Monday, February 27, 2006

Lucky 13

13 months that is.

And so my little poo monkey, you have reached another milestone. At long last you can pull yourself up. Your first attempt occurred on Valentine's Day, although it was more of a downward dog type yoga pose. Now there is no stopping you....and I really do mean no stopping you. It's amazing how you can now get into things so quickly, popping up all over the place, the only evidence of your being there the trail of destruction you leave behind! Thank goddess you've finally figured this standing up and then sitting down business and have gone back to sleeping overnight. Pity the same cannot be said for daytime though...

Ummm did I say sleep? You are currently teething, another four or so will soon cut their through to join your current two...and you have a bit of an ear blockage, meaning that mama has had to resort to Dimetapp and Panadol of a night time. Hoping that you feel better soon, and definitely before we both fly down to Melbourne for the Commonwealth Games. This will be your first trip on a plane- outside of your mama's tum that is.

Your favourite word in the whole wide world is ta. You love eskimo kisses and brushing your two teeth. You're such a clever clogs, pointing to your teeth when asked, and to both your teeth and the toothbrush when we are in the bathroom.

You've developed this really cute habit of saying bah bye and waving whenever we are out and about and you've had enough. Not to mention the way you shrug and throw your hands in the air whenever something is 'all gone'. You love to great your Daddy with excited "Dadas"...and your Mama with "Mumumumum". There is no mistaking your specific use of these words now...along with quite a few others, some of which I will discuss further below.

You are quite a sweet and rather shy little one at times...unless mama has taken something off you (such as her mobile, her wallet, keys, weapons of mass destruction) and you want it back NOW. Then the whole world finds out that you are alive with your loud protestations of "Nanananananananananananana".

You are starting to enjoy putting things back in addition to pulling them out/down/over. Books are still your true love, your current favourite is The Very Hungry Caterpillar. You love shapes and blocks, tomorrow your Daddy and I are going to give you your first wooden block puzzle...and a Tupperware ShapeO is on its way to you shortly.

It's so amazing to watch you grow (12.6 kg!) and develop into a true toddler, even if you aren't exactly toddling yet. The play of emotions across your face...from sheer delight when tasting a bit of a chocolatey treat...to (sadly) fear whenever a walking toddler crosses your path (hope this is just a phase that passes once you too are moving in a bipedal fashion my little chook)...to joy and excitement when we greet you of a morning.

I hope you see the joy and amazement reflected in your mama's eyes too, for you continue to bring me so much of this and more.

Love you my precious girl.

You won't see this tip in a parenting magazine

To prevent your baby from doing a nudie crawl down the hallway following their bath, provide them with a packet of birth control pills to play with as you towel dry their bod. The older baby will be enthralled with the challenge of opening the packet to locate the source of the rattle type sound, and absolutely delighted with the fact that Mummy is ensuring there is zero chance of any competition appearing on the horizon within the next year or so.

Monday, February 20, 2006

More please

See, cross party cooperation and conscience votes
work.

Now let's use this approach to tackle the provision of universal paid maternity leave, the right to reduced hours and/or up to five years off work following the birth of your child, affordable quality childcare, life, the universe, everything.

Sigh. A girl can dream.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Decisions, decisions

Yet another poorly worded catch up post (people, I am both a science graduate and a public servant, it's surprising that I can spell my own name).

1. The IVF appointment.

Kerching! There goes $200 before you know it...with only $60 back from Medicare*. Oh well, at least we are climbing back up towards that safety net at the speed of light. I digress.

Hubs and I met with our doc at his swish new offices (with disturbingly sperm shaped door handles, or maybe that was just me). It's a fairly straight forward process for us to launch into operation make baby #2:-

  • a couple of blood tests (you know, to check that neither of us has developed a sudden penchant for sharing needles with people infected with nasty type diseases); and
  • date with a cup for my boy (surprisingly he declined the offer of doing it straight after our appointment, even though our doc told him they now had slightly better facilities than the disabled toilet they used to provide. Nice.)

Then it's simply pick a date and book the follow up appointment to go ahead. Thanks to the Pill I don't have to faff around with waiting to ovulate. I can start snorting and shooting up the appropriate drugs straight after appointment number 2. Extra thanks to hubby signing for his rights away, I can start whenever I want without him there. Tomorrow sounds good. Seriously...June is looking about right at this stage.

2. Sleeep baby sleeep

The poo monkey must have caught onto our plans, as the night before our appointment we all slept for a total of about two hours, thereby causing hubs and I to question the sanity of our plan. Poor girl, think she had a bit of a reaction to her needles. Coupled with teething and trying so hard to stand up without pulling up (go figure) and we've had one narky sleepless girl for the last week or so. Good thing is, this seems to have settled. Well it better have or it's Phenergan for you my sweet.**

3. (No) choice feminism

So a debate has been raging in the intelligent mummy types blogosphere about the writings of one Linda Hirschman. More eloquent discussion of the issue than what you are about to read can be found here and here.

Sigh. Seems our learned friend does not see the irony of replacing a father knows best/it's your biological destiny patriarchy with right wing economic rationalism under the guise of feminism.

We get it. Us educated white middle class females should be using our degrees for the purpose for which they were intended, ie in the marketplace to make someone else lots of money and/or to help a politician or two dodge their responsibilities. Ladies, of course the market demands that your peak career years should coincide with your child bearing and rearing years! We want a return on your tax payer funded education and we want it NOW**. Of course there is no room to consider a system which might allow women to return to the workforce and work their way up at a later date. You can't be a ladder climber at 50...what would the shareholders think after seeing your picture in the company report. You might have wrinkles!

Oh yeah...and someone else can do all the domestic work...that can fall to women further down the chain. And for next to no money. But why worry about the inequity of that scenario?.

As for that nasty childrearing stuff...who could possibly have feelings and/or want to show any interest in the upbringing of the next generation of human type creatures? They are of no importance or interest at all to the few white males who dominate our market economy until the kiddies are earning dollars that can be spent on stuff. Toe the line you irresponsible parents. We don't want to know how you raise the next generation of consumers. Just do it out of sight and mind. And don't pester us for any monetary or hands on assistance OK?

Of course rather than get our menfolk to lower themselves into a true share of domestic and childrearing responsibilities, ie the stuff that makes society function and the very work traditionally undertaken by women...let's simply further denigrate these minor 'tasks'. That way men can be reassured that all along their work was more important and screw the health and well being of the kiddies. If the little buggers get sick, depressed and obese, well hey, that's not my responsibility.

For fuck's sake.

* This will only make sense to Australian readers. Can't be stuffed explaining it to my non existent OS audience.

** Yeah right, I think our girl has had about three doses of Panadol in her entire life.

** Ummm...of course this does not apply to any male who may be retraining in his 40s. In our brave new economy you suck too...just for different reasons. Like not being in the wrong place at the wrong time when the axe fell on your job. You tosser.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Slack tart update

This will be brief:

1st birthday party for the poo monkey = v good
Birthday cake lovingly baked and decorated by mummy = excellent (of course).

Poo monkey's reaction to three x 12 month needles = vociferous displeasure.
Poo monkey's reaction 24-48 hours after shots = clinginess eased only by being carried around by mummy.
Mummy's back after carrying around 12+ kg baby for several hours a day = not so good.

Dealing with scabby nosed aftermath of poo monkey's first proper fall = awful.
Attitude towards getting the poo monkey to take a stand on her own two feet = enthusiastic encouragement albeit with heart in mouth.

My reaction to being back on the pill= sweet relief.
Feelings about IVF doctor appointment next week = nervous anticipation coupled with a "there's no need to rush" attitude.

Current state of Australian politics = dodgy. Why is a minister suddenly responsible and accountable when it comes to women's reproductive choices...but not when it comes to selling wheat to a regime we're supposedly at war with?

Until next time....mwah.

Friday, February 03, 2006

Fark the herald angels sing

The inlaws are coming! The inlaws are coming!
Help meeeeeeee..............