Birthday Party Number One

Time has flown so quickly that I missed my last week’s blog as well. I was in Rome and during the conference I made the shortest and the most occasional of skyping to home, so I thought it was not worth it to write a couple of lines on how I was in different events in the evenings and travelling between places.

It is a big day today. Not only does my blog change it name from Two Archaeologists and a Toddler to Two Archaeologists and a Tweenie, but most importantly, it is Number One Son’s seventh birthday. One has to consider those baby and toddler years the past and the quickly sprigging lad as the present. Little by little Cbeebies has been swapped to Transformers and Ninja Turtles. We still have some baby toys around, but soon it is time for the one last clear out.

Main organising committee

Naturally, when I finally arrived back home – and it was already into Good Friday – it was clear that I had picked up a cold along the way. Luckily, the birthday party had been fully organised this time by Archaeologist Husband, so I could keep Number One Son fed and oversee him playing in the sunny garden, while Archaeologist Husband shot for the last decorations and foodstuffs. It was not going to be one party but two, since so many children on Number One Son’s class are born around this time so another party inevitably clashed with his. In addition, some people are away for the holidays, so a mid-week party was a preferred solution for Number One Son. He really is making his own decisions now.

The parties are in our house, so having two actually seems to work well. Both have a handful of kids and during the first one the house did not get trashed. The children also could run around in our tiny garden, so there were happy faces all around. The start of the party was a bit muted affair, since many children did not know each other. But after some egg hunt in the house and Minecraft battles in the garden, it all looked to go alright.

Now Number One Son is indulging with his birthday presents. It is apparently the best day ever – with the BBC online shop closing, Archaeologist Husband had really emptied their Dr Who selection. Number One Son got some Angry Birds and Ninja Turtles as well. A happy day.

Making his own plans

It seems that Number One Son has reached another milestone. Not only Nice Speech Therapist says that he is now ready to be discharged to be monitored by the school (he has made good progress lately, even if he is still clearly behind the others) but he has started to make his own plans and ask for different things. He used his pocket money on Saturday in the community library in order to buy two soft toys. When he heard that I had gone swimming in Stockholm on Saturday, he instantly wanted to swim again himself - and Archaeologist Husband had to take him yesterday. Now Number One Son wants to go every Sunday. I have to check those times for holiday swimming schools. He is now ready for that.

We have proceeded in restoring the skyping schedule from the time of my previous stay in Stockholm. We now have more parent discussion time after Number One Son's bed time and have time to chat as well. Luckily, Easter is almost here, but this week's conference will disrupt any patterns we have had and any skyping will be at unusually ear;u times and trying to find a wifi network to live skype away from hotels or institutes. Luckily there is Sunday evening.

Asking, asking - around Mothers Day

Number One Son by me

This year I managed to be at home on the Mothers' Day, but sadly it was more coincidental than being deliberately planned by me. As I have pointed out before, the British Mothers' Day manages to surprise me every year. Luckily, this year work matters, mainly a series of meetings in London, lured me back in time. I must say I was extremely delighted when I realised that I manage to be home both for the Mothers' Day and the International Women's Day tomorrow on March 8.

I did get something unusual for my Mothering Sunday: a bouquet of flowers. Being married to a Green Party member means that Archaeologist Husband does not buy roses or other cut flowers out of principle. Even if I appreciate his conviction and like his principles, I must say a potted rose does not have the same effect. However, this year he melted in front of Number One Son who thought that Mummy definitely would like to have a bouquet. He even managed to get the colour right - blue. But I still did not manage to get those roses...

This Mothering Sunday the lunch was a muted affair due to Number One Best Man being in town and heading to our house for an evening take away. Then, I did lose once again to Minecraft, but we did have a Mother and Son mutual photographing session and a trip to the local park (and to the said take away to get a menu). What is really striking me now, is the way Number One Son has hit the questioning phase. 'What are lemons made of?' 'Do cats have bones?' 'Do brains have eyes?' The flow of questions is continuous - and yes - it feels good after all those years when the communication was minimal and one-worded and the next phase when the verbs where lacking. The questions may be sometimes hard or impossible to answer, but at least we are having a proper discussion.

Me by Number One Son