Jenerally Speaking,

Conversations with my girl

Dear Miss O, 

My talkative little toddler. Our engaging little explorer. How I am enjoying getting to know you. You are an astonishing mimic, parroting back complex words and phrases eagerly, gobbling up language so that you can tell us exactly what you think about everything (and you think a LOT). I find myself startled daily by the conversations I'm having with a 16-month old. 

You weren't keen on being a tortoise for Hallowe'en and kept pulling the hood down, but the next day you brought it to me. 

O: Tortoss.

Me: You want to be a tortoise?

O: (beaming) Yes!

Me: There you go. One little tortoise.

O: Hat!

Me: You want the hood up this time?

O: Yes!

And off you trotted, happily disguised as a reptile. 

When Little R was a nursery on Wednesday and we were still housebound because you've had hand, foot and mouth, you dug these colourful scarves from your sensory box to play with. Lots of "boo!" and "where?" play. Lots of hiding and giggling. I love that you know what you want to play with and invite me to join you in your world. You also love to sing songs together. Wheels on the Bus is still your favourite, along with Row Row Row. You're a fan of Wind the Bobbin Up too. 

You love to care for your babies and animals. "Tunty" (monkey) and "Bilba" (Baby Wilbur) are your favourites. You give them cuddles, shoulder carries ("dowdas") and plenty of food and milk. Here, I'd brought through some melon as a mid-afternoon snack. You carefully selected a piece, but then took it straight to monkey. Later that day, you were walking round the downstairs with "Bilba" wrapped in your arms. 

O: Milk! Milk! Mummy... milk?

Me: Oh... does Wilbur need his milk?

O: Yes.

Me: Can't you find it?

O: Where?

Me: Hmm... I'll look upstairs. (found it, brought it to you) There you are!

O: Tan-to! (Thank you)

You still haven't 100% got the hang of drawing and crafting. You do like a bit of "painting" with chalk or pens, and on this day, with paint. But inevitably it ends up in your mouth. This gory looking mouth was quite apt, as we were doing Hallowe'en craft at the time! Earlier today you appeared in the kitchen with purple chalk running down your chin and in between your teeth. You just do have a thing about eating weird textures. And you're very honest about it. You'll secretly nibble something, then come and show me your big wide mouth. And when I say "You shouldn't eat crayon/chalk/paint/pencils/sand/mud, should you?" You reply "No!" in a really serious voice. 

It's ok though, these eyeballs for our Hallowe'en potion mixing were edible!

You're quite bonkers a lot of the time. Out in the garden in your dress and wellies (LOVE a dress and wellies combo) you chose to slide as far down as you could and balance. You thought it was great fun. Other gymnastic tricks you like are bouncing so high on your trampoline that the whole thing bounces off the ground, and putting one hand on the toilet seat and one on the boxed in piping next to it and lifting your feet off the floor. You can even hold yourself on a bar with your hands by your waist and your feet off the floor! You have some serious core muscles, and you're so motivated to learn new tricks. 

Having had enough of the sliding game, you invented a game which kept you and Little R engaged for a good ten minutes. Run to the dry riverbed. Select a large cobble. Run to me saying "eee eee eee". Present me with the cobble. Rinse and repeat. In the end we were all laughing, but none of us were quite sure why!

(Irritatingly, we've got to that time of year when photos get all blurry again, because the light levels are too low for a fast shutter speed. Boo.)

And this I love. Both of you sharing your love of books. Little R knows your favourite books so well that I often spy or hear you from afar. 

R: O! Come here. Sit by me.

O: Yes. Book.

R: I'll read it to you. Sit down. 

O: Duck! Quack quack!

R: Yes! It is a duck. Well done! 

O: Cow. Mooooo.

R: Good girl!

Love you two.

A Girl of Extremes

Little O's 365ish Project - Update One

Beautiful girl, in your birthday dress, just relaxing. Suspiciously.

On this afternoon, we dashed out for some fresh air between the showers and found this little glade in a corner of our little village. Gently sloping grass and tall, tall trees. We were grateful for the tall, tall trees when the rain came down again. We talked about leaf canopies as we sheltered. Little R found a long twig and pulled me out of the sea. You sat in the tree and giggled, and ran between them, exploring. It was such a lovely half hour or so. We didn't even mind getting wet walking home. 

I'm not sure what you were eating, or what you were so happy about, but I love how your smile lights up your entire face. 

You got this little bassinet for Baby Wilbur for your birthday. Currently, you prefer to tuck yourself into bed though. So Cute. You love wrapping your shoulders with fabric, and covering your legs, then wiggling them. 

Open, shut, open, shut. Little fingers mastering the hinge on this train. 

No, I don't know why you are crying. I seldom do, to be honest. Our days have become a bit of a battle, trying to cope with your crying. Because you are a girl of extremes.

When happy, you are the life of the party. You giggle, tickle, snuggle, cuddle, race about cackling wildly, dance, clap, and play so exuberantly that we just have to join in. Little R and you make each other laugh so much, which I love to watch.

Unfortunately, in the last few weeks, I feel like we've only seen Happy Miss O for about 40% of the time. The rest of the time Grumpy O turns up and she is no fun. You wail, roar and scream. You follow me around, literally trying to climb up my legs and shrieking wildly when I can't, or won't, pick you up IMMEDIATELY.

You eat about two bites of any meal or snack I prepare for you, push it away and demand to breastfeed instead. Then, within the hour, you're hungry again. So you wail. The pattern repeats. All day. Today I prepared you ready break, toast, pancakes, bread sticks, slices pear and melon and then Rachel made you pasta for dinner.  The only things you ate much of were the pancakes and pasta. And even then, not much. I wouldn't mind you eating like a bird if you didn't demand "diddy" (your word for milk) every 20 blinking minutes. You are not a newborn anymore!

You need help to get out of the lounge and garage doors. You get yourself in fine, then stand on the doorstep asking for help to step down. Which is fine, except the way you "ask" is to shout in an increasingly angry, ear shattering voice until someone comes. I'm demonstrating "help me, Mummy", with the sign time and time again, but you prefer the shriek. The shriek also comes out of you are not permitted to play with a perfectly appropriate toy like a pair of scissors, a tenon saw, a bread knife, a glass or a sharp screwdriver. We're so unreasonable. And if the shriek doesn't make your point articulately enough, you throw yourself on the floor for a proper knock-en-down-drag-em-out tantrum. Nice. Not at all tiresome. Fifteen times a day. 

That's not what you're doing here though. This is a Happy Miss O relaxing and giggling in the little patch of sunlight we enjoy around midday in our lounge. See? Happy girl! 

Busy girl, exploring some "goo" we got you for Christmas. You warmed up to it very slowly and we spent most of the time arguing about whether you should eat the goo or not. I thought no. You thought emphatically yes. Your determination is admirable, but frustrating at moments like this. 

You LOVE balls. You shout "baw!" every time you spot one, or even something vaguely spherical. You love our foam skittles and were determined to carry both of them simultaneously.  You determination is a great strength at moments like this. I see you working and working at new skills until you master them and that is something I'm delighted to see. 

Tummy! You love revealing and tickling your own tummy. You giggle, which makes me think maybe your tummy isn't ticklish at all and you just know that when you tickle your tummy you're supposed to giggle. Either that, or you are able to tickle yourself. 

I love the necklace phase. 

Oh dear. Another not good moment of Mummying. On Fridays now, Little R goes to nursery all day. A friend recently asked how I liked having the day to myself. Ha ruddy ha ha. I get less done on Fridays than on any other day, because without Little R to distract you, you are harder work. On this particular Friday I literally got nothing done, because you wouldn't even NAP in your COT. I tried and tried to settle you and lay you down but you went rigid and screamed in fury. I was trapped, sitting on the edge of the bed while you slept. It sucked. You were miserable. I was miserable. Only once Little R was home did I manage to frantically paint some 3.6 metre lengths of timber. (More about the garden LATER!!!)

Sometimes you quietly amuse yourself independently for a while. It's nice to see you concentrating on a puzzle. When it's not a climbing-on-a-stool-over-a-tiled-floor-in-great-danger-of-falling-off puzzle. Or an eating-toilet-paper puzzle. 

Ah-ha! A garden spoiler. You totally understand "processes" now, like washing up, running a bath, picking strawberries (we have a dozen totally unripe strawberries sitting on the kitchen windowsill right now - you just need to perfect the "judging ripeness" part of that process) and screwing up screws. Yup, that handle is well on. 

Ta-da!!! So SO happy to see this playhouse/hobbit hole completed at the weekend. It's been a long time coming. The other side of the garden is coming along nicely too. I'll show you that later. I'm planning a grand reveal post once the whole garden is done. Very exciting!

The next day - peekaboo with your big brother. 

And today. After a fairly cheerful couple of days, Grumpy Miss O reappeared. Sigh. I wish I knew how to make you happy. Well, a method that doesn't involve breastfeeding you non-stop all day. 

Baby, I love you, but this year is proving to be such hard work. Not physically. Sleep deprivation I can cope with. Washing up, laundry - I'm a pro! It's the psychological torture of listening to crying for so much of every damn day. Add that to Little R's non-stop narrating, play demands and "why?" questions, and you have the perfect storm of demands, which today led me to bellow "Put the hose OUTSIDE!!!!" at the top of my lungs, then retreat upstairs to do meditative breathing with my fingers rammed in my ears to block out all the crying (Rachel was downstairs with you, I wasn't completely abandoning you). It wasn't even the hose that was bothering me that much. It was Miss O's screaming combined with the fact that Little R  had point blank refused to remove the offending hose to accept that it was not yet time to water the plants THREE times in the row. 

Sheesh.

And now you are one

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(No, I don't know what went on with my numbering either. Boddle.)

"Pizza is nummy. Num num num."

"Mmm... ice cream very good too. Keep it coming." 

You've taken to adorning yourself with necklaces and this is your favourite. The strap of the now three-and-a-half-year-old changing bag. Probably the grubbiest strip of fabric in the entire house! But it becomes you very well. And it jingles. All good jewellery should jingle!

It's all about in and out at the moment. Good concentrated thinking.

And climbing. It's also about climbing. This face is "Help! I'm stuck!" (for the fourth time in about thirty seconds!)

More in and out work. 

And here we are, Little O, on your birthday. I'm sorry to say you experienced driving rain and what it is to be soaked to your skin. Unless we really do decide to elope to warmer climbs to escape the cruddy British weather, this is something you'll experience a fair amount in your life, but hopefully not on many more of your birthdays.

You enjoyed your birthday, I think. Master R helped you to open your presents (it was quite a challenge to rein in his enthusiasm). You love your skuttlebug, which was his gift to you. He pushed you along and you beamed happily. You can push yourself backwards, but you're frustrated that you can't quite work out how to go forwards yet. You like to "brrm brrm" on it. You loved your wooden blocks - you stacked them, shared them out, then tidied them back into the box (girl after my own heart!) You cuddled your baby doll (we've named him Wilbur) and sort of got the hang of putting him into his sleeping basket and putting his blanket over him. You were perplexed initially by the Elefun game, but you've worked out the fun bit is putting the butterflies back into the elephant at the end of the round. You liked your new dress, which you're going to wear for your party tomorrow - you kept scrunching the fabric over your legs. And you LOVED your music CD. We found and burnt to disc the songs from the Mini Disco on holiday, along with some other songs we know you like. You love to clap and bop to music. Especially the Hokey Cokey. At toddlers, you have recently taken to charging on foot into the middle for the "oooooh!" bit rather than letting me fling you in. You do it very dramatically, mouth wide open shouting "oooooh!" and your arms held back. 

Let's be honest, you do most things dramatically. I think your eighth tooth is finally coming through, because you've been Miss Shouty today. Happy enough one moment, then roaring with anger the next. You found it extremely difficult to wait through Master R's swimming lesson (yours is right after). When I pulled you back from throwing yourself eagerly into the water, you clenched your fists, pummelled your chubby feet against the floor and screamed with frustration and disappointment. Several times today a disappointment had you collapsed in my lap crying bitterly. It's hard being one. And I sense it's going to be quite a challenge to help you through these challenges, with your determination and passion. But I watch you, marching around in your little size 2 sandals, showing off the goggles you've wrestled from your brother and I think of all the things you can achieve with that fiery spirit and persistence. 

A year ago I knew everything about you, but that wasn't much at all. Now I have a much clearer idea of the person you are. And I look back at those early days and see the clues that were there at the time. It's been an incredible year. Incredibly beautiful and life-affirming. Incredibly exhausting and testing. We're learning and growing together. Thank you Baby O, for joining our family and making it the gigglier, crazier and better. We love you for everything you are. 

Home and Away

340-357/365 (minus 339 and 350)

This adorable little face is your "brrm brrm" face. You suddenly love pretending to drive. You can say "brrm brrm" and "beep beep"!

First day of our holibobs in Ibiza, and you were all dressed up for dinner! You woke up in the middle of the night in the car and giggled in glee at the novelty of the situation. You were chirpy and curious at the airport while we waited for our flight. You entertained all the people who were arriving for their early flights by toddling around the waiting area, exploring the beautiful butterfly light display at Itsu and trying to get into a shop that wasn't yet open. Cute girl. You found the plane fascinating. More fascinating that Little R, who fell asleep as we taxied along the runway prior to take off. You had some milk and fell asleep. I was jealous, because I'd had such bad insomnia I hadn't fallen asleep in time to get any sleep before our 1am get up. I was awake two days straight without a wink of sleep. Ugh. Grim. 

Anyway... we arrived at our hotel, and went off to explore the beach. I thoughtlessly took you out of the wrap (the ice cotton Oscha wrap I'd acquired specifically for the holiday, as it happens!) and plonked you on the sand. Cue anxious wailing. The waves rushing towards you were just TOO bewildering and worrying. You had to watch from my hip while you got used to them. Soon you were exploring the sand and crawling (who can walk in sand?) towards them. Later, you got dolled up in your amazing dinosaur dress for dinner. Rice and chicken for you. In fact, you practically lived on rice and chicken all week. You're all about the beige. 

Day two in Ibiza, and despite the cloudy skies it was warm so while you played with the sand fortress Little R and I had built, I had a splash in the sea. 

Day three and snoozy time in that lovely Oscha wrap. 

Day four and we visited the Hippie Market, so you were transformed into our hippie baby.

Day five: you'd gone quiet for a few moments. You'd gone "toddler quiet". 

Day six and you had gained a lot of confidence with the waves. The new challenge was to hold you back!

Day seven: sand is apparently STILL tasty. You beautiful girl. 

The return journey. This was at the start of the flight, when we were all holding it together and coping reasonably well. Fast forward thirty minutes and I was throwing food on the floor and swearing AUDIBLY in front of my two precious children and the other passengers because trying to cope with numerous small containers of hot, wet food in a confined space, with you both fidgeting, grabbing food, refusing to eat and needing a wee at the WORST moment was beyond my capacity. Oh dear. Oh dear. 

Home again! And what is more entertaining that a long bit of foil? (We finally took it out from our furniture; it was there from when our carpets were cleaned a few weeks back.) 

Look who stole Mummy's cookie! You were SOOO pleased! With seven teeth, you're able to chomp big chunks off. Little R at the same age had to suck biscuits!

You loved this little skuttlebug at Baby K's birthday party. It'll be your birthday next. This time last year I was waiting for you, so impatiently. We all were. At it's still a week to go!

And here you are, tooting your hooter. What a lung capacity!

Bubbles! You can pretty much say bubbles, actually. In fact, you can say quite a lot for a very little lady. Little R is "Ra-Ra", Rachel and I are "Mimmy", milk is "diddy", for yes you nod and say "da" and for no you shake your head vigorously, saying "na-na-na-na". Bubbles are "bubbaaaa", ball is "baaaalll", Peppa pig is "peppa". You said "tiiiik" once, after I said "stick". You have a good go at copying lots of words. You clap to ask for help (it's as close to the complex "help me" sign you can get so far) and you ask to share things by pointing, then thumping your chest. You often say a little phrase at the same time but I can't begin to spell it!

Your very first time painting the patio with water. I've been getting out lots of different things to distract you while I paint fence panels and the components of your playhouse. 

Watering the plants. Another thing you've got the hang of. Well, when you weren't trying to drink the water butt water from your little plastic watering can. 

Today I was multi-tasking - planting our herbs in our new herb garden while the roof panels I was painting dried. You kept asking for the huge metal spade which hangs on the wall in the garage (ever the optimist), but we found a compromise with this little plastic and wood one, which is still taller than you!

Walking Girl!

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"How does this bike thing work, then?"

Somebody tried to help wash the car. With her head!

Multi-tasking as usual!

Baby O decided to have a go at painting for the first time at toddlers. By "have a go", she meant eat it. I had to help to get any paint at all on her bird!

Our walking girl!

On Friday, I was feeling tired (ha ha - what's new there?) and grumpy, so I decided an afternoon mooching around the house would lead to irritability and tantrums all round. So after nursery, I packed the children and all the necessary equipment into the car and drove my two babies to Hollow Trees farm. We lunched in a relaxed way in a cafe where I didn't have to prepare the food or clean up the dishes. Bliss. We read books while we waited for our food and then while Baby O was eating yoghurt and houmous (yes, simultaneously). Two different couples complimented me on my children and those kind words warmed the cockles of my heart. One lady turned to say well done for reading to Little R, then noticed I was reading upside down while helping Baby O with her yoghurt spoon. I hadn't really thought about the level of multi-tasking I was managing, but yes, I'm going to take that as a parenting success! Go me!

We had a fantastic time wandering round the farm trail after lunch. Fed goats, quacked at ducks, played on swings and slides and generally got mucky and outdoorsy. It was a pretty perfect afternoon. Definitely a good decision.

Mummy Rachel's first wrap job! Baby O enjoyed her nap on a different back.

This afternoon we spent a lovely few hours at Lackford Lakes. Bug hunting, pond dipping and CAKE. Baby O has been kept away from refined sugar for a long time, but she saw that Victoria Sponge cake and I could see "no" was not going to be an option. Also, I had forgotten to bring her a healthy snack! Unlike Little R, she LOVES cake. Nom nom nom. Down the hatch. 

P.S. I don't have the worst tired-eye-bags ever - I had a bottle full of water dropped on my face and the bruise is taking some time to come out!

Sunshine baby

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Yep, left for a moment at the sand table and you were having a good munch. You are absolutely determined to eat non-food items. In fact, you seem to prefer them to actual food. For example, after refusing breakfast one morning, I caught you chowing down on a pine cone you'd found in Little R's room. Another day, you picked at your snack, but them chewed on a stick in the garden. You kept dipping it in the stagnant paddling pool water, presumably to add flavour. To add insult to irritation, you usually throw and smear your food all over the floor, table, chair and yourself while NOT eating it. Sigh. I mean, I admire your curiosity. I'm just OVER cleaning up after you. 

Your first taste of a lolly (a 100% fruit, no added sugar lolly, obviously!). 

Unimpressed. Give me a twig any day!

Charismatic little one. You've realised that you can make us laugh, so you deliberately do cute things. This is your necklace wearing trick (I remember Little R going through the everything's-a-necklace phase like it was yesterday!) You blow raspberries on my tummy at least once a day. You initiate games of peekaboo (usually in the muslin curtains) and you say "ro-ro-ro" to get us to play 'Row Row the Boat' with you. The other day, you crawled into Little R's room, carefully lay yourself back onto his beanbag and beamed around at everyone. It was hilariously deliberate. Like a little snapshot of the older you. 

First experience of a paddling pool. You sat down, realised it was cold and wailed a bit. Then you acclimatised and spent a happy ten minutes splashing about. This is more than Little R did. He will paddle with his feet but was NOT impressed when I tricked him into jumping in (knowing he'd slide onto his bottom- I'm so evil!). We also invested in some water shooters. He love to squirt water at us. He hates to get wet himself. That's going to be an interesting dynamic! My little sister was exactly the same. It'll be interesting to see what happens when you're old enough to squirt him!

Exploring the outdoors on a trip to Hollow Trees. Note the super-cute shoes on your feet. Size 2G. Smallest size of shoes they make ^_^

While Little R is at nursery, you get to play at your own pace. You do a lot of imaginative play for an under-one, probably because you join in so many of Little R's games. You are great at pretend eating and drinking. 

I pushed you around on this for a while at toddlers, which you loved. Your legs are not quite long enough to rest on the loops at the front, but you worked out what the handles are for. 

I have to admit, I find you a challenging picnic companion. It's great that the mess isn't going all over the kitchen floor. The problem is, you tend to crawl around and take food from everyone else's plates. I love this little outfit though. Look at those denim shorts. And your legs, looking chunky for a change!

On a walk around Lackford Lakes, Little R had a laminated clipboard so we could tick off all the animals we saw (Canada goose: CHECK, blackbird: CHECK, black-headed gull: CHECK, shelduck: CHECK, heron: CHECK, kingfisher: NO CHECK - diaappointed toddler). He was in charge of carrying that. I  was in charge of carrying you. You were in charge of carrying the pen. You were super proud of your job and giggled and waved cheerily. You are very into birds at the moment. You sign "bird" near your ear when you can hear a bird and say "burr". If you see one you sign and then point to where it is. You can also identify ducks and say "ack ack". And you like trees too. You say "tree", "cheese" and "keys" and they're all subtly different words. I'm suddenly listening and watching you carefully when you're "talking", because you are trying to tell us specific things and ask for the words for everything you see around you. You're a compulsive communicator. 

Tonight I whizzed downstairs to get the camera because your post-bath hair was so fluffy and cute (and blonde! Sun-bleached baby!). I came back up and snapped this photo of you reading yourself a bedtime story. "Baaaah". Sounded like your sheep noise. Strange, because it was a book about a duck!

Stepping out...

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"Risky? Nah, this is fine, Mama!" (I have a photo on another day of you STANDING on the train!)

Bouncing baby in the sun. Eyeing up all the exciting things the toddlers are up to and making plans.

My blossom, looking for blossom at our local wood. Loved this relaxed morning. We took a gentle walk down to the woods, during which Baby O drifted off to sleep on my back. Then we explored all round the woodland. We looked for fish in the pond (no), spotted bees, flowers and ladybirds, adventured down a secret path to find treasure (no), spotted a couple of horses through the trees, had a snack on a handy bench and then trundled back. By then, it was lunchtime! What a wonderful way to enjoy a sunny morning with two small people. 

You love baby Tommy A LOT. Suddenly, you are all into cuddling. Us, stuffed toys and particularly baby Tommy. This started, actually, during the babywearing course I went to recently. You were fascinated and somewhat perplexed by all the very still babies (weighted dolls that we were practising with). Then, you just peered into their faces curiously. Now, you love to play with baby Tommy. You use a special voice when you talk and coo to him and cuddle him into your neck. It's so instinctive and natural. Already you are practising your Mummying skills. 

Admiring some babywearing at the zoo. From this raised walkway, Little R and you could see some lemurs carrying their babies. At one point, one of the mums had two babies on her back, and I'm sure one was a cheeky interloper!

This guilty look is because you have tipped out the pot which Mummy Rachel had put some grated cheese in under the table and kicked it about everywhere. You adore grated cheese, but it is a bit messy to eat. It got worked into the just-freshly-hoovered hall carpet today because you were enjoying a pre-dinner snack (red leicester, on this occasion) and Mummy Rachel let you crawl off, which it stuck all over your clothes. Sigh.

This last week, you've come out the other side of a marathon four-week Wonder Week. Thank goodness. I was getting pretty worn down, let me tell you. And suddenly, as well as developing a whole bunch of new skills and abilities, you have become CUDDLY. Now, this is not to say that you did not cuddle before. You do love a snuggle. A very quick snuggle, during which you would normally wriggle gleefully side to side, then you would scramble down to carry on exploring in top gear. (You only have one gear - it's fast). But now, you are quite content to have a prolonged snuggle. Other people have noticed the change, not just us. On this day, I was enjoying a good ten minute snuggle with you. You just wanted to rest here, head tucked under my chin, hands lolling by your sides. I really relished it. 

Talking of other skills, who is this, taking her first steps? Yup, that's our determined girl! It won't be long until you're charging from A to B on two legs. In fact, we've realised we're going to need to buy you shoes before our summer holiday! At ten months!!! Craziness!

"Why won't he play, Mama?" Little R is poorly. Really, the most ill he has ever been. We discovered on Friday that it is actually tonsillitis, requiring actual antibiotics. Poor little boy has been feverish, coughing, extraordinarily blocked up and exhausted for six days now. It is genuinely hard to understand him, because his throat and nose are so congested his speech is affected. You, Baby O, have been most perplexed by his long naps on the sofa, his loud snoring and his unwillingness to crawl around the floor entertaining you. 

You love to watch yourself in the camera screen (which we can flip around to show you). You've even worked out where the picture comes from - poking your finger at the lens while you watch the screen carefully. 

Ok, so this is an early-on-Sunday-morning shot, because on Saturday we didn't take any photos at ALL. This was because I was flying round like a blue-buttocked flying creature. With Little R still really ill, Mummy Rachel stayed with you two while I whizzed out to do the shopping. Then I took you swimming, leaving Little R to nap with Mummy R. After than we negotiated a heavy flat trolley and the Bank Holiday crowds at B&Q, with you wrapped on my back, in order to acquire some sharp sand to enable us to lay the slabs where you playhouse will stand (and yes, I DID feel like SuperMum, as it very happens!). So amid all that activity, as well as doses of antibiotics and laundry, I didn't take any photos. But this photo from early on Sunday morning shows where you'd ended up after your night in bed. Mummy Rachel has been sleeping with Little R, since he's needed cuddles and water in the middle of the night. I've taken advantage by sleeping with my legs across the bed (lush). On this morning, you had actually snuck a go on Mummy Rachel's pillow! This does not constitute safe co-sleeping, baby girl!

Squeezing through a tight spot in Grandma's garden.

After hours of watching the other children playing from my arms or the wrap, today you finally got to explore the playground, holding onto one of our hands. You were made up! You literally RAN towards the different bits of equipment, climbed up, bounced gleefully and beamed with delight. You're so excited to be growing up, and we're loving watching you. But it's not a race, little one. Take your time. You are only 320 days old, and that's still small. 

 

P.S. I feel it's time for your first "learning to talk" update. You can sign "finished", "light", "eat" and you point at various things to find out what they are. When you'd like sometimes, you point at it and then draw your hand to your chest and touch your fist to your chest. It couldn't be a clearer question. Today you wanted to help Little R with his lunch. You say "aiee" for hi or bye at the door, "mamamama", have a go at Little R's name ("Ra-Ra") and try to copy most simple words that you understand. If we say "light", you'll sometimes say "iiiight". You approximate words which rather startling accuracy. Today we were looking at pictures of sheep around the house and we were making you laugh modelling "baaaa!". Your version was to blow a raspberry. Talking of which, you adore blowing raspberries on people's skin still. And pulling eyelashes, which I'm trying to persuade you is neither kind nor desirable. 

Little Explorer

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Sometimes, Baby O, the best part of the photo isn't you - it's what you do to other people. It was your first trip to Great-Grandmama's house and you had a lovely time giggling at her, mashing your lunch into the carpet and sneaking into her bedroom to rattle the necklaces and admire yourself in her mirror-fronted wardrobe doors. This, though, was my favourite part. We popped outside for an ice cream in the sun and the way you were waggling your leg really tickled Grandma and Great-Grandmama. I haven't seen them both laugh that much for a long time. 

You have mastered the art of blowing raspberries. You do it a lot on my shoulder, usually when I'm trying to wash your face in the shower. But you do some EPIC fart noises on my belly, given half a chance! And you look so pleased with yourself too!

Our first double hammock. Boom! (Just happens to be my only photo of you from that day. You're clearly trying to bounce yourself out in this photo... either that or your seat was not deep enough.) We went and did some gardening together wrapped up like this!

More playtime in the garden. Little R wanted his boat blown up and I thought "Why the heck not? It'll keep him busy." The minute it was up you raced across and climbed in yourself. You sat in there, patting the sides and wiggling your legs gleefully. Then Little R, dressed as Queen Elsa, dragged you round the lawn while you both giggled. Brilliant.

Little explorer.

In a plant pot. Why not?

Mummy got a stomach bug (retrospectively, maybe from licking-and-handing-back-to-you a piece of teacake you dropped on the floor in B&Q. Now that's selflessness). Mummy felt awful all day. You went to toddlers with Little R and Mummy Rachel. You played happily. You climbed over Mummy a lot. 

Your favourite place at the moment. Not content with climbing as far as you can (and if I've forgotten to shut the stairgate - that means UPSTAIRS), you like to grab hold of the stairgate and pull backwards with all your strength. You are brilliant fun, little lady, but you are exhausting to look after because you are so FULL ON!

More outdoor play. Little R and I were enjoying running round the garden trying to clap and catch bubbles between our hands, which was much more fun than I'd imagined!

Little R was so protected from background TV. It wasn't on in the room until he was over one, basically, and then only sparingly. But Little R was really tired. Mummy was having a bad day. So you were distracted from your baby play by 101 Dalmatians. We were playing with your sensory box though. I was trying. I even tried a paint-in-ziplock-bag trick. It didn't work at all. I really was having a terrible afternoon. But even during a terrible, soul-destroyingly-long-and-frustrating afternoon of Mummy-guilt boredom, you make me smile now and then with your silly tricks. Your new thing is leaning your head as far back as you can and inhaling loudly, while grinning toothishly. Cuter than I'm describing it!

A bit of educational play before Little R's very FIRST morning at nursery. You and I had a lovely few ourselves to ourselves. We enjoyed singing at the library, chatted to another Mummy about wraps and then picked him up. 

"Let me SWIIIIIM!" Mummy Rachel and I take it in turns to swim with you two. The person in the pool has to make it an hour without needing a wee (I feel you always need a wee MORE when you're swimming. Maybe you absorb water through your pores and it travels directly to your bladder?) but the person outside the pool has the hardest job - keeping you OUT for the entirety of Little R's lesson. Man alive, you are determined!

I love snuggling down in bed next to you, little lady. Feeling you reach our your hand and touch my wrist or face, checking I'm close enough. Wrapping my arm around you to reassure you that I am right here. 

 

Tee hee hee. Good job, sweetpea. You were very thorough!

Learning together

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A sunny afternoon, a baby and a water table. Meanwhile, Little R and I were pootling round the garden. Me, ripping down an ivy and an old trellis. Little R, playing with sticks and sand and various other things. Later, we even painted one and a half fence panels with you wrapped on my back. I felt EPIC. Then, ironically, we had to re-paint those panels, because the nearby shops no longer stock that type of fence paint and we'd run out. Irony is ironic that way. Eh well, my momentary epicness stands. 

Well look at you. You thought you were so clever. Getting that porridge out of your hair was pretty tricky, particularly because you were wriggling in my arms in the shower, hiding your head and biting my shoulder. 

Trying to drink from Little R's cup. Cups are so bewildering for breastfed babies. I remember Little R trying to drink from beakers that were sitting on the ground. Cups are not anti-gravity, unlike boobies, which work at any angle. 

Bitey girl. You are no longer permitted to hold sponges for any sort. Or, apparently, sponge balls. Or plastic bags of green beans. Or paper. Your teeth are amazing... rather like the teeth of Sunny Baudelaire!

There you go again with your teeth! Stole that carrot off the conveyor belt and chomped happily on it all the way to the carpark. Then you got distracted by Little R "peep peeping" on Thomas the Tank Engine and dropped it on the floor. 

I was attempting to get a photo of you admiring yourself in the oven door. But you saw me, turned round and crawled over to climb up my legs. You spend a lot of time climbing up my legs and demanding cuddles. Recently, I've been finding this difficult. It's hard to get much done or even walk across a room with you hanging off my legs. I've been grumbling, moaning and grouching at you. At times I've plucked you off and told you to "get off!" in my frustration. Today I tried to remind myself that you climb up my legs to cuddle me because I'm your everything. Today, each time, I scooped up you, wrapped you up on my left shoulder and snuggled you. Today I took every opportunity to love you back. I am learning. Slowly, but I am. 

Poxy Baby

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Hello there, Baby O, 

It seems I have messed up the numbering system for storing your photos. I know precisely which photo is you at 276 days old, because that's your out-as-long-as-you-were-in day. But that one is numbered 282. Six day difference. I nearly pulled my hair out last night trying to sort it out. This has occured because A: organising photos by number inevitably goes wrong at some point and B: I'm so insanely busy that I only manage to empty the camera every two weeks or so, leading to massive backlogs. 

ANYWAY, here you are, being cute, on various different days of your life. Firstly, playing with Little R's library books. You love books, especially the interesting texture or finger puppet ones. But you also love listening and crawling over books I'm trying to read to your big brother. He's not so keen on your input. 

Trying to pull off your booties. Bootlaces - so intriguing. 

Wrestling and giggling with my on the sofa. I loved messing about with you on this evening...

... then later the same evening, you were taking selfies with Mummy Rachel. 

Taking advantage of the space next to you, which Little R had vacated. So casual on our weekly shop. 

Your first time on our little rocking horse in the garden. You loved it. You got the hang of jiggling about, and actually kept letting go with one hand, requiring me to leap forwards to save you several times. You love adventuring about the place, you confident little lady. Look at those grubby shoes and baby legs (love this combination - perfect for crawling about outside without wrecking your clothes. We've been especially lucky that friends have donated various pairs of these leather bottom sock-shoes. Perfect!).

You love your noodles! Or is is spaghetti. I actually can't remember!

Baby O, when you are grown up, people will sometimes notice and ask about this scar on your head. And you'll explain to them that when you were about nine months old, you and your big brother got the chicken pox. And this was your biggest, angriest spot. You were completely unfazed by the pox. I think you barely noticed. You scratched your head a bit. You scratched yourself gleefully in the bath each evening. Other than that, you were you usual cheerful, energetic self. 

Mummy had to get creative to cope with the chicken pox lockdown. On this day, we had cereal digger world in the tuff tray. Cornflakes, branflakes, shredded wheat and muesli in tubs, with diggers and excavators and lots of scoops and tweezers. It was playtime AND snacktime all at the same time and you both loved it. I loved sipping my tea, listening to popmaster and watching you play. And attempting to construct a barn out of shredded wheat which, it turns out, do not stack all that well. 

I also loved watching the crumbs getting smaller and smaller, as you ground them under the wheels of the digger, revelling in the noise and under your bottom as you shuffled and kicked your legs. 

The next day was warm and sunny, which was wonderful, because we got to spend the afternoon in the garden. I mowed the lawn with you wrapped on my back (you fell asleep), then you both helped me to sweep up. I love getting out in the garden, but I do wish it were a more creative and adventurous place for you to spend time. To that end, we have made BIG plans. Such big, exciting plans. I'm very motivated and inspired. Spending a lot of time on Pinterest and sorting out exactly how this new garden is going to look. Wheeeeeeeeee! (Spoilers and more spoilers)

Oh dear, woe is you. You are a very independent baby, and you are often happy to explore by yourself. But a lot of the time, you follow me round and climb up my legs, often wailing sadly like this, when I can't immediately pick you up. Don't worry, bubba. I picked you up as soon as I'd taken a photo. I suspect I probably wrapped you, so we could both get on with life. Thank goodness for babywearing. I would not cope without it. 

At my feet again. This time, the first day out of the house, since you'd scabbed up nicely, at the village Nearly New Sale. Pulling my shoelaces after we'd swept the floor. 

See, THIS is the day you were 276 days old. That's how long I was pregnant. So from this day on, you have lived longer outside of me than in. It's astonishing how fast it has gone. Babies go a lot faster than pregnancies. You as super speedy, both in how fast you've grown up, and how fast you crawl. And cruise. And walk holding onto our hands. You're going to be walking before you are one. Easily.

Finally back at toddlers, and playing in the ball pool. You crawled out, flattening the wall as you went, all by yourself. 

Where's Little R gone? It's just too hilarious! This was such a lovely morning. We'd walked down the the village wood together, spent a happy hour or so exploring (well, Little R explored, you were so worn out from the walk there that I popped you onto my back for a snooze). Then we returned home for your first picnic lunch in the garden. And lots of tunnel and teepee play.

A gorgeous new outfit, created by your Grandma. We were TRYING to get a photo of you with the hat ON, but you have decided in the last few weeks that you do NOT like hats. It was hilarious trying to snap a photo. I have many pictures of you with your arms pinned to your sides, or grappling with Grandma. I love your cheeky feet in this one. 

Little R likes to use this digital clock as a pretend phone, so you found it in the hallway while I was cleaning the kitchen after lunch (can I just take a moment to say how much I am OVER weaning? I'm over it. I loathe cleaning the bib, high chair and kitchen floor three times a day. It is a hideous job. Ugh.) and you were fascinated. While you were fiddling, the back of the battery case fell off and I watched in amazement as you quite determinedly tried to put it back in place! You knew exactly what to do, or at least, you pretended too. Actually, you dropped it again and the batteries fell out. I had to prise them from your fingers before you mouthed them. Too curious for your own good, you are.

Your first Easter egg hunt (Little R's first too, as it happens) at Auntie Becka's house. You were not permitted to eat any eggs (you're way too young for chocolate, little missy), but you seemed to know that they were edible. Every egg was swiftly whisked up to your mouth and equally swiftly whisked away by us mean grown ups. 

Peekaboo! You love playing this game with us, or sometimes just by yourself. So cute. 

Matching bottoms on our children on Easter Sunday. Little R was jealous of your leggings (acquired at the Nearly New Aale), so, since they're size 2-3, we let him wear the other pair. He loved it. 

Worn out after a busy morning exploring Baylham Rare Breeds Farm. Little R loved cuddling a lamb (again - second lamb cuddle this spring) but you are quite frightened when animals come close to you, so I kept you with me. You were terrified a week or so previously when I thoughtlessly popped you on the floor at a friend's house and their friendly dog sniffed you. Stupid Mummy. I forget you haven't been raised alongside a house rabbit. Even Auntie Becka's guinea pig freaked you out!

Another day, two more colourful bottoms. You accidentally ended up beautifully colour co-ordinated yesterday! I love your new pinafore dresses. So scrummy. 

There we are, little Miss. All caught up. Except for today's pictures, and I'll sort those out another day. You are growing and changing so much. It only seems like yesterday when I wrote THIS post about how little I knew about you. Now I know so much. You are our little pickle. You challenge me more than Little R did. You are so desperate to do everything now and I have to run to keep up with you. I love your cheeky grin when you're getting into something you know you shouldn't. I love your cackle when Little R is making you laugh. I love how you cling onto my neck and squawk in protest when I try to lie you down to change your nappy. I'm less keen on how you struggle and roll over and crawl away when I'm changing your nappy. I've realised that if I leave you tights on so your ankles are held together you can't escape... as fast anyway. I'm learning lots about you and I do adore you. 

That said, I'm finding parenting harder and harder. With your threenager of a brother arguing and raging at me multiple times a day, not to mention wetting his pants an average of twice EVERY DAY, and you wailing when I move away from you every few minutes, wiping your snotty nose on me but complaining when I wipe your nose with a muslin and the constant battle to get anything done other than essential cooking, cleaning and laundry, I frequently find my tether has completely run out. I spend a lot of time murmuring positive mantras to myself. I spend a fair about of time muttering obscenities under my breath. I sometimes just give up and lock myself in another room for a few moment to breath deeply and remind myself that I CHOSE to have two children. 

I am blessed. Totally blessed. And I know this will pass. I don't want it to hurry away. It's such a precious time. But it's so, so hard when you're both so grumpy demanding! I'm certainly looking forward to Little R starting at nursery soon. I'm hoping that on those morning I'll be able to convince you to have a morning nap so I can have some *whispers* time to myself. That'd be swell. But I won't hold my breath!