Monday started in the most beautiful of ways.
Little woke up just before 7:00AM, and was unhappy.
However, the moment I went in she gave me the biggest smile and said the word wake.
We often say a similar phrase as we greet her from her sleep.
We went down stairs where she painted us with her peanut butter toast.
However as I went to make my tea, I was reminded by the rancid smell coming from the milk container that we really needed a new bottle.
I used to laugh at my sister when she would tell me they were out of milk, because I would wonder how on earth such a fundamental dietary detail could slip through her fingers, but now I know. Oh now how I know.
I cannot count the amount of times we have run out of milk since having our daughter.
There was nothing else for it, baby girl and I needed to fetch some more. So we left daddy asleep, I put her on the hippy thing, and once she put both our water bottles in my handbag, we headed up to the supermarket.
I tried to take mine out, as I did not want the extra weight on top of the milk, but she simply would not have it.
Naturally, we had to stop every five or so metres to look at the birds, or take mummy’s glasses on and off her face, but who cared. It was not as if we were in a hurry.
I miss the days I used to wear sunglasses out of a sense of shame.
I used them to hide my ugly fugly eyes.
Or at least that is how I thought of them.
But now, I would give anything to have those days back.
Because now, now I have to wear them.
Now the light is too bright.
But on the other hand, at least there is light, right.
Choosing milk is always a game of chance, as all the bottles are basically the same.
I simply walk along, and let my intuition decide.
I know, it is not very scientific, but all things considered, I do a pretty good job.
Little is not drinking milk yet, but when she does, obviously it will be more important that I pick the full fat variety, but for now, the consequences of my not getting it quite right are a non-event.
It was a struggle to balance one cuddly baby on my hip, a cane, and two litres of milk. Especially when all I wanted to do was flip the hippy thing from my side to the front, and cradle my daughter into my chest and allow her to fall asleep on my shoulder as we walked the way I knew she wanted.
Her head bobbed on my shoulder as she leaned in, her eyes half closed, and that glazed expression babies get when they are about to lull themselves to sleep.
That is what I hate about the cane. It giveth mobility and it taketh usability away.
I stopped at the end of the isle to listen for the beeping of the goods scanner and human voices so I did not end up standing at a checkout that was closed.
It took a second, but I found one, which was open to my left. However no sooner had I lined up, and three people whizzed past me and went to the checkout next door.
Maybe I am being paranoid, but I am fairly certain they saw me, stop, hesitate, and then line up behind the fullest trolley ever.
I was sort of pissed off none of the staff said anything.
It was not until a gentleman had stacked the entire contents of his cart on to the conveyer belt, saw me, my baby, and our lone carton of milk, and let us go in front.
However, something that should have taken a second, took a minute, because having my cane in one hand, Emily and the milk in the other, and trying to get my wallet out was proving somewhat of a juggling act.
When the checkout chick asked if there was anything, she could do, I jokingly told her she could hold the baby.
How about we sit her on the scales, she said as Emily reached into my purse and pulled out three credit cards simultaneously.
Certainly, I responded, handing the curious wriggler wiggler over.
As usual, Emily was quite happy to go along with the game, and sat quietly as I completed the transaction.
I felt bad for the man who had let us in, but apparently, Emily just kept smiling at him the entire time.
I had a second where I thought there was no money in my wallet, and trust me, it was just as well I picked up the two litre bottle and not the three litres, because we couldn’t have afforded it with the coinage on my person.
Can a girl use her card for just $2.00?
I did not really want a quasannte anyway, I thought as I felt for the last 10c.
Walking home was largely uneventful, apart from the car that clearly saw us walking at the zebra crossing, but actually sped up in order to cut the corner in front of us as I went to step on to the road.
It was only that I am trying to teach Little how to look and listen in a very exaggerated and conscious way that I had not committed to the action.
Look right, look, left, and look right again, I said to baby girl as I swung my body in the direction I wanted, and had her follow my gaze.
Then listen very carefully for cars, I continued as we hesitated that extra second.
Normally I would do all this, well not the looking part, but the listening without action, but someone with a very cheeky personality, little legs, and big blue eyes needs to learn.
So ummm, yeah, thanks dickhead!
I hope cutting the blind chick off with a baby on her hip made you feel powerful.
Daddy was just getting up when we arrived home so we all had a bit of a play in the lounge room.
Mummy then went upstairs on a mission to reposition herself as an accessibility expert.
Hello free User Experience course, which ought to bring me back up to speed.
It has occurred to me that I have been coming at this from the wrong angle.
Not only have I been trying to bight off too much at a time, but also most most most importantly I have not been myself about it.
Let us face it; I have a unique way of framing things, which certainly get people thinking. However when it comes to working as an advocate for access to information, I have kicked and screamed, and hated that role with a passion – All because I was trying to be like everyone else.
Yes, it is a deeply serious subject, but holy shit, being serious about it, is not getting me anywhere. Be it on the path to riches, or the path to being happier, healthier, and more of a difference maker.
Thus, it seems to me, there is nothing else for it, but to unleash my special brand of Megness on to the world, and come what may.
This means, yes there will be passion, there will be fury, there will be humour, and honesty, and hope. However, there will also be swearing, and sarcasm, and the odd snide comment.
I suspect it will take me a little while to find my voice, but it will be an interesting experiment.
For ages, I have wanted to write a book about the subject, but have not known where to start.
However, for now I will settle for a series of articles.
Given that everything I read on the matter is dry as Emily’s left over toast, I am hoping to come up with something more poignant hidden behind my charm and wit.
It is exhausting trying to educate one person at a time, so maybe my brash approach will shake things up a bit.
At this point, I have nothing to lose.
While Emily had a sleep, Michael went for a swim. However, unlike the one he took the previous day, this time he remembered his swimmers and towel thus did not have to go in the ocean in his underwear and then drive home with a wet bum.
Meanwhile I even managed a quick yoga session in a bid to stretch out my worries.
When Emily woke up, we shared an orange, and by this I mean, I peeled it, and then she ate it, followed by a big play in the garden.
She is much happier outside, so even though it was a little muddy, I did not really care.
The climbing frame is still a bit of a mystery to us, but the car is definitely a hit.
When we are playing, and I am actually present and not worrying about our future, I realise how little we need.
Emily is obsessed with birds at the moment.
As in adores them.
Her favourite is the call of the Magpie, followed by the cockatoo, then the kookaburra.
Sometimes she will look up and point to a bird I did not hear because I was too busy thinking about something else.
I love how she teaches me to be grounded.
Thanks cutie cute cute cute.
When daddy came home, they went for a play down the park.
Apparently, Emily was a rock star on the slippery-dip again, and completely has the hang of going down feet first.
Sometimes she likes daddy to help her turn around, but for the most part, she has this bad boy nailed.
Her Great Uncle Les gave her some bib and brace overalls with a picture of a bunny rabbit on them for her birthday, and although they are too big for this week, when they do fit, they are going to be the best sliding clothes ever!
Our newest routine for when they are gone for their early evening play is I run a bath, pick up all her toys, close up the house, and get her dinner organised.
Between you and me, stacking cups, doing puzzles, and putting shapes into the sorter is not my favourite thing.
I have never been great at these types of activities, and they do not come naturally.
Michael says it is ok though, because I am a very good storyteller, and high/low tea companion.
Getting our baby girl down of an evening is ridiculous.
For whatever reason right now, she does not like her cot.
However, Monday I was a bit of a mess the entire day, so Michael had to take over.
This became evident as I sat on the top step, and after trying to soothe madam butterfly bottom for forty minutes or so, and then listening to her scream her head off for even longer, I yelled at her to go to sleep.
Of course, this only caused her to scream even louder as she volleyed my frustration back to me, and thus it went like a ping-pong ball between us – an invisible ball of angry energy that had no business being there in the first place.
She has a certain cry, which pushes every one of my buttons.
Most of the time I am able to quash my emotions, but oh God there are times where I cannot.
Of course, I have read the studies about how babies perceive anger, and how baby’s brains are not developed… However, in my defence, I am only human.
This mama thing can get hard at times.
I do not raise my voice often, but when I do, I live to regret it for the seconds afterward.
Finally after Michael baby whispered the baby to sleep, which took him another forty minutes on top of our however long, I was in such a state that I told him he would be better off without me.
I was feeling like a terrible wife, a terrible mother, and a professional failure.
However, what we keep coming back to is the money. Or the lack of it.
Yes again, of course I have read the statistics about how much worse we would be financially if we didn’t work together, but oh my God the stress and the strain is messing with my perspective.
Well that and I have not been doing enough exercise lately, so those feel good hormones are not getting a proper kick-start either.
Honestly, I am sick of thinking about it, and just want to escape from the world, preferably somewhere involving plenty of sand so I can stick my head even further beneath it, and see if that makes anything change.
However, nothing like a couple of hours of mindless television to numb a girl out.
Thank you Downton Abby and Grey’s Anatomy, see you next week.
Tuesday Emily did not wake up until almost 8:00AM.
This meant I was almost late for work.
Well done baby girl that was a good sleep in.
I had been semi-conscious for a while, waiting for her to stir, but just as with last week, I did not want to move in case I disturbed her.
I figured she could use all the sleep she could get, even if it did come at the expense of my slow cup of coffee.
After my two companions dropped me at the station, they had a play in the park, and pottered at home doing all their jobs.
Michael has been doing a lot to organise the paperwork of our lives lately, and this involves a lot of fiddling around, stupid phone calls, and running errands.
When I am at work I feel so guilty for not being at home, which is why if there is nothing happening I will often leave early.
It was raining on Tuesday afternoon so we could not go to the park. However, Emily did drive her new car to the mailbox, which is all under cover to meet me.
I swear to God she has the best smile.
Then we spent our afternoon having high/low tea, playing ball with daddy, and generally having fun all together.
It is funny how kids pick up things over night; on the Sunday as we played with her piggy bank, she was getting really frustrated regarding not being able to fit the coins into the slot. However, by Tuesday afternoon she was getting almost everyone in without a problem.
Occasionally she would try to put one in horizontally instead of vertically, but for the most part, I was surprised when Michael told me it was not him doing it. I mean the ching ching ching sounds emanating from that crazy pig were confident and strong.
Oh my God, but getting her down again was a nightmare. Again, it was over an hour and a half. And I cannot say I handled it too much better than I had the night before.
As she fell asleep in my arms, I was forming an apology on my lips.
It suddenly occurred to me, that I too like a cuddle with daddy before I go to sleep, so it makes sense that of course she would as well.
I was enjoying the feeling of her weightiness in my lap, and indulged in a mother’s privilege by leaving her there a little longer than I thought necessary. After all, it is not going to always be like this, I told myself as I lent back and sank into my personal guilt trip.
However, the moment I went to put her in bed, it was on for young and old.
We gave her some pain relief as she was feeling a little warm, but not even that settled her down.
She did not want a cuddle, but she did not want to be in her cot either.
The reason we put her down in the first place was that she looked exhausted. So why oh why was she fighting us.
It does not have to be like this, I said to Michael as I threw my arms up in the air and walked down the stairs.
Again I was frustrated, and feeling helpless.
Eventually Michael got her down again, but it took forever.
We have begun to reduce the amount of formula in her bottles of an evening, in a bid to ween her into a full night’s sleep.
So far, she has taken to it well, but we have not seen a change in pattern as yet.
Poor Michael is up with her three times a night at least.
And lately he has done the mornings again as I have been so strung out and exhausted that my sleeping serves us better than my getting up.
Wednesday was another workday for mummy and another park day for daddy and Emily.
However, this time they went to the good park.
Too bad mummy forgot to put new pants in the nappy bag though, because if I had, Little could have played on the wet equipment. However, as it was, a lack of spare clothing meant they had to settle for the swing, the seesaw, and just crawling around.
Sorry honey, mummy will make sure we are prepared for any eventuation next time.
As is becoming the norm, I left early due to it being so quiet.
However on my way to the station, as I haven’t been doing the bridge walk lately, partly due to the weather, and partly due to the overwhelm of trying to get through the city first, some inconsiderate bastard, who I suspect was paying way too much attention to his phone, and not taking any responsibility for where he was going, literally tripped over my cane, landed on his knees, then got up and kept going without so much as an apology or acknowledgement of the interaction what so ever.
I was furious, and it was all I could do to stop myself from chasing him down and bitch slapping him in the face, and demand an apology.
It wasn’t until three hours later, when Michael Emily and I were coming home from a monster play in the park, where Igot to experience her climbing across the rickety bridge by herself, and going down the slippery-dip without any help for the first time, that Michael asked what had happened, as my cane was significantly bent.
I had not realised the guy had made such an impact.
The funny thing was, after it happened, it kept happening. Between him, and the 50m to the station barriers, three people tripped over me, but not to the same degree. And they all apologised.
I was surprised to see Michael and Emily at the station, as we had agreed to meet at the park.
I almost told him off for running into me, and the only thing, which stopped me, was that he had a pram.
It took me a second to realise who was talking to me.
Yeah, I know, I really ought to know my husband’s voice better, but I was not expecting him.
We had the most fun in the park, sometimes playing on our own, and sometimes with the other children who came and went.
We have been going more together as a family recently, so I did not feel so discombobulated as I have done previously, after not going for a while.
Mummy’s slidy pants do not work nearly as well though without Little in my lap.
Surely, we thought Emily would be worn out after almost two hours of hard-core fun. Lord knew she was ready for a bath. However getting her down was difficult.
This time I sat in the room with her the entire time, letting her play with my hair, hold my hand, wiggle and wriggle and wiggle some more.
Again, she did not want a cuddle, and she did not want to be in her cot.
It felt like forever before she began to calm down and truly self-settle. I could tell she was trying, but there were too many beans in her body.
However, thirty-six minutes later, and we had a sleeping baby.
Thursday morning daddy surprised me by getting up with her. I had opted to stay home so he could have some time on his own, and get some errands run, which is why I thought I would be taking the early shift.
I thought I would try something new, and throw some toys in her cot for her to play with, but within a minute, she had thrown them out, and was asking to get up.
She did not wake up happy, which meant it was going to be a long day.
Daddy left after breakfast, leaving us to play in the garden.
They had already been to the supermarket, but the cutie cute cute cute was in need of something more.
I wonder how much of my stress she is picking up on, and acting out?
I too was a mess on Thursday. On the one hand, I knew I needed to make the most of the time and rewrite my resume, fix up my LinkedIn profile, finally make a decision about the SSL certificate for the website, and get some exercise in. However, on the other hand, I desperately wanted to escape from the world, and pretend none of this was happening.
Miraculously we made rent and electricity for the month, but oh, my God this is not a sustainable way to live.
In fact, I am so sick of thinking about it, writing about it, and doing it, that it is ridiculous.
Little surprised me as we were outside, her mostly playing with her car, me mostly blogging, punctuated with the odd cuddle here and there for good measure, but when she got down, and only took one of my hands to go walking, it brought tears of happiness and pride to my eyes.
Granted, she had a rusk in the other, and was not about to give that puppy up, but she has never done that before.
It was a glimpse of what we are in for in the coming weeks.
Then she promptly sat down near the back steps to the tennis court, heckled the players, and ate a pound of dirt.
And being the good parent I am, I offered her some water to wash it down with.
While she napped, I thought I would finally bight the bullet, and buy the SSl certificate I had settled on. However once again I hit a snag. A very very big snag.
Did you know that if you buy a single SSL, that it only covers literally one domain? By this I mean, literally one webpage. I did not. Therefore, to break it down, into simple terms, if you wanted to have your title page covered, that would be one SSL, and your shopping cart covered that would be another. Then if you wanted your checkout page to be covered, that would be yet another.
Now with Google’s new algorithm thingy, whereby https:www will gain a better search engine number than just the http: prefix, it makes sense to have one’s site completely covered.
Therefore it turns out the highbred option of a multi-domain/wild card certificate is the way to go.
The problem is they are expensive. And between that, web hosting, and the lack of income flowing through my life we are screwed.
I am thinking I might have to settle just for a PayPal button for now, which I would have anyway, but at least that ensures the checkout is secure, because PayPal are responsible for that encryption.
PayPal may be convenient, but from a business perspective, it is like doing a deal with the devil. Because the terms and conditions, do not favour the business owner, and they have access to one’s bank account…
Baby girl slept for a whole two and a half hours, which meant that daddy was just walking in the door when she woke up.
I barely had time to pack her lunch, before they were whizzing off to the good park for a play.
There must have been something in the air, because throughout the afternoon many of Emily’s friends showed up as well.
However, I had to crack up, when Michael rang, asking what a certain child was called, as their mummy was wheeling them through the gate.
I have told him to start saving people’s numbers in his phone as both the mama and the baby.
This gave me heaps of time to search for some cool free vectors for the business and blind mama websites. Although the whole blindy thing sort of gets in the way with that type of thing.
I wish Michael would help more, but he too is so overwhelmed at the moment, that getting him to do anything directly related to the business is like pulling teeth.
Sorry honey, but you have admitted you are a way better procrastinator than I am, and are also feeling stressed and overwhelmed.
I have never seen Emily so dirty, than when she got home.
I had planned to put her in the bath, but she wanted to continue playing outside.
We try not to hamper her enthusiasm or break her concentration if she is in the middle of something, and besides, who cared if her bath was twenty minutes later than I had intended.
Yes, we had to stop at the front door and open and close it a million times before heading up the stairs, but again, this is a small price to pay.
Guess who jammed their fingers, and won’t do it again…
Getting her down took forever, and I have since declared myself a saint.
I was patient with her the whole forty-six minutes.
Granted it was not as bad as the previous couple of days, this was happy chatty Mexican bean, not angry grumpy jumpy standy uppy baby.
Thanks random gentle parenting sleep training article, I think you might have helped a mama cope.
Michael and I spent the rest of the evening watching Desperate Housewives of Beverly Hills, and eating tacos.
Friday morning one baby girl woke us up ridiculously early. As in 5:00AM early, and did not want to go back down.
Our latest thing is to bring her in with us for a little while in the vein hope she will settle into a slumberous state the way she once did as a tiny baby. However, who are we kidding?
Michael got up with her, but there was no going back to sleep for me either.
Later that morning I headed back to work via the bridge walk.
It is easier in the mornings when the sun is behind me, and there really was no excuse for not doing it.
After all, it does make me feel better.
My legs were heavier than usual, but that is because I have not done it in a while. And the six blocks to my destination after the bridge were not as bad as they usually are. Apart from the slight changes in roadworks on George Street of course.
Meanwhile Michael and Emily came home so she could tinker with her car, and wait for story time.
Daddy was determined to get there this week, as they have missed a couple lately, due to a certain sleepy head, some crappy weather, and one very inconvenient librarian public holiday thingy.
Story time went well, and Emily saw some of her friends. As usual, they stayed back for a bit of a play and a chat afterward, before coming home where madam butterfly bottom only had a forty-minute nap.
This made for a very long day.
As I left work, I rang my friend Katie Lee for a catch up.
I had been meaning to take Emily to see her friend Rosy May for a while, but sometimes getting a hold of them is difficult.
God knew I needed a change of scene, and the best husband in the world could use a couple of solid night’s sleep.
Katie jokingly offered to come and pick us up later that night, and I almost took her up on it. However, we agreed Michael would drive us the two hours out of Sydney, the following day.
Right from the get go something did not feel quite as light and airy about it as it usually does, but I followed the bubbles of my excitement on their merry path, and ignored the nagging whisper in the back of my head telling me to put it off for a week or so.
Honestly, I have been watching my lover run himself ragged of late, and have felt as though there were nothing I could do to help.
This was to be my stopgap while I figured out the next move.
6:00AM on Saturday morning, I was on the phone with Katie, as she told me her husband was flying back from Darwin later that night, but we should come down anyway.
Normally we only go and stay when he is away, so we can have some girly time, so if we went, obviously the dynamic would be different.
Getting Emily down the evening before had been unexpectedly easy. However, I had already been fretting about how wakeful she is at the moment, and how that would affect Katie and Rosy.
I ummed and aaaed about it for a while, before deciding we would still go.
The one thing, which pushed me over the edge, was that we had told Emily and Rosy that they would be seeing one another, and if there is one thing Michael and I always try to do, it is to stick to our word.
The theory being, that if our yes means yes, then our no is going to mean no.
Hastily we threw some clothes and the baby paraphernalia in the car, and headed off for a good weekend.
We departed half an hour later than intended, as I could not find my blue-tooth keyboard.
How a girl loses such a bulky item, I will never know. We ended up leaving without it, which was annoying, because I hate not having something to write with if I please – not that I ever find the opportunity while at Katie’s anyway, but a girl never knows.
Still the feeling of mis-alignment snaked behind me as we travelled, but I chose to ignore it.
After all, it would be good for the girls to see one another again, I told myself.
Umm, yes, well, ummm, maybe not.
From the get go, the girls just could not find their stride.
Poor Rosy was having a hard time with the whole sharing thing, and nothing Emily did to try and win her friend over really worked.
Sure, they had their moments of ease, but for the most part, it was not as easy and fun as it usually is.
So much so, that I am questioning whether we should try again.
I mean are we just trying to make chilli hot chocolate out of chalk and cheese by throwing the girls together.
Late Saturday afternoon we took the babies out for a walk in the pram, as is our tradition.
However, this time we had an end goal in mind.
This time we were in search of a park.
But did either of us bother to take a nappy bag?
Should have we?
The moment we arrived, Emily did the biggest pooh in her nappy, and we had nothing to clean her up.
We had barely bought ourselves enough water to drink, let alone anything else.
I know, such a rooky move, right?
The problem being, we had walked so far to get there, it seemed such a shame to go back straight away.
I thought about taking her nappy off, and putting her pants back on, but I was worried about the material against her bottom giving her more of a rash than if I simply left her as she was.
Then I thought about taking her nappy off, and simply letting her travel back in the pram wrapped in her bunny rug, but that was not viable either.
She was having so much fun exploring the unfamiliar environment, and did not seem to mind the mess in her pants, so after careful consideration, I relaxed my grip on the situation, and decided to stay.
Emily went down the biggest slippery-dip ever, while Rosy tried to show her how to go up the ladder by herself, but it was too big for baby girl.
She had the concept mastered, but not the physical strength or execution.
Meanwhile Katie and I found a flying saucer swing, which if we laid down on it, top to tale, and left one leg hanging over the side, we could spin ourselves around – kind of.
We must have been quite a sight for anyone driving past, with two toddlers doing their own thing off to the side, and two grown women laughing hysterically as they circled around and around on this thing.
Finally, the girls indicated they were ready to go, so we set back toward home.
Emily was not happy in her pram, which is unusual. Thinking about it now, I suspect it was not about the pram, but the mess in her pants, which was the problem.
Add to this the setting sun in her eyes, and the stimulating day, there was nothing else for it but to pick her up and give her a cuddle.
So there we were Emily in my arms, and the ever-awesome Katie Lee pushing Rosy in one hand, and my empty pram in the other.
Back and forth, we went for much of the trek, Emily in the pram, Emily on my hip. However then she had the stroke of big girl genius, and decided she wanted to walk.
So there Katie was again, pushing Rosy in one hand, and my empty pram in the other, as I stood behind baby girl, her tiny hands wrapped around my index fingers as her little legs pumped.
The sounds, which came from her mouth, were pure baby joy as we made our way along the path.
Occasionally she would stop and stumble, or have to examine a blade of grass, a bird flying across the sky, or any number of fascinations across the way.
Slowly the sky turned from orange to dark purple as we walked home.
I knew we were late for Emily’s regular bedtime, but what did it matter. She was happy, and the only place we were headed was for a big warm bath.
I knew I had given her enough food during the day, that if we did have to skip dinner and go straight for the bottle, she would have been fine.
It turned out, that dinner was indeed on the Emily agenda, and miracle of all miracles, she went down without a peep.
I had been nervous because we were putting her in a travel cot for the first time.
However not a sound was heard from her, apart from the drink of water she needed at some point in the evening.
As I lay in bed listening to her tiny breaths, I could not have been present.
I miss having her in our room.
All night I kept tossing and turning, waiting for her to wake up and need a bottle.
It was close to 4:00AM when I heard her stir.
Not a bad effort, considering she went down at 8:28PM the night before, which is the latest bedtime ever!
My theory was if we could wear her out, then maybe, just maybe she would sleep better.
At 5:05AM, this morning, which is really 6:05AM in the real world where daylight saving does not switch back, she woke for the day.
However when I brought her in with me, she was all cuddly and quiet, so we just played and dozed together.
Eventually she fell asleep properly across my shoulder, and we stayed there for another hour.
Katie met us in the kitchen for a cup of coffee, which was lovely, considering she had been up later than we had, and we would have happily chased Benny the dog around the lounge room for ages.
Emily loves Benny, and although I still worry he might snap at her, or bight her hand, I am getting better at breathing while I watch her pull his tale, touch his face, and generally climb all over him.
She learnt a valuable lesson in that feeding a dog her biscuit, is not like sharing with mummy, because you are not always going to get it back.
Benny tried not to take it, but he is only a dog, and it was a delicious treat, so…
We spent the day playing indoors as the weather was a bit ratty.
There are so many things to do at Katie’s that I barely felt like I saw Emily.
Much of her time was spent crawling around the house with one toy or another, or finding which grown up had something to eat, and then offering to help them abolish it.
Katie’s husband had arrived home as planned, late on Saturday night, and I was a bit concerned about how Emily would adapt.
After all, his happy voice is as loud as daddy’s angry voice, and his movements are so much more abrupt and quick than we are used to.
It turns out they were fine.
As was expected, it was certainly a different dynamic with a man in the house. For a start, the whole clothing optional thing we tend to have going on, needed to be seriously curbed.
Mind you, this did not stop us trying various items of attire on in the kitchen, as we sorted through a cupboard of coats and pants in preparation for Katie’s move to Darwin next month.
Just after lunch, Emily indicated she was tired, so I put her down for a nap, thinking I might get twenty minutes out of her.
Two and a half hours, and one bad movie with audio descript turned on courtesy of netflicks later, and she called out from her cot.
I kept wondering whether I should get her up, but I figured given how many new things she was surrounded by, and how much energy she expended just being her beautiful self, it was probably best to leave her sleep. I mean did it really matter if she stayed up late again tonight.
By 7:10PM she had been bathed, fed, and put to bed.
Once again without a peep.
I have told Katie we are moving in, if this is the result.
Somehow, I think Rosy would have something to say about that.
Sorry sweetie, we will go home tomorrow.
The poor little thing has not enjoyed our company, and has struggled with the division in attention, resources, and toys.
Benny has been a great circuit breaker as Little is obsessed with him, and will spend what seems like hours crawling after him.
I tried to make friends with Rosy earlier, by taking her in the shower with me.
Having a big girl shower is one of her favourite things, and although I was not quite sure she would take me up on the offer, it was worth a shot. Especially given that, Katie had changed Emily’s poohey nappy, not five minutes before.
Michael rings, once or twice a day to see how we are, and each time we have spoken, he sounds a little better Tired, yes, and absolutely rat shit, but at least he is getting some sleep…
I have thought about asking him to come and get us, but I sense his time alone is higher up on the hierarchy of needs than my awareness of the unease we are creating at hotel Katie Lee.
Coming here may not have been my best idea, but… Here we are.
It is late on Sunday night, Emily is once again fast asleep in the travel cot next to me, so what more could I ask.