The Twenty Third Month: September 2006
5th
You woke up at 5.30am this morning saying 'Mama cuddle', and I brought you into our bed. I hoped you 'd lie quietly next to us, but the idea was far-fetched. Every time I turned my back on you (with eye-mask on) you'd ask for a cuddle, but then 2 seconds after I cuddled your soft shape into mine you'd fidget, sit up or start talking. We kind of rested til 7am, when your pleas of 'mama geddup' could no longer be ignored.
Went swimming at 8am and then had a hot chocolate in a Clifton cafe while your Papa gave you breakfast and took you off to the office. Bliss. I deserve a huge holiday as your father has been away for 10 days...but I guess that won't happen for about another 10 years.
9th
P. gone to Homegrown Festival (paragliding event). Went to Westonbirt Arboretum today with Joanna and the hairbair bunch: Callum, Jude and Amy. You loved being outside in woods all day, or the forest, as you like to call it. You copied the boys, trying to climb the same trees, throwing yourself in piles of cut ferns, picking up sticks and leaves. You were so in your element that you didn’t go to sleep until our drive home at 4 o’clock. I sat in the car listening to Sat Women’s Hour when I arrived home, and found Bearnie, our neighbour, looking into the car, wondering when you were going to wake. She made us some tea, while you snuggled up on my lap trying to pretend I hadn’t woken you up. But you were drawn in by her offer to show you the frogs in her pond.
Supper tonight you were screeching at the top of your voice and smearing yoghurt on your head while I was clearing up. My latest policy is to leave you at the table to be as physical and exploratory with your food as you like (after we have eaten our meal together), because trying to curb those instincts is like trying to stop you breathing. You didn’t want to brush your teeth again tonight, and I didn’t have the energy to negotiate the deal with you. I thought just lets get you to bed so I can have my time.
The other day you were eating stewed plums and yoghurt, using your hands at the end to scrape the bowl out. You looked at me and shrugged your shoulders in your trademark way, and said ‘xciting’ with a big grin on you face. Then you asked for a cuddle.
That’s what you seem to want a lot, just after your supper, and you sit on my knee, you lovely sticky boy, and ask me about the things on the shelves ‘what’s sat mummy?’ you say about all the glass jars with the different things in and then repeat after me ‘raisins’, ‘quinoa’, lentils’ etc. It is such a moment of love, when you want to be with me, in my arms, and you have such a look of pleasure on your face. I am flooded with love as I hold you and those other moments of toddler causing frustration melt away.
You are a real little parrot at the moment. Tonight in the bath you said ‘it’s not to hot, it’s OK’ – exactly as I would have done…
You seem to say ’what’s that, and ‘mummy what you doin’’ about 100 times a day at the moment. (What’s that also means who’s that.”)
In the car yesterday, you said completely spontaneously, “lot’s of fun, no socks, in the water”. Earlier that hot afternoon, you had been playing with a bowl of water outside and various utensils. I’m always amazed when you remember something from the past and reflect on it.
We went to see Grandpa yesterday for supper. I’d left some boxes of salad and a tub of blackcurrant yoghurt in a bag in the hall and gone up to the loo just before going, leaving you in the hall. I heard a giggle from upstairs, and then ‘look at that, mummy, look at that’. When I came down you’d managed to get the lid off the yoghurt and an artistic purple pool on the carpet. I couldn’t be cross with you, even though I was rolling my eyes heaven wards, as we would be late, because it was my fault for leaving it there, and its in your nature to get into everything in the spirit of exploration.
11th
I am becoming madly obsessed with trying to fit as much as possible into any wedge of time – crow barring everything in. So this morning between 8 – 10am, I had to get you breakfast, clear up, wipe up chair, table etc, clear sink area, empty dishwasher, then start cooking supper of Bolognese ragu, hang out washing, change pooey nappy, then get us both dressed, to leave the house in time to go and try out the Tatty Bumpkin class 20 mins away by car. Of course I knew I should have left at 10am, as I didn’t know where I was going, but because I insisted on hanging out washing first, then I had to change you, we didn’t leave til nearly 10.10, meaning I got stuck in the one way system, but got to TB by 10.29, feeling very frazzled, and wondering why I thrive on this weird adrenalin rush, even though I hate rushing, and end up swearing under my breath more than I care to admit.
Lying in bed this morning I was aware of you speaking whole sentences, and thought what a miracle it has been that with in six months you’ve gone from saying ‘uh’ to single words like bowl, spoon etc to ‘I want ter bowl, I want ter spoon’. I was reflecting recently how your speech is like that of an Italian learning English. You have a charming way of pronouncing words, like ‘swimming-er pool-er’. So, ‘ I want a bowl’, becomes ‘I want-er bowl-er’
Your latest thing is saying ‘it’s mide’ – about anything you happen to be holding, even if it’s someone else’s. We counter it sometimes by saying it’s everybody’s. You are sometimes possessive about your things around the cats, who miaow all day long, and if they are anywhere near you. You begin tirades of ‘go-away, shush, it’s mide, about your sandals or crayons, or whatever you are holding which you seem to think the cat wants.
14th
Current phrases:
See you later, bye bye
Papa givee cuddle when he comes home
– oft repeated, you miss him during the day and often ask for ‘papa cuddle’, to which I would have said ‘papa will give you a cuddle when he comes home’.
I want to go to the park (I is the latest addition to the sentence, which would previously have been ‘want to go to park, mummy’.)
Yesterday, you spent the afternoon with Grandpa, which was very exciting. They are entertained by your parroting of phrases.
When I was trying to get you into the car, you found a twig on the pavement, and with great dexterity you held it between you third and fourth finger and began to ‘smoke’ it, blowing smoke out intermittently, which made your Grandpa and I laugh. Where you have picked that up I don’t know. I suppose you are taking in everything subliminally from your pushchair vantage point. Maybe in a café??
I met my new nephew today, a healthy 10-1b-10oz boy with loads of dark hair who looks about 2 months old. Lovely soft skin, really calm and with that lovely new born smell – only 1 day old. Anna told me about the C-section and how the doctors had struggled to get her big boy out. Apparently she asked them if they were trying to remove a 3 piece suite at the time, because that 's what it felt like. (Describing the C-section of her first boy she said it felt like someone was doing the washing up in her belly).
19th
Stuck in traffic on Ashley Rd yesterday. I heard you laughing in the back, followed by ‘ giving a cuddle’. You had noticed a couple walking along the pavement, arms around each other. Sweet you found it so amusing.
I picked you up from Papa’ s office today, just like last week; you didn’t want to come with me. ‘Go way mummy’ then, ‘get hand off’, when I had my hand on the back of the chair. I persuaded you to come home and see Elaine (‘Laine’) whom you adore, and with whom you have endless conversations about the ‘vacuum cleaner inner cupboard’ ‘ what you doin’ Laine’, you asked her when you came in (she was ironing).
22nd
Breakfast time yesterday. You found your bike helmet in the cupboard and wanted to put it on and then sit on the bench in the garden. You then insisted that I read ‘ The Lion in the Meadow’ story to you, while I was trying to eat muesli. It was about 8.30am.
You eat a phenomenal amount, and have a wonderful range of tastes (long may that last). The other day you ate tender stem broccoli and their leaves from my plate. Last night you ate the remains of our stir fried veg and tofu, with basmati rice, cooked with garlic, ginger, chili and coconut milk, wolfing it down with glee. In the afternoon you’d eaten half an apple, 2 sardines and 2 plums for a snack, and that was only about an hour before dinner.
23rd
You are so delightful in the mornings. I usually wake first and lie in bed waiting for your rustling sounds as you stretch awake in the room next door. Then ‘I want a cuddle’ is usually your first request, and one of us comes to bring you into our bed. You are waking about 6.45/7am at the moment. This morning you sat between us in the bed smiling and looking so pleased with yourself. You said ‘good morning’ and gave me a kiss on the lips, and then later pointed to my eyes saying, ‘mama got blue eyes.’ You looked so happy to be sitting between us.
Last night we ate the lovely Coq au Vin recipe that we have made a few times. I remember making it when you were about 8 weeks old, strapped to my front while I was frying pieces of chicken. It was only after cooking this great casserole of a dish that I realized frying food with a baby strapped to my front was probably a bit foolish (and exhausting), but then I was being superwoman at the time, and would cook amazing recipes just for entertainment.
You woke up at 5.30am this morning saying 'Mama cuddle', and I brought you into our bed. I hoped you 'd lie quietly next to us, but the idea was far-fetched. Every time I turned my back on you (with eye-mask on) you'd ask for a cuddle, but then 2 seconds after I cuddled your soft shape into mine you'd fidget, sit up or start talking. We kind of rested til 7am, when your pleas of 'mama geddup' could no longer be ignored.
Went swimming at 8am and then had a hot chocolate in a Clifton cafe while your Papa gave you breakfast and took you off to the office. Bliss. I deserve a huge holiday as your father has been away for 10 days...but I guess that won't happen for about another 10 years.
9th
P. gone to Homegrown Festival (paragliding event). Went to Westonbirt Arboretum today with Joanna and the hairbair bunch: Callum, Jude and Amy. You loved being outside in woods all day, or the forest, as you like to call it. You copied the boys, trying to climb the same trees, throwing yourself in piles of cut ferns, picking up sticks and leaves. You were so in your element that you didn’t go to sleep until our drive home at 4 o’clock. I sat in the car listening to Sat Women’s Hour when I arrived home, and found Bearnie, our neighbour, looking into the car, wondering when you were going to wake. She made us some tea, while you snuggled up on my lap trying to pretend I hadn’t woken you up. But you were drawn in by her offer to show you the frogs in her pond.
Supper tonight you were screeching at the top of your voice and smearing yoghurt on your head while I was clearing up. My latest policy is to leave you at the table to be as physical and exploratory with your food as you like (after we have eaten our meal together), because trying to curb those instincts is like trying to stop you breathing. You didn’t want to brush your teeth again tonight, and I didn’t have the energy to negotiate the deal with you. I thought just lets get you to bed so I can have my time.
The other day you were eating stewed plums and yoghurt, using your hands at the end to scrape the bowl out. You looked at me and shrugged your shoulders in your trademark way, and said ‘xciting’ with a big grin on you face. Then you asked for a cuddle.
That’s what you seem to want a lot, just after your supper, and you sit on my knee, you lovely sticky boy, and ask me about the things on the shelves ‘what’s sat mummy?’ you say about all the glass jars with the different things in and then repeat after me ‘raisins’, ‘quinoa’, lentils’ etc. It is such a moment of love, when you want to be with me, in my arms, and you have such a look of pleasure on your face. I am flooded with love as I hold you and those other moments of toddler causing frustration melt away.
You are a real little parrot at the moment. Tonight in the bath you said ‘it’s not to hot, it’s OK’ – exactly as I would have done…
You seem to say ’what’s that, and ‘mummy what you doin’’ about 100 times a day at the moment. (What’s that also means who’s that.”)
In the car yesterday, you said completely spontaneously, “lot’s of fun, no socks, in the water”. Earlier that hot afternoon, you had been playing with a bowl of water outside and various utensils. I’m always amazed when you remember something from the past and reflect on it.
We went to see Grandpa yesterday for supper. I’d left some boxes of salad and a tub of blackcurrant yoghurt in a bag in the hall and gone up to the loo just before going, leaving you in the hall. I heard a giggle from upstairs, and then ‘look at that, mummy, look at that’. When I came down you’d managed to get the lid off the yoghurt and an artistic purple pool on the carpet. I couldn’t be cross with you, even though I was rolling my eyes heaven wards, as we would be late, because it was my fault for leaving it there, and its in your nature to get into everything in the spirit of exploration.
11th
I am becoming madly obsessed with trying to fit as much as possible into any wedge of time – crow barring everything in. So this morning between 8 – 10am, I had to get you breakfast, clear up, wipe up chair, table etc, clear sink area, empty dishwasher, then start cooking supper of Bolognese ragu, hang out washing, change pooey nappy, then get us both dressed, to leave the house in time to go and try out the Tatty Bumpkin class 20 mins away by car. Of course I knew I should have left at 10am, as I didn’t know where I was going, but because I insisted on hanging out washing first, then I had to change you, we didn’t leave til nearly 10.10, meaning I got stuck in the one way system, but got to TB by 10.29, feeling very frazzled, and wondering why I thrive on this weird adrenalin rush, even though I hate rushing, and end up swearing under my breath more than I care to admit.
Lying in bed this morning I was aware of you speaking whole sentences, and thought what a miracle it has been that with in six months you’ve gone from saying ‘uh’ to single words like bowl, spoon etc to ‘I want ter bowl, I want ter spoon’. I was reflecting recently how your speech is like that of an Italian learning English. You have a charming way of pronouncing words, like ‘swimming-er pool-er’. So, ‘ I want a bowl’, becomes ‘I want-er bowl-er’
Your latest thing is saying ‘it’s mide’ – about anything you happen to be holding, even if it’s someone else’s. We counter it sometimes by saying it’s everybody’s. You are sometimes possessive about your things around the cats, who miaow all day long, and if they are anywhere near you. You begin tirades of ‘go-away, shush, it’s mide, about your sandals or crayons, or whatever you are holding which you seem to think the cat wants.
14th
Current phrases:
See you later, bye bye
Papa givee cuddle when he comes home
– oft repeated, you miss him during the day and often ask for ‘papa cuddle’, to which I would have said ‘papa will give you a cuddle when he comes home’.
I want to go to the park (I is the latest addition to the sentence, which would previously have been ‘want to go to park, mummy’.)
Yesterday, you spent the afternoon with Grandpa, which was very exciting. They are entertained by your parroting of phrases.
When I was trying to get you into the car, you found a twig on the pavement, and with great dexterity you held it between you third and fourth finger and began to ‘smoke’ it, blowing smoke out intermittently, which made your Grandpa and I laugh. Where you have picked that up I don’t know. I suppose you are taking in everything subliminally from your pushchair vantage point. Maybe in a café??
I met my new nephew today, a healthy 10-1b-10oz boy with loads of dark hair who looks about 2 months old. Lovely soft skin, really calm and with that lovely new born smell – only 1 day old. Anna told me about the C-section and how the doctors had struggled to get her big boy out. Apparently she asked them if they were trying to remove a 3 piece suite at the time, because that 's what it felt like. (Describing the C-section of her first boy she said it felt like someone was doing the washing up in her belly).
19th
Stuck in traffic on Ashley Rd yesterday. I heard you laughing in the back, followed by ‘ giving a cuddle’. You had noticed a couple walking along the pavement, arms around each other. Sweet you found it so amusing.
I picked you up from Papa’ s office today, just like last week; you didn’t want to come with me. ‘Go way mummy’ then, ‘get hand off’, when I had my hand on the back of the chair. I persuaded you to come home and see Elaine (‘Laine’) whom you adore, and with whom you have endless conversations about the ‘vacuum cleaner inner cupboard’ ‘ what you doin’ Laine’, you asked her when you came in (she was ironing).
22nd
Breakfast time yesterday. You found your bike helmet in the cupboard and wanted to put it on and then sit on the bench in the garden. You then insisted that I read ‘ The Lion in the Meadow’ story to you, while I was trying to eat muesli. It was about 8.30am.
You eat a phenomenal amount, and have a wonderful range of tastes (long may that last). The other day you ate tender stem broccoli and their leaves from my plate. Last night you ate the remains of our stir fried veg and tofu, with basmati rice, cooked with garlic, ginger, chili and coconut milk, wolfing it down with glee. In the afternoon you’d eaten half an apple, 2 sardines and 2 plums for a snack, and that was only about an hour before dinner.
23rd
You are so delightful in the mornings. I usually wake first and lie in bed waiting for your rustling sounds as you stretch awake in the room next door. Then ‘I want a cuddle’ is usually your first request, and one of us comes to bring you into our bed. You are waking about 6.45/7am at the moment. This morning you sat between us in the bed smiling and looking so pleased with yourself. You said ‘good morning’ and gave me a kiss on the lips, and then later pointed to my eyes saying, ‘mama got blue eyes.’ You looked so happy to be sitting between us.
Last night we ate the lovely Coq au Vin recipe that we have made a few times. I remember making it when you were about 8 weeks old, strapped to my front while I was frying pieces of chicken. It was only after cooking this great casserole of a dish that I realized frying food with a baby strapped to my front was probably a bit foolish (and exhausting), but then I was being superwoman at the time, and would cook amazing recipes just for entertainment.
posted by f at 7:00 AM
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