the better! Email them in and we’ll put them up.

Finally, how did everyone else get on with the snow? I was highly enthusiastic. I rushed to Turnham Green store to get Lauren some little Aigle wellies in red, which by the way, she adores and carries around the house shouting “boots”. Snow though, is not such a hit. Nothing could tempt her to enjoy herself in it. Not even throwing a massive snowball at Daddy. Very unpopular, stupid, cold, wet white stuff. Roll on summer.

People keep asking me if Lauren is looking forward to Christmas. How should I know? On the one hand, she is showing a lot of enthusiasm for her advent calender and has obviously opened too many doors too early but I am not sure that definitely means she can’t wait for the 25th. She has also developed a huge liking for mince pies. Ha! I look back at the old me, the sugarfree mum and I laugh in her face. At her Daddy’s work party she had a bowl of whipped cream with chocolate suace on it for goodness sake. (There was some disapproval from other mothers; rightly, to be fair.)

On the other hand though she remains wholly indifferent to the Christmas tree, the decorations, or in learning how to say ho ho ho. Her Granny though has taught her what Ebenezer Scrooge says (whisper sheep under breath). BAAAAA!!!! That makes her look incredibly well read in Chiswick baby book club I can tell you.

Anyway, I can ask her whether she’s looking forward to Christmas since, although it’s 10:15pm, she is sitting on my knee right now, doing her best to help me write my blog. I do not know why she is still up, although she and her nanny did make gingerbread stars today and Lauren did sample quite a few apparently, so it could be that. Alternatively, it might be because she knew I was really looking forward to a relaxing evening of doing nothing because all the Christmas shopping and sorting is done and finally I could just sit. No, no, no mummy. That’s not what mummys do! I’ve let her cry it out about 8 times, relented, brought her down, given in to her wanting some of my halloumi salad, let her play, taken her back up, let her cry again for ages, thought it must be teething, so given her medicine and soothing gum gel, brought her down again and now just given up and let her sit on my knee until she falls asleep. Did I mention I’ve stopped reading the parenting books. Does it show at all?!

Now really, I am going to put her in her cot for good. Night night everyone and have a very merry Christmas.

This weekend Lauren went oop north for the first time to visit some relations. This came as quite a culture shock to her. I tried to ease her in gently by stopping en route at Watford Gap services but she failed to adjust to her surroundings and with her walker marched straight into the coffee shop. You can take the girl out of Chiswick………..

So we arrived somewhat unprepared and the first area of confusion to arise was being called ‘duck’. She knows she is not one of those quacky things in the bath, so why did everyone keep refering to her and each other as such? Most odd.

We also had to overcome the language barrier. Upon arrival Great Grandma was treated to an exceptional performance of Lauren’s repertoire of animnal noises and was rightfully pretty impressed. Later on, Great Grandma wanted Lauren to do a repeat performance, so she was saying things like “Lauren, do mun-keh” to which Lauren would just look at her quizically until I whispered ‘monkey’ and she obligingly ooo-ooo,oo, ah-ah-ahhhhhed.

Her relations were not able to impressed by Lauren walking because she still can’t, not that I am surprised. First she couldn’t roll when all her friends could, then she was really slow to crawl and now she can’t walk. She’s definitely not forward when it comes to going forward.

She is progressing nicely vocally though. We have now learnt baboon “bah-boo” and bamboo “bah-boo”! She is immensely proud of these word(s) and tries to repeat everything back but basically fails unless the consonant involved is ‘b’. In place of totally unobtainable sounds is a breathy ‘huh’. So ‘quack’ becomes ‘huh’ and clock becomes ‘huh’ etc. Not sure at what age children are able to say these things because I’ve officially given up with parenting books. All they do is stress me out that her diet isn’t perfect, or she doesn’t sleep long enough. or she should be able to recognise a Dali versus a Picasso by now. For newborns,I think you’d have to be mega confident not to buy one and I found mine invaluable but now, I am just going to muddle along. I realise I risk being the weird mother but hey, if I had to suffer lunchboxes full of homemade yoghurt and dried figs when I was at school, then it’s only right Lauren follows in the family tradition. (Sorry mum, I loved my lunches really!)

Anyway, back in London on home turf, we did a bit of Christmas shopping on Kings Road. Lauren popped in to Trotters to see all the girls and buy some of her friends birthday presents. She mooed repeatedly at our store manager Tricia – I think she was trying to impress her. Then we went to Peter Jones and met Father Christmas, who despite coming from Lapland fortunately did not have a Northern accent so she could understand him. Phew!

At last! Lauren has started pulling some weight around the house and getting involved in some chores. She is heavily into sweeping with a dustpan and brush and constantly pulls me up on my housekeeping weaknesses by picking up little, tiny flecks off the floor and giving them to me. Other favoured ‘helping’ activities are pulling all the laundry off the clothes horse, wiping the table with a tissue after meals (that one is genuinly quite useful) and chasing Henry hoover around the floor as I vacuum.

I am feeling more and more superfluous to requirements, as she eats breakfast all by herself, brushes her own teeth and much prefers going out with her walker than in the pram, which she only really tolerates if she wants a nap. She’s quite the girl about town now and rushes around without a backward glance. She really couldn’t care less whether I am near or not. It’s lucky I am thick skinned because otherwise it could be quite upsetting. Here she is in Westfield doing a bit of window shopping and making the most of the lovely shiny, smooth floors! She also enjoys a stroll along Chiswick High Rd so she can wave to everyone. Life really is fun when you’re one!

We went on a lovely day out to the Museum of CHildhood in Bethnal Green and Lauren’s best friend Cleo came too. It was great fun. Definitely one to visit if you haven’t been and it’s free to get in! The babies had a brilliant time and so did the mummies. We especially enjoyed forcing them, against their will, to dress up as policewomen. It was so cute! They were not impressed at all. Hi-Vis just isn’t their colour it would seem.

Of course, the day couldn’t go totally to plan.

Even though I know Lauren has an egg allergy, I let her eat a brownie with egg in it. Why? I just thought, well, they’re cooked eggs and she’s probably hardened up to eggs by now, afterall it’s a couple of weeks since the last reaction. It’ll be fine. Also, I don’t want her to have an egg allregy as it’s highly inconvenient, so surely if I act as though it doesn’t exist, then it won’t. No. That was an incorrect assumption. This time, she came up in hives all over her body including her little face and her ears swelled up to big puffy red things. She was itchy all over and kept writhing around in her buggy. I was also slightly panicking because it came on so fast, so called NHS Direct on the bus so everyone around me could hear about my utter incompetance. They say, ‘are her airways blocked, are her lips swelling?’ – aargh, even more panic. Anyway, it was fine. After an hour or so the redness started to calm down and she cheered up. Then, horribly timed, we had to go for her injections, so you can imagine which mummy was feeling pretty guilty by the end of the day. She couldn’t even have all three because the MMR is egg-based!! Great.

Other than that, the main focus of the last few days has been learning animal noises. This is a fantastic activity! Now I see why there are so many animal books for young children. It is hilarious when they get one right. We’ve got quite a few sorted, snakes and bees and horses and dogs, etc etc and we’re working on donkeys but her absolute favourite by far is mooing, She moos morning noon and night. Really loudly. On the high street there is a big plastic cow outside the cafe which she stops and moos at, a lot. This does attract quite a lot of attention, which she loves and we get into a terrible cycle of ever-increasing moo volume. Perhaps this week we’ll work on what noise earthworms and sloths make!

Ideally, getting Lauren’s first pair of shoes and her first hair cut would have (for blog purposes) happened on different occasions. After all, both are major rites of passage and are fully deserving of a blog in their own right. However it was not meant to be. Last week I took Lauren to Kensington Trotters to get her some pre-walkers. One of our hairdressers, Silbene, wanted to cuddle Lauren and then, as hairdresers do, started looking at her hair and asked me if she could cut it. I said NO!!! I am NOT prepared. I need to be prepared for this. This is a big deal. There was however a really knotty/dry bit at the back, so we agreed she could just snip that bit off – that wouldn’t count as a haircut.

Of course, I might have known, Lauren loved it. The fish tank was obviously amazing and someone fussing around her hair was nice. At this point I was still holding her but Silbene is brlliant with babies and Lauren was having great fun, so I sat her in the chair to see how she’d like it. Well, she is clearly born to be pampered. She sat there reading her book, chatting to the fish, very, very happy. Loved the hairdryer, everything. I think she was disappointed when it was finished.

She was presented with a first haircut certificate, with a lock of blonde (fading fast to mousey) hair and of course her own Dunwoody chocolate coin (ooooooooooooh she said).

So then on to shoes. And again, what? Someone else new to make a fuss of me? Amazing! Getting her feet measured by Maria seemed to really absorb her. I think most children love the measuring bit. We play ‘shoe shops’ at home anyway (best to start her young) so she’s used to trying on shoes but these ones were all her size rather than mummy’s. Much better!

We ended up with some nice red prewalkers which she has been merrily stomping around in ever since.

I can honestly say it was a lovely shopping experience as a Mummy. It seems weird but it’s an oddly proud moment getting first shoes and haircut – that doesn’t make sense but I suppose it’s just a ‘my baby’s all grown up’moment. Sweet.