Saturday, December 30, 2006

23 months/ 15 weeks

1. 23 months

Oh poo monkey, can you really only be one month away from turning two? Hell yeah. Three words sum you up right now: Little Miss Independence. You want to do everything, and I mean everything by yourself, and woe behold a parent who helps you with a task. To that parent, their just reward- you will unleash a banshee like wail of fury, loudly declare "Mummy/Daddy do wrong thing- I do it!" and stamp your feet with the passion of a flamenco dancer. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we're afraid...and all too often we (or rather Mummy) is just plain exasperated. Welcome to the twos.

With your growing independence in mind (and the arrival of Usurper in June, by which time we will be depending on it) your Mummy and Daddy have spent most of the Christmas break making some big changes to the backyard and verandahs. The clever use of unobtrusive fencing, and the artful arrangement of play spaces- fancy a cup of tea in my little house Dorothy? Or how about a go down the slipper dip followed by sandpit time?- we have transformed our outside areas into a wonderland for you to explore, create and roam freely. And you are loving it. You are racing around, zinging with that enviable toddler energy which you must burn! burn! burn! until you practically collapse at naptime.

Mmmm naptime. You hold out as long as possible (sometimes almost 3pm- eek!), and then crash for a couple of hours...and then you want to be up until about 9 at night. OK for holiday time, but something that will need to be fine tuned in the future. If you have your timing right, you should be happy to ditch the daytime siesta just around the time your little brother or sister arrives...

But I digress. It is fabulous to see you being so physical at last, climbing, (almost) jumping, running, riding your rocking horse, even having a few precursory attempts at pedalling your trike. At the same time it is just as fantastic to hear your chattering away to yourself, playing out imaginative scenarios and honing your skills in the language we call English. Most significantly, this month has seen you make the switch to using "I" rather than "Abi" most of the time. It's also seen your favourite phrase become "I don't like it", but let's not go there.

All in all you are a cheerful cherub, and thankfully a healthy one, albeit with lots of scratches and minor bumps from your fearless explorations. We're still waiting for your second top left hand incisor, in addition to your two year old molars (they can all wait), making you the most unique teether in history. But whatever.

I should mention Christmas. You loved it, but were somewhat perplexed by the endless stream of presents, including a playhouse, Dorothy cuddly, click clack car track, sand and water table...and an electric Dora car. Especially when there weren't presents to open the following day. You enjoyed a visit from Santa, or should I say Santa Dad, as Mummy quickly cleared up questions of identity before you burst into tears. You still ask specifically for Santa Dad to make an appearance, even after figuring out that "Santa's gone- see you later mate" at your first post Christmas shopping centre visit. No one doubts that you are one smart and savvy cookie my girl.

Where to next, my not so baby girl? Toilet training is just around the corner, seeing as you tell us in no uncertain terms when you are doing your business, and are fixated with your potty book. Think we'll hold off a little while longer- if you'll pardon the pun- until t he candles from your birthday cake have been blown out. And your memories of your one off three day constipation episode (in which the drought was ended most publicly in the local newsagents, with a loudly exclaimed "I've really dome a poo!" after mummy had just had a pep talk from the pharmacist about using a glycerin suppository no less) have well and truly faded from memory..

For now, let's get back to playing tea parties. Yes Mummy really would like a cuppa Abi, and aren't you clever for balancing the cup on the saucer.

Love you gorgeous girl.

2. Usurper
What can I say, small human like creature within? You're public knowledge, you're making your presence known by my ever expanding belly and the occasional delicate movement...the clock is ticking. All is well (except for t he backache, but who's sooking?) and we'll get to see you in a few weeks' time. Can't wait.

We do love you, and you will be given plenty of love and attention. Just don't read what mr nice guy has to say about some recent research into birth order and quality time with parents. We'll prove them wrong..

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Public service announcements

  1. The Wiggles rock. We will miss you Greg, however I'll extend a warm welcome to Sam. It's a big skivvy to fill, but you are up to the task (erm that didn't sound quite right did it?). The poo monkey just loved seeing you cheerful blokes on Monday, and we enjoyed the sheer joy that radiated from every molecule of her being. Her exuberance was so infectious: "More Wiggies! More!". And that was just her parents.
  2. Apparently the best time to get promoted is when you are pregnant and totally stressed out with a sick toddler. I was informed that I will be adding a Senior to my job title and $$ to my bank account whilst the poo monkey was running rampage around my office on a post Wiggles high. She sealed the deal by loudly announcing she had done a poo!
  3. The more anxious you are about juggling work and the art of being a mummy, a ridiculous commute and an unreasonably busy husband, the more likely you are to be given opportunities like the above to make you even more conflicted about your life. It doesn't help to be working in a traditionally masculine oriented field, where you have an old boy's network to battle with and only a small number of women to confide in. Bah, I'm just being a sooky lala. Suck it up, sister.
  4. We've gone public re Usurper. Whilst the general reaction has been one of excitement, one naive soul had the gall to ask me if this was another IVF baby. Innocuous seeming enough...but I don't tend to ask friends the date/position of the successful fuck when they announce their pregnancies. Touche I know, but whatever.

And that is all for now.

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

13 weeks

Usurper, we've made it through the first trimester! It was lovely to see you at the NT scan last Friday, all small and squirmy and baby like, with your lovely wafer thin nuchal fold.

Even better was feeling you move for the very first time at 2:30 am on Tuesday morning, after emptying a very full bladder. How precious to have you quicken at this early stage.

Little one, I'm growing rather fond of you...

Thursday, December 07, 2006

22 months/ 12 weeks

22 months

It hasn't felt right to do my monthly post about you until now poo monkey, because quite frankly the last two weeks have probably been the most challenging I have faced since becoming a parent.

First there was your freak accident where you ran head first into the back corner of the couch, the resultant immediate egg on your forehead necessitating a dash to emergency at the nearest hospital, a twenty five minute drive away on a Saturday evening. That was the day you cut your right hand bottom eye tooth.

I hate hate hate this particular hospital my sweetness, as it is the very place that failed several times over the course of twenty four hours to diagnose my ectopic pregnancy four years ago. But there was no other choice.

After seeing the triage nurse within ten minutes- who gave us all the advice we needed really- we had to wait until after ten pm (over three hours) to see the doctor, who, although very capable, efficient and kind, was very difficult to understand. By this stage you were beyond it, having refused to sleep at all- and so were your mummy and daddy. Can't say I was particularly thrilled to share a waiting room with a loud boorish handcuffed man. Or two. Enough said.

For the next few days you were tired and sore, as the bruising came out, including around your eye. Our GP gave you a check over on the Monday to see how you were progressing (no concussion thank goodness)...and then the gastro bug took its grip on your poor system.

Yeah, the added little bonus from your hospital visit.

So after a few days of the most disgusting poo anyone, especially a pregnant woman has ever seen or smelt, and a delightful exorcist style vomiting episode you were again back at the GP. Poor little mite.

The next few days saw you listless, irritable and tired, going to sleep only in mum's arms (not good when you are 16 kg), and throwing tantrums at absolutely everything, to the point where your mum began to seriously doubt her ability to parent one, let alone two children. Chuck in a job interview for Mum for a more senior position at work during this time and yeah...you get the picture.

This reached a peak yesterday, and we were both in a state. And that is when I realised you had cut a further three teeth within 24 hours- both your top jaw eye teeth and your top right hand second incisor (at last!).

Today we have had relative calm thus far, both having had our first full night's sleep in ages, and enjoying a morning together at a playcentre. You were more interested in hoovering down an early lunch first- indicating another growth spurt is on its way (I hope heightwise not width wise)- before you got stuck into some serious play. You so want to be able to jump- and you will get there soon.

Fingers crossed you are on the road to full health again. In the meantime, Mummy wants to record a few other precious twenty two month old moments:

  • The way you cover your eyes with your hands and demand a cuddle when you are scared or you just need a recharge. And you are scared of a few typical toddler things: bugs/flies, shadows, sometimes the bath....
  • The running commentary you provide of your day, both hilarious and scarily insightful:

Abi want to see Daddy. Daddy on the 'puter again. Daddy email.

Mummy got hairy knees. Yuck.

Abi see Santa. Hello mate!

  • The fact that you are finally, finally over your rock a bye your bear fixation. Well sort of. Now you just want to watch the Wiggles morning, noon and night. And listen to one of the Dorothy songs on repeat in the car instead...

Munchkin, you are gorgeous, you are so smart and funny. You are trying, you are sensitive, fragile and prone to sensory overload .

You are my beloved daughter, and I wouldn't change a thing.

12 weeks

Yes Usurper, we've made it. And no I'm not as fat as imagined in my last post. That 'bump' must have been all gas as I am still in all of my normal clothes bar my jeans, which are just a bit uncomfortable around my lower abdomen and not my fat belly from eating too much of the naughty stuff.

Thank goodness that the worst of the first trimester nausea and fatigue has ebbed away...or I wouldn't have been able to not cope as poorly as I did with your big sister these past two weeks. What a considerate little critter you are.

Lucky for you and I, my thyroid is behaving nicely so we'll be cruising along on the lowest dose of PTU before a repeat blood test in six weeks' time.

I'll write some more about you after tomorrow's NT scan. Am alternately excited and shitscared little one, to put it bluntly. I need to see you again, and know that you are OK.