It occurred to me somewhere in the it is way too early for a certain cutie cute cute cute cute to be awake, and mummy is unjustifiably cranky hours of this morning, that it is no longer a baby I lift from the cot, but a toddler.
She is long and heavy in my arms.
For weeks, I have been watching her circle the outskirts of toddlerhood. Dipping in and out of the mannerisms, actions, and wilfulness of this next stage, but she has always reverted to her babyish ways as a source of familiarity and comfort.
However now, now I have a rambunctious big girl who likes to climb, hold her bottle, feed herself, and do as she pleases.
Gone is her little turtle mouth, her reflexive grip, her baby smell, and her newborn curled upness.
For now, she still keeps those little froggy legs, but I suspect they are one of the last vestiges of babyhood to disappear.
Now I have a little girl who can discern between the teething biscuits I give her, and the chocolate biscuits I keep for myself.
Now I have a little girl who can sit up on her knees, pick up peas, stand while holding on to furniture, dive head first off the lounge, and crawl really really fast.
Now I have a little girl with one-word statements, two word phrases, and a million different facial expressions.
Now I have a little girl who can go anywhere she pleases, and who makes full use of the faculty.
There are not many places we do not allow her to play, but the one, which is most off limits, is the one she always heads toward – the lamp in the corner of the lounge room.
We have been toddler proofing the house on an as the need arises basis, which so far seems to be working.
Apart from that lamp. I still do not know what to do with our primary light source of an evening.
Strangely enough, it is not the power points she goes for, or even daddy’s piles of paperwork on the lower shelves, but it is only that one lamp, which is sort of essential, and the only thing we are strict about.
Funny how when you make something significant, it becomes so. Because everything else we are more casual about, she tends to ignore. Be it mummy’s rolling pin, pots and pans, baking treys, or even the broom hiding next to the fridge.
However, it is a fine line between cotton wool and calculated risk.
This is not to say that blocking off the stairs was not a great idea, because my God that particular solution was a combination of genius, and dumb luck on Michael’s part.
Genius in the execution, dumb luck in terms of the resource.
We happened to have a wide length double child gate sitting in the garage from one of his spontaneous finds a couple of years ago.
Yes those same couple of years ago when he was adamant we were not having children.
At the time, he simply saw the fencing as an option to keep the bunny rabbits from eating our basil, but thankfully, he had never gotten around to putting it in the garden as intended.
It was only as necessity dictated we find a way to protect Missy climby legs from going up the stairs while I was otherwise occupied, that he discovered the true purpose of the dormant equipment.
The thing about having a toddler is I do not know what to do with her.
Just when I had this baby thing figured out, everything changes.
Physically keeping up with her newfound independence is intense, but it is more the emotion of it, all that is difficult.
Already I miss the baby I once had.
Perhaps miss is not the right word, but rather I cannot remember her.
I feel as though I can only be where we are today. No further back and no further forward.
I fear I have not written enough, and the patchwork quilt of my words is not going to do justice to our memories in the future.
Already as I look back over those early Blunder weeks’ posts, I know they are too vague and abstract to evoke my memories.
Sure, we may have three thousand or so photos between us, but what if I cannot see them in years to come.
I try not to think about that, as the days get whiter, and the nights become darker.
I mean what is the point. At this stage nothing can be done, so I take each headache for what it is.
As Michael says, we will cross that bridge when, or if, we must.
However for now, if I put my face to hers, I can make out what I think are her pretty blue eyes, button nose, rosebud mouth, cheeky chin, and is that a curl you have in your maybe brown, maybe red, or could it be blond coloured hair.
Why didn’t I write about how beautiful she looked, all wrapped up in her pink blanket, asleep in her cradle, positioned at the end of the lounge.
Why didn’t I write about the unexpectedness of it all.
The 3:00AM feeding frenzies, which would last for hours, her flower mittens, Michael is feeding her droplets of breast milk with his little finger as I sat on the dining room chair and pumped, or any number of the mundane moments I write about these days.
Why didn’t I write about her scent, her sound, and her soft soft skin.
I think part of it was a confidence issue. I remember being worried if I wrote too much, people would judge me for taking up too much room on the page. Therefore, I settled for quick broadly cut snippets of information that I hoped would serve to prompt my writing further down the track.
Too bad it has not worked, because now when I read my earlier peaces, I have absolutely no idea of what is in between those lines.
Obviously, I have gotten over my fear of taking up space, but it is interesting to reflect upon.
I can see a correlation between how I write and how I have grown into the role of mama.
Oh and by the way, this is the longest post ever, so I suggest you grab a coffee and settle in.
My friend Kris was right; I should have written more when I was pregnant.
I honestly thought I would never forget. However, I have most definitely forgotten.
Other women had told me it would happen, but I did not believe them.
How could I forget something so intense and amazing, I wondered as my back ached, my belly swelled, and I oscillated between fear and freedom.
It is funny to think that this time last year Emily was an abstract concept growing in my belly, whereas now it is the pregnancy, which is the abstract idea.
However here we are with a little girl in our midst.
To be honest I had never really thought of her beyond a baby.
Even before I had her, this is only as far as I ever really travelled in my imaginings.
Sure, I had a glimpse here and there of her being older, but nothing like the detailed daydreams of her babyhood.
I always thought it would be lovely to have her climb up my legs as I stood preparing dinner in the kitchen, but it is not as easy as I thought.
Sure bodies are wonderful things, but they are not made for protecting top-heavy toddlers who are unsteady on their feet with one hand, while simultaneously twisting, turning, and bending down to pick them up as one is squashed against the bench.
Baby girl has cracked us up this week with her newfound responsiveness to our daily routines.
Now I can tell her that if she would like her breakfast, she needs to go to the kitchen, and sure enough, if she is hungry, that is where she can be found.
Actually even if she is not hungry, that is where she can be found.
What makes us laugh the most though is how excited she gets when she finds either Michael or me in the kitchen, because she knows she is going to get a treat.
By treat we mean anything; carrot, broccoli, or this week’s favourite, blueberries.
She now knows if we sit her in the blue rocker we will feed her, but if we fetch her pink chair, then she can feed herself.
She has taken to banging her hands on her trey as she waits for us to prepare her tasting style plate of deliciousness.
Not only that, this week she has somewhat refined her manners by learning to pick her berries from a bowl instead of just on the trey.
This is not to say she has given up eating her left overs off the floor completely, but there is progress on the fine motor skill front.
What can I say; a mama has to take her wins where she can get them.
And if eating frozen peas off the floor is how my daughter likes to ensure her daily intake of green vegetables, then so be it.
Let us just say the mop and bucket has never seen so much action.
But wait for it, now I find myself picking up her scraps as I sit, my back against the kitchen cupboard, legs out stretched, and eating off the floor alongside her.
I know, we are so gross.
I will take that ferrel-parenting award for the year now please.
On that note, perhaps now would be a good time to get stuck into the happenings of our week.
Monday started with a cracker seafaring adventure.
Emily and I caught the train into town to see the best baby mechanic ever.
As with many of our travels, there is always an element of experimentation.
Monday’s included only one option for baby carrying, and we did not get off to a good start.
As usual Michael walked us to the station before handing Little to me as the train pulled into the platform, then bid us farewell, a safe trip, and reiterating where we would meet later in the day.
He was headed for a swim, and we were headed into town.
The silver bullet was unusually crowded, and I was worried we would not get a seat.
Thankfully, blind chick with a baby on her hip tends to grab people’s attention. Therefore, it was no problem procuring the seat supposedly reserved for the elderly or disabled.
As usual, Emily made friends with the stranger sitting next to us, by flashing her cheeky smile, and reaching out her little hand to touch the lady’s handbag.
They were having such a good time; the lady almost forgot to get off at her stop.
Baby girl kept herself amused by standing up, sitting down, tapping mummy’s cane, and singing her beautiful happy songs at the top of her pretty voice.
I cannot be sure anyone else appreciated it, but I thought it was adorable.
I mean it was not as though she was crying or being a bother, she was just being her bubbly self.
However, it all began to become unstuck when I tried to wrangle her into the carrier.
For a start, a girl needs a Masters in Engineering to figure out how to put that contraption on, let alone fit another wiggly wriggly human within its boundaries.
Firstly I had to stand up, make sure my cane was secure, but ready to go, place my bag somewhere I could easily reach it, as time was of the essence, put baby girl on the seat where I had previously been sitting, balance one knee beside her to protect and keep an eye on her, untangle the carrier’s straps, put them over my head in a specific way, pick up the baby, lift her up arm’s length because she is so long, also over my head, all the while being careful not to bump hers, which by the way I was not careful enough, but now we both know how low the ceilings are in city rail trains, bring her feet down into the body of the carrier and then into the tiny leg wholes, position her bottom correctly, have her back against my belly, her head under my chin, and her arms out the top.
Sounds simple, right?
Yeah, umm, no!
Emily was good-natured enough about the whole thing, and tried to cooperate, but it was still a whole load of chaos.
I can only imagine the scene we had created, me on one leg trying to sort the carrier, Emily busily unpacking her bag, and the time ticking ticking down far too quickly before we had to alight from the train.
At one point Emily escaped my clutches, and crawled the length of the seat to another lady who was busily engaged with her smart device.
Thankfully, she had two girls of her own, and was happy to assist in our predicament.
She ended up helping put baby girl in the carrier, and doing up the leg buckles. Which by the way are not easy when a certain cutie cute cute cute cute already has her bottom in place, and her weight antagonises the mechanisms.
As it was, it took three people to get us off our chosen mode of transportation; one to put the baby in the carrier, one to pick up my bag, and another took my cane.
Obviously that last one I had to ask for it back, because I was not prepared to manage without it.
Overall, I can safely claim it to be a disaster.
I really should have taken the hippy thing with us, but in my laziness, I decided against it, because I did not want to lug the thing around all day.
To be honest I wanted to take the pram, and perhaps if Michael had not been home I would have, but I did not want him to worry, or feel as though he had to come with us.
Well that and I knew we were going on a ferry later, our chosen vessel had a very skinny onny offy ramp, and I was not confident I could manoeuvre the pram safely in that situation.
Everything else I was prepared to give a shot.
Because in my mind, even if I failed, we would have still succeeded.
And if we had succeeded, then I would have totally nailed that sucker. As in, utterly and completely take that designer yoga pants wearing mums with the tightly sculpted asses of my imagination nailed that sucker.
Alas, it was not to be.
I will have to save that conquest for another day.
It was remarkably quiet as we walked through the Queen Victoria Building on our way to meet John, otherwise known as the best baby mechanic ever.
However, we were early and that is when I discovered we had forgotten our toys.
I tell myself there was nothing else for it, but to sit baby girl down, give her an old magazine, and let her tear it up.
Of course, this was a cunning plan, and could not fail, but because it was what I wanted her to do, she decided to pull empty display boxes off their stands, and scatter plastic something or others all over the floor.
Our poor friend Alex, who was manning the front desk, was having a conniption, while I was trying my hardest not to laugh.
Oh yes, I was that parent, with that child.
I did my best to clean up after my little whirlwind, but I am fairly certain Alex was secretly relieved when we went in for our treatment.
Which by the way was fabulous!
Emily was in no mood to be examined by John, but eventually, step by unobtrusive step, we got to the cause of her fractiousness.
It turns out, a monster ear infection was wreaking havoc with Little’s being.
NO wonder she had not been sleeping.
I thought she had been grabbing her ear as a sign she needed to sleep, not that it was hurting.
I wonder how I could have missed it.
Thank you John, she has been much more herself this week.
After we finished with our main order of business, we set off down George Street to call into our friend Tony the fruit man’s stand for a quick snack.
He loves Emily, and gave her some grapes to keep her nourishment up.
She managed to stay awake just long enough to flash him a smile, but before I had reached the next set of traffic lights, she was fast asleep.
Using the same philosophy and approach I had taken the week before when Emma, my orientation and mobility instructor and I were taking the pram for a spin around our local shopping precinct, I simply slowed right down, narrowed my focus, and was unapologetic about my presence as we strolled down the main thurifer of Sydney’s Central Business District toward the harbour.
I had baby girl’s head resting in one hand, this time with her belly facing mine, my cane in the other, and her big ass bag full of goodies over my shoulder.
I have no idea how long it took us to walk the six or so blocks, but it did not matter, as we were not in a hurry.
If we miss People hurried passed us in all directions. However thankfully no one actually ran into us, or even came close.
Oh apart from one dickhead, who I called him as much, and he responded in horror that I would use such language in front of my child.
I am really going to have to watch that, as she gets older.
I already have a parrot.
This week we have moved from one-syllable words to two word phrases.
On Thursday we got an “I’m ready”, and today I got my first “hello mummy”.
She has never said “mummy” before.
That totally makes up for the 5:00AM start.
When we reached the harbour, I could not remember which wharf the zoo ferry departed from, so we had to ask someone.
This to my mind was no problem, my issue was I could not remember where the ice-cream shops were, and I really felt like one.
Sure, I may not be willing to drink coffee over my baby’s head, but ice cream is another matter.
I thought about calling Emma, my orientation and mobility instructor, but decided against it, as she was probably busy.
So putting my ice-cream cravings aside, we wandered along the busy quay, counting wharfs until I thought we were in the vicinity of where I wanted.
A big thank you goes to Ron, a Sydney Ferries staff member who graciously escorted me the two terminals over to where my ferry was situated.
Emily slept, as I waited the twenty minutes for our vessel to arrive.
And just as I had suspected, it was a skinny ramp to board the boat.
I am not sure I could have done that with the pram, so it is just as well I did not get my brave girl pants on, because it may not have been dignified.
I felt so accomplished as we crossed the harbour.
The sun on my legs, the wind in my hair, the raw of the engines through the water in my ears.
Still Emily slept.
It was not until we disembarked, and Michael was lifting her out of the carrier, that she woke.
Her face said it all when she saw her daddy, which was extra special, because when he had come home two days before with a handsome new haircut, she took a double take, not recognising him properly.
A quick drive up the hill took us to the main entrance of the zoo, where we finalised daddy’s annual zoo pass before heading to a nearby picnic spot for lunch.
My husband thinks of everything.
In my excitement I had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, so by the time we met around 1:30PM, I was starving.
We sat under a big old tree, overlooking middle harbour, surrounded by very forward bush turkeys, and very cheeky kookaburras.
I am thinking if Emily had not insisted on eating my lunch, they would have gladly taken it off my hands.
I was foolish to worry I would never fit my skinny jeans again.
On the way home, we drove via the beach, where I was desperate for a swim. However Emily had already gotten a lot of sun, and it was the hottest part of the afternoon therefore we kept driving.
By the time we arrived at our dwelling it was late, and there was nothing else for it but to sit down for high-low tea, and reflect upon our day.
Poor baby girl had a hard time going to bed, but I think that was a brain stimulation thing. After all, we had been out and about all day, and even though she slept through some of the best parts, she still needed to wind down.
Tuesday saw mummy at work, while daddy and Emily pottered at home.
Tuesday saw mummy at work, while Emily and daddy pottered at home.
Thank God, Michael got up with Emily as she woke the kookaburras; because I was a little warn out from carrying her all day the day before.
After dropping me at the station, they headed to the park for a quick play before coming home and one madam butterfly bottom having a nice long nap.
Then they headed up the shops in search of a bottle of milk, and a new can opener, before meeting Emily’s best friend Ronya and her mummy at the local library.
Work was quiet, which gave me a chance to catch up with my friend Jo, who offered some great parenting advice.
I was laughing at some of the things I do in order to creep out of Emily’s room when she is asleep.
I was commenting how I never wanted to be that parent who commando crawls out of their child’s space, when she so aptly pointed out, that if I am indeed sneaking out of baby girl’s room, and then I am that parent.
This cracked me up entirely.
Thanks for the chat Jo, I felt so much better afterward.
Let us catch up with the kids soon.
Tuesday afternoon I came home to find Miss Emily and her daddy in the clamshell pool, otherwise known as the summer bath.
Getting her to settle at night was not as painful as it has been, but still a bit of an effort.
Wednesday Emily and I stayed home, played on the lounge-room floor, went swimming, ate copious amounts of blueberries, and learned to climb on to the lounge.
There was nothing else for it, but to duck in and out of our little pond throughout the day.
Sydney was sweltering, and we had nowhere else to be.
I love our days when all we have to do is play.
I must say, I do not think I have ever spent so much time on my hands and knees. Be it chasing a certain baby girl, having her chase me, or looking for puzzle pieces, plastic blocks, wayward food stuffs, or any number of her royal cuteness’s must have items.
I thought I would make the most of Emily’s long luxurious nap by filling in my application for uni, only to find after ninety minutes work, I was two days late.
It serves me right for sitting on that procrastination stool for a week longer than I had intended.
Therefore, that ambition will have to wait another six months.
However, it will give me time to finish my children’s book writing course, which I have been sitting on for far too long.
In the meantime, daddy headed out for a swim before returning home to work on a particular aspect of our business.
His mission was to make eight Running Ropes to send with our friend Ben to Papua New Gini later in the week.
It was adorable to see our Chief Cuteness Officer climbing up our Product Visionary’s legs, as he stood at the dining room table manufacturing this particular product.
As a part of our business model, and our mission to make the world a better place, we have set up a Run the World Campaign, where for every Running Rope someone buys from us, we send the equivalent to PNG as a matter of course.
A Running Rope is a piece of equipment originally designed for someone who is blind or vision impaired to use while walking, jogging, or sprinting with a sighted guide.
To break it down into its simplest form, it works on a similar principle as a good old-fashioned three-legged race; accept each participant holds a handle in one hand instead of being strapped together at the ankle.
The aim being to maximise the most natural movement, biomechanical efficiency, and of course, physical safety.
Thank you darling, they are beautiful.
Then it happened, when it came time to put the cutie cute cute cute cute down for her nighttime sleep, she went out without a peep.
Oh, God I love those nights.
Please please please may we have more of them?
That was the evening where I let her go crazy for half an hour between her dinner and her bottle.
She bulldozed her way from one end of the lounge to the other.
Climbing on one side table, then the other side table, before flopping down from the arm of the couch into the cushions.
I nearly had a heart attack when she did that, and was glad it seemed to be a one off.
Thursday was a little different from usual.
Not only did baby girl sleep until 7:15AM, but Emma my orientation and mobility instructor arrived first thing so we could take the pram for another spin around our local area.
This time she said I was far more confident than the first attempt, and seemed to manage better without a cane.
Yippy yahoo yahoo yahoo!
We did our walk in reverse, and added in the local library for good measure.
Between you and me, how I did not run anyone or anything over is beyond my comprehension.
Thanks Emma, I appreciate the vote of confidence.
Next, I headed into town where I had lunch with my good friend Lucille.
Where as usual she offered up her trademark generosity, kindness, and support.
Needless to say, it was lovely to catch up, and I look forward to seeing you soon.
Thank you for everything.
Finally, I headed into work for the afternoon. However, there was nothing for me to do, so I ended up having an impromptu session with John, otherwise known as the best baby mechanic ever.
He always puts things in such a way that I can digest.
Lately I have been struggling to discern the difference between my intrinsic value, and my extrinsic worth.
Needless to say, it has not been pretty, so we untangled that beast, and I am feeling much better.
It turns out, that regardless of how many ways society excludes me, I am still a valuable person in my own right.
Holy shit, how the hell am I going to teach Emily to have a strong self-worth if I cannot fully integrate the simplest of concepts within myself?
I really worry about the example I am setting for her.
Because she will know.
She will know whether I truly like who I am.
She will know when I am not being genuine, or when I am not in alignment.
I owe it to her to work this stuff out, and work it out quickly, deeply, and most sincerely.
Not to mention, this self-judgement and hypocrisy I have got going on is oh so boring.
As in seriously, when am I going to put the cross down? It is ridiculously cumbersome, heavy, and out of fashion. Besides, surely someone else could use the wood.
I returned home later that afternoon to find my darling husband and beautiful daughter ensconced in the clamshell pool.
Honestly, that has to be one of Michael’s best finds in the history of his junk running.
Thanks honey. We love it, and we love you.
Thursday night she went down fairly well.
I have taken to putting her down, and telling her I will be back after my shower to check on her.
Sometimes this works, but of course I have to be true to my word regardless of whether or not she is asleep.
Most of the time she is not. So then I tell her, I will be back after I have folded the clothes, sent a couple of emails, or spoken to daddy for a couple of minutes.
Usually by the third check, she has worn herself out, given up, and gone to sleep.
It breaks my heart that she insists on crying herself to sleep, when it is unnecessary.
However as I said last week, Michael keeps reminding me it is her choice, and we can only give what we have in any given moment.
I have to confess; sometimes I do not have the “enough” of whatever it is she needs.
Sometimes I simply do not have another cuddle in me, or another softly spoken word.
Of course, I know raising my voice at her is not the answer, and setting up a hardness or opposition between us is fruitless, but I do it anyway.
Naturally, the moment I lose it, I feel terrible, take a big breath, pull it back together, and remember my role as the adult.
Either that, or Michael recognises my need for a break, and steps in like the brilliantly perceptive and patient man he is.
Friday was our first wedding anniversary.
Good Lord, where has the time gone?
It was lovely to re-read our wedding story.
Thanks Jo for gate crashing our nuptials, and putting pen to paper.
What a hilarious and happy day it was.
Thank you to everyone who participated in our elopement.
I would say let us do it again, but that would involve an awful lot of paperwork.
Buoyed by our success on Monday, Emily and I once again headed into the city. However, this time I made sure to take the hippy thing just in case.
This time we only just made the train, so it was a super quick transfer from daddy and the pram on to mummy’s hip and into the train.
Once again, she was not in her carrier, which meant once again I would have to somehow squeeze her into that most useful but ridiculously complicated contraption.
My intention was to put her on my hip, and walk her the block and a half from Wynyard to the designated café where we were to meet our friend Paula for a kiss, a cuddle, and a good cup of coffee.
However half way through our trip, and just as I had fastened the hippy thing, Little showed definite signs of being tired, so I switched to the carrier instead.
It was not a graceful dance we did in order to become organised, but we managed to pull ourselves together in time to alight from our transport.
This time I faced Emily outward, thinking that if she did fall asleep, my chest would support her head, my belly would not breathe into her belly, and I would not feel as though I were in turn restricting her breathing.
Mind you, whether this is the actuality of the situation or not, I have no idea.
What I did not realise was how turning her to face outward in this particular carrier would change the load distribution in comparison to having her face inward.
I cannot be sure, but when I took her shopping a few weeks ago for daddy’s birthday present, I am sure she was not as heavy, and it was not as awkward. Or was it?
After making a quick pit stop at Tony the fruit man’s stand for an emergency banana, we met Paula in a quiet little coffee shop.
I thought we had left plenty of time to walk between our destinations, but I had forgotten to take into account how my pace slows with baby girl on my person.
Sorry we were late Paula, but it was lovely to see you.
Emily sat quietly eating her blueberries as I caught up with my friend.
That is what I love about my baby, she is simply content to sit on my lap, and interact with the people around her.
At one point as I repacked our big ass bag, Emily got over her shyness and played with Paula for a few minutes.
We encourage baby girl to go to other people, but we do not force the issue.
We figure she is a good judge of character, and we allow her to have autonomy in who, when, how, and where she is willing to engage.
So after wrangling her back into the carrier, as once again she looked exhausted, we headed to meet my friend Ben to drop off our Running Ropes, so he could take them to PNG the following day.
It was supposed to be a quick trip, as I had an anniversary party to get to, but as so often happens, I got a little side tracked.
As I was striding down the street, baby girl strapped in, my cane in one hand, my mum acting as my human GPS on the phone in the other, we were approached by a lady asking if we were looking for Ben.
Yes, as a matter of fact we are, I responded with relief and surprise.
The one good thing about being a blindy is that sometimes the conspicuousness of my cane actually makes it easy for others to recognise me.
This is when I met Susan.
Susan is a friend of Ben’s, and one of the most interesting and articulate people I have met in ages.
Clearly if I want to keep up with her intellect, I am going to have to do a lot more reading.
As the three of us stood chatting in the street, and I explained the most inarticulate plan we have for the Running Ropes, Susan suggested we cross the road and have a quick coffee.
Unbeknownst to her, Emily had already spent an hour sitting quietly on my lap doing just that, so she was not quite as happy to be contained, as she normally would have been.
I did not think we would stay long; therefore, I did not take baby girl out of her spot.
However, after fifteen or so minutes, when it became clear that we had settled in for the long hall, and Emily became fidgety, we took her out.
I was surprised when after a while; Emily sat on Susan’s lap, and ate her emergency banana.
Good God, I thought, lucky we stopped to get that.
I had not expected baby girl to eat everything Michael had packed for her.
Gone were all the berries, her carrot, the rusk, and all we had left was a bottle.
As time travelled, it became abundantly clear that a certain little cutie cute cute cute was desperate for a nap.
I knew if I gave her the bottle, that would be it, she would be out to the world.
The conversation was fascinating, and did not look like winding up any time soon, so I decided to give her some milk, and let her fall asleep in my arms.
Funnily enough when I could not find the carrier I wanted earlier that morning, I had considered throwing the baby sling in my bag instead.
However as is my pattern, I ignored my instinct, and stuck to my original plan.
Too bad really, because that sling would have come in handy after all.
As it was, when it came time to leave, and Emily was still fast asleep across my lap, I simply picked her up, gathered my wits, and carried her up the street in the cradle position.
It was not even a question. Just as earlier in the week when I knew I could carry her to the Quay from the middle of the city, and would have carried her three times as far if need be, I knew I could carry her up the street without a traditional mobility device.
Several women asked if they could help, but I really was not sure what they could do.
My arms were full of a peaceful baby, her big bag full of toys and other paraphernalia was slung over my shoulder, and there was no room for anything else.
I had foregone my cane in a bid to keep Little comfortable, because putting her over my shoulder had somewhat unsettled her, and I did not think that was fair. She had been so good, and this was the least I could do for my princess.
So there I was, slowly strolling through the city toward the station with nothing but my scantily clad previous knowledge of the area, my extraordinary echo location skills, and what little residual vision I have for guidance.
I totally rocked.
As in totally totally rocked!
As I took a short/long cut through the Queen Victoria Building in order to avoid another set of traffic lights, I even took the stupid too dark stairs.
Finding the lift would have taken more steps, resources, and besides, I did not have an extra hand to feel for the button.
The same orientation principle applied to getting on to the platform at Town hall station.
Therefore, the elevator option was so not worth the trouble.
Have I mentioned how hard I rocked this thing?
Yep, totally totally totally rocked it.
As it happened, baby girl woke as I stepped on to the train, where as usual, she immediately charmed the pants off the person sitting next to us by flashing a smile, and reaching out her hand to play with the woman’s handbag.
I do not know what it is about handbags this girl likes, but she has extraordinary taste.
It was not until we reached our stop when I pulled the hippy thing out so we could go to the bank.
Oh my God, I had lugged that thing with us all day, and heaven help me, we were going to use it.
Meanwhile daddy had gotten sick of waiting for us, so had decided to go for a swim.
The problem was, I had not taken keys with me, and therefore we were unable to immediately enter the house when we got home.
I always take keys, but on this particular morning I was so sure we would be back before 11:00AM, that it was not necessary.
Hands up who is an idiot?
When daddy arrived home, we repacked our big ass bag, and headed out to the place where we got married a year before for what was meant to be a lovely romantic picnic.
However, the weather had other ideas.
As we drove through the national park, the rain began to fall.
Therefore, instead of a picnic, we had a quick walk to our wedding spot, where I sang the wedding march at the top of my lungs, and we looked out over a very misty bay.
Michael said it was so foggy, that he could not see the horizon.
We entreated a couple of tourists to take our photo for posterity’s sake before bundling baby girl back into the car and heading home.
Each of us had seen our anniversary lunch going differently, but sometimes life has other plans.
In this case we skipped lunch altogether, came home, fed baby girl, put her to bed, and enjoyed a quiet meal in front of the television before watching our compilation of wedding photos put together by my father in law on the big screen.
That was a kick ass belly I was sporting there, if I do say so myself.
All I can say is lucky the wedding was not a week later, because there is no way my dress would have fit.
Currently it sits unceremoniously in a paper bag on top of my bookshelf awaiting its fate.
A fairy dress for Emily, a wedding dress for someone else, or something else entirely…
Once again, on Saturday morning Emily woke the kookaburras, so it was an early start for mummy.
I was surprised at how stiff I was when I rose from my bed.
Clearly, I need to work on my strength in order to really enjoy my adventures with Emily.
In particular, my right knee needs some attention, because it was swollen yesterday.
Emily and I went through our usual morning ritual of buffet breakfast, followed by playing.
One of my favourite things to do is build a tower when she is across the room, and watch her eagerly crawl over to knock it down.
She prances over with such purpose and intention. I love it.
However, I was exhausted, therefore by the time Michael got up; I fell back into bed for a couple of hours.
I was grateful we were not going anywhere yesterday, because all I really wanted to do was relax, read my book, and bake a layered chocolate mousse cake in preparation for today. Michael and baby girl went to the park and organised dinner while I slept, before he put her down for a much-needed nap, and went for a swim himself.
Once again, last night she went down without a peep.
Oh thank you baby girl that was a fabulous effort.
However again we were up before the kookaburras and this brings us back to where we began this post.
Mummy being far too cranky, it being far too early and baby girl being in far too much pain to sleep because her brand new cut through tooth was giving her brief.
After putting her in with us for a little while, and having no luck getting her to quieten down, daddy gave her some pain relief, and I took her down stairs to partake in our usual morning ritual.
For weeks, she has been completely disinterested in the potty, so we have not pushed the issue.
However today when I managed to follow her cues very carefully, she happily sat down and did her business. I was so proud of her. I am hoping this is the turning point and we are back on the potty training bandwagon.
So who thinks Little will kill me for going into such detail about her development when she is older?
Hello evil mummy.
Normally Michael and I would try to take turns with who gets up early, but his left shoulder and neck have been bothering him, and it was obvious he was in no state to move.
Today we went to my friend Maria’s for lunch, which is why I needed time and space to create a dessert yesterday.
By the way, let us just say café meg has their groove back.
I had never made chocolate mousse before, but it turned out perfectly.
Picture this, a dense chocolate cake for the base, a soft light chocolate mousse for the middle, and an even lighter vanilla infused whipped cream on top, laced with a gentle sprinkling of drinking chocolate to finish.
Michael had not met Maria or her husband John before, and it was great to gather around the table with good food, good wine, great kids, and discuss our crazy parenting antics.
I was so proud of Emily as she got down there with the boys and held her own.
At one point, we looked over to see Emily crawling over Athos, as though he were merely a bump in the road.
It felt like a dream come true as we sat there with our respective husbands, and children. Almost as though we had come full circle.
Maria and I had met ten years or so earlier at adult Greek school, and had instantly connected.
Although we have not had a lot to do with one another over the last five or so years, as my friend Bridgett says, time means nothing between good friends.
Therefore rekindling our relationship has been seamless.
In true Maria style, there was loads of food, and Michael and I have not needed dinner.
We gave the kids a bath, before putting an exhausted Emily in the car, and driving home.
Where low and behold, Michael was able to take her from the car and put her straight into her cot, where we have not heard from her since.
Good night sweet girl, happy dreams, and we will see you in the morning.