Cupboard dry! Iron dry (ie, wet). Cupboard dry plus!!? And, for those who bought a tumble dryer to, er, make their clothes actually pretty much dry, we have the special option: Extra dry. Wow. This place will always amaze me.
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
forward and back
Today I came back to the city where we've been based for almost 4 years. One thing that bothered me about this city was its poor public transit. It is expensive, and extremely, ridiculously, execrably unreliable, and the drivers are often both rude and unhelpful. The first thing that happened on my arrival today was that I paid 2£ for my £1.80 ticket and instead of giving me 20p the guy printed out an EXTRA long ticket, which, if I had endless time at my disposal, I could return to their office for my cash, or so I gather. You just couldn't make this stuff up.
On the way to my packed afternoon full of work meetings we passed places where I'd been miserable (often transit-related, as it happens) and places where we'd been just so happy. I realised how much of my life experience now, how many of my memories, are about Nina (with a little of baby Annika in there too). There are untold hours at playgrounds, alone, with my lovely lovely friends and their little ones. Many hours, all together, walking the quick 10 minutes to and from their old nursery, Nina climbing on everything. Oh god, do I miss that commute with the desperation of someone who now commutes in London with a 7-month-old screamer and an exhausted, if very game, 3-year-old... Driving to/from her toddler gymnastics, taking her to the museum, spending time with her friends and ours, looking at the fountain... I walked near the hospital where they were both born, remembering the roaring, the trauma, the thrill of it, the warm lump of tiny baby suckling for the very first time... I passed the church where when Nina was a baby I took her to the baby music group; we still sing the little songs for Annika, or we tweak them to mock difficult bits of ours lives. I passed the bench near the Sainsburys where you sometimes see drunks but where I once, trying to get home probably from the music group, breastfed and breastfed and breastfed and couldn't get Nina to settle in her stroller, and eventually walked the 12 minutes home with her completely FRANTIC, worrying that I looked like a terrible mum. My neighbour said "don't you worry what anyone might think, if your child is making that noise she is going to be just FINE". I asked how old her daughter was, and she said '34'. I was so consoled. Her husband later told me he used to try to sleep while his foot rocked the buggy to get their baby to sleep, but he never quite got a good sleep while doing that :)
How did the distinction between me enjoying something and Nina enjoying something get so blurred? When she's happy, we are happy (and, er, conversely - that's probably it in a nutshell). It's not that I don't have a sense of self, or selfishness, believe me, I do. But in my picture of a 'really fun thing' to do, Nina is there, with her little grin of pure delight, as a huge film bubble rises around her at the bubble show last Sunday at the Science museum.
I think there is nothing that having children makes me aware of more than the passage of time.
Photos preserve an image, but in the end, don't we remember the photo and not the moment? How many moments do I really remember from Nina's babyhood? How can I preserve Annika's, those smiles, those wispy giggles, those little hands pinching my arms while she breastfeeds, those early 'da da ga ga's and the whole-body exuberance she shows when she's lying on her back and I come in the room and move towards her? And the other side: those screams, increasing in frantic intensity, during an epic trip home that should have been a 45 minute walk in the park (literally) that turned into more than 90 minutes of stopping for bathrooms, buying dinner, breastfeeding, formula feeding, puree-providing, cuddling, shoe-fixing and of course sneezing, all with a bad cold. And then there are the moments of tiredness, perpetual, endless, tiredness, tiredness whose pervasiveness wears you down so that you stop even mentioning that constant companion: tiredness. Since A. started dealing with Annika at night, mostly, this has faded. My hero.
Does writing about these moments lead to better, higher-quality memories of them than photographing them or making videos? Or will nothing really allow us to keep our babies forever?
On the way to my packed afternoon full of work meetings we passed places where I'd been miserable (often transit-related, as it happens) and places where we'd been just so happy. I realised how much of my life experience now, how many of my memories, are about Nina (with a little of baby Annika in there too). There are untold hours at playgrounds, alone, with my lovely lovely friends and their little ones. Many hours, all together, walking the quick 10 minutes to and from their old nursery, Nina climbing on everything. Oh god, do I miss that commute with the desperation of someone who now commutes in London with a 7-month-old screamer and an exhausted, if very game, 3-year-old... Driving to/from her toddler gymnastics, taking her to the museum, spending time with her friends and ours, looking at the fountain... I walked near the hospital where they were both born, remembering the roaring, the trauma, the thrill of it, the warm lump of tiny baby suckling for the very first time... I passed the church where when Nina was a baby I took her to the baby music group; we still sing the little songs for Annika, or we tweak them to mock difficult bits of ours lives. I passed the bench near the Sainsburys where you sometimes see drunks but where I once, trying to get home probably from the music group, breastfed and breastfed and breastfed and couldn't get Nina to settle in her stroller, and eventually walked the 12 minutes home with her completely FRANTIC, worrying that I looked like a terrible mum. My neighbour said "don't you worry what anyone might think, if your child is making that noise she is going to be just FINE". I asked how old her daughter was, and she said '34'. I was so consoled. Her husband later told me he used to try to sleep while his foot rocked the buggy to get their baby to sleep, but he never quite got a good sleep while doing that :)
How did the distinction between me enjoying something and Nina enjoying something get so blurred? When she's happy, we are happy (and, er, conversely - that's probably it in a nutshell). It's not that I don't have a sense of self, or selfishness, believe me, I do. But in my picture of a 'really fun thing' to do, Nina is there, with her little grin of pure delight, as a huge film bubble rises around her at the bubble show last Sunday at the Science museum.
I think there is nothing that having children makes me aware of more than the passage of time.
Photos preserve an image, but in the end, don't we remember the photo and not the moment? How many moments do I really remember from Nina's babyhood? How can I preserve Annika's, those smiles, those wispy giggles, those little hands pinching my arms while she breastfeeds, those early 'da da ga ga's and the whole-body exuberance she shows when she's lying on her back and I come in the room and move towards her? And the other side: those screams, increasing in frantic intensity, during an epic trip home that should have been a 45 minute walk in the park (literally) that turned into more than 90 minutes of stopping for bathrooms, buying dinner, breastfeeding, formula feeding, puree-providing, cuddling, shoe-fixing and of course sneezing, all with a bad cold. And then there are the moments of tiredness, perpetual, endless, tiredness, tiredness whose pervasiveness wears you down so that you stop even mentioning that constant companion: tiredness. Since A. started dealing with Annika at night, mostly, this has faded. My hero.
Does writing about these moments lead to better, higher-quality memories of them than photographing them or making videos? Or will nothing really allow us to keep our babies forever?
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Our news in brief
The baby has a tooth!
Hyde park is gorgeous on a crisp fall morning
Nina loves the new nursery
I am so angry about our endlessly delayed house purchase that I can't talk about it
We are in an underground fluorescent dim den of a flat near lancaster gate but we have to leave Thursday and move... not to our HOUSE of course
Short term rentals suck and are very expensive
Nina still likes buses
London has a LOT of buses...
And that's our news in brief
Monday, 5 September 2011
Baby rice
Annika's almost 6 months now. She hasn't shown much interest in food, really. But the last couple of weeks have been a little rough, with her. She's up too much in the night. Last night she slept well through the evening, fed a lot at 12, then 2:20 a bit, then a few times (ARGH) between 2:30 and 5:15, then really well between 5:15 and 6ish, after which I had trouble getting back to sleep. And then the little squick woke up just after 7! I fed her AGAIN, then dumped her on Amps with instructions to beg the nursery to have her, and drop them both off there as soon as possible. He finally left in a torrent of in-and-out, door clanging, baby-screaming, Nina-singing chaos at 10. I got up shortly after that, went to work, and was still tired all day.
Anyway, it's like this with babies, and we should feel lucky that the past couple of weeks have really been the first time the little sweetie has actually ever been any real trouble. But now the theories come out of the woods: is it that she can't fall asleep on her own? (probably). Do I feed her to sleep too much? (probably, yes). Should we try 'cry it out' (CIO)? should we try 'pick up, put down' (PUPD)? Should we wait until she's actually 6 months (15 more days, folks!) and is officially "ready" to sleep through, and "ready" for behavioural sleep interventions (no acronym common)? Should we ignore it and realise that she'll grow out of it whatever we do, and just not stress about it (ahhh, probably, yes)? When things get hard, the urge to do something grows, obviously. But what? And now that mumsnet, and the internet in general, are out there, all these theories and plans and other peoples' anecdotal experiences and disagreements and similarities to us and differences from us are laid out, easy to find. And how is it that she naps at nursery? They don't breastfeed her to sleep or drive to Clevedon in the car (last post). Apparently she'll sleep for 1:15 there, compared to about 6 min 30 seconds around here ...
Well, anyway, she seemed a little reachy at mealtimes, and going for inappropriate choices, like pints of ale. So yesterday we bought some baby rice. I didn't think she'd go for it, really, as despite being really quite interested in breasts (mine), she isn't a big eater. She was pretty puzzled at first, kind of sucking the spoon, turning her head away and then back again, spitting it out, opening her mouth again. But she took to it. She sucked it down, and then we made some more, and she gobbled that too. So maybe she's been hungry, poor little 9th-percentile-for-weight child.
Anyway, about babies and sleep, I had read online that when they do something new, like roll over, pull up to standing, or start "solid" foods, they can get excited about it, and wake up thinking about it or practising it. I was telling Amps this when we realised that I had just suggested that 3 tbsp of lukewarm, tasteless, sludge could actually be so exciting as to keep someone up at night.
Anyway, it's like this with babies, and we should feel lucky that the past couple of weeks have really been the first time the little sweetie has actually ever been any real trouble. But now the theories come out of the woods: is it that she can't fall asleep on her own? (probably). Do I feed her to sleep too much? (probably, yes). Should we try 'cry it out' (CIO)? should we try 'pick up, put down' (PUPD)? Should we wait until she's actually 6 months (15 more days, folks!) and is officially "ready" to sleep through, and "ready" for behavioural sleep interventions (no acronym common)? Should we ignore it and realise that she'll grow out of it whatever we do, and just not stress about it (ahhh, probably, yes)? When things get hard, the urge to do something grows, obviously. But what? And now that mumsnet, and the internet in general, are out there, all these theories and plans and other peoples' anecdotal experiences and disagreements and similarities to us and differences from us are laid out, easy to find. And how is it that she naps at nursery? They don't breastfeed her to sleep or drive to Clevedon in the car (last post). Apparently she'll sleep for 1:15 there, compared to about 6 min 30 seconds around here ...
Well, anyway, she seemed a little reachy at mealtimes, and going for inappropriate choices, like pints of ale. So yesterday we bought some baby rice. I didn't think she'd go for it, really, as despite being really quite interested in breasts (mine), she isn't a big eater. She was pretty puzzled at first, kind of sucking the spoon, turning her head away and then back again, spitting it out, opening her mouth again. But she took to it. She sucked it down, and then we made some more, and she gobbled that too. So maybe she's been hungry, poor little 9th-percentile-for-weight child.
Anyway, about babies and sleep, I had read online that when they do something new, like roll over, pull up to standing, or start "solid" foods, they can get excited about it, and wake up thinking about it or practising it. I was telling Amps this when we realised that I had just suggested that 3 tbsp of lukewarm, tasteless, sludge could actually be so exciting as to keep someone up at night.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
Monday, 22 August 2011
The magic wand
Amps and I used to have this friendly evening debate: would you want a magic wand that would make you an amazing Thai dinner? Or one that would clean the kitchen afterwards? We both agreed that cooking is a lot more fun than cleaning, so we'd go for the clean-up wand.
Fast-forward many years ahead to today. The question I have for you is: how much would you pay for a wand that puts your children back to sleep?
Now, there would have to be some rules. The wand wouldn't work, say, when the child shouldn't be sleeping, so you couldn't just use it like a mute button (now, a mute button for kids? Probably that would be popular too. I won't go there).
But at night, when it's sleep time, you could wave it, and your kids would go back to sleep.
I think this would change the world. Like a washing machine or a toilet, everyone would have to have one. Who scrubs all their socks on a washing board these days? If you didn't have one of your own maybe there'd be a wandromat or something where you could borrow one for a bit. Or maybe they'd be tied to property (like toilets); you'd mortgage an extra 100k for it and sell it when they got to be 8 or whatever. Like washers, dishwashers, dryers (I remember those! oh, I want one, not so much for the drying as for the floor space), running water: it would liberate women. Women, who are by far the majority of the night-risers, the night-feeders, the night cleaning-vomit-out-of-the-bed, softly-singing sleep-deprived pajama'd ghost-people ...
I figure 100k is probably a little steep. After all, we can survive without this device, in some sense. But I'd fork over 20k without hesitation, especially if I could mortgage the thing. And I'm talking £ here.
Fast-forward many years ahead to today. The question I have for you is: how much would you pay for a wand that puts your children back to sleep?
Now, there would have to be some rules. The wand wouldn't work, say, when the child shouldn't be sleeping, so you couldn't just use it like a mute button (now, a mute button for kids? Probably that would be popular too. I won't go there).
But at night, when it's sleep time, you could wave it, and your kids would go back to sleep.
I think this would change the world. Like a washing machine or a toilet, everyone would have to have one. Who scrubs all their socks on a washing board these days? If you didn't have one of your own maybe there'd be a wandromat or something where you could borrow one for a bit. Or maybe they'd be tied to property (like toilets); you'd mortgage an extra 100k for it and sell it when they got to be 8 or whatever. Like washers, dishwashers, dryers (I remember those! oh, I want one, not so much for the drying as for the floor space), running water: it would liberate women. Women, who are by far the majority of the night-risers, the night-feeders, the night cleaning-vomit-out-of-the-bed, softly-singing sleep-deprived pajama'd ghost-people ...
I figure 100k is probably a little steep. After all, we can survive without this device, in some sense. But I'd fork over 20k without hesitation, especially if I could mortgage the thing. And I'm talking £ here.
Sunday, 14 August 2011
A few pics while i feed this baby
At the park... in the car on the way back from the Cotswalds.. at the other park, and at the pick your own strawberries farm. These are good times, if tiring and overwhelming. But already I am sad in anticipation that they'll end so fast.
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
In motion
Annika's first four months have flown past. She's asleep, in the bedroom, on "my" side of the bed. Amps is out at the pub. Nina's in bed - her bedtime's great now. Annika, however, until 2 nights ago, spent her evenings in the living room with us, alternately breastfeeding and dozing on the sofa. This thing about spending time alone in a bed, any bed, even mine, is new to her. I've been in to settle her twice already. She sleeps with me, and Amps is exiled to the hard futon in Nina's room, poor guy. I never intended to co-sleep, but the thing is, the operative part of "co-sleeping" is sleeping. It's always felt like it's that or co-waking. Since day one it's meant that I spend the bulk of the night actually asleep, though it's broken up. And I can feed her without really waking up, or not usually waking up, not much. Every night I consider putting her in her cot. Most days, at some point in the day, it occurs to me that it might be a good idea to get her sleeping in her own cot. Occasionally I even try it, only to have her cry an hour later (where otherwise she would have slept for 3 or 4 hours). Every night I give in, put her on my side of the bed and go back to sleep. In 2 months I'm supposed to be going to Boston for a few days, and every day, it occurs to me that I've no idea how Amps is ever going to cope.
In other news, for those readers (if there are any out there) who don't know already, we are moving to London. It turns out that this is expensive (breaking news!). We are attempting to purchase a small, non-period, 3 bedroom house in a pretty good location in North London, and the process is very frustrating. I have a cool new job, in a location so expensive that we can't live near it. We're looking forward to it, except that I'll have to commute across London every day with both the girls. Tube, bike ... not sure how it'll go.
Today I picked up my lovely children from their nursery, where Annika has now learned how to drink milk from a bottle (after gently starving herself for 7 hours the first long day we left her there). And they gave me this:
It's a picture of me! It's a birthday card - not sure why it appeared today, whether it was made today, or was sitting in Nina's bag for a while. But it's awesome. I am so excited about all the amazing drawings I know she'll make. My mum still talks about our drawings, about coming into my room and finding all these treasures. Some of my brother's, and I guess one or two of mine, are framed in their house. His penguin is just awesome. Nina liked that I was excited about it, so she made this:
The figure at the bottom is me. The circle above my head is her - Nina's head, which has one arm reaching towards me, and the other reaching skywards, with fingers and everything. Apart from the occasional bus and plane (both of which I've posted here, I think), her drawing is mainly scribbles, colours, and the occasional surprisingly well-formed A or 5 or O or C.
I feel like we - Nina and I - had a subtle, and minor, rough patch since Annika arrived, and it's clearing now. On Saturday, we tried to go to her gymnastics - just a free play toddler session at a gymastics place. It was closed, and I braced myself for her to be just so disappointed; after all, I was disappointed but I tried not to show it. Just across from it, there is a very minimal, somewhat run-down, little playground with a slide. I laughed with her, went down the slide after her, chased her jokingly around, jumped with her off the little benches, and she loved it. I guess I don't do those things when I have the baby to watch, or a friend to chat with. I want to make sure to do them more. It's so charming, how good-natured she is, how robust. It was bittersweet, in that there were beer cans on the ground, and, er, evidence of drug use. Of course she didn't care, but I was sad to see these markers of "the other side of town", and yet at the same time, so charmed to see her so happy.
Preschooler in motion:
In other news, for those readers (if there are any out there) who don't know already, we are moving to London. It turns out that this is expensive (breaking news!). We are attempting to purchase a small, non-period, 3 bedroom house in a pretty good location in North London, and the process is very frustrating. I have a cool new job, in a location so expensive that we can't live near it. We're looking forward to it, except that I'll have to commute across London every day with both the girls. Tube, bike ... not sure how it'll go.
Today I picked up my lovely children from their nursery, where Annika has now learned how to drink milk from a bottle (after gently starving herself for 7 hours the first long day we left her there). And they gave me this:
It's a picture of me! It's a birthday card - not sure why it appeared today, whether it was made today, or was sitting in Nina's bag for a while. But it's awesome. I am so excited about all the amazing drawings I know she'll make. My mum still talks about our drawings, about coming into my room and finding all these treasures. Some of my brother's, and I guess one or two of mine, are framed in their house. His penguin is just awesome. Nina liked that I was excited about it, so she made this:
I feel like we - Nina and I - had a subtle, and minor, rough patch since Annika arrived, and it's clearing now. On Saturday, we tried to go to her gymnastics - just a free play toddler session at a gymastics place. It was closed, and I braced myself for her to be just so disappointed; after all, I was disappointed but I tried not to show it. Just across from it, there is a very minimal, somewhat run-down, little playground with a slide. I laughed with her, went down the slide after her, chased her jokingly around, jumped with her off the little benches, and she loved it. I guess I don't do those things when I have the baby to watch, or a friend to chat with. I want to make sure to do them more. It's so charming, how good-natured she is, how robust. It was bittersweet, in that there were beer cans on the ground, and, er, evidence of drug use. Of course she didn't care, but I was sad to see these markers of "the other side of town", and yet at the same time, so charmed to see her so happy.
Preschooler in motion:
Thursday, 21 July 2011
Thursday, 23 June 2011
Three!
Three years ago today - in fact, three years less 23 minutes from right now - we were in the hospital having Nina. I can't believe she's 3, although I've kind of been thinking of her as my three-year-old for a couple of months because she just doesn't seem 2 at all. I got one of the emails, from mumsnet or babycentre or whatever, about 'your child at 36 months'. It said that she'll be able to make 3-4 word sentences with good grammar! Well ... Nina can say things like: "well, I'm not going to be afraid of the rain anymore, because if it rains, I'll just wear my wellies, but the rain does sometimes hit me in the eye ... so we should bring an umbrella". She knows most of the letters. She can pick them out on the keyboard, and when prompted by what sound comes next, can type simple words: Nina, Mummy, Papa, Gramma (obviously I didn't bother with Grandma), cot, cat, etc. She can pick them out of a pile of floating letters in the bath. She can scoot so fast on her scooter, she can balance a 2-wheeler with no pedals. She can sing, and with reasonable accuracy she can repeat a simple sung phrase though it helps if she happens to like the words. She can jump, and can even hop on one foot. She can do somersaults. She can hold herself up, hips to a bar, and flip over upside down. She can count. She can play memory, with a deck of cards. She can make very quick work of a 15-piece puzzle. She can assemble her toy plane with her little screwdriver (prompting the occasional very inappropriate-sounding comment about 'screwing').
I told her that if we'd had two babies (instead of just Annika), I would have gone crazy. She later said that if we had one of Pingu's babies, there would be two and Mummy would be crazy. She got her doll baby, put it beside Annika and said "now you're crazy, Mummy!". We were walking to the zoo and I said I had two girls, and she said, no, there are three girls (counting me). I asked how many we'd be if Papa was here, and she said '4'. And if Papa and Andrew were here? --5. That was more than a month ago. She can understand that we don't do certain things because it might make people feel sad or hurt, and she can offer to do things that I've said will make me happy. She used to say that when Annika came, she'd hold her for me so I could run. She knows that we don't talk about fat tummies because people might feel sad. She wanted to wait before we had our cookies so that Andrew could share some.
Perhaps most impressively of all - if it is explained to her that it's still sleep time, because it's 6am in a hotel room and we have jet lag - she can talk quietly to herself for 15 minutes and then go back to sleep.
Nina - will you ever read this? Know that I am insanely proud of you, all the amazing things you do, how kind and loving you are, how you can understand how people feel, how gentle and sweet you are to your new sister. The day you were born transformed us completely. I'll never have a day when I don't think of you and love you and wonder at how much you've made my life richer.
I told her that if we'd had two babies (instead of just Annika), I would have gone crazy. She later said that if we had one of Pingu's babies, there would be two and Mummy would be crazy. She got her doll baby, put it beside Annika and said "now you're crazy, Mummy!". We were walking to the zoo and I said I had two girls, and she said, no, there are three girls (counting me). I asked how many we'd be if Papa was here, and she said '4'. And if Papa and Andrew were here? --5. That was more than a month ago. She can understand that we don't do certain things because it might make people feel sad or hurt, and she can offer to do things that I've said will make me happy. She used to say that when Annika came, she'd hold her for me so I could run. She knows that we don't talk about fat tummies because people might feel sad. She wanted to wait before we had our cookies so that Andrew could share some.
Perhaps most impressively of all - if it is explained to her that it's still sleep time, because it's 6am in a hotel room and we have jet lag - she can talk quietly to herself for 15 minutes and then go back to sleep.
Nina - will you ever read this? Know that I am insanely proud of you, all the amazing things you do, how kind and loving you are, how you can understand how people feel, how gentle and sweet you are to your new sister. The day you were born transformed us completely. I'll never have a day when I don't think of you and love you and wonder at how much you've made my life richer.
 |
| Three years old today! |
My view from here
I'll post properly soon. Promise. Here's a photo to try out this blogger app on my phone...
Sunday, 22 May 2011
more moments
Friday: Nina's nursery's head called. The scooter was taken home by accident, by a boy's nanny, who didn't realise that he hadn't brought it that day. They brought it back the next morning. This was, of course, the most likely scenario, since of course the street value of a 50£ scooter is well under 50£, and all. Nina was really happy. Annika fell asleep in her pram and we walked over to get it, with Nina happily skipping and jumping the whole way. Seeing her jump along in her cute little red raincoat with hearts on it: awesome.
Later that day, Annika did a little giggle for me. Unlike Nina she loves the change table and she'll lie there cooing happily. I was smiling at her and she did an extra-big smile with a 'heh' in it that was soooo close to a giggle: awesome.
Yesterday, hmmm what did we do yesterday. I draw a blank. Today I took Annika to the street curry night at a neighbour's house, and it was great to get out, and I had a great time, and she did some beautiful smiles after insisting on basically breastfeeding the entire time. The group were impressed that she makes these adorable communication attempts, little ooh's and aah's and 'hiiiieeee's ', alternating with her incredible smiles, and all with wide, open, eyes.
But yesterday? ummmmmm... oh yeah, we went to the local playground... Nina climbed up a steep path and displayed much strength swinging on bars, and Annika had a really really good long nap. Nina's amazing on her new scooter; she can use the brake and everything. I guess we did something in the morning, maybe puzzles? How fast this time vanishes.
Later that day, Annika did a little giggle for me. Unlike Nina she loves the change table and she'll lie there cooing happily. I was smiling at her and she did an extra-big smile with a 'heh' in it that was soooo close to a giggle: awesome.
Yesterday, hmmm what did we do yesterday. I draw a blank. Today I took Annika to the street curry night at a neighbour's house, and it was great to get out, and I had a great time, and she did some beautiful smiles after insisting on basically breastfeeding the entire time. The group were impressed that she makes these adorable communication attempts, little ooh's and aah's and 'hiiiieeee's ', alternating with her incredible smiles, and all with wide, open, eyes.
But yesterday? ummmmmm... oh yeah, we went to the local playground... Nina climbed up a steep path and displayed much strength swinging on bars, and Annika had a really really good long nap. Nina's amazing on her new scooter; she can use the brake and everything. I guess we did something in the morning, maybe puzzles? How fast this time vanishes.
Thursday, 19 May 2011
moments
Annika's 8 weeks now. It's flown past, and of course we knew it would. I already feel like she's growing up too fast, it's going by too fast, where's my newborn? This baby's getting big! She's gained more that 25% of her birth weight. She can almost hold her head up. She makes amazingly adorable little noises. She slept for 5 hours!! Two nights in a row! (Wish she'd do that in her crib ... but still).
Nina can balance a 2-wheel balance bike, she can coast along on a scooter, and she can do very simple additions, like: if Papa and Andrew were here, how many would be have? --5! She got invited to a birthday party, her little friend Alfie from nursery. This was her first party where it wasn't through us knowing the parents; she made her own friend. It was so cute. They had Jo Jingles, which is a woman who does toddler songs and all the toddlers jump and sing and do various movements and so on. We've been hearing about it since November and we finally saw it, including well-known favourites like 'no more monkey business jumping on the bed' and 'everybody do this, do this, everybody do this just like me'. Her scooter got stolen, or maybe just lost, at nursery today, which was of course very sad and made me feel pretty stupid although A. was the one who left it there.
But back to Annika. I can't shake the sad feeling of how transitory this all is, the urge to record it (and I'm good at taking pictures and videos, just terrible at uploading them). So I want to start writing about some of the moments, those moments that happen every day, if only for a few seconds, that make babyhood amazing. So here's today's.
A. and I went to Cafe Nero today while Annika was having an extremely long nap in her carrycot. I started reading this book by Jodi Picoult, 'Sing you home', which starts with the narrator losing a pregnancy, and it's so movingly written ... Anyway Annika woke up, saw me, smiled the most amazing, blissed-out smiles straight at me, as soon as she saw I was there: these really recognizing, perfect, smiles, smiles of pure untainted, uncomplicated, innocent, bliss, and then she went back to sleep. I hope I never ever forget those smiles.
Nina can balance a 2-wheel balance bike, she can coast along on a scooter, and she can do very simple additions, like: if Papa and Andrew were here, how many would be have? --5! She got invited to a birthday party, her little friend Alfie from nursery. This was her first party where it wasn't through us knowing the parents; she made her own friend. It was so cute. They had Jo Jingles, which is a woman who does toddler songs and all the toddlers jump and sing and do various movements and so on. We've been hearing about it since November and we finally saw it, including well-known favourites like 'no more monkey business jumping on the bed' and 'everybody do this, do this, everybody do this just like me'. Her scooter got stolen, or maybe just lost, at nursery today, which was of course very sad and made me feel pretty stupid although A. was the one who left it there.
But back to Annika. I can't shake the sad feeling of how transitory this all is, the urge to record it (and I'm good at taking pictures and videos, just terrible at uploading them). So I want to start writing about some of the moments, those moments that happen every day, if only for a few seconds, that make babyhood amazing. So here's today's.
A. and I went to Cafe Nero today while Annika was having an extremely long nap in her carrycot. I started reading this book by Jodi Picoult, 'Sing you home', which starts with the narrator losing a pregnancy, and it's so movingly written ... Anyway Annika woke up, saw me, smiled the most amazing, blissed-out smiles straight at me, as soon as she saw I was there: these really recognizing, perfect, smiles, smiles of pure untainted, uncomplicated, innocent, bliss, and then she went back to sleep. I hope I never ever forget those smiles.
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Darker sides
I was reading through the amazon 'search inside this book' page for the book 'Inconsolable: how I threw my mental health out with the diapers' earlier today, because it was recommended on a blog I follow. She had, and documented, postpartum depression. I don't have it. In fact, I've had more than my share of those glowing, wonderful, new baby moments - the ones I didn't have last time, where I'm gazing into my baby's eyes and I'm filled with this joyful feeling. (This current moment is not one of them: Annika's in her little chair in front of me, screaming her little face off, exerting her force of will. She wants to sleep ON MUMMY. NOT on her little chair. NOT on her pillow. And most certainly NOT IN HER BED).
But despite not suffering from depression at the moment, and despite having a relatively "easy" newborn, I was intrigued by the book's excerpts, especially the comments about the dark side of motherhood; about how she hadn't been "crying behind her smile", she'd been putting her baby down (safely) and then bashing her hands into walls and screaming (or something like that). Well ... so part of my dark side is that I've been losing my temper with Nina and I'm not proud of it. I just can't stand the endless whining. Is she doing it more now? Or do I, in my relatively sleep-deprived state, just tolerate it less? Or both? Is it that she's regressing - for example, using these bedtime-delaying tactics that she'd seemed to have abandoned? Today after a number of prompts to try to get her to come to brush her teeth, I simply picked her up, carried her to the sink and brushed her teeth - end of negotiation, though she was crying while I brushed. Then I carried her to her bed. Then I told her she could say she was sorry and I'd read her a story, and she did, and I did - but by then Annika was fussing and crying so she had to intermittently breastfeed, which is uncomfortable as I crouch beside Nina's bed to read. It all doesn't sound too bad, but I was a bit rough with Nina and she could tell. Same deal with getting her out of the bath - she said she was ready to get out (screamed it at me, in fact) and then of course she refused to get out, so I picked her right up and hauled her out and told her not to whine about it.
I guess I'm just getting so sick of the endless negotiating, her endless need to control every single detail of daily minutiae: which damned cup her water's in, whether she opens the door or I do, which sweater she'll wear, when she gets out of the bath, whether she comes to brush her teeth or I carry her, and on and on and on and on and on ... And when it doesn't go her way, the endless whining, oh my god the WHINING. I am hoping that consistent, calm insistence that she use normal words and that we don't respond to whining will eventually bear fruit, but so far progress is somewhat limited. She's responding, and she can do it - but she usually tries whining first. I'm not proud of myself for losing my temper. But I'm definitely not unprovoked.
And Annika? She's showing some signs of losing her ability to get to sleep on her own. She won't sleep in her little crib, of course, though she does a good job in her carrycot and in her carseat. Today I bathed her in Nina's bath. It was cute - I put her in the water, on a terry towel on Nina's lap. Nina helped hold her head up. Annika got in the water and just lay there, smiling happily. It was adorable. Then I washed her, and dried her -- only to realize I'd rubbed most of the soft newborn hair off the front half of her head. I feel kinda bad about it. This was not a day of parenting triumphs. Now she's refusing to feed, but she's not happy not feeding either - so it's time to stop typing. And she's scratching me! Little suckler.
But despite not suffering from depression at the moment, and despite having a relatively "easy" newborn, I was intrigued by the book's excerpts, especially the comments about the dark side of motherhood; about how she hadn't been "crying behind her smile", she'd been putting her baby down (safely) and then bashing her hands into walls and screaming (or something like that). Well ... so part of my dark side is that I've been losing my temper with Nina and I'm not proud of it. I just can't stand the endless whining. Is she doing it more now? Or do I, in my relatively sleep-deprived state, just tolerate it less? Or both? Is it that she's regressing - for example, using these bedtime-delaying tactics that she'd seemed to have abandoned? Today after a number of prompts to try to get her to come to brush her teeth, I simply picked her up, carried her to the sink and brushed her teeth - end of negotiation, though she was crying while I brushed. Then I carried her to her bed. Then I told her she could say she was sorry and I'd read her a story, and she did, and I did - but by then Annika was fussing and crying so she had to intermittently breastfeed, which is uncomfortable as I crouch beside Nina's bed to read. It all doesn't sound too bad, but I was a bit rough with Nina and she could tell. Same deal with getting her out of the bath - she said she was ready to get out (screamed it at me, in fact) and then of course she refused to get out, so I picked her right up and hauled her out and told her not to whine about it.
I guess I'm just getting so sick of the endless negotiating, her endless need to control every single detail of daily minutiae: which damned cup her water's in, whether she opens the door or I do, which sweater she'll wear, when she gets out of the bath, whether she comes to brush her teeth or I carry her, and on and on and on and on and on ... And when it doesn't go her way, the endless whining, oh my god the WHINING. I am hoping that consistent, calm insistence that she use normal words and that we don't respond to whining will eventually bear fruit, but so far progress is somewhat limited. She's responding, and she can do it - but she usually tries whining first. I'm not proud of myself for losing my temper. But I'm definitely not unprovoked.
And Annika? She's showing some signs of losing her ability to get to sleep on her own. She won't sleep in her little crib, of course, though she does a good job in her carrycot and in her carseat. Today I bathed her in Nina's bath. It was cute - I put her in the water, on a terry towel on Nina's lap. Nina helped hold her head up. Annika got in the water and just lay there, smiling happily. It was adorable. Then I washed her, and dried her -- only to realize I'd rubbed most of the soft newborn hair off the front half of her head. I feel kinda bad about it. This was not a day of parenting triumphs. Now she's refusing to feed, but she's not happy not feeding either - so it's time to stop typing. And she's scratching me! Little suckler.
Sunday, 17 April 2011
4 weeks
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| Annika: 9 days old |
But Annika's different - she goes to sleep in the carrycot thing, or in her little rocking chair. She doesn't constantly need to eat and takes some 2 and 3 hour gaps. Last night she slept for 4+ hours (AWESOME). Sometimes she gets burps stuck, or gas, and cries and needs to be rocked, but otherwise she's mellow, she feeds, she naps, she looks alertly around. She opens her little eyes really wide and they look gorgeous on her tiny tiny face. She raises her tiny eyebrows, wrinkling her tiny pensive forehead. She kicks off her little tiny pants, exposing her long and very narrow little feet. She poos. She smiles. She won't be a newborn for long.
And that's the paradox, I think. At the same time, you want them to do the next thing soon: to really smile, to sleep for 5+ hours, then 6+, 7, 8 hours, to hold their cute little head up. But then, I want this time to last, to really last, in a way that I know it never can. I want never to forget the feel of her tiny nose on my cheek, the way her little shoulder feels between my fingers as I massage her to help her not fall asleep at the breast, the way her long little fingers stretch out and grasp mine, her gorgeous unthinking smile, and the way it feels to hold her body upright, against me, in the bed -- and how funny it is when someone so dainty then does an enormous burp. I want to have her perfect tiny face this fresh in my mind forever. But I want her to grow up, too.
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| Nina loves her new sister. |
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| Ok, it's upside down. Blogspot doesn't let you rotate a photo .. Check out the eyelashes. |
Monday, 4 April 2011
Baby
The baby finally came out, 9 very inconvenient days late. During those 9 days, we had J. visiting to help with the baby, ha ha, and especially with Nina while I went to the hospital and so on. This worked actually, since Nina got the chicken pox and was greatly entertained by J's ipad. The baby finally emerged pretty much as soon as J was on the plane, drat it. Much angsting was done about whether the baby would come soon enough, what could be done about it, much bouncing on a huge red ball was done, and many pineapples were eaten, all to no avail.
In the end, Nina stayed with a family down the street. They have twins her age (imagine. the chaos.) and three older children... maybe another toddler hardly disrupted their routine at all. Apparently Nina was very good; she saved her difficulties for us, I guess.
Anyway. Labour finally happened, and in just 3 rather intense hours we had our new baby girl. We've named her Annika. I have to write more later - she's just fallen asleep and I need a nap. But:
In the end, Nina stayed with a family down the street. They have twins her age (imagine. the chaos.) and three older children... maybe another toddler hardly disrupted their routine at all. Apparently Nina was very good; she saved her difficulties for us, I guess.
Anyway. Labour finally happened, and in just 3 rather intense hours we had our new baby girl. We've named her Annika. I have to write more later - she's just fallen asleep and I need a nap. But:
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| Annika, 2 days old. |
Sunday, 27 February 2011
Remembering
So I guess there's a baby coming. At this late stage of 38+ weeks, we finally got down the baby clothes. Amps did a 5-point smell test for mustiness and separated the enormous pile into musty and non-musty. Musty ones will be washed, non-musty ones are hanging near the bedroom radiator. We ordered a crib. Obviously, we are not assuming this child is in any serious risk of being born early. Meanwhile I periodically sit down to see if it's still moving (it is). And I try to remember what it was like, last time. So here are a few quotes:
"we're ok here-- more of a rough night last nightm though, i'm getting frustrated with having NO time for things like email and showers and with feeling so stuck at home. even walking to tesco is so hard with her needing to feed almost continuously. i'm typing thos woth my right hand on;y -- much slower going than usual, i can tell you. i hope to take her out soon but may use all available non-screaming time showering and getting dressed instead." --Nina was 11 days old.
Will it be like this? Or will this new child be a marvel of sleepy peacefulness (like my friends' second babies)? Or will it be in between, but encouraged in the peaceful direction by the fact that we will, this time, realise that we can put it down now and then?
One more:
"a quick note before she wakes up - we're fine. our visitors have left but it went very well and they were quite helpful. it was great for me to have more to do. however nina had a very rough afternoon and early evening in the sense that she just finished one breast and went straight for the other one and wouldn't be settled at all. finally amps had her sleeping on him for 4 hours between 1:30 and 5:30, and then she came in our bed because it's easier to nurse and i was desperate. however she's now sleeping in there by herself and has beenfor 2 hours, so perhaps the panic is over. don't know if it was a growth spurt or mild stomach upset - but i'll stay away from hummous today just in case that was it. i really hope it wasn't the 1/2 pint of hoegaarden i had - but i'd had one before and don't recall such an episode. but there have been other epic feeding days and other hoegaarden days so it's not ruled out." --Nina was 2+ weeks old.
Ok - I am not concerned about not having enough to do. I guess I was actually pretty bored. This time I'll have days with Nina too, days when she's at her nursery, and some really, really good friends I can call, and go and see. And a car, in which to get there. After 4 weeks I emailed my dad that I had gone out for a run, twice, to enjoy the sunshine and keep up my mood. Looking forward to that. Just for fun, here's a video.
In other news, I had acupuncture the other day for my back. It was amazing - not so much at the time - it didn't really feel like much, but for the fact that by an hour later almost all of my intense back pain disappeared and it hasn't been back. Wow. The normal me might have wondered about the ontology behind it (is there really qi, or xi - the Chinese life force "energy" and does that make any sense and how can we tell? how does its theory relate to the theories I work with every day? and so on).
But now: reactions? (1) Among the best 30£ I've ever spent. (2) awesome that this guy could see me the same day I called (3) am going back on tuesday morning (to his colleague, who's also a midwife and who I'd originally planned to see), (4) wow! (5) how'd that work anyway? (6) why did it feel so normal, to get a treatment involving needles from someone I'd never met, in a nice warm room in a house somewhere that was being renovated, with the smell of gently smoking herbs, and the sound of rain? (7) Among the better 30£ I've ever spent ....
Friday, 25 February 2011
38 weeks
The baby is due 2 weeks from today. When I'm at work it (sometimes) feels like it's not long enough. When I'm at home, tired, back hurting, pelvic pain, nausea, limited capacity to eat (but frequent hunger), and very limited capacity to drink wine, drat it .. it feels like WAY TOO LONG to wait.
I've been reflecting on ability and disability. Over the past 4 or 5 months my mobility has slowly deteriorated, from me being completely normal, to being unable to run/jump, to being unable to walk quickly, to it being slightly painful the day after I walked quickly to and from work, and ultimately to now. The situation now? I drive to work - turns out they let you park there if you're pregnant, and they even let me park in the disabled bays because of my pelvic separation. I drive to the nursery on the way there and back. I drive everywhere. But if I don't come home at the right time, I can't park - so I try to arrive between 5:15 and 6pm, keeping me out all day... It sometimes takes just as long to drive to the nursery as it would to walk (that is, if one were able to walk like a normal person). On Monday night I went to a really nice, gentle, prenatal yoga class. On Tuesday morning I woke up barely able to walk, with sharp pain in my lower back whenever I took a step with my right foot. I've been hobbling around the house in the middle of the night with a crutch. It's a disaster. It takes forever to roll over in the night. Blah blah rant rant blah.
I have an aunt, a wonderful aunt, who's had knee surgery somewhat recently, and can't stand/walk/cook much, and I think has only recently been again able to drive. She was told it would pretty much heal (gradually) over 9 months to a year. She told me she had been on crutches since August. I think of her all the time these days.
The thing is, this gets me down. I hate it. I can't stand not being able to walk. After all, where we live it's not exactly optimised for a driving lifestyle and we usually like it fine that way. (Thank GOD we don't live on the third floor of some old building with no elevator.) I want to be able to take Nina to the zoo - no chance. I hate waddling around at work, feeling so conspicuous. I hate seeing colleagues and students slow down, look over their shoulder, as they realise that I can't keep up. I hate looking up a flight of stairs, pretending it's fine as my back pangs. I hate that I can't comfortably sleep on my left side.
And yet, and yet: this is in aid of something, of someone. Someone who, if all goes well, will emerge (to put it, well, mildly), and will look something like this:
And who will grow up too fast, who will learn to sing and jump and ride a bike and who will teach me little songs and who might come home one day and say "I want to HUG you!" and, and, and ... it will all seem worth it? Or something.
But most people who find their mobility decaying don't have this sense, this idea that in just two more weeks it will be over, or it will start to get over. That it's all for a good reason. That it was, after all, a choice - I mean, I chose the pregnancy, and knew the risks, and it's been all normal and healthy. And many many people have it much, much worse.
I guess what I'm saying is: I have a renewed and deep respect for people who live with disability/immobility/etc, and who must now have other, deeper, more fundamental abilities that they draw on, to live with all these situations that drive me crazy every day.
I've been reflecting on ability and disability. Over the past 4 or 5 months my mobility has slowly deteriorated, from me being completely normal, to being unable to run/jump, to being unable to walk quickly, to it being slightly painful the day after I walked quickly to and from work, and ultimately to now. The situation now? I drive to work - turns out they let you park there if you're pregnant, and they even let me park in the disabled bays because of my pelvic separation. I drive to the nursery on the way there and back. I drive everywhere. But if I don't come home at the right time, I can't park - so I try to arrive between 5:15 and 6pm, keeping me out all day... It sometimes takes just as long to drive to the nursery as it would to walk (that is, if one were able to walk like a normal person). On Monday night I went to a really nice, gentle, prenatal yoga class. On Tuesday morning I woke up barely able to walk, with sharp pain in my lower back whenever I took a step with my right foot. I've been hobbling around the house in the middle of the night with a crutch. It's a disaster. It takes forever to roll over in the night. Blah blah rant rant blah.
I have an aunt, a wonderful aunt, who's had knee surgery somewhat recently, and can't stand/walk/cook much, and I think has only recently been again able to drive. She was told it would pretty much heal (gradually) over 9 months to a year. She told me she had been on crutches since August. I think of her all the time these days.
The thing is, this gets me down. I hate it. I can't stand not being able to walk. After all, where we live it's not exactly optimised for a driving lifestyle and we usually like it fine that way. (Thank GOD we don't live on the third floor of some old building with no elevator.) I want to be able to take Nina to the zoo - no chance. I hate waddling around at work, feeling so conspicuous. I hate seeing colleagues and students slow down, look over their shoulder, as they realise that I can't keep up. I hate looking up a flight of stairs, pretending it's fine as my back pangs. I hate that I can't comfortably sleep on my left side.
And yet, and yet: this is in aid of something, of someone. Someone who, if all goes well, will emerge (to put it, well, mildly), and will look something like this:
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| Nina: less than 24 hours old |
But most people who find their mobility decaying don't have this sense, this idea that in just two more weeks it will be over, or it will start to get over. That it's all for a good reason. That it was, after all, a choice - I mean, I chose the pregnancy, and knew the risks, and it's been all normal and healthy. And many many people have it much, much worse.
I guess what I'm saying is: I have a renewed and deep respect for people who live with disability/immobility/etc, and who must now have other, deeper, more fundamental abilities that they draw on, to live with all these situations that drive me crazy every day.
Wednesday, 16 February 2011
Mornings and evenings
This morning was, like most mornings, a bit of a rush. We're lucky in not having jobs that we actually have to be at, at any particular time, unless of course there's a class to teach or a train to catch. And even those tend to be at 10am or later, except the odd 9am class. So we get up at about 8, or later if we're tired or Nina sleeps in. We eat, get ready (quite minimally, usually, in my case), and one of us takes Nina to nursery. This is usually me, especially since my immobile current condition allows me to park at work. We sign Nina in: 9:30, 9:40, 9:45, or 9:50 ...
Every morning, I glance down the column of toddler arrival times. Most run to 8:30, 8:15, 8:20; times when we are barely awake. It's vaguely embarrassing, but why should we go early just for the sake of conformity? I like having breakfast together, eating the muffins we make together, having a cappuccino (a 'chuni' for Nina, ie steamed milk, ideally served in her new Mr Strong mug which was among her favourite Christmas presents). But eventually I start wanting to get on with it. Today Nina wanted me to read her a story. I didn't. Then she wanted to sweep the floor with her new toy-sized broom, before leaving. I didn't let her. Then she wanted to do all her buttons herself. I let her try for a while but it wasn't working so I insisted. Then I put her shoes on for her and rushed her, whining, out the door. Then (heaven forbid) I didn't put her mittens on for the 10ft walk from the car to the nursery door. In short: today was the first day I dropped her off there with her all sad. She went immediately to Sam, one of her favourite staff members there, for a cuddle first thing. It was so sad. I mean, why shouldn't she sweep the floor? (Be my guest, in fact ... it's not like that gets done too often around here) All I was going to do was come back home and work here anyway.
I picked her up at 5:30, brought her home, let her sweep the floor to her little obsessive compulsive heart's content, gave her some channa and rice (again) and then we made muffins and she helped me load the dishwasher. Then she had a bath and slipped around grinning with bubbles on her chin and her bathtime letters sticking to her back, dark hair curling perfectly on her gorgeous little forehead. It was a perfect toddler evening, one of those times when the toddler's had a decent nap and is in a good mood, and you can finally do right by them and praise them for sweeping the floor and you can read the favourite stories and have the awesome cuddles. I just hope it made up for the morning.
Monday, 7 February 2011
Monday, 31 January 2011
Highly traumatic?
Nina is in her bedroom, with her Papa, whining away. She had what we call a complete toddler meltdown. She was fine up until the moment when she was supposed to follow A- into the bedroom and go to bed, at which point she did her thing where she wants to walk rather than be carried, and then refuses to actually walk.
Anyway, the problem is that she appears to be losing her afternoon nap. On Saturday, she didn't nap, although she rested quite quietly for an hour or so. On Sunday she slept for more than 2 hours. Today she didn't sleep at nursery - same as two days last week. I asked my mother when kids drop their nap and she said that in her recollection it's older than this, and that the process is highly traumatic for both parent and child. Reports from the internet indicate that some children do drop their naps by this age. Just in time, I guess. Further reports from the internet advise insisting on a quiet time, with the toddler in the bed and no Mummy going in. Saturday's experience suggests we can try that and it might work. We'll see, I guess.
Monday, 24 January 2011
Mixer taps
When you wash your hands here, about 99% of the time, the taps are configured so the cold comes out one side (and is really very very cold) and the hot comes out the other. The hot is either very very cold for about 30s to a minute, or is really very very hot. I guess the theory is that you put in the plug, run both taps to fill the basin with water of the desired temperature, and then wash. But of course, no one would actually do that in a public bathroom, certainly not in a pub, or a bar, or an airport, or really, much of anywhere. And there usually isn't a plug (and, people: it's 2011, not 1890). The funny thing is that they are aware of other arrangements - the so-called "mixer tap" which - get this!! - mixes the hot and cold and sends them pre-mixed out of one single tap! But even quite modern buildings, like the annex space that hosts our apparently-recently-renovated bathroom, still have the old system. On top of that, sometimes the stream of water is so close to the sink's edge that you have to squish your hand up against the ceramic to get it wet. And very very cold.
Well, the other day I was in the shower and Amps was helping Nina in the bathroom. I commented that the temperature was fluctuating. Amps, washing Nina's hands, commented that I should be glad that the hot and cold at least come out from the same place, in the shower. I had this vision. Elderly people would break hips every year, pregnant ladies would fall down, madly hopping from one end of the tub to the other, to get from the way-too-cold shower head to the way-too-hot shower head and back again before getting burned, or getting hypothermia. Americans, Canadians, Europeans, and everyone else in the world would visit and exclaim about how this is just silly, isn't it? English people would agree, in theory, that there might be more comfortable ways to shower. But it would be traditional.
from http://anglopole.wordpress.com/2008/06/01/english-houses/
Friday, 14 January 2011
Insy winsy spider
These days we wake up to singing, really cute singing. If we stay in bed and keep listening sometimes we hear a whole song cycle, followed by something like "ummm, and what else is there? oh: TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR ..." and so on. It's a great way to wake up. My favourite is still "the Ninas on the bus say 'I love Mummy' " but that's a bit rare. The other day, though, I got: "The insy winsy spider ran up the water spout; down came the rain and washed the spider out. Down came the rain and washed the spider out. Down came the rain and washed the spider out .." whose tune morphed into twinkle twinkle about half way through.
A couple of days later, it so happened that the sun came out. Nina got SO excited: "Look Mummy the SUN! It's the SUN! Mummy!!! The SUUUNNNNNNN!". I guess as far as she's seen, for ages now, well: down came the rain and ...
Today she's sick and I'm not sure what with. It happened about 10 minutes before I got to nursery to pick her up. I got there and she was clinging to one of the women and coughing and rubbing her tired little eyes. We got home and she clung to me and coughed and rubbed her eyes and said her bum hurt. We had Tesco naan with peanut butter (me) and jam (her) eventually. You know you're having a rough time when scrambled eggs are beyond your logistical capability. (Tesco naan is actually really great: soft, nicely flavoured... ) She fell asleep really easily, finally, but she's whining and crying in her sleep. It's sad. And I don't know what's wrong or how serious it is, which is hard.
In other news, Nina's got a toy baby. It's realistic-looking, enough that it can really startle you if you come upon it suddenly. Anyway, the baby spits. Well, not really, but in Nina's world it does. And when it spits, Nina tells it that if it spits again it will get a time out. She looks at it very seriously in the eyes. Then she says "ok, you're going to have a time out". She is delighted with herself. The baby sits in the corner and Nina says "stay there until I get you" and then she goes back and says "are you ready to say sorry?" and then the baby comes up to me and she very earnestly tells me that it has said sorry. All of this repeats. Indefinitely. Up to 40 times. It's hilarious. I asked her why she thinks the baby wants to spit so much. She grinned, and said "spitting is really funny". I gather that it's rather a struggle for her not to spit, and she's doing really well.
yet more news, such as it is: Got a paper rejected, which really sucks as it's with a student and it's been a long journey for this work. Got good reviews of another grant proposal, which is great. Teaching starts next week - not so great, as what with being 32 weeks pregnant now I'm still concerned about passing out, and standing and talking is awkward. Well, that's the update. I hope to put some videos up here soon but can't be bothered right now. This inner baby that I've got is tiring, extremely active, and it's very distracting! And easily visible from across a room.
A couple of days later, it so happened that the sun came out. Nina got SO excited: "Look Mummy the SUN! It's the SUN! Mummy!!! The SUUUNNNNNNN!". I guess as far as she's seen, for ages now, well: down came the rain and ...
Today she's sick and I'm not sure what with. It happened about 10 minutes before I got to nursery to pick her up. I got there and she was clinging to one of the women and coughing and rubbing her tired little eyes. We got home and she clung to me and coughed and rubbed her eyes and said her bum hurt. We had Tesco naan with peanut butter (me) and jam (her) eventually. You know you're having a rough time when scrambled eggs are beyond your logistical capability. (Tesco naan is actually really great: soft, nicely flavoured... ) She fell asleep really easily, finally, but she's whining and crying in her sleep. It's sad. And I don't know what's wrong or how serious it is, which is hard.
In other news, Nina's got a toy baby. It's realistic-looking, enough that it can really startle you if you come upon it suddenly. Anyway, the baby spits. Well, not really, but in Nina's world it does. And when it spits, Nina tells it that if it spits again it will get a time out. She looks at it very seriously in the eyes. Then she says "ok, you're going to have a time out". She is delighted with herself. The baby sits in the corner and Nina says "stay there until I get you" and then she goes back and says "are you ready to say sorry?" and then the baby comes up to me and she very earnestly tells me that it has said sorry. All of this repeats. Indefinitely. Up to 40 times. It's hilarious. I asked her why she thinks the baby wants to spit so much. She grinned, and said "spitting is really funny". I gather that it's rather a struggle for her not to spit, and she's doing really well.
yet more news, such as it is: Got a paper rejected, which really sucks as it's with a student and it's been a long journey for this work. Got good reviews of another grant proposal, which is great. Teaching starts next week - not so great, as what with being 32 weeks pregnant now I'm still concerned about passing out, and standing and talking is awkward. Well, that's the update. I hope to put some videos up here soon but can't be bothered right now. This inner baby that I've got is tiring, extremely active, and it's very distracting! And easily visible from across a room.
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