Caravan guilt

THE conversation went something like this: “Hello daddy. Where are you?”

“Hello Harry, I'm on my way home from work.”

“Are you coming to the caravan?” “No, I can't Harry. Sorry.” “Why not? Are you missing me daddy?” “I am missing you Harry.” “Come here to the caravan then.”

And to a three-and-a-half-year-old, it made perfect sense; if I was missing him, why didn't I just go and see him?

The conversation happened earlier this week when Melissa took Harry and James to a caravan in Prestatyn for the week with her mum and dad.

As I didn't have any time off, I took them last weekend and returned home on Sunday, feeling guilty after the conversation with Harry I've just described. To be honest, I did think about staying in Prestatyn and commuting to work but because I would have arrived in Prestatyn at bedtime each evening, we decided it would be more trouble than it was worth.

So that left me rattling about the house on my own and one question that occurred to me several times during the course of the week was: what on earth did I do with all my time before we had children? Honestly, even getting in from work, going to the gym and catching up on the housework still left me twiddling my thumbs in the evening.

And the bit I was quite looking forward to – eight hours of uninterrupted sleep for an entire week – didn't materialise. Every night I woke up about 3am – probably because I'm used to waking up about that time with James – before waking again at 6am, when Harry usually bounds into our room like a mini tornado.

In fact, on one occasion this week, I found myself vacuuming the house at half six in the morning. Harry would have been proud of me.

Two children is plenty thanks...

I HAVE a great deal of respect for couples that decide to have more than two children. As somebody who comes from a large family (I have two sisters and one brother), I can only admire my mum and dad for coping. I'm not sure how they did it because five months into being a parent for the second time, it's tough going.

Of course, I wouldn't change it for the world but, equally, the thought of another baby fills me with terror. That's not to say that Harry or James are difficult; they just require a lot of attention, generally both at the same time.

That's perhaps a bit unfair on Harry. He's pretty easy to look after as long as you give him something to do.

James, on the other hand, is a little bit more demanding. He's taken to sleeping for only very short periods during the day – 10 or fifteen minutes is par for the course – and when he isn't sleeping, he wants attention. He has started taking an interest in toys (by interest, I really mean putting them in his mouth and gnawing on them) but they don't keep him quiet for long.

At a similar age, Harry would sleep for two or three hours at a time, which meant we were able to get plenty of jobs done. Much to Melissa's frustration, this simply isn't possible with James.

It's swings and roundabouts of course, because James is a much better sleeper at night – and on balance I think that a decent night's sleep is preferable.

More milestones for baby James

The little milestones are coming thick and fast for James. As well as being able to roll on to his side now, he's also started laughing properly. It's only slight change – previously he would just gurgle whereas he now chuckles properly – but it's a magical sound to my ears.

More importantly, however, he's also started having a little bit of baby rice. Although this is early (James is five months old next week), his appetite is such that he had started waking in the middle of the night again for a feed.

I had forgotten just what a messy, frustrating experience weaning can be. I tried to feed him his baby rice the other day and I swear it ended up everywhere except in his mouth.

Generally, he is so keen to grab the spoon that most of the food never reaches his mouth. The bit that does get there almost invariably comes straight back out again. I must be getting old because I can't remember Harry being such a problem.

Still, it's a sign that James is growing up and at least that means he's easier to handle. He is rapidly losing the vulnerability of a newborn, which is particularly good news when Harry decides it's time for a cuddle.

Speaking of Harry, he is also growing up fast – so fast in fact that Melissa has ordered his school uniform. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, Harry is clearly ready for school – he needs to be kept busy and I'm sure school will help in this regard.

On the other hand, the thought of him going to school makes him seem almost too grown up – he is only three and a half, after all – and, as irrational as it is, I can't help but feel that he's just too young to fend for himself in a classroom.

Pride... and a fall

I can't help feeling a bit sorry for James. When Harry was born, he had our undivided attention and everything he did was scrutinised and celebrated by Melissa and myself. James, on the other hand, has to fit in to what feels like a very hectic household and that means I rarely have the time to just sit there and marvel at him.

And whereas we have literally hundreds of pictures of Harry, we've probably only taken about half that number of James.

I'm sure this is not uncommon for second-time parents. Now that we're a family of four, finding a spare five minutes seems to be practically impossible.

Having said all of that, I do really enjoy the odd moments of peace and quiet when they do crop up. The other night, Melissa was out and I'd taken Harry up to bed, while James was in a particularly happy mood. He is a very smiley baby (except when he's hungry, obviously) and we sat for what must have been about half an hour just playing about. It was fantastic; James just gurgled and smile happily while I babbled away with him. I don't think there is any more effective a stress reliever than ten minutes in the company of a happy baby.

To cap a perfect night, when Melissa returned I was able to report (maybe just a little bit smugly) that Harry had gone to bed like a little angel, James was fast asleep, I'd washed up the dishes and tidied away Harry's toys. I'd even started to read a book – and that hasn't happened for months on end.

But as my nan always says, pride comes before a fall and this was certainly the case last Saturday when Melissa was out and my only task was to dress Harry and James and get them into the car. After an hour and a half of chaos – including chasing Harry around the house while simultaneously trying to stop James screaming – we finally left the house. I'm sure I aged five years in one morning.

Sentimental

MY MUM has still got all of our schoolbooks, reports and various other memorabilia from our schooldays stashed away in her loft.

Given that she's got four children, there's quite a bit of the stuff. I've always thought this is a ridiculous waste of space. I mean, why on earth would you want to keep a school report? Sentimental nonsense.

Now, however, I have changed my view. On Tuesday, there was a ceremony at Chirk Playgroup where every child was presented with a book about their time at the group. Each book was individual, containing pictures and words detailing how they had progressed since joining.

A huge amount of effort has obviously gone into this document and, at the risk of sounding like a pushy parent, reading about Harry's development since starting in September last year makes me incredibly proud.

When Harry first started at the playgroup, he was quite shy and for the first month or two, Melissa stayed with him because he became upset if she left. Since then, he has undergone a complete transformation – he loves going to playgroup and has turned into a very confident little boy.

As if to illustrate the point, he performed a solo ('I can sing a rainbow') at the presentation ceremony, which I was lucky enough to attend. It took quite a bit of restraint not to stand up and cheer him on.

For the first time, I can understand why mum has kept all of our books from school. Being sentimental comes with the territory.

Keep quiet... impossible!

Trying to keep Harry quiet is practically impossible. And since James was born, his volume has, if anything, increased.

This became painfully obvious at the weekend when James was Christened at St Mary's in Chirk. Trying to explain why it's important to be quiet in church is not easy and the harder we tried to keep Harry quiet, the louder he got.

To begin with, Harry was very good and sat quietly. However, after the first hymn he decided that he'd had enough of being quiet and started to talk loudly. Then he decided he was going to sing nursery rhymes.

Glares from Melissa and myself didn't do the trick and neither did whispered warnings through gritted teeth. By the time the second hymn started, Harry was singing London's Burning at the top of his voice. Thankfully the vicar, Rev Tony Rees, was unperturbed, even when Harry announced loudly that he needed the toilet and had to be hurried away quickly by Melissa's sister.

In contrast, James was perfectly behaved throughout, sleeping during the first part of the service before waking up just in time for the baptism itself and - surprisingly - resisting the temptation to shout when the vicar poured water on his forehead. Instead, he just looked quizzically at the vicar as if to say: “What on earth are you doing?”

Of course, it will be a different matter in a couple of years time when I fully expect James to be every bit as loud as Harry. I think I might invest in a set of earplugs.

Buckingham Palace

I'm not very popular with Melissa at the moment. Why? Because in last week's column I wrote, prematurely as it turns out, that James was now sleeping through the night.

Since the article appeared in the Leader, James has woken in the middle of the night every day. It turns out this is my fault for tempting fate.

To be fair to James, I think this is down to the fact that he has had a bit of a cold which has made him a bit grumpy. I don't know if this is a proper cold or the result of his first set of injections but he's not been himself at all.

At least Harry was about to lift the mood. The other day, Harry was downstairs while Melissa, James and myself were upstairs.

I shouted down to Harry to make sure he was ok. “I'm fine dad,” came the reply. “I'm just watching this programme about Buckingham Palace.” I immediately went down to find out what he was really doing. He was sat on the sofa, arms folded, watching BBC Breakfast which was broadcasting from Buckingham Palace. Harry certainly has the ability to surprise.

Mind you, he's not exactly an angel all of the time. The other day, he managed to destroy a new shirt when he decided to experiment with his scissors while doing some cutting out at the kitchen table.

And that's not the only problem we've had with clothing in recent days. In preparation for school, we've been teaching how to dress himself and, obviously, get undressed. This had been going quite well until last week when Harry decided to strip in the front room before clambering up on to the windowsill – stark naked – waving at passers by.