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From Finding New Swings To Other Random Things

Week 66

It is a drizzly Sunday afternoon.

This weather has set in, and we have to figure out how to keep a toddler occupied for God knows how long.

As it was, yesterday we didn’t get out either, so this could be a long stint.

I am sitting on the couch with my knees tucked up under me, a cosy blanket, a cup of tea, and am ready to write.

Michael is in the kitchen making up some beans and rice, while Emily is finally asleep in her cot.

Now there is an hour I won’t ever get back.

For weeks now, I have been feeling as though The Blunder Weeks as a blog has been slipping through my fingers.

At the risk of stating the obvious, I confess to going through the motions with it, rather than enjoying the process the way I once did.

However, after discussing it with Michael as we lay in bed last night, I think it is largely a reflection on how we are living right now.

We are in the thick of something or other, neither of us can see our way clear, and this has been showing up in our creativity in a big way.

The financial stress and strain, which used to be a taught rope cutting off my circulation, has become a big heavy burden I can no longer lift.

As in literally, my shoulders are screwed.

But I think it is more than that.

Each of us has been too tired, too worn out, too overwhelmed by the daily grind, and too underwhelmed by the goodness to find a way out of the quagmire.

Therefore, I am unsure as to how much longer I will document the scruffy scraggy scratchiness of our world in this format.

I had hoped to get to week 75, as a tribute to my take on The Wonder Weeks book, which this blog is loosely, and I mean very loosely inspired by.

However given how terribly written and bland this post is about to be in comparison to the previous cracker post titled, The Odyssey, I am in two minds as to whether  to continue.

On the one hand I maintain the ambition of documenting the nitty gritty in the hope I can pull something from it later for a book, but on the other hand who wants to put up boring work. And that is exactly what I fear this has become.

Boring boring boring boring!

Don’t think I cannot see you nodding in agreement.

I know I have lost my writing way.

And I apologise.

Thanks for sticking with me.

The Blunder Weeks has always been a progressive dance.

Each post leading on from the last.

Sometimes I try to work it as an entirely stand-alone post, but it is difficult, because that means repeating myself more than I already do.

Whereas when I write those stand-alone works, I feel more comfortable with the accomplishment, but then how do I put them into the ambition of a book?

At the moment, I wish I could print everything I have put up on the Blind Mamma site in chronological order and have someone with a discerning eye go through them and pull out the golden threads from the coal.

However at this point that might involve my husband reading my work, which he has never done.

Not that I would mind, but I don’t think it is high on his priority list.

Whenever I broach it with him, he usually mumbles something about graffiti art, chick lit, and not interested.

Even though he loves to quote Stephen King and say, to write is human, to edit is divine.

You wait honey, you just wait.

Now where was I?

Thanks to a previous post, I had forgotten about, put up on my friend Liz’s Facebook wall, where I used to write in the present first person, rather than the past, I feel I have a renewed lease of life on this bad boy.

When I read it, I could barely believe such eloquence had come from my pen.

That happens more than you know.

So unless you are grandma, and are curious as to how mundane our week has actually been, I would stop here and maybe check back later to see if there is something more interesting to read.

Entre at your own risk people. Entre at your own risk.

And seriously, I am not joking.

However, in the meantime, let’s get started with this week’s blunder week.

I never imagined we would have a toddler.

Not that she is toddling yet, but all the other toddler goodness is beginning to emerge.

Gazillion teeth, a gazillion words, and a gazillion emotions.

Sometimes I look at Michael with her, and it is all too surreal.

How did we get here, I wonder.

You’re going grey darling, my husband said to me with surprise as I sleepily bumbled into the backyard with big bed hair, a cup of coffee, and still wearing my pyjamas around 9:30AM.

Yes, I get sleep ins like that on a semi regular basis.

Oh, I’ve got it good.

Him and Emily had been up for hours.

Really, I asked, just as surprised.

I knew I hadn’t been taking care of my hair, but surely, it wasn’t that bad.

Umm, yes, he responded.

You’re grey on top and then it goes into brown, he continued honestly surprised at what he was witnessing.

I could hear the what have you done with my pretty young wife in his tone.

Not in a bad way, just in a when the hell did I stop looking at her way.

I wonder why I haven’t noticed it before, he mused.

Oh dear, I thought.

That is terrible.

How am I going to get a new job with crappy hair?

Oh, maybe that is why I don’t have one, I immediately counteracted.

Because of course, the universe knows I need to have good hair first.

As in seriously, yes, that is how my brain works.

I was slightly embarrassed at my lack of grooming.

Giving up my manicures and pedicures was one thing, but my hair?

It is kind of a big detail.

This wasn’t simply forgetting to put a yogurt-based facemask on.

This was serious self-neglect.

Serious self-criticism, judgement, and sacrifice.

I mean it isn’t as though I have been entirely unconscious about it.

We just haven’t had the money.

I am so sick of saying that.

As it is, the universe threw me two unexpected financial bonuses this week and one of them I gave to Michael so he could do his hair.

I was surprised when he said yes without hesitation when I offered.

Normally it is me nagging him to go to the gentleman’s salon.

Emily was happily playing in her car.

She was putting the tennis balls in the back, and taking them out again with great purpose.

They had done the washing, eaten toast, unstacked the dishwasher, and were deciding whether or not to go to the park.

However, I had organised to pick up an ice-cream maker off the freecycle site, and by me, of course I meant Michael.

However, in a bid to kill two birds with one stone, we all decided to go, and see if we could improve on yesterday’s park pilgrimage.

I mean nothing would top that slippery-dip for speed, but Lord knew we needed a decent swing.

The ones near us are all too short to get a good pendulum up.

After a quick shower, and a little organisation, we all piled into the Peugeot and off we went.

Little was not happy in the back seat, and we seriously began to worry about this new phase.

But you love the car, we tried to convince her as we handed her toys, the water bottle, a bickie, my glasses, and various other bits and bobs from the nappy bag.

Picking up the new machine was uneventful.

But we needed a park.

I can’t be sure if it were an accident, but when Michael drove into a driveway the way one does in order to do a three-point turn in a skinny street, I jokingly asked if this was our new house.

As we had been discussing the lofty idea of buying something, or rather the impossibility of such an event earlier.

So whenever we go somewhere new, and the moment takes me, I ask him if he has bought me something as a surprise.

I don’t have an engagement ring, so a house would make up for that, I often tell him in my teasing way.

Nope, he said with a laugh, and then got us out of the car.

I’ve found some swings he said with enthusiasm.

What’s that I asked, as I stood peering into the distance, but was blinded by the glare.

A river, he said with a matter of fact.

A river, I questioned.

Yes, we’re at the Lane Cove River he replied.

How the hell could we be at something as large and imposing as a river, and my not see it, I wondered.

You’ve always wanted a house by the river, I said.

Are you sure, that isn’t our new house?

This feels like a really nice area.

Not our house, he had said as he took my hand and led me down the hill to the tiny strip of sand by the shore.

It’s probably a billion dollars, he continued, but in a far gloomier tone.

Funny, I had never considered Lane Cove as a viable area for us.

However, it was a nice little discovery.

So who knew.


We should bring Little here in the summer for a swim, he then said, changing the subject.

Absolutely, I responded.

She would love that.

There’s only so much a girl can do with a clamshell pool daddy, I said.

And he laughed.

Sorry you don’t have your cane darling, he said as he pointed out the jetty extending into the water.

It is really skinny.

I don’t think you should try it without it, he had recommended.

I knew I would be fine, but didn’t want to worry him, so I submitted to his will.

Ok honey, but can I take a picture of you and baby girl on it then, I had asked, fumbling for my phone.

I am forever taking pictures, which rarely see the light of day.

I always intend to put them up on the blog, but I don’t know how.

Michael loves doing that kind of thing with Little.

He says she seems to sense when she needs to sit quietly in her spot, and apparently, this plank masquerading as a walkway was one of them.

She was so content, he exclaimed as they came back to meet me.

I could tell he was happy with himself.

Next, we found that set of swings.

Swings are Emily’s favourite play equipment at the moment.

So we strapped her in, and then took turns to push her and each of us rotated swinging on the other.

Baby girl could have stayed there for hours, but daddy was eager to go.

I had promised he could go for a bush walk later that afternoon for some time out in preparation of our very busy week, and it was pretty obvious he was keen to take the opportunity.

When we arrived home, we put Emily down, and off he went, while I caught up on last week’s Blunder Week.

We went through our usual routine after she awoke, which of course involved some serious snacking, a trip to the park, more food, a bath, a quick play, and then a battle, I mean bottle and bed.

It was a long and restless night on Monday night, which tested our patience.

I’m sorry you’re not sleeping well miss Little.

I wish I knew how to help that.

Tuesday morning was a nice slow start, as I wasn’t due into work until midday.

This was going to be my long busy week, and I was nervous at the prospect.

The way I saw it was, sure, hopefully it would get us just ahead enough to catch up for the month, but I was going to give up a lot of high/low teatime in order to make it happen.

As it was, I knew I wasn’t going to be home for bath time, and would unlikely see Emily before she went to bed that night.

This made me sad.

Partly because I know she is restless when I am not there of an evening, and partly because I like our afternoon routine.

However, a girl has to make choices, and at this point, money matters more.

Sorry Little.

So off to work I went, while Michael and Emily went about their day.

Two loads of washing, 16 slippery-dips, 1 well-loved rocking horse, a bowl of peas and corn, a two-hour nap, an afternoon trip to the park, a delicious warm bath, followed by a bottle and bed.

Meanwhile I had enough to do to keep me occupied, and checked in with them regularly.

Michael even managed to set up our business page on LinkedIn, which I am really excited about.

Now all I have to do is populate it.

We did it as a joint effort over the phone, which was kind of nice to be working in tandem like that.

I realise that I have been giving away a lot of my power in this process, and I need to take it back.

I know Michael would hang the moon for me if he could, however I also know that I delegate the jobs to him that I don’t necessarily want to take on, when really I need to be eating those frogs, and just get them over with.

I know he has a good business brain, but my computer skills are better. So instead of forcing him to learn things he doesn’t have to, I need to make more of an effort to play to his strengths.

Oh, and I need to take my time management back.

It is almost as if I am trying to match him, rather than work to my own standards.

This is not to say they are higher or better than his, but rather they are different, just as we as individuals are different.

For example, I like dark chocolate, and he likes that shitty white stuff that passes for chocolate. However, we both fundamentally like chocolate, yes?

Anyway, I raced home on Tuesday night, in the vague hope that I would get to give Emily her bottle before she went to sleep.

however in my haste, and I swear it must be something about my pink and white dotty cane, some chick in silver heels tripped over my stick hard core, which throughout the balance of its’ already fragile dynamic yet again, which then made for an interesting tap tap walk through the Queen Victoria Building on my way to the station.

I swear to God I thought it was going to shatter in my hand.

Therefore, I had to slow down ever so slightly in order to compensate.

However, this was of little consequence, because I walked straight on to the platform and the next train was mine.

But when on my way home, down my street, I got distracted by the pretty street lights, because suddenly they looked like stars, and I wasn’t sure if it were me, or if it were a good thing or a bad thing, or what was going on, I totally forgot to orientate where I was going and ended up in someone else’s driveway, facing completely the wrong way, and had to be rescued by a random stranger who took pity on me, and walked me to our complex, which meant I was slowed down.

But still I hoped maybe just maybe I would get to kiss Little goodnight.

I had promised her that even though I would be home after she went to bed, I would blow her a kiss from the doorway.

However luckily, she and Michael were just resting in her room as I snuck through the gate, and he beckoned me up to see her.

My heart nearly burst with happiness as she jumped into my arms and put her head on my shoulder.

The sweetie pie was clearly tired, so I gave her a second bottle, and put her to sleep before heading into the shower.

As so often is the case, I came home to a warm house, a hot meal, and a loving husband full of news for the day.

I have figured out that if I manage to pull my laptop out of my backpack before I put it down of an evening, I am more likely to get something done.

However if I do not, then even though it is less than six feet away, it may as well be situated at the moon.

Which is why, I made sure I pulled that silver slab of loyalty out of my bag before dumping it beside the piano.

Hang in there five year old Apple Mac, because we can’t afford anything new right now.

You’ve been very good to me.

Sure enough, after dinner, I picked it up, and began to research twitter, tumbler, Pinterest, and every other form of social media to see what would fit best with our business.

Don’t get me wrong, I am still overwhelmed by this, but at least I am trying to get a handle on which goes with what.

Emily awoke just as Michael had closed his book, and I had turned off the computer.

It is going to be a long night, I thought as he brought her in for a feed.

10:30PM was one thing, but 2:15AM is quite another.

Which is why I found myself feeling terrible.

Because at 2:15AM when someone would not go back to sleep, I found myself using my cross voice to tell her to lie down.

Great! This was the only interaction we were likely to have for what seemed like forever, and here I was yelling at her to do something she clearly did not want to do for whatever toddler reason.

Three times, I got her back to sleep.

Three times, she woke just as I left the room.

My guilt and crankiness became worse when I picked her up and brought her in with us, as I could smell she had done a wee.

But not any wee, this was a distressed wee.

Why did I leave her cry for those five minutes, I chastised as I lay her down between us and Michael began to comfort her.

Why did I become angry with her, I asked myself as I pulled the covers over us.

Of course, it was not her I was upset with, it was me.

Upset that I am not providing enough for our family, and that in having to do so I need to leave the house.

Yes, I am putting food on the table and keeping a roof over our head, which is a noble thing. However, in toddler territory, all she knows is that I am not there.

It will be a long time before she understands the concept of sacrifice.

Clearly, I have my own deep seeded issues of abandonment to deal with, because I continually fret that if I am not there, she will think I have left her.

Which is why I would much prefer to work from home, where she knows I am close if need be.

Eventually her and Michael fell asleep, however I lay awake for hours worrying myself about everything.

I worried that I haven’t surrounded her with enough positive role models.

I worried that I didn’t snap those baby Vivaldi tickets up when I had the chance, even though we couldn’t really afford them.

But I had so desperately wanted to send Michael and Emily to the Opera House to see the performance.

I worry that we need the car serviced.

I worried that I was thinking about the Kardashians.

I mean what was that about?

The next thing I knew, one baby girl in unicorn pyjamas was sitting on my head and asking her daddy what he was doing.

Begrudgingly he got up, and I wasn’t far behind, as I needed to leave for work just outside the hour.

This meant again I got no real time with Emily, which again meant I was sad and guilt ridden.

Although I did get ten minutes with her at the piano, and that was pretty awesome.

Especially when daddy joined in, and they played a duet.

Michael is ridiculously talented when it comes to music, and was able to create harmonies with her random note pressing as if they were one person.

Thank you honey, I really appreciate that.

I had come into work early, but for what.

To answer a phone which did not ring, or if it did, I couldn’t really help anyway, only to have a quiet afternoon, and have to stay back late, thus giving up bath time yet again.

I had to fight the resentment I felt regarding the situation, and my choice to stay in it.

Maybe if I had better self-esteem, I wondered, then maybe I would be able to attract a better job.

Good God I have to do something about my hair, I thought as I sat there waiting.

It was a quiet day, which meant although I began feeling bad about it, I did have time to get a head start on this week’s Blunder Week post.

However finishing late meant I had to find my way home in the dark for the second night in a row.

Granted it went better than the evening before, but oh God does it take work.

Here I am, my husband called upon my approach.

He had been waiting for me at the gate as we had arranged.

I had been a little nervous on the train, as the man opposite me smelt like booze, and the carriage had that weird edgy vibe I detected the night of the drunk guy incident.

However Hearing the love in Michael’s voice melted any anxiety I had felt away.

I instantly forgot everything, and stumbled into his big strong arms for a hug and a kiss.

We walked down the path hand in hand, and then crept through the gate.

Emily was already asleep, and apparently, it had been rough.

There day had consisted of washing, chores, plenty of playing in the backyard, and several trips to the park.

So nothing out of the ordinary.

Thursday morning, even though it had been a hard night, Emily woke with a smile.

She spent forty-five minutes learning how to put a plastic pop lid on a homeopath bottle.

I was so proud of her.

And she was so proud of herself.

She had sat quietly beside my bed and practiced practiced practiced until she was confident.

Then reached up and asked me to bring her up so she could show us.

I was so happy, but when she leaned over to show daddy he was too busy being grumpy sleepy don’t disturb me daddy and didn’t even open his eyes.

I felt terrible for her.

She has never sat and worked so diligently on a skill like that before, let alone come to show us the result.

Normally she gets cranky far too quickly, and throws whatever it is across the room.

However the cute thing is, that at the moment when it leaves her hands she becomes all-happy, because it is gone. And gone is a good thing apparently.

Gone she will say in a happy voice as though the moment previous didn’t happen.

Yes, gone, we will repeat.

Even if we take something off her, once she realises it is gone, then all is well in the world.

Heaven help us if she figures out the alternative.

We had our sweet girl back.

It had been so long since it had felt easy, that I hadn’t realised how tough we had been doing it.

She was happy.

She was lovely.

She was herself.

We ate toast on the kitchen floor as usual, we rang nanny to wake her up, we played outside in the sunshine, and to be honest, I was sorry to leave.

I didn’t want to miss the fun.

All I wanted to do was play with baby girl all day.

It was one of those days that remind you why you have kids.

She was a dream.

I was loving every second of it.

Her happiness on the rocking horse as she galloped along in her imaginary world.

Her happiness as she found a new tunnel to climb through on the climbing frame.

Her happiness at simply being in the world.

Could this be the break through the baby books have been promising, I wondered. But didn’t want to say anything to Michael in case it was not.

But I had to go to work

Sometimes I think I wouldn’t mind so much if it were chock a block, as it is the waiting, which kills me.

Michael and I have begun discussing switching my hours slightly, to see if I can get anything more back on minute to money ratio, but we haven’t put anything firm in place.

Getting home Thursday night was rough.

I must have been wearing my secret invisible cape, as everyone ran into me as I walked through the Queen Victoria Building.

Then there was the bitch with the arse on the train…

However, I think I have covered that in the previous post, so there is no need to go into it here.

Needless to say, by the time I got home, I wasn’t sure I could face another day.

As in, seriously I considered calling in sick.

Public transport can be a nightmare, and sometimes it takes me a little while to recover from its’ assault.

However, after another tiresome night with Emily, and another blissful early morning toast session on the kitchen floor, which I absolutely live for, I was back on the long silver beast and hurtling toward the city before I knew it.

Meanwhile Michael and Emily headed to Storytime at the library where they found an unusually high number of our friends before coming home to nap.

As my day went on, I had toyed with the idea of staying back again.

I had almost found a rhythm.

However, given how progressively exhausted Michael looked as I returned home each night, I decided I couldn’t do it to him.

Besides, I was looking forward to going home and playing in the park.

Actually, what really prompted me to leave when I said I would was the idea of being able to walk home in the daylight.

How the hell am I going to have a big girl job if I can’t cope with a three-minute walk home in the dark, I wonder to myself on a semi regular basis.

I am too afraid to talk to Michael about it, however as so often happens with the secret magic of this blog, it is as if I write something, and then it happens.

A week or so ago I wrote about wishing he would read more, and what do you know, three nights later he picked up a book.

So where is that Lotto win?

Lotto win lotto win lotto win…

Oh come on, you can’t blame a girl for trying.

Sure enough when I got home, without incident I might add, Michael and Emily were down the park next to our house.

So I hightailed it over the back fence to meet them.

At first, Emily didn’t see me, but when she caught me on the opposite side of the park fence, she came crawling over as fast as her hands and legs would carry her.

This meant I had to jump over rather than walk around to the gate like a grown up.

After all, a mamma can’t keep a baby girl waiting.

As I approached Michael, he was so excited.

Guess what baby girl can do, he asked rhetorically.

What, I replied as I kissed her head and she snuggled into my shoulder.

She can climb a ladder, he said triumphantly.

No way, I exclaimed.

Yep, she can climb a ladder, he repeated.

The pride emanated from him as he spoke.

So I put her down beside the ladder, and sure enough, she climbed that big old hunk of metal.

Wow, I said barely able to believe my eyes.

She had never done that before.

Michael said she certainly couldn’t do it when they arrived at the park, but it had all come together in a matter of minutes.

Kids learn fast don’t they.

When we arrived home, Michael got to work on trimming the tree outside our kitchen window.

It has been thieving our light for months, and we hadn’t really noticed.

Meanwhile Emily and I sat on the kitchen floor and ate yogurt.

We have been trying to figure out how to teach her to use a spoon.

We knew it would be messy, but I am not sure if this is what we were expecting.

She won’t let us feed her, so this is where we are.

I thought she was doing such a good job.

Almost as soon as I would fill her dish, she would empty it.

I thought it was going in her mouth, but when Michael came inside forty minutes later, he was not happy with us.

He wasn’t unhappy, but he wasn’t as excited as I had been, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Because for my money she was nailing this thing.

Apparently not.

Apparently, it was everywhere.

As in seriously painted everywhere.

All over her, over the table, her chair, and even me.

I thought we had been so careful.

Sure, she had three spoons, but whatever works, right?

So I stripped each of us off and we headed for the bath.

In truth all I had been trying to do was keep her occupied while daddy was outside.

Obviously, she couldn’t be out there while the Camelia got a haircut.

However, when he came up to fetch her twenty minutes later he still needed to wash her face.

Because apparently I hadn’t done that well enough either.

She hates having her face washed, and I try and be gentle.

Partly because if we make her cry in the bath then she wants to get out straight away.

And again, I was trying to buy Michael more time.

He had been with Little all week, and I could tell he just wanted to get stuff done.

However, it was strange. Because as I spent time with her, and thanked God for every single second, I felt that I should have been at work.

Should I have offered to stay back for the fill in girl instead?

She had mentioned about how it sucked to stay back, but I had not responded as I was too busy thinking about the fun I would have with Emily when I got home later that afternoon.

However, we needed the money. The money would have really helped.

Should I have stayed back, I kept questioning as we cuddled and snuggled and played happily.

Clearly, we had missed one another.

When I put her down that evening, she held my hand through her cot bars, and told me all her news, then promptly fell asleep.

I could not have been any more proud.

Yep, coming home was the right decision, I thought as I crept out of her room and downstairs to my husband.

I haven’t been sleeping well because the last time I remember being able to move my neck properly was when I visited Katie Lee on the weekend of May second.

That was almost seven weeks ago.

Because I can’t turn my neck in either direction, I can’t lay any which way but on my back, and even that is extremely uncomfortable.

The pain wakes me almost constantly.

So when Michael has been too tired to get up with Emily in the mornings, I have gladly sought reprieve in the opportunity.

Saturday was one such morning.

I couldn’t stand it any longer, and found myself lying awake waiting and wishing for Emily to rise so we could go downstairs together.

Rolling over is the worst, and it has been so long since I slept on my tummy, I almost feel as though I am reliving my pregnancy.

Wake up wake up wake up, I thought as my head ached, my shoulder hurt, and oh, God I was so stiff. It is still dark, but I don’t mind.

Come on honey, I say to her as I gently pick her up.

Every time I lift her, my shoulders grate.

And now so does my left foot.

My entire body is inflamed, and I don’t know what to do about i.e. love how Emily will wander into the kitchen when she wants her breakfast.

However, this day was slightly different.

Emily took me to the kitchen and instructed me in her very special way that I should start our toast, and then went out to the loungeroom and found her play toaster and started doing the same.

Pop, I could hear, followed by a little laugh.

Over and over again, this happened.

I had to giggle when I came to have a look.

That is the first time I had seen her do that.

She was sitting behind the shelves, a plastic plate beside her, and threw a slice of plastic bread at me on approach.

You’re so cute Little.

Much of our morning was spent outside, as we were anticipating rain.

Daddy wanted to take us out for a family adventure, but I was too busy writing The Odyssey post, and I wasn’t sure Emily could handle the car.

She wasn’t exactly in a brilliant mood.

So we sent daddy to do the groceries while I put Emily down for a nap.

When he came home, he got stuck into the Camelia again, and showed that tree who is boss.

The light streaming into our kitchen is just as it was when we moved in.

I am so happy.

When I got up this morning, even with the overcast sky, it was so much better than it has been.

Emily wasn’t into her peanut butter toast, so she shoved it down my top.

She has been doing that more lately.

First, it was the ducks in the bath, but now it is anything and everything she can find.

She puts it down the top and lifts my shirt up from the bottom to find it.

Best game ever, if you ask her.

By the time Michael came downstairs the rain had begun.

So we were all going to be stuck in the house all day.

I found myself wishing we had gone out yesterday instead. But I had needed to write.

As in needed to put my pen to paper and put down the powerful that was in my head.

I haven’t written like that in ages.

It was easy, poignant, and a pleasure.

Why can’t it be like that all the time?

So today was like any other.

Emily pushed her potty around the yard, because isn’t that what a girl is supposed to do with it?

She made me chase her for a nappy.

Now there is twenty minutes I am glad we shared.

It is so cute to see that twisty bottom wiggle away as she speeds off in the opposite direction to where I am.

Sometimes she takes the wipes and likes to throw them back one at a time at me as a jesture of cheekiness.

I still laugh at the idea that I thought we could teach her not to run away from us when we were changing her nappy.

What But where would the fun in that be?

So here we are.

Emily is asleep, Michael is cooking, and I am writing.

Ok, well technically I am just scribbling,but you get the idea.

The end.

Published inRandom MusingsThe Blunder WeeksWriting

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