Otis says to me yesterday, whilst flipping through the pages of a book in complete silence, “Mum, I am not reading this book, I am listening to it, just like you.”
Current favourite activity is reading magazines, he loves all the ones aimed at little/pre-teen boys, like Mania, Krash and DMag. He cuddles both one of these (usually the latest, I pick them up for him on Sundays after his swimming lesson as a bribe, I know, evil, dastardly parenting technique, but I figure keeping him alive in the water trumps the badness of bribery) and his cuddly Santa.
Peggy says “Mummy” in the sweetest, most clearly enunciated way, it is such a delight to hear. Also says:
Dad/Daddy
Ammy (Grammy)
Braa (Brother)/Ati (Oti)
Bird
Popow (Popov, used for all dogs or other animals she doesn’t know the correct name for)
Yum
Hello (said upwards of 60 times a day, to anyone who walks past her or as soon as she hears me answer the phone, or in response to a character on a TV show, even though she doesn’t like TV, won’t sit still for a minute to even try to engage with it. She pronounces this “Hewwo”. It is said in a very short, abrupt way. )
Bye
Ta
Booboo (Boob… Even though weaned for nearly 2 weeks now… This girl will not forget!)
Current fave activity is to try on other people’s shoes, which she is surprisingly adept at, as well as their clothes, which she has a bit more trouble with. When she can’t manage these things immediately and with ease she screams and throws herself on to the floor in a most dramatic fashion.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Thursday, December 2, 2010
A third? Maybe I'm mad.
So, it's been a while. It's been a rough, misery-filled, relentless couple of months. Peggy's first birthday, an occasion I hoped to celebrate with great joy and the type of fun that my funny girls deserves, was instead full of vomit and tears and fevers and trips to the hospital. Peggy was well (then), but Otis was dreadfully ill, lethargic and quiet and too pink and completelt un-Otis like. He threw up for 14 hours straight, and then on and off for another 3 days. Eventually, upon our third presentation in Emergency, he was admitted for dehydration, and much later that same day, was re-fuelled via a nasty, invasive drip that he absolutely hated but which did the trick and got him back to health.
And then Peggy had it. Not so severely though... She's a tough little bird, determined and sure, and Otis is so sensitive. I wonder whether their emotional attributes somehow equate with the way their bodies process viruses. He gets hit hard, she battles on. Both need me so desperately when sick though, and of course I'm always there, but I can't say it was easy this time around. You see, they were also battling colds, Peggy actually had a throat infection and was on antibiotics and at first I thought the medication was the source of the runny nappies...
Phil was sick too, and one no good very bad day he hurt his back, all three of them cried and moaned and needed, needed, needed me all day long, and I faltered. I yelled, there was some throwing of things - nothing too scary, just a dummy or two - and I cried and, yep, I needed my Mum.
Now, they are reasonably well. They take a multivitamin every day - they love it, a little fruit flavoured, fish shaped "burstlet" - and I feel fairly confident that no family would suffer from gastro four times in a single year, so hopefully we won't have any more vomiting again this side of Christmas. But Peggy does have a rattly cough and sleeps... Well, like a baby, a tiny baby, not like a person who walks and talks should. I am tired but I have been to hell and know what it looks like and this isn't it. Things are "good". Not perfect, but I've come to realise that perfect moments are just that, moments, and parenting is made up of mostly very imperfect moments. But they still make me grin, and make my heart feel full.
And so, yes, we're looking at having another. Soon. Seems insane, I know. But I want to one day have some semblance of a career, so I don't think that prolonging the baby stage would be wise.
We debated the merits of going ahead with number three for a while there. Phil wasn't convinced, he talked about finances and houses and how lucky we are to have what we've got. Yes, the old "pigeon pair" thing came up too, which was silly on his part as that's never been the focus for me.
I get where he's coming from. We aren't rich, not even close, and I am sure that two would make more sense financially. But the reason to have another trumps all of his arguments. My babies deserve to have more than one sibling each. I want them to feel surrounded by people who love them and get them and accept them. That's what siblings do. They have a secret language, a shared past, they can communicate without words. I have four, and my childhood was so full as a result. Two simply doesn't seem enough. For Phil and I, yes, maybe it would be. But I don't think it would be for them, and they are the ones who motivate my choices these days.
Otis asks me constantly for another baby. He'd be happy with a boy or a girl, but if it's a boy he'd like it to be called "Otis". And while I like the idea of another him, because he's an angel and I can't get enough of him, I know enough now to know that every child is frighteningly unique. Who knows who we will end up with?
And then Peggy had it. Not so severely though... She's a tough little bird, determined and sure, and Otis is so sensitive. I wonder whether their emotional attributes somehow equate with the way their bodies process viruses. He gets hit hard, she battles on. Both need me so desperately when sick though, and of course I'm always there, but I can't say it was easy this time around. You see, they were also battling colds, Peggy actually had a throat infection and was on antibiotics and at first I thought the medication was the source of the runny nappies...
Phil was sick too, and one no good very bad day he hurt his back, all three of them cried and moaned and needed, needed, needed me all day long, and I faltered. I yelled, there was some throwing of things - nothing too scary, just a dummy or two - and I cried and, yep, I needed my Mum.
Now, they are reasonably well. They take a multivitamin every day - they love it, a little fruit flavoured, fish shaped "burstlet" - and I feel fairly confident that no family would suffer from gastro four times in a single year, so hopefully we won't have any more vomiting again this side of Christmas. But Peggy does have a rattly cough and sleeps... Well, like a baby, a tiny baby, not like a person who walks and talks should. I am tired but I have been to hell and know what it looks like and this isn't it. Things are "good". Not perfect, but I've come to realise that perfect moments are just that, moments, and parenting is made up of mostly very imperfect moments. But they still make me grin, and make my heart feel full.
And so, yes, we're looking at having another. Soon. Seems insane, I know. But I want to one day have some semblance of a career, so I don't think that prolonging the baby stage would be wise.
We debated the merits of going ahead with number three for a while there. Phil wasn't convinced, he talked about finances and houses and how lucky we are to have what we've got. Yes, the old "pigeon pair" thing came up too, which was silly on his part as that's never been the focus for me.
I get where he's coming from. We aren't rich, not even close, and I am sure that two would make more sense financially. But the reason to have another trumps all of his arguments. My babies deserve to have more than one sibling each. I want them to feel surrounded by people who love them and get them and accept them. That's what siblings do. They have a secret language, a shared past, they can communicate without words. I have four, and my childhood was so full as a result. Two simply doesn't seem enough. For Phil and I, yes, maybe it would be. But I don't think it would be for them, and they are the ones who motivate my choices these days.
Otis asks me constantly for another baby. He'd be happy with a boy or a girl, but if it's a boy he'd like it to be called "Otis". And while I like the idea of another him, because he's an angel and I can't get enough of him, I know enough now to know that every child is frighteningly unique. Who knows who we will end up with?
Monday, October 11, 2010
The things I love about Oti...
His cherubic face. It's a classically beautiful face that I am pretty sure anyone would love, but being his mother, I love it especially. The full pink lips, stunning baby blues, English rose complexion, the creamy, pale, shiny, flat hair. Easy to love.
The manipulative faces he pulls - when he's been naughty, he knows just how to con us into letting him get away with it. The lips are made for pouting, and he screws them up to one side and lowers his head just so... He knows what he's doing.
His loving nature. He strokes Peggy's face so tenderly,"I love you Peggy", "Mum, I love Peggy, she's my sister." "Mum, can Peggy have a biscuit too? I think she's hungry. I love her." "Mum, I love you, you a good Mummy."
His innocence. He kissed his little friend Hughie on the lips the other day as we were saying goodbye. There was nothing shy or hesitant about it, he did with confidence, with the same enthusiasm he has for everything he loves about his life. And Hughie was happy to take it. This was after they had done wees together under the big tree at our local park.
His honesty. My pubic hair apparently makes me look like "Santa Claus", and his Grammy's hair... Well, he's admitted he's not a fan. At least when he says that he does like something we can accept it as truth.
His sayings... He loves to reply with "Sure!" or "Of course" if we ask him to do something. Instead of "I don't know", it's "I can't know". And he loves to reflect on his morning ust before naptime. "We've had a busy morning. We've had fun!"
The fact that he's not as scared of new things as I once he feared he might turn out to be... He started proper swimming lessons on Sunday, no parents in the pool when you're a Tadpole. And he didn't hesitate to get right in when he was asked to. I was dumbfounded. I had been prepared for tears and clinging and trauma for us both.
The manipulative faces he pulls - when he's been naughty, he knows just how to con us into letting him get away with it. The lips are made for pouting, and he screws them up to one side and lowers his head just so... He knows what he's doing.
His loving nature. He strokes Peggy's face so tenderly,"I love you Peggy", "Mum, I love Peggy, she's my sister." "Mum, can Peggy have a biscuit too? I think she's hungry. I love her." "Mum, I love you, you a good Mummy."
His innocence. He kissed his little friend Hughie on the lips the other day as we were saying goodbye. There was nothing shy or hesitant about it, he did with confidence, with the same enthusiasm he has for everything he loves about his life. And Hughie was happy to take it. This was after they had done wees together under the big tree at our local park.
His honesty. My pubic hair apparently makes me look like "Santa Claus", and his Grammy's hair... Well, he's admitted he's not a fan. At least when he says that he does like something we can accept it as truth.
His sayings... He loves to reply with "Sure!" or "Of course" if we ask him to do something. Instead of "I don't know", it's "I can't know". And he loves to reflect on his morning ust before naptime. "We've had a busy morning. We've had fun!"
The fact that he's not as scared of new things as I once he feared he might turn out to be... He started proper swimming lessons on Sunday, no parents in the pool when you're a Tadpole. And he didn't hesitate to get right in when he was asked to. I was dumbfounded. I had been prepared for tears and clinging and trauma for us both.
The things I love about Booroo...
Those chocolate-y eyes that are so different from my own. They are all-knowing, and very pretty, framed with long, dark, curled lashes. Her best feature.
The golden hair, getting longer and wavier, looking lovely clipped at the side of her face. I'm slightly obsessed with putting clips in her hair, always keen to add to her/my collection.
The grabby little hands, she has the short nail beds that Phil has. Toes are like that too. Her feet are so straight, narrow, delicate and a light golden brown.
The way she holds on to her lovey or her soft quilt as she's falling asleep... Such a tight clutch, such a furrowed brow. Slowly her body relaxes and surrenders.
The tiny buds of teeth that have only just arrived! They are bumpy and ridged in their newness, and she is enjoying biting with them.
The put-on face of utter devastation that she shows me whenever something doesn't go her way. Dramatic, nose all scrunched, lips tight and wide, eyes squinty and full of rage. But there's a laugh lurking underneath it all.
The slap-slap-slap of her feet as she crawls with mighty speed. I hear this less and less now that she is walking. But when she's in hurry she reverts to the mode of transport she's long mastered.
Her emerging words... In the middle of the night now she'll actually ask for "boobooboo... boo" and I find it very hard to refuse her. She's starting to enunciate lots of new things, bird, book, brother...
The earnestness of her gaze as she "reads". Interactive books are her preference - glittery, touch-and-feel-, lift-the-flap.
Her smell. Like Otis, she smells so delicious. It's a clean, fresh smell mixed with something undefinable - a Peggyness that is sweet and salty and familiar.
The golden hair, getting longer and wavier, looking lovely clipped at the side of her face. I'm slightly obsessed with putting clips in her hair, always keen to add to her/my collection.
The grabby little hands, she has the short nail beds that Phil has. Toes are like that too. Her feet are so straight, narrow, delicate and a light golden brown.
The way she holds on to her lovey or her soft quilt as she's falling asleep... Such a tight clutch, such a furrowed brow. Slowly her body relaxes and surrenders.
The tiny buds of teeth that have only just arrived! They are bumpy and ridged in their newness, and she is enjoying biting with them.
The put-on face of utter devastation that she shows me whenever something doesn't go her way. Dramatic, nose all scrunched, lips tight and wide, eyes squinty and full of rage. But there's a laugh lurking underneath it all.
The slap-slap-slap of her feet as she crawls with mighty speed. I hear this less and less now that she is walking. But when she's in hurry she reverts to the mode of transport she's long mastered.
Her emerging words... In the middle of the night now she'll actually ask for "boobooboo... boo" and I find it very hard to refuse her. She's starting to enunciate lots of new things, bird, book, brother...
The earnestness of her gaze as she "reads". Interactive books are her preference - glittery, touch-and-feel-, lift-the-flap.
Her smell. Like Otis, she smells so delicious. It's a clean, fresh smell mixed with something undefinable - a Peggyness that is sweet and salty and familiar.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Peace and quiet for two hours at least...
Yes, I do look forward to this time of day. Not quite as much as the moment I first get to lay eyes on my bubbas after waking, but the silence and the time to cook, and clean, and attend to all those little to-dos on my list... It's nice.
However, I have been worried about the progression of Peggy's naps, from two to one. I was expecting this would happen around the twelve month mark, but, as is characteristic of my girl, the change has occurred a few months early. About a week ago she started becoming more difficult to get down for both naps. Lots of silliness, squawking and laughing and then tears. So I bit the bullet, after Lan suggested I give one sleep a try. I was thinking I'd have to do them back-to-back - Peggy down 11-1, Otis 1:30-3:30, and that I'd lose my "free" time as a result. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but it would make life somewhat more challening. But, no, my girl has decided to make life easy for me, and has happily stayed up until 1pm almost every day for the past 4! It is now 3:15, Otis has been asleep for 2 hours exactly and she's been down for 2 hours, 20 minutes.
Go Booroo!!!
I know with Otis it was huge to get him to stay up until 11 at first! I slowly pushed him back to 12, then 1, and then sometimes 2, depending on Peggy.
They really are all so different!
Love that I am able to work this stuff out myself, in a way that suits my individual children and the type of family I strive to lead, without resorting to the likes of Gina Ford etc... I don't get those regimented, overtly scheduled books... Is parenting really a one-size-fits-all process?
However, I have been worried about the progression of Peggy's naps, from two to one. I was expecting this would happen around the twelve month mark, but, as is characteristic of my girl, the change has occurred a few months early. About a week ago she started becoming more difficult to get down for both naps. Lots of silliness, squawking and laughing and then tears. So I bit the bullet, after Lan suggested I give one sleep a try. I was thinking I'd have to do them back-to-back - Peggy down 11-1, Otis 1:30-3:30, and that I'd lose my "free" time as a result. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, but it would make life somewhat more challening. But, no, my girl has decided to make life easy for me, and has happily stayed up until 1pm almost every day for the past 4! It is now 3:15, Otis has been asleep for 2 hours exactly and she's been down for 2 hours, 20 minutes.
Go Booroo!!!
I know with Otis it was huge to get him to stay up until 11 at first! I slowly pushed him back to 12, then 1, and then sometimes 2, depending on Peggy.
They really are all so different!
Love that I am able to work this stuff out myself, in a way that suits my individual children and the type of family I strive to lead, without resorting to the likes of Gina Ford etc... I don't get those regimented, overtly scheduled books... Is parenting really a one-size-fits-all process?
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Responses to my girly's adventures on two feet...
People are funny. The people that love Peggy, or in fact, those who are secure enough in themselves to see her walking as cute and interesting rather than some sort of threat, just, very simply, "ooh" and "aah" over her endeavours as a two-footed pre-toddler.
Others, who obviously see my very awe-fuelled mention of it as inciting competition - something I've never been one to enter into... Otis was oddly early with any milestones and I never felt the need to defend this - immediately respond with "Oh, she's just keeping up with Otis". Funnily, these people are always mothers of one!
I don't think Peggy's early rolling, crawling, walking etc etc makes her smarter or more permanently physically capable than others. In fact, I think these things level out as babies get older - I know of many kids who did these things later and have grown into being particularly adept at the physical stuff (my niece Isla springs to mind, she's wonderful with a soccer ball). I also don't think it's about being the second sibling - I am pretty sure none of my siblings walked this early, and all four of them had me, at least, to chase after (not that I have ever been a fast runner!). I personally believe it is personality-driven. Peggy has had a stubborn, determined, feisty spirit from birth, and it is this desperation to move and grab and get that has made her the funny, ten-month-old toothless walker she is today!
Others, who obviously see my very awe-fuelled mention of it as inciting competition - something I've never been one to enter into... Otis was oddly early with any milestones and I never felt the need to defend this - immediately respond with "Oh, she's just keeping up with Otis". Funnily, these people are always mothers of one!
I don't think Peggy's early rolling, crawling, walking etc etc makes her smarter or more permanently physically capable than others. In fact, I think these things level out as babies get older - I know of many kids who did these things later and have grown into being particularly adept at the physical stuff (my niece Isla springs to mind, she's wonderful with a soccer ball). I also don't think it's about being the second sibling - I am pretty sure none of my siblings walked this early, and all four of them had me, at least, to chase after (not that I have ever been a fast runner!). I personally believe it is personality-driven. Peggy has had a stubborn, determined, feisty spirit from birth, and it is this desperation to move and grab and get that has made her the funny, ten-month-old toothless walker she is today!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Booroo is walking!
My precious little Peggy took her first steps on Thursday, 9th Sepember. 10 months and 1 week old. It is such a sight to see this tiny, slight, delicate little BABY walking around. Gorgeous. She's progressed to taking up to 6 or 7 steps at a time now.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The month of sick...
That's what August 2010 was in this household.
First of all we had the flu, I think it attacked all four of us and left the place overrun with damp, used tissues and the awful, sickly, sticky pink residue of Panadol. Tough, but familiar territory for me - 2009 was Oti's first year at Occy's Place and he was sick for the majority of it, usually with flu-like symptoms. Whenever the kids are sick they sleep with us - Phil jumps in with O, easier now that he is in full-length bunk beds (an awesome IKEA purchase), and Peggy comes in with me very early on in the night. All rules fly out the window, I let them eat as much as they like (usually very little) and whatever takes their fancy (ice cream for lunch? Why not!?), and there's plenty of DVD viewing and snuggling on the couch.
Next was the bad, awful, worst, scariest virus of all... GASTRO. Second time we've been hit this year, and AGAIN, I prove to be Superwoman, avoiding it completely even though it hung around here for over a week. As luck would have it, Peggy suddenly began vomiting - not the harmless little baby possets, the big, chunky, explosive, stinky type - literally as we headed out the door to visit a friend here for only a few days from Sweden. That outing was cancelled. Peggy ate nothing and drank frequently from the breast, and had about 5 vomiting episodes over the course of two days. She was in good spirits though, and it was an interesting lesson in early childhood development to compare her to Otis, who developed the same dreaded sickness afew days later, at the same moment Phil did. Otis was beside himself with anxiety and fear (as was I - I cried - it all happened at midnight, Peggy woke up too, and I froze - what to do? Who to attend to first? How to rid us all of the smell of spew?). He was most freaked out by the sight of his first gigantic throw-up - he woke up lying amongst the remnants of that evening's dinner, his dummy perched on top of the stinky mass, and he screamed when he returned to his room with the lights on and saw the hideous mess his bed was in. He then threw up all over himself and the floor, and howled as he moved him into the shower.
Months previously, he'd had the same thing in almost the same circumstances, and he hadn't been at all bothered. A new awareness, a developing sense of cleanliness and shame... It was interesting to behold.
Phil threw up too, they took turns in fact, and the poor little boy sat naked on the couch wrapped in old towels watching some bizarre Japanese anime movie through the night, until we were convinced the worst was over and allowed him to get dressed again. He and Phil finally fell asleep in the living room and spent the following day eating chips and drinking lemonade and looking as sad as can be.
My iron-clad stomach stood strong through it all, but being the one washing the vomit-stained sheets and comforting the sickly souls is not always preferable... Tired doesn't cover it.
Through the gastro the greeen snotty noses continued, then started to fade to a less-disgusting shade of yellow, and then the next sickness hit - the unspecified virus that has resulted in fevers, lethargy and super-duper-clingy behaviour. First Peggy, then Oti. I hate wasting an hour of my life in the GP's waiting room with a child who has nothing worse than a virus and thus cannot be treated in any way for it. It's not that I wanted them to be seriously ill, trust me. I just wish I'd factored a medical degree into my repertoire of study so that I could avoid such pointless and painful visits to the Dr. I hate being made to feel like a hypochondriac, but how I am to know that it's an untreatable, commonplace bug?
There are some nice parts to the whole sick child scenario... The cuddles are a little longer, you can sleep with them all night guilt-free, they need you and love you that little bit more, they sleep longer during the day (Tuesday - Otis did 4 hours, Peggy did 1 and then 2 1/2) and the joy you feel when they are back to their happy, energised little selves is really special, a real moment of gratitude.
First of all we had the flu, I think it attacked all four of us and left the place overrun with damp, used tissues and the awful, sickly, sticky pink residue of Panadol. Tough, but familiar territory for me - 2009 was Oti's first year at Occy's Place and he was sick for the majority of it, usually with flu-like symptoms. Whenever the kids are sick they sleep with us - Phil jumps in with O, easier now that he is in full-length bunk beds (an awesome IKEA purchase), and Peggy comes in with me very early on in the night. All rules fly out the window, I let them eat as much as they like (usually very little) and whatever takes their fancy (ice cream for lunch? Why not!?), and there's plenty of DVD viewing and snuggling on the couch.
Next was the bad, awful, worst, scariest virus of all... GASTRO. Second time we've been hit this year, and AGAIN, I prove to be Superwoman, avoiding it completely even though it hung around here for over a week. As luck would have it, Peggy suddenly began vomiting - not the harmless little baby possets, the big, chunky, explosive, stinky type - literally as we headed out the door to visit a friend here for only a few days from Sweden. That outing was cancelled. Peggy ate nothing and drank frequently from the breast, and had about 5 vomiting episodes over the course of two days. She was in good spirits though, and it was an interesting lesson in early childhood development to compare her to Otis, who developed the same dreaded sickness afew days later, at the same moment Phil did. Otis was beside himself with anxiety and fear (as was I - I cried - it all happened at midnight, Peggy woke up too, and I froze - what to do? Who to attend to first? How to rid us all of the smell of spew?). He was most freaked out by the sight of his first gigantic throw-up - he woke up lying amongst the remnants of that evening's dinner, his dummy perched on top of the stinky mass, and he screamed when he returned to his room with the lights on and saw the hideous mess his bed was in. He then threw up all over himself and the floor, and howled as he moved him into the shower.
Months previously, he'd had the same thing in almost the same circumstances, and he hadn't been at all bothered. A new awareness, a developing sense of cleanliness and shame... It was interesting to behold.
Phil threw up too, they took turns in fact, and the poor little boy sat naked on the couch wrapped in old towels watching some bizarre Japanese anime movie through the night, until we were convinced the worst was over and allowed him to get dressed again. He and Phil finally fell asleep in the living room and spent the following day eating chips and drinking lemonade and looking as sad as can be.
My iron-clad stomach stood strong through it all, but being the one washing the vomit-stained sheets and comforting the sickly souls is not always preferable... Tired doesn't cover it.
Through the gastro the greeen snotty noses continued, then started to fade to a less-disgusting shade of yellow, and then the next sickness hit - the unspecified virus that has resulted in fevers, lethargy and super-duper-clingy behaviour. First Peggy, then Oti. I hate wasting an hour of my life in the GP's waiting room with a child who has nothing worse than a virus and thus cannot be treated in any way for it. It's not that I wanted them to be seriously ill, trust me. I just wish I'd factored a medical degree into my repertoire of study so that I could avoid such pointless and painful visits to the Dr. I hate being made to feel like a hypochondriac, but how I am to know that it's an untreatable, commonplace bug?
There are some nice parts to the whole sick child scenario... The cuddles are a little longer, you can sleep with them all night guilt-free, they need you and love you that little bit more, they sleep longer during the day (Tuesday - Otis did 4 hours, Peggy did 1 and then 2 1/2) and the joy you feel when they are back to their happy, energised little selves is really special, a real moment of gratitude.
Monday, August 9, 2010
My little lovelies...
Peggy is 9 months now... Not my tiny little screecher any longer. She's lean with a plump bottom, olive-skinned, with eyes that are almost black, rosy cheeks, a toothless smile and wispy, golden hair. She's quite clingy to me now, with bursts of great independance and determination in between. I think sometimes we all ascribe certain traits to babies early on, forgetting that many of their characteristics relate to development and can change with the wind. Not overly fussed on the boob, she'll have it if there's nothing more interesting going on anywhere nearby, but she prefers to be fed during the night. Half-asleep and twitchy, 5-10 minutes on the boob settles her down for more sleep and warms her cheeks which are made cold by the frigid midnight air. We've been having some desperately cold weather in Sydney of late.
I'll wean her when she turns one, and I doubt she'll even notice... She'll no doubt be walking by then. Her development has stalled a little lately - the physical stuff, I mean. She's been standing in very short spurts for about 6 weeks now, but hasn't progressed past that. She's loud - loves to hear herself scream. She's not big on eating, although she's got a sweet tooth and wouldn't dream of knocking back a little mouthful of Dairy Milk or a fresh-baked peanut butter cookie. I came up with one meal they both adore. I cooked it the same day Phil took O to see Shrek 4 at the movies, and since it's bright green, it's become known as The Shrek Meal. It's risoni with a rich, luminous spinach and cheese sauce mixed through it. Delicious.
She's sleeping most of the night with me, and I am cherishing it now... It's amazing how differently I am perceiving the co-sleeping this time around. I guess that's because I miss having Otis by my side, breathing his breath, feeling a warm, mushy hand fondle my face. I miss it terribly. And I know I'll miss her just as much, her little body tucked in next to mine, her long eyelashes resting on those squeezable cheeks.
Otis is just great. He's got a best friend now, and loves to play with sticks, we look for bears and tigers and snakes in our backyard. He mimics me profusely... If he's unsure about something he says "I can't know" instead of "I don't know". And multiple times a day we have to "talk about our days", which means listing everything we've done since he woke up and listing everything we'll do tomorrow. His current favourite movie is Stuart Little. He's right into reading too, recalls the words I've read and uses the pictures to come up with the rest.
I'll wean her when she turns one, and I doubt she'll even notice... She'll no doubt be walking by then. Her development has stalled a little lately - the physical stuff, I mean. She's been standing in very short spurts for about 6 weeks now, but hasn't progressed past that. She's loud - loves to hear herself scream. She's not big on eating, although she's got a sweet tooth and wouldn't dream of knocking back a little mouthful of Dairy Milk or a fresh-baked peanut butter cookie. I came up with one meal they both adore. I cooked it the same day Phil took O to see Shrek 4 at the movies, and since it's bright green, it's become known as The Shrek Meal. It's risoni with a rich, luminous spinach and cheese sauce mixed through it. Delicious.
She's sleeping most of the night with me, and I am cherishing it now... It's amazing how differently I am perceiving the co-sleeping this time around. I guess that's because I miss having Otis by my side, breathing his breath, feeling a warm, mushy hand fondle my face. I miss it terribly. And I know I'll miss her just as much, her little body tucked in next to mine, her long eyelashes resting on those squeezable cheeks.
Otis is just great. He's got a best friend now, and loves to play with sticks, we look for bears and tigers and snakes in our backyard. He mimics me profusely... If he's unsure about something he says "I can't know" instead of "I don't know". And multiple times a day we have to "talk about our days", which means listing everything we've done since he woke up and listing everything we'll do tomorrow. His current favourite movie is Stuart Little. He's right into reading too, recalls the words I've read and uses the pictures to come up with the rest.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
The mouths of babes...
Two Otis gems for you, at opposite ends of the spectrum.
At IGA the other day, upon being asked if Peggy is his little sister:
"She's my Peggy-boo." (Accompanied by couldn't-have-been-cuter-if-choreographed gestures of love and possession.)
Yesterday, in anticipation of a tantrum (mine, although I actually managed to take control of my frazzled-ness and behave for once):
"F*ck. F*ck."
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?
"F*ck?"
Uh-oh.
At IGA the other day, upon being asked if Peggy is his little sister:
"She's my Peggy-boo." (Accompanied by couldn't-have-been-cuter-if-choreographed gestures of love and possession.)
Yesterday, in anticipation of a tantrum (mine, although I actually managed to take control of my frazzled-ness and behave for once):
"F*ck. F*ck."
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?
"F*ck?"
Uh-oh.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
We've found our rhythm...
and life is just grand.
I've been absent from this blog for good reason - I've just submitted my PhD thesis after 6 years. It's funny, when I was in the throes of my research with one hand typing and the other feeding my boob into Otis' mouth, I felt really put out by the fact that I had to focus on something other than him. But now that I am done, I am already embarking on new projects, and am realising that that is how I parent - mothering is not my only occupation, it never will be. I think that if it were I would lose all perspective and, perhaps, my sense of self. Being a SAHM is something of a "calling" for some women, and not something I wish to dismiss. I respect those who have the paience to be at the mercy of infants and toddlers non-stop. I have issues with anger and am very quick to fire, and I believe that using my brain in ways that don't relate to toilet training or discipline or breastfeeding allows me to fully switch off from parenting and thus take the odd, genuine "break" from it. It's a relentless experience.
Anyway, yes, things are good. Otis is a real boy now - all feet and hands, singing sweetly (not sure that he will be a choirboy, however, his pitch is all over the place!), recalling minutiae in frightening detail and mimicking many of my not-so-fine parenting moments ("That's enough Peggy! Shut up, please!"). His current favourite things: Fireman Sam, a book called The Farmer by Mark Ludy, anything chocolate and the very sweet Japanese film Ponyo. He doesn't like wearing jeans, and hates waking up after his afternoon nap (yes, the irony is not lost on me). He adores Peggy, and continues to shower those around him with love and affection. He has started asking for "another baby in Mummy's tummy". Not yet matey!
Peggy is wonderful too, cruising furniture, pulling herself up and then letting go, with the occasional well-balanced moment of real standing. She's perfected the art of falling "softly" on her well-padded nappied bottom. Has given me plenty of grief with boob-refusal lately, but the past few days have seen her get reacquainted with the process. She has certainly never been the booby monster that Otis was. It will probably make the weaning experience less emotionally fraught for me. She's eating well, not huge volumes of food though. She is sleeping beautifully during the day, but is co-sleeping and waing reasonably frequently of a night. Mostly she is easily re-settled though, and I am happy to have the cuddles given the freezing weather we've been having. Waking up to her gorgeous "anime" face each morning is inexplicably excellent...
She's developed a very strong attachment to me in the last few weeks, and likes to spend much of every evening in my arms whilst I do my domestic duties. I don't mind, I know these phases come and go.
She's babbling away, saying "dada", "mama", "baba", "yeah, yeah, yeah" and has been waving with an accompanied "hi" or "bye" for a couple of weeks now. She started clapping at the Play School concert and hasn't stopped. She's an energised,spirited, determined and bright little girl. Delicate rather than chubby, with a definite olive tone to her skin, so different to O's "English Rose" complexion.
Loving my family, they really do make my heart feel full.
I've been absent from this blog for good reason - I've just submitted my PhD thesis after 6 years. It's funny, when I was in the throes of my research with one hand typing and the other feeding my boob into Otis' mouth, I felt really put out by the fact that I had to focus on something other than him. But now that I am done, I am already embarking on new projects, and am realising that that is how I parent - mothering is not my only occupation, it never will be. I think that if it were I would lose all perspective and, perhaps, my sense of self. Being a SAHM is something of a "calling" for some women, and not something I wish to dismiss. I respect those who have the paience to be at the mercy of infants and toddlers non-stop. I have issues with anger and am very quick to fire, and I believe that using my brain in ways that don't relate to toilet training or discipline or breastfeeding allows me to fully switch off from parenting and thus take the odd, genuine "break" from it. It's a relentless experience.
Anyway, yes, things are good. Otis is a real boy now - all feet and hands, singing sweetly (not sure that he will be a choirboy, however, his pitch is all over the place!), recalling minutiae in frightening detail and mimicking many of my not-so-fine parenting moments ("That's enough Peggy! Shut up, please!"). His current favourite things: Fireman Sam, a book called The Farmer by Mark Ludy, anything chocolate and the very sweet Japanese film Ponyo. He doesn't like wearing jeans, and hates waking up after his afternoon nap (yes, the irony is not lost on me). He adores Peggy, and continues to shower those around him with love and affection. He has started asking for "another baby in Mummy's tummy". Not yet matey!
Peggy is wonderful too, cruising furniture, pulling herself up and then letting go, with the occasional well-balanced moment of real standing. She's perfected the art of falling "softly" on her well-padded nappied bottom. Has given me plenty of grief with boob-refusal lately, but the past few days have seen her get reacquainted with the process. She has certainly never been the booby monster that Otis was. It will probably make the weaning experience less emotionally fraught for me. She's eating well, not huge volumes of food though. She is sleeping beautifully during the day, but is co-sleeping and waing reasonably frequently of a night. Mostly she is easily re-settled though, and I am happy to have the cuddles given the freezing weather we've been having. Waking up to her gorgeous "anime" face each morning is inexplicably excellent...
She's developed a very strong attachment to me in the last few weeks, and likes to spend much of every evening in my arms whilst I do my domestic duties. I don't mind, I know these phases come and go.
She's babbling away, saying "dada", "mama", "baba", "yeah, yeah, yeah" and has been waving with an accompanied "hi" or "bye" for a couple of weeks now. She started clapping at the Play School concert and hasn't stopped. She's an energised,spirited, determined and bright little girl. Delicate rather than chubby, with a definite olive tone to her skin, so different to O's "English Rose" complexion.
Loving my family, they really do make my heart feel full.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Toys for girls... Terrible!
What on earth am I going to buy Peggy for her first birthday and Christmas? Yes, yes, it is a while away yet, but Phil and I usually lay-by everything during the EOFY sales so that we can it all off slowly... Having babies born in November and January, either side of Christmas, can get a little costly if you are not prepared.
I already have a few books put away, and I bought them each a set of those wooden Russian dolls that fit one inside the other... Can't recall the technical name. Oti's are soldiers, Peggy's are fairly run-of-the-mill. I also came across these cool wooden fairytale masks. I got one each of those - Goldilocks on one side, Baby (?) Bear on the other, and a Red Riding Hood/Wolf one too. I think we'll have fun with those for years to come.
We are looking at getting a trampoline for the two of them, as well as an IKEA kitchen. We'll get them both some Duplo to add to the growing mountain... It is without a doubt the most used and appreciated item in this house. But then what? Otis has a range of possibilities at his disposal - a remote control car, a gardening set, power tools, a scooter, water pistols... The section of the toy stores aimed at females is pink upon pink upon Barbie upon doll upon Barbie upon doll.
I don't have an issue with dolls per se - I think they are great. They promote nurturing behaviour and allow for plenty of imaginative play. Otis has a few and loves them, and I am proud of the fact that we have supported him in taking an interest in them. But Peggy already has so many! She was inundated with them at birth, and they look set to keep coming.
There is very little else marketed at girls,and I find it so disappointing. Luckily Peggy has all of Otis' toys to enjoy. And I will be going out of my way to find something of the non-doll variety to give to her when she turns 1. I would love some tips... If anybody is out there reading this, please advise me!
We will probably purchase a trike for her... I haven't looked at what is available for that age group yet, but I hope that the girly ones are actually functional and don't require the user to ride side-saddle!! I wouldn't be at all surprised. Girly toys don't appear to encourage active play.
On a more positive note, Otis and I have discovered a most excellent book - Jobs People Do, published by Usborne Books. It is brilliant. Lovely to look at, with photos of Fimo figurines going about their daily work. Lots of beautifully detailed explanations of uniforms and equipment. Endearing storylines, and plenty of non-stereotypical casting of women in roles that are traditionally masculine - there is Doctor Daisy, Vet Vicky, and a couple of female firefighters. There is also a plethora of races represented. And a male nurse!! I am just so impressed by this book, and Otis never tires of it. I recommend for toddlers two and up.
I already have a few books put away, and I bought them each a set of those wooden Russian dolls that fit one inside the other... Can't recall the technical name. Oti's are soldiers, Peggy's are fairly run-of-the-mill. I also came across these cool wooden fairytale masks. I got one each of those - Goldilocks on one side, Baby (?) Bear on the other, and a Red Riding Hood/Wolf one too. I think we'll have fun with those for years to come.
We are looking at getting a trampoline for the two of them, as well as an IKEA kitchen. We'll get them both some Duplo to add to the growing mountain... It is without a doubt the most used and appreciated item in this house. But then what? Otis has a range of possibilities at his disposal - a remote control car, a gardening set, power tools, a scooter, water pistols... The section of the toy stores aimed at females is pink upon pink upon Barbie upon doll upon Barbie upon doll.
I don't have an issue with dolls per se - I think they are great. They promote nurturing behaviour and allow for plenty of imaginative play. Otis has a few and loves them, and I am proud of the fact that we have supported him in taking an interest in them. But Peggy already has so many! She was inundated with them at birth, and they look set to keep coming.
There is very little else marketed at girls,and I find it so disappointing. Luckily Peggy has all of Otis' toys to enjoy. And I will be going out of my way to find something of the non-doll variety to give to her when she turns 1. I would love some tips... If anybody is out there reading this, please advise me!
We will probably purchase a trike for her... I haven't looked at what is available for that age group yet, but I hope that the girly ones are actually functional and don't require the user to ride side-saddle!! I wouldn't be at all surprised. Girly toys don't appear to encourage active play.
On a more positive note, Otis and I have discovered a most excellent book - Jobs People Do, published by Usborne Books. It is brilliant. Lovely to look at, with photos of Fimo figurines going about their daily work. Lots of beautifully detailed explanations of uniforms and equipment. Endearing storylines, and plenty of non-stereotypical casting of women in roles that are traditionally masculine - there is Doctor Daisy, Vet Vicky, and a couple of female firefighters. There is also a plethora of races represented. And a male nurse!! I am just so impressed by this book, and Otis never tires of it. I recommend for toddlers two and up.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
A bit of a random gush...
These kids of mine, my goodness, they are beautiful beings. Yes, yes, I know, I am their mother, my sole purpose is to boost them up and make them feel like the most special people on the planet, even if they are really only average. But I really, truly do believe that Phil and I have thus far made exceptionally good-looking babies. Hopefully we will continue to do so, once or twice more in the future (next baby is definitely at least three years away, I guarantee it). We were talking about this just the other day – how awful it would be if our next baby were ugly, and people reacted to it with surprise upon realising that such an unfortunate looking person was related to the rather stunning Otis and Peggy. Yes, it would be bad, but there are obviously much worse things that could happen, and I’d rather not go there…
But it is really more than skin-deep beauty that I am talking about. I mean the shining joy in Otis’ eyes when he sees me walk through the door after a day at work, the higher-than-normal note of his voice, the tightness of our hug. It is in the way he kisses his new cousin Indigo, with a mixture of reverence and excitement. She can’t offer him much yet in the way of fun or companionship, but he loves her anyway. It’s in his very serious “I’m sorry Peggy” after accidentally bowling her over in a fit of enthusiastic adoration.
My boy has such a capacity for love. I have no idea what he will do with his life, whether he will be academically talented or sporty or creative, but I am sure that he will have wonderful relationships with people because he is just so pure of heart. My neighbour once said to me, “Otis has a big heart”. She’s right. I always think of him and feel a little heave in my chest when I listen to Lisa Mitchell sing:
“Livin’ in that chest is a big, big heart, the one I’ve known from the very start…”
And Peggy. Wow, her determined spirit is something to behold. Already crawling efficiently at 6 months, she can do so much with that tiny body of hers. And her giggle – music to my ears. After a hellish night, she wakes up happy, gurgling, that little face – so extreme and singular it looks to have been rendered by a cartoon artist – is all smiles.
But it is really more than skin-deep beauty that I am talking about. I mean the shining joy in Otis’ eyes when he sees me walk through the door after a day at work, the higher-than-normal note of his voice, the tightness of our hug. It is in the way he kisses his new cousin Indigo, with a mixture of reverence and excitement. She can’t offer him much yet in the way of fun or companionship, but he loves her anyway. It’s in his very serious “I’m sorry Peggy” after accidentally bowling her over in a fit of enthusiastic adoration.
My boy has such a capacity for love. I have no idea what he will do with his life, whether he will be academically talented or sporty or creative, but I am sure that he will have wonderful relationships with people because he is just so pure of heart. My neighbour once said to me, “Otis has a big heart”. She’s right. I always think of him and feel a little heave in my chest when I listen to Lisa Mitchell sing:
“Livin’ in that chest is a big, big heart, the one I’ve known from the very start…”
And Peggy. Wow, her determined spirit is something to behold. Already crawling efficiently at 6 months, she can do so much with that tiny body of hers. And her giggle – music to my ears. After a hellish night, she wakes up happy, gurgling, that little face – so extreme and singular it looks to have been rendered by a cartoon artist – is all smiles.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tresillian... I caved in and called.
I am not a fan of parenting hotlines. I can't quite explain why - there is just something off to me about calling a stranger on the phone and finding out from them what it is that your child needs. But then, I understand desperation, I certainly do...
My reservations also relate to my feelings about controlled crying. I wouldn't ignore an adult who was crying, let alone my own precious, defenceless baby girl. Not an option in this household.
Anyway, Peggy has been carrying on for hours during the night. We do the Cot vs Co-sleeping dance - in, out, in, out. She knows when I am placing her back into the cot, even when she is fast asleep. The minute I change the configuration of my arms, she starts to arch and moan and the tears flow.
She is self-settling wonderfully during the day - not even the tiniest of whinges. And sleeping well, at least one 2 hour nap and then another one or two shorter naps. In the evening I feed her down and then she wakes about 4 hours later, and won't calm without me offering the boob. And then... Hours, literally hours, of carry on.
So I laid it all out on Tresillian's Messenger Mums service, after being on hold to them on my bloody mobile for 4o minutes! And you know what the nurse told me? That Peggy wants me all to herself and feels as if night time is the only opportunity for that, because Otis takes up so much of my time. Can I get some help with him and spend more one-on-one time with her? Well... No. Not when I already enlist the help of her grandmothers twice a week so that I can work and thus we can eat.
I feel worse than I did before! I should have followed my instincts!
I am feeling resigned to the fact that we will be co-sleeping for much of the night for now. It's not the worst thing in the world, having a warm baby folded up in your arms on a cold night.
My reservations also relate to my feelings about controlled crying. I wouldn't ignore an adult who was crying, let alone my own precious, defenceless baby girl. Not an option in this household.
Anyway, Peggy has been carrying on for hours during the night. We do the Cot vs Co-sleeping dance - in, out, in, out. She knows when I am placing her back into the cot, even when she is fast asleep. The minute I change the configuration of my arms, she starts to arch and moan and the tears flow.
She is self-settling wonderfully during the day - not even the tiniest of whinges. And sleeping well, at least one 2 hour nap and then another one or two shorter naps. In the evening I feed her down and then she wakes about 4 hours later, and won't calm without me offering the boob. And then... Hours, literally hours, of carry on.
So I laid it all out on Tresillian's Messenger Mums service, after being on hold to them on my bloody mobile for 4o minutes! And you know what the nurse told me? That Peggy wants me all to herself and feels as if night time is the only opportunity for that, because Otis takes up so much of my time. Can I get some help with him and spend more one-on-one time with her? Well... No. Not when I already enlist the help of her grandmothers twice a week so that I can work and thus we can eat.
I feel worse than I did before! I should have followed my instincts!
I am feeling resigned to the fact that we will be co-sleeping for much of the night for now. It's not the worst thing in the world, having a warm baby folded up in your arms on a cold night.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
The crazy crawling Whirly Girl...
Peggy is now commando-ing all over the place. I am so shocked at how early she started to mobilise. Her dear big brother did not manage to start pulling himself along until he was 9 months old... I recall Phil doing "crawl training" with him, trying to entice him into action with toys and treats, silently and shamefully bemoaning his ineptitude. He got there, of course, and 9 months is still well within the realms of normal, but he was certainly a little on the slow side. In fact, he was a little bit behind when it came to nearly all the physical milestones. I never cared, I am no athlete, and I have always placed more emphasis on his speech and creativity.
So you can understand my surprise when Girly Whirly started screeching in frustration when a toy or forbidden non-toy item was placed just out of her reach, at only 5 months of age. And then she started to pull herself along. There was grunting and gasping, a bit of sweat along the brow, and, slowly, but surely she got there, millimetreby millimetre.
She's fairly adept at it now. Sometimes does a slow shuffle, sometimes a large, lunging leap. Just today she's started to rise up on all fours. I think "proper" crawling is only days or weeks away.
6 months on Sunday! My beautiful, wilful Whirly Girl. I love you my darling.
So you can understand my surprise when Girly Whirly started screeching in frustration when a toy or forbidden non-toy item was placed just out of her reach, at only 5 months of age. And then she started to pull herself along. There was grunting and gasping, a bit of sweat along the brow, and, slowly, but surely she got there, millimetreby millimetre.
She's fairly adept at it now. Sometimes does a slow shuffle, sometimes a large, lunging leap. Just today she's started to rise up on all fours. I think "proper" crawling is only days or weeks away.
6 months on Sunday! My beautiful, wilful Whirly Girl. I love you my darling.
Friday, April 23, 2010
My top ten "can't live without" baby and toddler items...
Just thought I’d share this. There are a million lists like this around, but mine is obviously entirely impartial (no-one is paying me to market their products!), so perhaps a little more trustworthy. Please feel free to reply with a few of your own.
1. Medela Harmony Manual Breast Pump (used in conjunction with Swisspers breastmilk storage bags)
2. Bonds Wondersuits
3. That’s Not My Truck/Bunny/Baby/Dolly/Dragon etc etc books
4. Duplo
5. Baby Einstein Play Mat
6. Greenkids nappies
7. ABC Kids (OK, not so much an item, but a product of sorts)
8. Coles Smartbuy wipes
9. Fisher-Price Soothe and Glow Seahorse
10. Stretch jersey cotton wraps
Will return to annotate this list when I get the time.
1. Medela Harmony Manual Breast Pump (used in conjunction with Swisspers breastmilk storage bags)
2. Bonds Wondersuits
3. That’s Not My Truck/Bunny/Baby/Dolly/Dragon etc etc books
4. Duplo
5. Baby Einstein Play Mat
6. Greenkids nappies
7. ABC Kids (OK, not so much an item, but a product of sorts)
8. Coles Smartbuy wipes
9. Fisher-Price Soothe and Glow Seahorse
10. Stretch jersey cotton wraps
Will return to annotate this list when I get the time.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Otis the Builder
Otis has never really had an obsessive attachment to anything (other than me, and his dummy, of course). No blanky, no preferred stuffed toy, no special outfit. A few times I tried to push various toys and encourage him to develop an attachment... I was thinking if he fell in love with Simon his knitted lion, for instance, then maybe he wouldn't scream out for me upon waking for even a split second, or wouldn't need to pull on my now very dry and sore elbow skin whilst falling asleep.
That's all changed! He is now officially in a relationship with the $4 tool kit Phil and I bought him for Christmas. It goes everywhere with him, and has been added to, gradually. It came with a power drill (the most favoured of the tools, due to its battery operation), a hammer, pliers, a spanner, and a wrench. We added a second hammer, and a tape measure. Sometimes it also contains a dummy (surely Bob the Builder doen't leave home without his?), a mobile phone (a display model that flips open, much loved by O) and a plastic knife (he loves "cutting"... things, but sometimes also his sister).
The actual tool kit is bright yellow and clips together, like an old-school lunch box, and has a name label that he likes to spell out for us ("Name! O-T-S!").
And, as it appears, my dream came true... Once he developed an attachment to an inanimate object, he stopped pulling at my elbow whilst falling asleep. I don't know that the two are connected though. He's just becoming more independant by the day. He plays alone for lengthy periods, with imaginary characters, dealing with a host of dramas that would put Summer Bay to shame. He fights monsters, fires, cooks meals, swims, drives, writes letters and posts them. He needs me less. And wouldn't you know it? Just putting this out there, "on paper", has me shedding a few quiet tears.
Today he and Phil have gone on what I imagine will be the first of many boy's trips away. They left this morning, and have gone down to Canberra for a night. Phil wanted to see an exhibition at the Gallery, and he's decided to also throw in a visit to the dinosaur museum and a trip to the movies. They really don't need me!!
That's all changed! He is now officially in a relationship with the $4 tool kit Phil and I bought him for Christmas. It goes everywhere with him, and has been added to, gradually. It came with a power drill (the most favoured of the tools, due to its battery operation), a hammer, pliers, a spanner, and a wrench. We added a second hammer, and a tape measure. Sometimes it also contains a dummy (surely Bob the Builder doen't leave home without his?), a mobile phone (a display model that flips open, much loved by O) and a plastic knife (he loves "cutting"... things, but sometimes also his sister).
The actual tool kit is bright yellow and clips together, like an old-school lunch box, and has a name label that he likes to spell out for us ("Name! O-T-S!").
And, as it appears, my dream came true... Once he developed an attachment to an inanimate object, he stopped pulling at my elbow whilst falling asleep. I don't know that the two are connected though. He's just becoming more independant by the day. He plays alone for lengthy periods, with imaginary characters, dealing with a host of dramas that would put Summer Bay to shame. He fights monsters, fires, cooks meals, swims, drives, writes letters and posts them. He needs me less. And wouldn't you know it? Just putting this out there, "on paper", has me shedding a few quiet tears.
Today he and Phil have gone on what I imagine will be the first of many boy's trips away. They left this morning, and have gone down to Canberra for a night. Phil wanted to see an exhibition at the Gallery, and he's decided to also throw in a visit to the dinosaur museum and a trip to the movies. They really don't need me!!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Bits and pieces...
I've been really unwell with a cold-flu-whatever and keep forgetting to come in here and jot down the latest... This is just a collection of information I want to record, there is no real theme to this post.
Peggy is - I dread to use the word "advanced" - but she really does seem ahead of the game... She's certainly developing physically much more quickly than Otis did. She rolled front to back at 9 weeks, and then back to front right on 4 months. At 4 1/2 months she is SITTING unaided for short bursts of time. She appears to be a very, very determined little person. She'll fight and fight until whatever sparkly, bright, exciting item she has spied is finally in her grasp.
65cm long at 4 1/2 months, 6.8kg. A bizarre head of hair that only a mother could love - brown and wavy on the tips, short and white underneath, not much on the sides of her head (unfortunately giving away the fact that I sleep her on her side in a very non-compliant fashion). Eyes that looks brown indoors and blue in the sunshine. LONG eyelashes. Elegant fingers, odd toes that have the teeniest little toenails.
She is feeding 4 hourly now, around the clock. Last night she only had a few sucks at her second night feed, so I am thinking I may start trying to discourage that one... I'll let her go until 6 months, and then perhaps put a stop to the second night feed altogether.
Having only two sleeps most days now, each of between 40 mins and 2 1/2hours in length.
Eating up a storm... Loves pumpkin, avocado and banana, not so fussed on stewed fruits of Farex though (who can blame her re the latter).
Nicknames: Peggle/Piggle (Phil), Girly, Girly-Whirl, Whirly, Pegarina, Peggabush, Peggabushy, Bushel (Me, Oti... He copies whatever nickname I happen to use).
OK... My Oat-Boy.
He's 14.2kg at 26 months. 91cm or so (hard to get an accurate measurement). Obsessed with tools. Likes to be called Bob (as in builder). A nightmare to get to sleep in the evenings, but once down isn't heard from until morning. Very affectionate, particularly to Peggy... In fact, he appears to have transferred his obsession with me... He's Peggy's number one fan.
Loves to play imaginary games. All sorts of inanimate objects become people in his mind. Blocks, leaves, stones, shampoo bottles. He adores playing with Duplo, his sand and water play table, his tool kit. Loves to draw and use play dough. Loves cooking with Mum. Loves TV!! Play School is still number one. Winnie the Pooh, The Little Mermaid, Peter Rabbit and Finding Nemo are his preferred DVDs. Enjoys singing, especially The Motorbike Song. Loves diggers and motorbikes. Loves riding his trike. Loves his Ernest and Celestine books. Has just started enjoying borrowing books from the library.
Speaking in full sentences now... Although sometimes not easy to interpret if the dreaded dummy is in his mouth. "I love you Mum" is the single most wonderful thing I have ever had the pleasure to hear. It keeps my spirits lifted for days at a time.
Peggy is - I dread to use the word "advanced" - but she really does seem ahead of the game... She's certainly developing physically much more quickly than Otis did. She rolled front to back at 9 weeks, and then back to front right on 4 months. At 4 1/2 months she is SITTING unaided for short bursts of time. She appears to be a very, very determined little person. She'll fight and fight until whatever sparkly, bright, exciting item she has spied is finally in her grasp.
65cm long at 4 1/2 months, 6.8kg. A bizarre head of hair that only a mother could love - brown and wavy on the tips, short and white underneath, not much on the sides of her head (unfortunately giving away the fact that I sleep her on her side in a very non-compliant fashion). Eyes that looks brown indoors and blue in the sunshine. LONG eyelashes. Elegant fingers, odd toes that have the teeniest little toenails.
She is feeding 4 hourly now, around the clock. Last night she only had a few sucks at her second night feed, so I am thinking I may start trying to discourage that one... I'll let her go until 6 months, and then perhaps put a stop to the second night feed altogether.
Having only two sleeps most days now, each of between 40 mins and 2 1/2hours in length.
Eating up a storm... Loves pumpkin, avocado and banana, not so fussed on stewed fruits of Farex though (who can blame her re the latter).
Nicknames: Peggle/Piggle (Phil), Girly, Girly-Whirl, Whirly, Pegarina, Peggabush, Peggabushy, Bushel (Me, Oti... He copies whatever nickname I happen to use).
OK... My Oat-Boy.
He's 14.2kg at 26 months. 91cm or so (hard to get an accurate measurement). Obsessed with tools. Likes to be called Bob (as in builder). A nightmare to get to sleep in the evenings, but once down isn't heard from until morning. Very affectionate, particularly to Peggy... In fact, he appears to have transferred his obsession with me... He's Peggy's number one fan.
Loves to play imaginary games. All sorts of inanimate objects become people in his mind. Blocks, leaves, stones, shampoo bottles. He adores playing with Duplo, his sand and water play table, his tool kit. Loves to draw and use play dough. Loves cooking with Mum. Loves TV!! Play School is still number one. Winnie the Pooh, The Little Mermaid, Peter Rabbit and Finding Nemo are his preferred DVDs. Enjoys singing, especially The Motorbike Song. Loves diggers and motorbikes. Loves riding his trike. Loves his Ernest and Celestine books. Has just started enjoying borrowing books from the library.
Speaking in full sentences now... Although sometimes not easy to interpret if the dreaded dummy is in his mouth. "I love you Mum" is the single most wonderful thing I have ever had the pleasure to hear. It keeps my spirits lifted for days at a time.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Back at work and missing my cartoon-eyed FOUR month old...
Yes, I am back at work. It's not all bad. I actually enjoy getting ready for work and looking like an adult rather than a teen mum (which is apparently what I look like, even though I am 30. People always look at me as if I am inappropriately young to be a mother. Annoying now, but nice when I am 90, I guess).
We have to be so organised! I spend most of the night before preparing. Packing Oti's Occy's bag (lunch, spare clothes, dummies, the dreaded disposables, sheets for his sleep on the big boy bed, water, outfit for the day) Peggy's kit (dummies, bibs, multiple jumpsuits, socks and something warm to appease Mum's need to dress her in many layers, bottle, frozen breastmilk) and laying out my own clothes, plus preparing my own lunch and packing my cooler bag with breastmilk bags and the blessed pump)... I have 30 minutes in the morning to ready myself for the day, all the while praying that Peggy stays asleep until we are ready to leave.
Once on the train, I quickly apply my make-up and then READ. WITHOUT. INTERRUPTION!!!
Highlight of my day.
I then pump as soon as I get into work. Our lovely receptionist Caroline made me a spiffy sign to put on the meeting room door to keep all the men out! A colleague suggested it read "Milking in Progress", but we decided to be slightly more abstract.
I pump at 8, 12 and 4. I can take my laptop in with me and work during the process.
Home at 5, home to the little girl I miss more than I expected I would! Phil and I are just so obsessed with her eyes, they are so dark and deep and almost cartoonish in shape. I really love them and go all gooey inside when they are fixed on me.
Otis continues to LOVE her:
"Peggy. Coot."
"Peggy. Boo-a-ful."
"Peggy. Love her."
We have to be so organised! I spend most of the night before preparing. Packing Oti's Occy's bag (lunch, spare clothes, dummies, the dreaded disposables, sheets for his sleep on the big boy bed, water, outfit for the day) Peggy's kit (dummies, bibs, multiple jumpsuits, socks and something warm to appease Mum's need to dress her in many layers, bottle, frozen breastmilk) and laying out my own clothes, plus preparing my own lunch and packing my cooler bag with breastmilk bags and the blessed pump)... I have 30 minutes in the morning to ready myself for the day, all the while praying that Peggy stays asleep until we are ready to leave.
Once on the train, I quickly apply my make-up and then READ. WITHOUT. INTERRUPTION!!!
Highlight of my day.
I then pump as soon as I get into work. Our lovely receptionist Caroline made me a spiffy sign to put on the meeting room door to keep all the men out! A colleague suggested it read "Milking in Progress", but we decided to be slightly more abstract.
I pump at 8, 12 and 4. I can take my laptop in with me and work during the process.
Home at 5, home to the little girl I miss more than I expected I would! Phil and I are just so obsessed with her eyes, they are so dark and deep and almost cartoonish in shape. I really love them and go all gooey inside when they are fixed on me.
Otis continues to LOVE her:
"Peggy. Coot."
"Peggy. Boo-a-ful."
"Peggy. Love her."
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Anger management...
My husband just asked me very nicely to stop yelling at our children...
I don't think I yell at Otis all that often, no more than is useful and understandable, at least. But, yes, I scream at Peggy at least once a day, and I am fully aware of how ridiculous and cruel that is. As if my yelling will make her sleep! It will no more settle her than would a bulldozer crashing through her bedroom wall. It's completely irrational and ineffective. It's pure emotion.
I know I shouldn't, but I do it anyway.
Tips, anyone? How do I get this under control?
My baby does not deserve it, but the tiredness builds and builds until all I want is for her to sleep so that I can be free of her for a short time. A little bit of time away and I can be the happy, shiny Mum she loves and by whom she should ideally be attended.
The last 24 hours have been really hard.
I don't think I yell at Otis all that often, no more than is useful and understandable, at least. But, yes, I scream at Peggy at least once a day, and I am fully aware of how ridiculous and cruel that is. As if my yelling will make her sleep! It will no more settle her than would a bulldozer crashing through her bedroom wall. It's completely irrational and ineffective. It's pure emotion.
I know I shouldn't, but I do it anyway.
Tips, anyone? How do I get this under control?
My baby does not deserve it, but the tiredness builds and builds until all I want is for her to sleep so that I can be free of her for a short time. A little bit of time away and I can be the happy, shiny Mum she loves and by whom she should ideally be attended.
The last 24 hours have been really hard.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Our days...
Currently go something like this:
7am - Otis and Peggy wake up around now. We get up, have brekky, and put on some washing. On alternate days they each have a shower with me. Peggy HATES it when she's left out, even though Oti and I sing songs to her the whole time we are in there and have her sitting in the bouncer facing us.
7:30/8am - Breastfeed Peggy.
9:00am - Go for a walk, either to the park, or the shops, or storytime... Peggy sleeps unyil around 10.
10:30/11 - Home by now, BF Peggy.
Midday - Both in bed. Otis sleeps for 2 hours, Peggy anywhere from 40 minutes to 2 hours... I usually sit in on the bed and wait for her first wake up so that I can quickly re-settle her before she fully wakes. Sometimes this just doesn't work, and I usually respond by swearing and getting cranky, while P just laughs.
2pm - BF Peggy, lunch for Otis.
2:30/3pm - Might go out again, or play on the balcony, or read, or draw.
4pm - Peggy has another sleep, 45 minutes. Otis and I play.
5pm - BF Peggy, start getting dinner happening. Phil is usually home around now and I am sighing with relief after another exhausting but usually fun-filled day.
7:30pm - BF Peggy (top-up feed, she often falls asleep on the boob) and put her to bed.
8pm - Otis in bed.
During the night, Peggy feeds 3-5 hourly, usually around 12 and 4, and stays in with me after the 4am feed.
7am - Otis and Peggy wake up around now. We get up, have brekky, and put on some washing. On alternate days they each have a shower with me. Peggy HATES it when she's left out, even though Oti and I sing songs to her the whole time we are in there and have her sitting in the bouncer facing us.
7:30/8am - Breastfeed Peggy.
9:00am - Go for a walk, either to the park, or the shops, or storytime... Peggy sleeps unyil around 10.
10:30/11 - Home by now, BF Peggy.
Midday - Both in bed. Otis sleeps for 2 hours, Peggy anywhere from 40 minutes to 2 hours... I usually sit in on the bed and wait for her first wake up so that I can quickly re-settle her before she fully wakes. Sometimes this just doesn't work, and I usually respond by swearing and getting cranky, while P just laughs.
2pm - BF Peggy, lunch for Otis.
2:30/3pm - Might go out again, or play on the balcony, or read, or draw.
4pm - Peggy has another sleep, 45 minutes. Otis and I play.
5pm - BF Peggy, start getting dinner happening. Phil is usually home around now and I am sighing with relief after another exhausting but usually fun-filled day.
7:30pm - BF Peggy (top-up feed, she often falls asleep on the boob) and put her to bed.
8pm - Otis in bed.
During the night, Peggy feeds 3-5 hourly, usually around 12 and 4, and stays in with me after the 4am feed.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Bliss is...
Standing in the shady end of Mum and Dad's pool on a stinking hot, sweaty Sydney summer's day, breastfeeding my baby, while she kicks her legs and enjoys the feel of the cold and the wet on her skin. The water bears much of her weight, she is light as a bubble.
I'll never understand the anti-breastfeeding brigade!
I'll never understand the anti-breastfeeding brigade!
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
My girl...
I call her "girly", but with me as her mother, she's anything but, really. Not that an infant can really exhibit gendered characteristics, but as far as her clothing goes... I get lots of disapproving and/or quizzical looks when I dress her in blue or grey, which I do, often. Where is it written that girls must wear pink and purple and nothing else? How will they ever learn their colours with such a limited colour palette? I favour red when picking Peggy's clothes...
Speaking of red, I dressed her in a gorgeous, very traditional red tartan dress when we went to a baby shower on the weekend. It was a gift from my friend Elise. Really pretty, without being pink. Anyway, I lifted her out of her capsule, all puffed up with pride, only to discover that she had done a huge mustardy poo all over the dress ad the matching bloomers. Within minutes she was back in her usual t-shirt and leggings. Just as beautiful in my eyes. My attempts to feminise her were thwarted! Is the universe telling me something?
She's such an "easy" baby now. Never, ever imagined I would be in a position to type those words in relation to a baby of my own. But there's no denying it. Goes to sleep "easily", smiles and coos, happily spends up to 10 minutes alone on her mat or in her bouncer, and doesn't wail the way she once did.
:):) :)
Peggy's independent approach to sleep does, however, enable Otis to continue to need lots of coddling and attention... He pinches the skin on my elbow. If my arm is not comfortably accessible to him, he manouevres it until it is.
Speaking of red, I dressed her in a gorgeous, very traditional red tartan dress when we went to a baby shower on the weekend. It was a gift from my friend Elise. Really pretty, without being pink. Anyway, I lifted her out of her capsule, all puffed up with pride, only to discover that she had done a huge mustardy poo all over the dress ad the matching bloomers. Within minutes she was back in her usual t-shirt and leggings. Just as beautiful in my eyes. My attempts to feminise her were thwarted! Is the universe telling me something?
She's such an "easy" baby now. Never, ever imagined I would be in a position to type those words in relation to a baby of my own. But there's no denying it. Goes to sleep "easily", smiles and coos, happily spends up to 10 minutes alone on her mat or in her bouncer, and doesn't wail the way she once did.
:):) :)
Peggy's independent approach to sleep does, however, enable Otis to continue to need lots of coddling and attention... He pinches the skin on my elbow. If my arm is not comfortably accessible to him, he manouevres it until it is.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
A family of four...
I've always wanted four children, but right now, I feel oddly, unexpectedly complete with my two beauties. I am sure this will change at some point, and I do feel that my kids would benefit from having more than one sibling each, but for now, I do feel oh so satisfied with my lot. Don't have a lot of money, don't own a house, but have something that money cannot buy. Really happy.
So! Lots has been happening. Otis continues to delight all who know him with his funny antics and ever-expanding vocabulary. He has taken to adding an "ing" to words in quite a clever, if innacurate, way. When we walk up the stairs, he says "upping". When he's having fun, he says "funning". When he wants to crunch ice cubes, he says "icing". When he's reading, he's "booking". Love it! What an ingenious use of the English language!
We went camping recently, and it was not the disaster people had told me it would be (nasty pessimists). It was great! The tent held up during some pretty crazy weather, and we survived some extreme temperatures. Our babies slept very well, and we all enjoyed the novelty of tent life and our access to a kid-friendly, complete with fountains, inground pool, and our trips to the beach. Mum and Dad stayed in luxury at the nearby Norah Head lighthouse, and generously allowed us to stay a couple of nights there after our tenting experience. The only issue was Otis falling off his single air mattress and ending up in a shivering heap in the opposite corner of his room in the tent... We ended up switching things around a little, so that Phil and O shared the double air mattress and I had the single, next to Peggy in her little Valco carrycot.
Speaking of Peggy... Wow. She is a dream. A dream and a half, even. I cannot get over how easy and stress-free it is to put her down to sleep. Night or day, anywhere... Music, dummy, wrap and - bam - her eyes are closed. I am enjoying her much more than I did Otis at this stage. But, you know what? You might expect that to translate into me loving her more... But I don't. I can honestly say that I love them absolutely equally. My heart is full to the brim.
I currently have my period... This is the second menstrual cycle since I gave birth... Which means I could potentially have conceived a baby that would be less than a year younger than Peggy... Which is completely inhumane and insane. I think it is a cruel trick of my particular biology that I am fertile again so absurdly quickly, despite fully breastfeeding my baby. Not a drop of formula has passed that girl's lips, but still, I bleed!! Anyone would think God was suggesting that I am cut out for mothering three under three... God is so very wrong. Condoms are my religion, for now.
So! Lots has been happening. Otis continues to delight all who know him with his funny antics and ever-expanding vocabulary. He has taken to adding an "ing" to words in quite a clever, if innacurate, way. When we walk up the stairs, he says "upping". When he's having fun, he says "funning". When he wants to crunch ice cubes, he says "icing". When he's reading, he's "booking". Love it! What an ingenious use of the English language!
We went camping recently, and it was not the disaster people had told me it would be (nasty pessimists). It was great! The tent held up during some pretty crazy weather, and we survived some extreme temperatures. Our babies slept very well, and we all enjoyed the novelty of tent life and our access to a kid-friendly, complete with fountains, inground pool, and our trips to the beach. Mum and Dad stayed in luxury at the nearby Norah Head lighthouse, and generously allowed us to stay a couple of nights there after our tenting experience. The only issue was Otis falling off his single air mattress and ending up in a shivering heap in the opposite corner of his room in the tent... We ended up switching things around a little, so that Phil and O shared the double air mattress and I had the single, next to Peggy in her little Valco carrycot.
Speaking of Peggy... Wow. She is a dream. A dream and a half, even. I cannot get over how easy and stress-free it is to put her down to sleep. Night or day, anywhere... Music, dummy, wrap and - bam - her eyes are closed. I am enjoying her much more than I did Otis at this stage. But, you know what? You might expect that to translate into me loving her more... But I don't. I can honestly say that I love them absolutely equally. My heart is full to the brim.
I currently have my period... This is the second menstrual cycle since I gave birth... Which means I could potentially have conceived a baby that would be less than a year younger than Peggy... Which is completely inhumane and insane. I think it is a cruel trick of my particular biology that I am fertile again so absurdly quickly, despite fully breastfeeding my baby. Not a drop of formula has passed that girl's lips, but still, I bleed!! Anyone would think God was suggesting that I am cut out for mothering three under three... God is so very wrong. Condoms are my religion, for now.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Self-settling!!!
I have always looked at my niece Isla with wonder... Since a young age she has been put in her cot and left to fall asleep alone. She generally does so with minimal fuss and sleeps well. I have envied my sister all the free (?) time this no doubt affords her... For much of his young life, Otis took up to three hours in total each day of patting, singing and settling in order to fall asleep for his various naps and for the night. This is trying, but do-able, with one baby - with two, it presents a real problem.
Peggy was putting on her usual performance afew days ago. Phil and I were taking it in turns for hours patting and rocking and shushing her to sleep, with no success. I was in tears at this point, Phil was feeling defeated. Peggy was calm, quiet, but awake. Phil gave up and left her in the cot, wrapped, dummy in, still. Five minutes later we checked on her and, amazingly enough, she was sound asleep!
Ever since, for nearly every sleep, we have wrapped Peggy, popped a dummy in her mouth (she's joined the Cult of the Dummy, finally, Otis must have had a quiet word with her), turned on her musical seahorse, and left her to her own devices. She tends to spit out the dummy a few times and cry out within the first ten minutes or so, and we just go in and re-plug her. But there are no tears, there is no stress. It is easy and pleasant and so, so freeing!!
She is still occasionally fed to sleep (unintentionally), but on the whole she needs no real assistance from us. Of course, I feel guilty (I have a problem with guilt) that I am spending next to no time settling her when I still find myself stroking Otis' back as he falls asleep... I am a little worried that this bespeaks favouritism or neglect. But I can make up for that by giving plenty of cuddles and kisses when she is awake. I also have to remind myself of the tension and anger historically involved in getting Otis to sleep. There is none of that now with Peggy, which must be of benefit to us both.
I know, I know, things could change at any moment and I may yet find myself patting, rocking, singing, shushing, cursing her to sleep. But let me enjoy the moment!
By the way, she started rolling today! Right on 9 weeks of age! Seems a little early to me? She's a bright one!
Peggy was putting on her usual performance afew days ago. Phil and I were taking it in turns for hours patting and rocking and shushing her to sleep, with no success. I was in tears at this point, Phil was feeling defeated. Peggy was calm, quiet, but awake. Phil gave up and left her in the cot, wrapped, dummy in, still. Five minutes later we checked on her and, amazingly enough, she was sound asleep!
Ever since, for nearly every sleep, we have wrapped Peggy, popped a dummy in her mouth (she's joined the Cult of the Dummy, finally, Otis must have had a quiet word with her), turned on her musical seahorse, and left her to her own devices. She tends to spit out the dummy a few times and cry out within the first ten minutes or so, and we just go in and re-plug her. But there are no tears, there is no stress. It is easy and pleasant and so, so freeing!!
She is still occasionally fed to sleep (unintentionally), but on the whole she needs no real assistance from us. Of course, I feel guilty (I have a problem with guilt) that I am spending next to no time settling her when I still find myself stroking Otis' back as he falls asleep... I am a little worried that this bespeaks favouritism or neglect. But I can make up for that by giving plenty of cuddles and kisses when she is awake. I also have to remind myself of the tension and anger historically involved in getting Otis to sleep. There is none of that now with Peggy, which must be of benefit to us both.
I know, I know, things could change at any moment and I may yet find myself patting, rocking, singing, shushing, cursing her to sleep. But let me enjoy the moment!
By the way, she started rolling today! Right on 9 weeks of age! Seems a little early to me? She's a bright one!
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