Emily is supposed to be asleep in her cot. However, the happy singing baby sounds, which are coming from her room, suggest otherwise.
Michael and I have taken to shimmying up and down the stairs on our bellies so she will not see us pass.
Yeah, we cannot believe it either.
This of course was on our pre-parenting never list. So much for our hard assed parenting approach. Now we simply do what works, and continue to laugh at ourselves.
Once again, I have left it to Sunday before working on this week’s post – The best laid plans and all that jazz.
To be honest, our life feels somewhat tedious at the moment.
Sure, it has its funny little moments, such as Little learning to take off her nappy, therefore every now and then I am presented with a random bare bottom, but apart from that, each day runs into the next like a pack of poorly kept watercolour paints.
Monday started out the way most of our at home days begin. Buffet breakfast on the kitchen floor, whereby Little sits patiently in her low chair while we organise each course.
If Michael is feeding her she usually has solids followed by toast, while if I am her waitress for the day, she usually has a third course of fruit.
I constantly worry we are not feeding her enough. However if the number of nappies we have to change each day are anything to go by, I have a sneaking suspicion she is fine.
This week I have taken my casual exercise aspirations to the next level. Therefore, I spent most of Monday so stiff that lifting Little was an effort, while putting her back down was impossible.
Thank God, my cellular memory has adjusted quickly to the higher intensity and purposefulness of my routine, because having to sit down on a chair in order to place madam butterfly bottom on the floor felt ridiculous.
Michael is super supportive of my rekindled love affair with physical exertion, and usually takes Little to the park while I train.
Therefore, after my Monday morning holy shit who knew that was even possible workout, I spent most of the day catching up on some writing.
Last week’s blunder weeks post felt like a chore, and I was leaning more toward going through the motion than anything else.
I suspect it came through in my work, and I apologise for my tatty edges, and tardiness.
Michael and Emily spent most of the day together. Occasionally breezing into my office, Emily in her favourite spot, the crook of daddy’s right arm, and they would tell me all the fun things they had been doing.
Michael is a most excellent coffee maker, and Emily is a fabulous bringer upperer to mummy. Therefore, I think we make a great team, given how good I am at drinking it.
Somewhere in the early afternoon, they disappeared to the supermarket.
I diligently tapped away on my keyboard as the minutes ticked over.
Then it occurred to me they had been gone quite some time.
It turns out they decided to go to the good park. Which was previously the bad park, but now Emily is big enough to climb on the equipment, we have had to revaluate our previous park position hence making it now the good park. Whereas the park next tour house is now just the normal park. .
Too bad my friend Dave has moved to Melbourne, because it is very close to where he used to live.
The problem is, not all the roads have pedestrian crossings or traffic lights, and some are quite busy, therefore Michael does not like me to walk on my own.
Again, I know it makes him sound so over protective, but it is not like that.
He worries that some careless driver is going to scream around one of those corners, and not see us.
However, Emma, my orientation and mobility instructor suggested I walk a little further into the block I wish to cross, further away from the corner so I can hear the cars coming more clearly before crossing over.
Too bad, we had not come up with this strategy six months ago, because it is a real game changer.
Honestly, it is so simple; I cannot believe I had not thought of it myself.
However I am a more what is the quickest way from here to there type girl, and do not usually possess the propensity for going out of my way if I do not have to. Moreover, as far as I am concerned, I never have to.
However then there is Little. Now what wouldn’t I do for her?
Therefore, if I have to zig zag slightly from the least amount of steps to get somewhere, then so be it. Especially if there is, a good park involved.
So far, I haven’t taken her, but there is always next week, right?
We met Tuesday once again having buffet breakfast on the kitchen floor. Where I finally got up the nerve to give Emily peanut butter.
I was so nervous, and practically sat on her for the minutes following, looking for any sign of a reaction.
She went very quiet.
Oh my God, had I rolled the dice and lost? I wondered as I felt around her mouth for any sign of anything out of the ordinary.
It turns out; peanut butter just takes longer to chew than vegemite, or coconut oil toast.
So there we sat. Her in her low chair with a slice of peanut butter toast in each hand, and it all over her face, and me, leaning against the kitchen cupboard, my legs sprawled out before me, waiting for my tea to reach the optimal temperature of somewhere between luke warm and oh my God how can you drink this?
Just as he did the day before, and usually does on the days I am home, Michael snuck off for a much-needed swim.
I am not sure what he is going to do with himself when the dam gets too cold for such frivolity.
I guess it will be back to long drives to Palm Beach on Sydney’s northern tip.
As much as he enjoys the water, I am sure much of it is about the time out.
My husband is more introverted than I am, and needs his space.
The difference between us is he does not feel guilty about taking it. Whereas I feel terrible if I do something for myself, which could possibly take away from either of them.
Note to self; suck it up.
We tag teamed with Little all day. Each of us swapping the role of human obstacle course as the need arose for the other to complete a task.
Because as fun as it is to chase baby girls who need either need their dirty nappy changed, or their nappy put back on, our world does not run itself.
As usual a certain cutie cute cute cute was up and down throughout the night.
And just as usual, Wednesday we greeted the morning on the kitchen floor having buffet breakfast.
Miss Emily knows the word breakfast, and knows what it means.
Although Michael argues, she is just saying it to make a sound. Whereas I suggest the reason, she says it at five in the afternoon is because she wants her dinner, but obviously, dinner is too hard for her to get her tongue around, and breakfast works perfectly well to convey her meaning.
The problem I have now is not to fall into the habit of calling every meal breakfast. Because as cute as the mimicry is, how will she learn?
Mind you, I say this now, but what happens later on when the only thing she will eat is chicken? Do I then tell her everything is chicken in order to get her to eat it?
I cannot count the number of times Michael and I have stood in the lounge room absolutely dumbfounded and bewildered about what to do with any given situation.
Do the questions ever end?
Michael again went for his ritual swim at some point during the day, while Emily and I stayed home.
However, he always comes home and takes her to the park if the weather is agreeable.
While mummy discovered three days straight inside our four walls was probably about three too many.
By Wednesday night, I was going stir crazy.
For the seventy two hours previous my world had revolved around building blocks, reading braille board books, building towers, chasing through tunnels, feedings, lounge patrols as someone climbed and crawled from one to the other and back again, filling the clamshell pool for swimming, and fighting with that same someone who is small and lovely to have a nap.
Normally it does not bother me, and I love love love every moment, but I just felt like I needed more this week.
I had planned to take her out, but I honestly cannot tell you where the time went.
We are so boring, I thought as I took stock of our day’s activities.
I am not sure what happened that day, but the idea of spoon-feeding our daughter yet another plate of solids was too much. Perhaps it was her reluctance to have a morning nap, which threw me, but before I knew it, the clock said one, and missy was hungry again.
I took her back downstairs, put her back in her low chair, and started offering her whatever I could find.
Berries, cheese, not so frozen frozen peas, carrots, cherry tomatoes from our garden, pasta, more toast, a teething rusk… However still I worried she was not getting enough nutrition, so then I gave her an extra bottle.
Admittedly, the bottle was to try and get her down again, but it failed.
Here, have another I decided after thirty minutes of protesting.
Finally, she was too exhausted, and that did the trick.
I felt terrible about not spoon-feeding her. I mean what was I thinking.
Aliens. I blame the aliens.
Her catnap gave me just long enough to once again heat up the clamshell pool, and have it ready for an afternoon swim.
In the meantime, Michael came home, so he was able to plop down with her in the pool, giving me fifteen minutes for a cup of tea.
Thank you honey, I needed that.
We woke on Thursday to drizzle.
This thwarted my plans to walk into work over the bridge, but it did give Michael another hour or so more sleep.
He deserved it; we had experienced a rough night. Knowing he was catching up on some much needed rest helped ease my guilty conscience.
I headed off to work, while Michael and baby girl went to the zoo.
They had the best time.
They patted a bunny rabbit; saw the elephants, giraffes, gorillas, zebras, alligators, crocodiles, seals, and chimpanzees, goats, and a gazillion different chicken varieties.
They then hijacked a table at the zoo café thing so Little could have a snack.
Meanwhile I tramped across the harbour bridge on my way home, where I tried not to think about how many details I was not seeing since the last time I walked it.
I beat them home by five minutes, and it was strange to open the front door to an empty house, or not have Little on my hip.
I was just emptying the dishwasher when I was presented with a happy if not a sleepy cutie cute cute cute into my arms.
We played on the floor for a little while, but it was not long until she needed to go to bed for the night.
When Michael had sent some photos through of where they were earlier in the afternoon, my heart burst with happiness for their adventure.
I am not sure who had the better afternoon, but I can guarantee they will go back again.
Michael spent the evening telling me all about it, and planning their next trip.
Friday was yet another normal workday, while Michael headed back to the first official story time of the year.
He tells me everyone commented on how much baby girl has grown, and how well she is standing up.
Now that she is on the move, it makes story time a whole lot more interesting.
Michael had to rescue her several times from across the room, as she crawled from one person to another.
She is such a little explorer.
Then they had a quick play on the floor with some of her friends, before heading to the supermarket for a carton of milk.
I was a little later getting home than usual, therefore did not get to play with baby girl for long before she went to bed.
I am almost getting used to being away from her, and am beginning to wonder if I could go to work three days a week.
I know, it is craziness.
Saturday we started our day on the kitchen floor.
Emily with her toast, me with my tea.
Michael headed off for a swim around lunchtime, before coming home and taking Emily to the park where she let out her first spontaneous giggle.
Meanwhile I stayed home and attempted to work on the business website.
It did not go well.
I ended up so overwhelmed and frustrated, that I had to walk away.
Thank God for a good book to take a girl’s mind off all the things she should be doing.
This morning Michael got up with Emily, and I am certain they started the day on the kitchen floor as well.
I desperately needed a sleep in.
I think we all need an uninterrupted night of sleep.
Yeah, like that is ever going to happen.
This afternoon Michael took the playpen outside, and he and Emily spent time gardening before having a swim in the clamshell pool.
On the toy front little dolly has miraculously reappeared from nowhere, along with flower, zebra, and keys.
Still no sign of naughty dolly though.
Food wise our little girl is a champion. More and more she prefers to feed herself, and sometimes I have no idea where she puts it all.
One of her favourite things is to munch away, then hop off her chair, and see what she can find hiding under where her bottom previously sat.
How on earth it gets down there, I will never know.
Chasings is her favourite game this week. Under one end of the dining room table, and out the other. Round and round we go. Mummy, daddy, baby girl.
She is such a character.
In terms of words, apart from breakfast and play, I have no idea what she is saying.
She has some phrase ending in k, but we cannot figure it out.
At first, we thought it might be play park, but it does not seem to fit.
Park is the only word we can think of that we use regularly which ends in a k, but who knows.
And as for wawawawawaw, oyoyoyoyoy, or ziziziz, I’ve got nothing.
Climbing across the lounges is also a good way to pass the time according to one little crawly legs.
She is just learning how to climb over the top, and I am desperately afraid she will topple over the back.
We walk a fine line between letting her explore for herself, and keeping her protected.
I am pretty sure those cushions strategically placed in front of the lounge for Little to dive on to are not going to soften her thud if she falls over the back.
She is so tall now, no longer can she stand under the piano, and she can reach things on the dining room table if we leave them too close to the edge.
The last few nights she has preferred to be rocked to sleep by her mummy in the one huntard year old rocking chair.
I love how she snuggles in just as she did when she was a new born.
She is so beautiful.