The Forty-Second Month: April 2008

9th April Easter hols
You are totally into your wooden bike – the one without pedals. Everyday you say ‘Mummy it’s sunny I want to go out for a little walk’ or ‘I want to go out on my bike’. You have learned to balance really quickly, and now free wheel quite fast down slopes.
We have been on little excursions down the bike track, and round the corner to St G’s park and the Spar shop. Except every now and again, you pretend to ‘bolly’ over and suck your teeth, and sigh, having a little moment of drama. You want me to carry the bike and you because you are too tired. The holiday has been made easier by you going to stay with various people for a few hours (Teresa, Elaine, Grandpa and Grandma), and playing with the neighbour’s children. Meanwhile I have had a few delicious hours to myself – cycling in the sun to Montpelier, or going to run a class.

We have also ventured out on a borrowed bike, where I can cycle with you on a seat on the front – it’s been great! Not as difficult as I thought and your weight is really well- distributed. This morning to St Werbergh’s city farm, again in lovely warm sunshine, where we met with parents from playgroup. You looked a bit lost and kept wanting to go home, rather than join in with the few other boys who were there. But you climbed on a wall in the sun and started talking about the weather, ‘ Mummy look the sky is blue’. I meanwhile sat and chatted with the other mother’s.

This afternoon we came back and I wanted to plant seeds, but you were determined to do painting in the attic, so we did a few watercolours – more muddy than the last beautiful ones you did a few weeks ago.

Some mornings you sleep in till nearly 8 o’ clock, then we hear your feet pattering to bathroom – sometime you take off your nappy, go to the loo on your own and then put several layers of clothes on – clean ones each day from your drawer, (this a.m. it was 4 layers). Today cats were howling and you found me doing yoga and told me that the cats had woken me up.

You are full of beans, smiley and good humoured and usually engage with Daddy. But as he had left you soon became grumpy with me and spent until after breakfast grumping and fussing about everything. Eventually I asked you if you could help me clean the bin – and your mood changed instantly, as you love to spray with the mister.
Same deal in late afternoon – you can’t decide if you want me to help you or not, complain about everything, lie on the floor and hit out at me, don’t like it if I sing, or don/’t sing (e.g. joining in songs). I try my best to ignore all your whimsical grumpiness but occasionally get quite fed up.

Friday 11th
What a busy day we had.
Lots of tidying and putting washing away while you ate breakfast with Daddy. Then we made almond/maple syrup and spelt cookies, then pizza. You are very deft at using the star /heart cutters and were an excellent baker, very willing and great company. Jesse and family came for lunch.

The 3 children and you rushed straight upstairs on arrival and busied yourselves with dens under the drying rack, tools and bits of toys in different rooms oft the house. Occasionally there was conflict when someone was left out. S and I had a nice chat in the kitchen unencumbered by children.

Pizza and salad for lunch – but you lot were all showing off and playing up, standing up at table, trying to throw food on floor, so not much food eaten. Lots of giggling, jokes and excitement, that by the time the others went home, you were ‘tired and emotional’. I took you in my arms and sat with you for a few minutes and said I would read you a story. But being pre-occupied for another 10 mins, folding Kate’s washing (machine broken) you started playing up again, throwing toys downstairs. You kept saying how tired you were, so I said why didn’t you lie down – which you did, though you were back downstairs in a few minutes.
I’d mentioned gardening for the afternoon – gloriously sunny and windy – which you were eager and impatient to do. So after clearing up lunch, we spent a few lovely hours outside, raking, hoeing, putting up plastic potting shed, and planting peas, carrots, radishes, tomatoes and sunflowers.

I love watching you do your tiny pincer movements picking up soil with your big hands. Suddenly you seem so dextrous and able to do everything, Occasionally you get taken over by something (testosterone/excitement?) and feel the need to fling things around, or jump on the newly sewn beds, which produces exasperation in me ‘ do you want to help me are you just being a nuisance’ – which makes you very indignant, unsurprisingly , and you reply ‘I am not a nuisance’.

I know I shouldn’t say these things. Then you throw a fit and lie on the grass, or try and throw something at me, which I am trying to curb. At 5pm I decided we had to go out somewhere in the evening sunshine, really a walk would have been nice, but instead we drove to IKEA for a rather unimpressive supper of fish and chips – and meatballs for you. Your little cheeks were red and you kept saying ‘I am tired’. You didn’t eat much, and lay down with your head in my lap. When we got back to our street (you correctly named all the streets from Devon Rd), you said ‘it’s nice to be home.’ Lovely to have the afternoon with you, not feeling like we were needing to rush out anywhere or see anyone.

Your games:
Animals being killed (in bath – the shark etc)
Speedboats,’ skiing’ feature heavily in imaginative games – this after Pete went water-skiing in NZ. You sat with me in the back of the boat, clinging to me very closely, and very soon were visibly upset, saying ‘I want Daddy back in the boat’ – he kept falling in the water, and it must have worried you.

14th
New term begins. A sunny day, and we have borrowed Jo’s bike with a forward facing child seat so that we can cycle to Kindergarten. I had to wake you from a deep sleep up at 7.45 so we could have a quick breakfast and get the train which leaves Stapleton Rd at 8.19 (once we missed it because of some kerfuffle about how many/which coats to wear). Anyhow, you were very amenable about leaving to catch the train.
I whizzed home afterwards for a productive morning of tax return preparation and collected you by car. We went to get your feet measured, which you think is an exercise for it’s own sake, and I was relieved that you didn’t need another pair of shoes – you’ve had the same ones for 6 months.

Met in Eastville park with Rowan, Martha, Jo, Abdul and Bali, where you all fed ducks and ran around in the sunshine. Home to hang washing out and re-fill your sandpit. For the first time in almost a year you were happy playing in the sand and were very upset when it was time to come in for supper, hitting out your frustration on me. Just thought of the ‘use words not hands’ expression for these situations.

Saturday last – we went to John Ridley’s 50th party. You’d gone to bed just as we were getting ready to go out. Rachel babysitting. You got up again because I had to change you, and came into our bedroom. ‘That’s a lovely dress. It’s got flowers on it, you said to me in a voice of wonderment. I tried to coax you back into bed, but you were busy giving me sartorial advice ‘ wear this jacket mummy, it’s nice and warm’. Of course I was charmed by our conversation, but soon got you to go back to bed. You seemed quite unperturbed by the fact that we were going out and Rachel was looking after you. ’Rachel looks after animals’ (we went to visit her once, and meet her dog and her parrots). Just as Pete and I were leaving our house for the party, you shouted downstairs ‘is Rachel here?’ (Worried that we might have gone out and left you alone!).

In Somerfields t’other day, you came face to face with a stack of newspapers. You were about level with the Daily Sport, which had on the front a woman clad in a black leather bikini and suspenders. She caught your eye and it looked like you were going to say something, so I asked you. ‘A woman’ you said. ‘ yes, a woman’. ‘She’s got her swimming things on’, said in a voice of wonder. ‘Yes she has’. I met up with Rowan + Joe (form Wendy’s) afterwards and recounted the story. It made us appreciate how little our boys are, and the way they interpret the world.

21st Monday
hello love – I had intended to start working out some creative ideas tonight, the start of producing some work for the Easton Arts Trail. But we had been painting butterflies in the attic, then you were spraying water on plants in the garden while I made supper. A brief call in from Rowan and Martha while I cooked ratatouille. Nice to see a friendly face at that frantic time when you are hungry and needy.
Then you insisted I came in the bath and were absolutely delightful, attentive and affectionate, as if you were really appreciating having me entirely to yourself for once in the day. (Playgroup this morning and then playing at Jimmy’s this afternoon). You hugged and kissed me and we played with the boats and the penguin. You pretended my navel was a well, at which the penguin drank.
I read you some stories (Elephant and the bad baby, appley dappley nursery rhymes) and you concentrated very well, but then spent half an hour trying to get to sleep while I held your hand. I was too relaxed to insist on moving, but actually preferred to be with you in the dark than on my own trying to be creative.

23rd
Consumed by guilt at the scene of trying to get you to bed, which involved me cajoling and being impatient partly because this week I have this idea that I m going to get you to bed by 7 / 730, to spend time with your dad, and to do artwork . I am so sorry. But I also find your stubbornness, sulking and lack of co-operation really trying at times. I said I would take your bike away if you are going to be rude to me and that I wouldn’t let you play outside tomorrow if you woudn’t come in when I asked. You negotiate with me in the same way – your reply was “I won’t play with the other children never again – not really understanding that you are cutting off your nose to spite your face!

I feel awful for getting cross with you when you were having a story – feeling impatient and on edge because you insist on doing everything yourself. I feel petulant and toddlerish myself, and I am sure a lot of your behaviour has been modeled on mine. Came down without holding your hand to put the rest of the casserole together – and heard you crying out upstairs, but quarter of an hour later, you were asleep.