Adventures in Sherwood Forest

We are just back from four days at Center Parcs in Nottingham to celebrate my FIL's 60th birthday. Spending such a time in close confines with my entire extended family (MIL, FIL, BIL, SIL, their two children, H, T and I) probably wouldn't be relaxing at any time, but this weekend we were treated to a number of adventures, just to keep us on our toes. They follow, in broadly chronological order!

1) Whilst toddling across the baby pool (Grandpa and Grandma were overjoyed to see T walk to them, we'd not told them he'd got the hang of it, so it was a real surprise when he tottered over to them!) T fell and scraped his chin against the concrete pool side. Thankfully, although scabby and unsightly, this doesn't cause any lasting damage.

2) We put T to bed in the CP cot, next to the double bed in the upstairs room. The cot has a drop side, which I leave down better to shush pat him when he wakes in the night. The bedguard is in place on the opposite side for when he (undoubtedly) needs to come in with us in the early hours. At around 2 am I am awoken with a crash and a scream. No sign of T, who has disappeared from the cot. Yes, our son had decided to try and climb out of his cot, onto the bed so he can snuggle in with us. He's done this silently and in near total darkness (blackout curtains plus villa in the middle of the forest) and when he misjudged the distance, has slipped inbetween the cot and the bed and fallen to the floor, where he is trapped. I figure this out in a confused sleep fug, rescue him, curse the cot (and myself for leaving the side dropped) and he sleeps with us for the rest of the long weekend.

3) T, who normally enjoys swimming, especially with Grandpa, has a meltdown in the pool, which continues once dressed and back at the villa. He eventually goes to sleep but is breathing v rapidly and bright red. When we take his temperature it is more than 39 degrees, 30 minutes after a dose of Calpol. Cue a mad dash to a Nottingham hospital, baby in only his nappy, draped in damp flannels, to be checked out. Thankfully it's only a chest and ear infection, but we have managed to both miss Grandpa's special birthday meal, and of course spoil it for everyone else as they're worried sick!

Phew. I was almost glad to be home this evening, even with a black bin bag stuffed full of dirty washing (yes, after 4 days, where does it all come from??!) and a car full of random baby paraphanalia to unpack.

In the interests of fairness though there were also some great moments.

1) Seeing T play with his cousins, who adore him, especially now he's 'interactive' (they were less enamoured with their prostrate youngest relative last Christmas)

2) Long walks in the woods, and watching Grandpa on the climbing frame. What's the 60th birthday equivalent of a mid-life crisis? A two-thirds life crisis?

3) Truly being able to relax and be myself, and realising that, for all the complaining I do, there's nothing better than family.

But of course I can't end on such tweedom can I?? Following on from the advocado fiasco, I have also, in the course of our long weekend, managed to compile a new list of words which my MIL mispronounces. I've never been able to figure out those funny shapes in the Oxford English Dictionary, so this is my own version.

1) Humous - Hoo-muss
2) Tortilla - Tort-ill-a
3) Fajita - Fadge-it-a

Snigger.