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.
Monday, October 11, 2010
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.
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