Toddler Science

Toddler Science

It seems that try as I may I can not escape the fact that I was once, in a former life (the one of lie ins and perusing the Sunday papers), a science teacher. My poor three year old twins already know the difference between breathing and respiration and I once caught them arguing over whether a picture of a nondescript amphibian was a salamander or a newt. The teaching I do now is altogether different- really just a form of damage limitation/ prevention of death. But science is truly all around us. Hang out in my house with a couple of toddlers and you will learn a lot*. Michael Gove eat your heart out.**

*If I could be bothered it would be amusing to cross reference this to QCA standards but quite frankly I can't be arsed, especially as OFSTED doesn't visit Stay at Home Mums. Thank f*ck.

**If anyone can come up with some rhyming slang for Michael Gove that are as superbly appropriate as the obvious that springs into mind for Jeremy Hunt then please let me know. Better still send it to David Cameron as he now has a Twitter account (and a public relations officer than needs retraining).

Biology

Paleaontology: this should be on the National Curriculum as dinosaurs are an obsession of any child under 10. It also adequately explains the “baby brain” phenomenon – if you can accurately identify 200 species of long extinct animals and easily distinguish between a Styracosaurus and an Avimimus then there is little thought space left for any thing else (other than picking socks off the floor).

Physiology: it is possible to sneeze twice but the third time is to be avoided whenever possible. Pelvic floor? On a good day mine is more of a mezzanine.

Drugs education: Dear Children - Stimulants (specifically caffeine) must be administered to Mummy in the morning before she will acknowledge your existence or respond in any meaningful way. Dear Long Suffering Husband – Ethanol (preferably in gin/real ale/Rioja) must be administered to Wonderful Wife by 7.02pm before she will acknowledge your existence or respond in any meaningful way. Note Bene “respond” does not mean “have sex with”. That would require a vasectomy (and for you to pick your socks off the floor and put them INTO THE WASHING BASKET).

Physics

Pendular motion (no, not my boobs without a bra): Honey, if you stand in front of the swing it will smack you in the head.

First law of thermodynamics: energy can be neither created nor destroyed it is simply transferred directly from parent to toddler.

Second Law of thermodynamics: you know, that stuff to do with entropy that I never quite understood. Well I do now, as does Long Suffering Husband when he returns home at 6.30pm to two toddlers rampaging around the bomb site formally known as Our Home. From order to increasing disorder...

Newton's Third Law of Motion: action and reaction are equal and opposite. Action = Irritant #1. Reaction = Irritant #2. Apply for situations involving pushing, hitting, biting, throwing, “sharing” and “taking tuns”.

Chemistry

Oxidation: No Son, you can't play with your tape measure in the bath it will go rusty (this is not a euphemism for any other type of “playing” that may continue throughout life).

Structure and Bonding: forget the covalent and ionic type, the strongest bond in the universe is that formed between Weetabix and any surface e.g. ceilings, walls, floors, skin, hair (especially hair). There is a directly proportional correlation between the strength of the bond and the speed with which Weetabix hit said surface.

Twin Truths Part Two

I have to confess, for good or bad, that my life in the past few years has pretty much been defined by being a twin mum. It is the most profound, challenging, knackering and rewarding thing that I will ever do. And it gives me something to moan about, which is always useful.

The Ups

If you have had twins you can pretty much do anything. The skills it teaches (as with all parenting, but with an added bit of chaos thrown in) are vast. You have never truly multi-tasked unless you have counseled a friend through a relationship break up via speaker phone, simultaneously changing two nappies and paying your credit card bill or expressed milk through a industrial sized double breast pump while calming two screaming babies with your feet. But by far the greatest thing about being a parent of multiples is the smug superiority you feel over The Others. When parents of twins get together we do tend to bemoan parents of singletons. You see it is the only way we can get through the long days and even longer nights.

The downs

Now don't get me wrong, I do honestly believe that child rearing (regardless of the number of children you have) is incredibly difficult and us parents are frequently too harsh on ourselves (and too judgmental of others). But I am sure that many twin parents will agree that it is not unusual to experience the bizarre opinion that having two babies at the same time is only a little bit harder than having one. My scrumptiously yummy mummy friend Lady J of The Mount (ooh, I like that - sounds like she should have a side line in erotic fiction) provides a succinct response: when you have bathed, dressed, fed and cuddled your ONE baby to sleep take off its romper suit and do it all over again. Actually she would never cuddle a baby to sleep - that is a luxury for parents of singletons. 

Is it twice as hard to have twins? Decide for yourself:

The risks: Compared to parents of singletons you are significantly more likely to suffer from a plethora of medical complications, including pre-eclampsia, obstetric cholestasis, gestational diabetes and postpartum haemorrhage. More than half of twins are born prematurely (and around 10% before 32 weeks) and in approximately 50% of twin births at least one baby will spend time in a special care baby unit. Statistically, the parents of twins are also more likely to suffer from post natal depression, financial difficulties and relationship break downs.

Pregnancy: You soon begin to resemble a barrage balloon; a one woman, two foetus, waddling freak show. Here is a conversation about me when I was 6 months pregnant and walking up the stairs (a miracle in itself):

Colleague #1 “Wow, you don't even look pregnant from behind”

Colleague #2 “But you do from space”

Birth: I concede that the BOGOF deal may sound ideal, but contemplate a twin birth a little longer. while most women endure agonising pain and are handed a baby as a reward we have to endure agonising pain, a baby who is whisked off to NICU and then attempt to push out another child who, after months of being squashed, has decided to go for an upside down swim. Trust me, there are places you do not want obstetricians' arms to reach. They may as well have gone up there with a head torch and a rope. I once met a poor woman who delivered one baby vaginally and two hours later had c section for the second. Isn't this the mediaeval definition of being drawn and quartered? They probably had to suture her legs back on.

Night feeds: our early record of feeds is chilling. Each baby took one hour to change, feed and wind. Each needed to feed every two hours. Do the maths.

Breast feeding: Damn and curse those women who sit in coffee shops drinking a skinny lattes and reading novels with their surreptitiously placed infant suckling sweetly under a fashionably draped pashmina. To breast feed twins you need to be sat on a 4 seater sofa, stripped to the waist and surrounded by so many cushions that a queue forms outside thinking a new Ikea has opened.

Crying: twice as much and twice as loud. “Do they wake each other up” Are you stupid?

Weaning: twice as much pureed pumpkin smeared onto twice as many skin surfaces and into twice as many orifices that, significantly, are not buccal cavities. Twice as much washing.

crawling and walking: tag teams marauding in opposite directions, a multitude of opportunities to strangle themselves on their sibling's reins and a double buggy so heavy that you are invited to join the Olympic power lifting team. Trips to the park require 20 pages of risk assessment and the twin parent needs valium/gin/rioja after having to smile sweetly at the mum with her 1 year old and (sleeping) baby who claims "it's just like having twins". 

Toilet training: twice as much sh*t. Twice as much washing.

Illness: having to decide which of your sick kids is the sickest, as exemplified by one of my many norovirus experiences in which I prioritised explosive green diarrhoea over projectile lumpy vomit. It was the death knell for the carpet.

Bathtime: a daily opportunity for drowning.

Parenting blunders and unconditional love: you never have the opportunity to learn from your mistakes, you just make them in duplicate safe in the knowledge that your twins will always love each other more than they love you.

Parents of twins: twice as brilliant? You bet we are. 

 

Post Script: I don't want to say this too loudly but, if I am totally honest, being a parent of twins is the most amazing privilege :)

Twin Truths Part One

My first post seemed to have a pleasing reception so I am now feeling the pressure. Will I be a one hit wonder? Quite possibly. I may well alienate most of my friends with the next couple of posts which will be about twins. Sadly they will be lacking in science (I will make up for this in due course).

Twin Truths Part One

For three years I have been smiling sweetly at the ubiquitous “Ooh you've got your hands full there love”, “Double Trouble” and “Are they identical?”. With newborn twins it can take 2 hours to buy a loaf of bread. I seriously considered carrying a placard with our vital statistics (33 weeks gestation, 2 weeks special care, 4.5lbs bla bla bla). Interestingly enough by the time your tantrumous twins are 2 years old you are no longer revered as maternal goddess but treated as the Antichrist. This is a summary of all the things I should have said to the nosy general public:

“Are they identical?” The one dressed in blue has a penis and the one dressed in pink has a vagina (although I don't really approve of such gender biased clothing it just made my life easier to avoid that question. Sometimes I would swap it around for a bit of a change).

“Yes, but are they identical?” Are you stupid?

“How were they conceived?” On my hands and knees after a 5 pints of beer. Mind your own business.

Did you have IVF? Don't be ridiculous, I wouldn’t have paid for them.

“Aaah you are blessed” I am sodding knackered.

“I wish I had twins” You have clearly never been in a neonatal intensive care unit then have you?

“Are there twins in your family?” Yes, they were stillborn (my Grandmother's).

“It will be easier because they will help settle each other to sleep” Are you stupid?

“It will be easier for you though because they will share better” From the moment they are conceived they have to fight for limited resources: for space in utero, for your attention, for your time, over the two identical beakers of juice measured to an accuracy of 1ml.

“There is a 9 month age gap between my two children. It's just like having twins” Are you stupid?

“A ready made, perfect family” Yes, I bought them off Ebay.

“Should I buy them a birthday card each” Did you share birthday cads with your siblings? Maybe they should have half as much food too?

“It is easier for you because you have to be organised and regimented” You have one child, a cleaner and a mum who does over night baby sitting. Your life is a piece of p*ss. But if you want to believe that in order to make yourself feel better in the face of your obvious inferiority, be my guest.

There, that feels better. Eek.

The Mores and Myths of Modern Mothering

Here's me and my new blog, born out of boredom in a vain attempt to postpone cerebral atrophy. As a full time “home maker” (ug, more like destroyer) to toddler twins I find myself lured to the blogosphere in the hope that someone out there may be listening to me as my kids certainly don't.

So I figured I had to come up with some sort of unique selling point, niche in the Twitter Zone. But what defines me? Well, I used to be a science teacher but now I am extremely experienced at tandom nappy changes (if only it were an Olympic sport...) so I thought I could combine the two. My inane whitterings will discuss how science fits into our everyday lives as parents. My credentials for this are, however, limited: a degree in Cell Biology and 10 years at the chalk face do not a scientist make. So I apologise in advance for factual errors, poor referencing and cherry picking information that fits my cause (I should go into politics...). Please feel free to correct me or point out that it is all b*llocks – I like nothing better than a good ding dong argument (as the long suffering members of my book club will contest. Yes, I am a middle aged, middle class stereoptype). I have a reputation for being candid. Oh, and I like alliteration. You have been warned.

So here is my first blog:

The Old Wives' Tales of our grandmothers' generation sometimes had an element of truth in them, for example rubbing a ring on a stye (silver is used as a antimicrobial agent) or carrots helping you see in the dark (OK, so it is impossible to see in the dark but vitamin A provides retinoids for the production of rhodopsim, a pigment in the photoreceptor cells in the retina of the eye). I find, however, the myths of modern parents unsettling at times and frequently have to try my hardest not to comment on people's gormlessness, smugness, ignorance and prejudices (I confess to many myself but in the nature of dogmatism I just don’t like those that are different to my own). So here is my A-Z of Modern Mothering Myths and Mores:

Antibiotics: Do I really need to say this? They don't work for viral infections.

Breast feeding: is easy for some but extremely hard for many. Praise those that persevere but let's just be honest about the real reason women give up (it hurts like x&*#).

Calpol: paracetamol is an analgaesic and an antipyretic, not a sedative. It will not make your child sleep.

Diarrhoea: do not bring your child to my house within 3 days of having a squiffy tummy and a volcanic vomiting. They are not teething, they have been infected by a hideous virus with a very low minimum infective dose.

Effing and blinding: is is perfectly acceptable to swear at your kids, especially when they are screaming and you are driving the car. Anyone who feigns horror when you admit this is protesting too much (see Lying).

Formula: breast IS best, but formula is NOT poison.

Guide books: it is appropriate to buy a guide book for a mini break to Paris, but for becoming a parent? Don't bother, they are all useless. The “sleep through the night at 12 weeks” thing is a conspiracy perpetuated by the baby industry to make you feel like a failure whose only chance of salvation is by buying another book. Kerching.

Health visitors: have an agenda. Admittedly it is not a bad one as it is in the best interests of your child but they have to tow the World Health Organisation and NHS line. So don't expect sympathy if you commit the crimes of formula feeding, weaning before 6 months or night feeding with a bottle at 1year. Fortunately my health visitor towed no line – she was a maverick who did things because she thought they were right for that individual in their specific circumstances. She saved me from myself (see Mental Health Issues).

Immunisation: is the best way to prevent your child from DYING. Compared to the billions of microbes your child encounters on a daily basis the routine vaccinations they will receive for a few infectious diseases is not in any circumstances “overloading their immune system”.

Juice: to a toddler water is the most disgusting beverage you could ever provide.

Keeping up appearances: she may have a Mulberry handbag, skinny jeans and a rich husband but she is probably just as miserable as the rest of us.

Lying: “Sebastian slept through the night a 10 weeks”, “Eliza always eats her brassicas”, “Olivia completed 5 simultaneous equations in 6 minutes last night, and she's only 3”, “I would never give Oscar a lollipop and a packet of Monster Munch to keep him quiet in the supermarket”. Note deliberate use of middle class names.

Mental health issues: you see it is a classic Catch 22 situation. Never would you admit to the psychotic, murderous, self harming, not slept in 6 months 4am thoughts for genuine fear that social services will be round quicker than you can say “I love them really I just need a break from time to time”. So you can't ask for help. Leaving a real possibility that maybe one day, at the end of your tether, the thoughts may become actions...

Natural: makes me very, very wary. Public perception (if we follow the deficit model that the general public are ejits) is this: natural = good, synthetic/processed = bad. But reality, as always, is more complex. Among parents there is this notion that “sugar” is bad but “natural fruit sugar” is good. Well yeah, an apple is a better snack choice than a Kit Kat but a poncey, over priced, organic fruit bar with no “added sugar” loaded with so much dried fruit that it may as well be sold with a syringe of insulin still contains sugar. Yep, the same stuff that rots teeth and contributes to type 2 diabetes.

Osteopathy: may or may not help with your bad back but technically it is a complementary medicine and it is unlikely that the trend for cranial osteopathy will actually prevent your child sicking up it's dinner (see Reflux). An imperceptible laying of hands on an infant's scull will not cause its pyloric and cardiac sphincters to close – but it will rid you of a couple of hundred quid.

Parties for chicken pox: purposeful exposure of your child to a pathogen is morally dubious. Much better to use a vaccine. Brendan Hall the paralympic swimmer had his leg amputated due to complications following a chicken pox infection.

Quietive: synonym for pacifier or dummy. We all hate the sight of a Vicki Pollard with a 5 year old in a buggy with a can of coke in one hand, a bag of Wotsits in the other and a dummy in its mouth (but hey, who are we really to judge? As long as the child is cuddled and fed). But dummies are fine. Really, they are OK. You may well turn your nose up but they have been shown to reduce cot deaths (hence my two irritants being given them by the SCBU nurses). And unlike thumbs, you can take them away.

Reflux: sounds innocuous? Then you haven't been totally saturated, from head to foot, down to your underwear, in your baby's vomit. Unless the chunder takes a horizontal trajectory from one wall to another, spraying all surfaces in a mellifluous mist of milk, then it isn't reflux. It is a tiny bit of posset. OK? (See Osteopathy).

Sugar: does not make your child hyperactive. This is a big fat urban myth. Sugar is not a stimulant. The reason that the sweets have made little Jake hyperactive is a) the 40 other kids in the booming soft play area that accompany the sweets and b) all kids called Jake are hyperactive.

Teething: homeopathic teething granules don't work (the clue is in the “homoeopathic” part).

Umbrella: you will have no further need for this. Your hands will be perpetually used for pushing the buggy, holding little hands while pushing buggy and holding little hands while pushing buggy, wiping snot off a face and scrambling in your bag for a fruit shoot/ biscuit/ dummy in the pissing rain while being mistaken for a Vicki Pollard type by a woman with Mulberry handbag (see Keeping Up Appearances).

Vaginal birth: where oh where did the “too posh to push” nonsense come from? Vaginal deliveries are horrible. Caesarian sections are horrible. Which ever way your baby makes its first appearance it will hurt. A LOT. Women, stop competing over something that you have little control over and give yourself a pat on the back for a job well done (but not too hard lest it dislodge some stitches, wherever they may be).

Wash your hands like lady Macbeth (see Diarrhoea). You have not been initiated into the parenting club unless you have had poo under your finer nails.

X-ray: for arms broken on trampolines, colons containing coins and items stuffed up nasal passages. These are rites of passage. Unless you are on the Christmas card list of all the paediatricians in A and E then you really haven’t been parenting properly.

Your children: you are genetically programmed to lay down your life for them. You love them in a way that is almost impossible to express. But that doesn't mean that you have to enjoy spending all of your time with them. Most of the time they are annoying and boring. To those who say “enjoy every minute” I say “I will endure as best I can”.

Zzzzz: or lack of. Sleep deprivation is a killer (literally, well in lab rats at least). Extreme exhaustion is a normal part of parenting. We are social animals who evolved to live and work as cooperative groups. Throughout human history parents and children have slept together in caves/mud huts/beds. You are not a failure if little Johnnie is lying spread eagle in the centre of your bed and your partner is on the floor (see Guide books). If that is the only way you can get 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep then so be it.