hissychick

Over and out there

2008-02-17T21:00:00.004+11:00

Yes, dear readers, I have finally launched my new blog site. With shiny new annd extra added improvedness. And photos.

Here's the link.

I look forward to seeing all three of you there.

Cheers
hissychick xxx

PS Don't forget to update your feed readers (only I would dare to dream that anyone actually subscribes to my drivel).

Anarchy chez hissychick, rhinovirus style

2008-02-14T09:31:00.003+11:00

It is lurgy central here at chez hissychick, with A, E and I succumbing to colds of the extremely snotty nosed variety. We’ve all dealt with it in our own way:

A being A was happy to while away an entire day watching episodes of Playschool, and was back to her usual cheery self in the evening. This was demonstrated by her proudly exclaiming “Look at this!” as she danced around the bathroom, a wad of toilet paper clenched between her bot cheeks in a post potty*, pre bath display of three year old exuberance. This was followed with a post bath “Let me sing Daddy….I love you sooo much….love you in the morning…bloody!bloody!bloody!” as she toyed with the whammy bar on the guitar when Daddy was playing the Sex Pistol’s Anarchy in the UK on Guitar Hero 3. Yes folks, I have no hope.

E has alternated between her usual cheery self and breast refusing Velcro baby, depending entirely on just how much snot is running out of her nose. Poor little poppet. She seems fascinated by my runny nose too, reaching out to grab said proboscis whilst squealing “ho…hoo” (her attempt at honk I guess). Endearing but sure to perpetuate rhinovirus transfer and reinfection.

I have been my usual hissy self. I don’t do sick very well, who has time for it? I’ve always loved it when people tell you to rest up (husband I am looking at you) when the fact is as a mother of two youngsters who is by herself for twelve hours plus a day you can’t. It’s not like I can leave the non napping three year old to her own devices, and while I am parked on my butt the pile of washing, dishes and dust from the renovations is accumulating at an alarming pace. Meanwhile I am worried about my milk supply but too lethargic to pull out the breast pump and add to my workload. Gah.

Anyway we are off shortly to mother’s group. Nothing like sharing the love around.....

* How the freaking hell we are going to get the girl to use the toilet rather than the grotty potty is beyond me at this point. But that is a story for another occasion.

Hard hats at the ready

2008-02-12T15:19:00.000+11:00

So I am in construction phase at the moment. Yes the new blog is mostly up and running but no I won't be sharing the new site just yet. Sadly I have been wasting my time attempting to gain some mad programming skillz (did I ever tell you about my career detour into IT? No? Another time perhaps) and I want to tweak my new bloggy home a little bit blah blah fishpaste.

Add in the minor renovation works chez hissychick and colds for A and I and there you have it. Plenty of piss poor excuses for avoiding what I really want to do. Which is ummm...i don't know exactly. I have that vague sense of unease that usually precedes a visit from the fiend, and just a general sense of irritation and shittiness with myself.

Oh well. Everyone needs a hobby.

My addiction to E

2008-02-09T20:23:00.000+11:00

I don't think I have ever dedicated a whole post to my youngest daughter, but seeing as she is being spectacularly adorable at the moment it's about time that I did.

Little miss E is my drug of choice at the moment. She is sitting independently for a good thirty seconds or so, and is busily rocking back and forth on her hands and kness at any given opportunity, meaning crawling can't be too far away now. Not that she isn't completely mobile given her rolling prowess. Turn your back for one second and she's somewhere she shouldn't be. Hiding places of note this week have included under the computer desk near power cords, a dropsheet during renovation works (our girl has a thing for wrapping herself up a la a dodgy carpet shop commercial at the moment), and behind whatever door you happen to almost slam into her head.

E is babbling away like, well a babbly thing, and certainly lets you know both verbally and physically exactly what it is that she wants or does not want at any given moment. The former usually includes whatever choking or electrocution hazard is within her surprisingly strong and extensive reach. The latter mostly includes being grabbed by the head or dragged around by her well meaning and besotted older sister.

She's still a booby monster, and it is now very obvious as to when she both does and does not want a feed. When hungry, she will practically lunge at my top. When she's not I cop a squeal accompanied by a back arch to put any yoga devotee to shame. After E has finished a feed she will execute the detach, drop and roll maneuvre, and there has been more than one occasion where I've had to catch her before she rolls off my lap.

Funnier still is E's chief menas of critiquing food, which is to blow raspberries at anything she does not like. This pretty much includes anything that is not a self controlled finger food or is smooth in texture. That's right, our girl prefers to run that fine line between learning to chew and choking. And she will do it all by herself, dammit.

E is also very much into slapping things at the moment, happily thump, thump thumping away on whatever toy tickles her fancy at any given moment but especially blocks. Whacking my chest during feeds is a major source of entertainment as is beating up her Dad's face whenever he is in hers. However she has saved her most brutal maneuvre, the Liverpool kiss, for her older sister whenevr she gets too close during playtime. It's a sign of things to come I fear.

Right now my littlest girl is blessedly asleep- on her tummy of course, she laughs in the face of SIDS risks- beloved Snugzee at her side.

Little miss E, you have become such an addiction in the less than eight months since you arrived, and I am not planning on ever giving up my need to snuggle you close and cover your chubby little face and body with kisses as many times a day as I can manage.

Hissyfit #4756

2008-02-07T21:06:00.000+11:00

Ever had one of those days where the builders manage to coat every single surface in your house with sanding dust, including within the closed door rooms at the opposite end of the house to where work is being done? Dust that at first appearance doesn't seem to be there until you run your finger across the cot railing and your fingertip is coated with a fine white residue that is not from Colombia?

Ever had one of those days where after beating a hasty retreat with the kids from said dust you then return home only to find that the cleaner you splurged on when you can least afford it has not dusted a single thing? And the three year old then proceeds to have yet another accident on the carpet and freshly mopped tiles, only narrowly avoiding your seven month old's eyes? And the load of washing that you had hung out earlier is now sopping wet due to another downpour, the same weather that has resulted in a backlog of at least five more loads? To which the builders have now added because they failed to bring sufficient dropsheets?

Ever had one of those days where you burn your hand trying to simulattaneously prepare dinner and apologise on the phone to your husband for yelling at him several times earlier on in the day because, you know, this was all his fault?

Ummm yeah.

Going bogue

2008-02-06T14:27:00.000+11:00

As in vogue, but with a b.

Yep, today I am one ofthose mothers, you know, the shouty/cranky/westie type. The situation is not helped by the fact that A herself has morphed into a feral cheryl since turning three, registering an 11 out of ten on the whining and tantrum richter scale.

A typical example:

Push me on the swing
In a minute honey, mummy just has to put a load of washing on (this being the first sunny day in ages)
Push me NOW
That's not very nice talking. Ask me nicely and I will be there in a moment
Push me NOW PLEASE (screamed in a whiny voice)
That's rude talking, A. Ask me nicely and I will be there once I have pressed the start button
PUSH ME NOW NOW NOW PLEASE
I am going to count to to three. If you stop shouting and ask me nicely, I will come. If not you will go to timeout.
NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!PUSH ME NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW...
For the first three minutes, I ignore this...
NOW PUSH ME NOW ARRRRGGGGHHHH NOW NOW NOW
....and then I react with my own finest:
NO I WILL NOT PUSH YOU. GET IN HERE, SIT DOWN YOU ARE IN TIMEOUT.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (screamed directly in my face)
SIT DOWN NOW!!!!! I WILL NOT BE PUSHING YOU ON THIS SWING FOR THE REST OF TODAY!!

A is sobbing, I have to walk away to quell the rage within. When the tantrum has not abated after ten minutes even the neighbours give serious consideration to calling someone, anyone to shut that child up already.

Rinse and repeat at least five times a day over such outrageous transgressions on my part such as offering fruit as a snack.

I think she's tired (I know I am)...then again perhaps she has a mild UTI as she has started to regress in the toilet training department and is wetting her pants every now and then. Plus we're back to night time wake up calls. It doesn't help that she also has to readjust to just having mummy at home rather than grandparents at her beck and call.

It would be a relief to know that a temporary illness is causing the behaviour- but a huge source of guilt for my own. Surely my perfect angel child (ha!) isn't simply trying on some truly brattish means of getting her own way?

Either way I can't win. Nor can I muster up the energy to do anything else. Except for making A go to her room after lunch for a rest for the first time in what seems like forever.

I'm off to ~~smoke a packet of winnie blues~~ put little miss E to bed, she who has been patiently and exuberantly jolly jumping as i type.

This gig sucks even more than my writing of late.

The best excuse ever....

2008-02-05T16:08:00.000+11:00

...for not doing housework is the fact that there is crap absolutely everywhere. Who'd have thought that one simple wall removal would create so much mess?*

The fun part is that I have to wake E up soon to go and pick up A and have them both here for the dinner and bath thing before the husband gets home and i can clean up.

Does that go some way to explaining why I use the pseudonym that I do?

* Of course I did, I just went into denial. Or survival mode. Feel perfectly justified in blowing the budget and calling in the cleaner tomorrow. Oh yes I do.

Getting down to busyness

2008-02-04T19:58:00.000+11:00

You'd think that after the resounding success that was A's birthday party I'd have time to sit down and write up a witty and brilliant synopsis of the celebrations to be accompanied by several arty party shots on my brand spanking new blog site. Right?

You'd be wrong.

Inlaws have just left and builder is coming at an obscenely early time tomorrow morning to knock down the glass wall of death between our dining and lounge rooms.

So it will all have to wait for now folks. Thanks for your comments and emails and sorry for not responding but you know how it is....

And just so you know:

The butterfly cake was a success ( well deserved hissyfit at mr hissychick notwithstanding)
I am rather proud of the fact that E has reversed her birthweight digits at seven and a half months, now weighing in at a very respectable 9.2 kg. Moooooooooooooooooooooo!

Until next time i bid you a fond adieu.

It's all happening

2008-01-31T22:04:00.000+11:00

Tomorrow I will be braving the supermarket and spending way too much cashola on sugar and preservative laden non food and plasticky crap for A's birthday party.

And let's not forget the cake, the butterfly cake, the BUTTERFLY cake that miss A has been telling all and sundry about, the one she keeps gazing at as she excitedly pores over the Women's Weekly Kids Cake book yet again ("and for Daddy's birthday we'll make the one that looks like Daddy" , pointing at a cake eerily reminsicent of a rather wierd looking punk. Perfect for mr hissychick's 40th later this year. But I digress.)

E seems rather keen on celebrating her sister's birthday by blowing endless raspberries, much to her own and A's delight. Not to mention mine, as there is nothing quite so appealing as my delicious litle baby deliberately poking her tongue out and making a rather loud PPPPLLLLPPPP sound as cascades of drool escape from her chin and into the folds of her deliciously chubby neck.

Anyway. Preparations are in full swing and I am excited for my little big girl. She is so looking forward to her party and I hope that it meets her expectations. Which at three are simply for some forbidden treat foods, a play with her friends and a few pressies to unwrap. There's a lesson in that for us adults. Maybe.

Three years old

2008-01-30T20:41:00.000+11:00

6:45 am this morning:
"Mummy, Daddy, wake up! I'm THREE!!!"

And so you are my darling miss A.

Happy Birthday sweetheart, may there be many more, celebrated with the same joy and enthusiasm and cake gobbling as you did today.

I love you tttthhhhhhiiiiisssss much. Times three of course.

The eve of three

2008-01-29T14:20:00.000+11:00

So A turns three tomorrow.

I must have blinked because somehow the seven celled embryo I viewed with awe on the TV screen prior to transfer almost four years ago has become a strong willed, clever and confident little girl in little more than an instant. And it's happening all over again. Before I know it E will be a toddler.

No time to ruminate and get all misty eyed just now....

Be back later internets, have birthday presents to wrap, cakes to bake and a party to prepare. And a frantic clean up to complete as my MIL arrives this evening.

Still here..

2008-01-27T19:50:00.000+11:00

..just relaxing with the family over the Australia Day long weekend. If by relaxing you mean fretting about how to ensure that A's upcoming birthday party is a sugar fuelled frenzy that all the cool preschoolers will still be talking about in high school. Kidding. Sort of.

Anyway, just wanted to record for posterity how gorgeous it is to watch the two kidlets play together. In the bath E kicks her legs wildly whenever A claps boats together as we sing 'The Grand old Duke of York' (hissychick edition to make up for fact that I don't actually know the words, note to self: Google it). And today A was pushing E on the baby swing and they were giggling together in delight. Have some gorgeous shots which I may just post once I have the new site up and running.

What wasn't so gorgeous was having to retrieve A who was hanging onto her new slide BY HER FOOT because a certain bad mummy thought that it wouldn't hurt to leave an almost 3 year old by herself with her new swingset* for the thirty seconds it took to take a pee. No one was hurt, and thankfully Mr hissychick's 12 hour engineering masterpiece is still intact and an accident free zone. For now.

On that note I'm signing off as it's time to embrace some true Aussie spiriti and park my lazy, lazy butt on the couch for the evening.

Make snooze, not type.

Housework avoidance syndrome

2008-01-25T12:46:00.000+11:00

I am irritated.

And I am really irritated that I am irritated.

For some reason today I feel premenstrual, although I don't think I should be. Not that I'd know given that my cycles are still out of whack, presumably thanks to a booby monster named E.

Anyway. I'm edgy, sick of my own company and wanting to do something, achieve, tick a task off a list. Anything.

I blame it on the need to do housework.

Housework is the scourge of a project oriented person because it is never complete. Nowadays it seems like I am expending far too much energy sweeping, dusting, vacuuming, only to have to start all over again as I move from one end of the house to the other over the course of a day or week. Because E is on the floor all the time we've had to step up the usual level of cleanliness, and to my horror it seems to me as if our carpet is a seething, teeming mass of dirt, fluff and worse still, endless strands of my very long hair (thanks Mr Dyson). I HATE it.

Truth be told, I think it's a bit of cabin fever. Before children I was not really a homebody, preferring to while away my daytime hours at work, shopping, visiting people...just simply out and about. With little children naturally comes more time at home and more time at home...you guessed it..equals more housework.

I am also very resentful of unpaid drudge work. I, like so many other before me have found it a huge shock to go from a well paid professional position to full time domestic labourer. However what I find even more amazing is that so many continue to do so without complaint.

Can you tell that we have, amongst other things, just given up our fortnightly cleaning service to make our budget stretch further so that I can...wait here it is...stay at home for a bit longer with the kids?

Bah humbug.

I am who I am not. Um yeah.

2008-01-24T14:46:00.000+11:00

I need distracting from my impending tanty at the way my breastfeeding beyond six months post is shaping up and- LOOK AWAY mr hissychick, i'm about to talk about feelings!*....

So here's a bit of fluff n stuff:

I am:

Thirty one years old (eek), but am certain my real age lies somewhere between fourteen and twenty one. That would explain the frequent 'who are these kids and why do they keep calling me mum?' moments that I have throughout the course of the day. Maybe.

Almost six feet tall. Yes, I was always one of, if not the tallest girl in the class. Always. And just so you know I am not from tall stock:- my Dad is 5'9", my Mum 5'4 1/2" and my sister about 5'7". Am beginning to have my suspicions about the milkman....

An introverted extrovert. Or an extroverted introvert? I think my natural state tends towards the quiet (stop laughing mr hissychick), but being tall means you are noticed. Whether you want to be or not. Being angry also helps- or hinders, depending on your point of view. Which is wrong unless it concurs with mine of course.

A procrastinating perfectionsist. Which means that unless I can do it perfectly I cannot be bothered doing it at all. It also means I am very good at making plans...and then making mr hissychick do all the grunt work.

I am not:

A patient person. See previous post where A rather aptly describes how I 'splode. A fabulous trait for parenting and it's something I am trying to work on...but it shits me to tears.

Appreciative of forwarded emails of the 'send this to ten people and a puppy gains it's wings' ilk. Nor the 'this happened to a friend of a friend- honest' kind. Or worse still the pseudospiritual ones that talk about 'what it means to be a woman/mum' and contain poorly paraphrased quotes from the Dalai Lama. Etc etc. Those who know and love me know better. Those who don't soon learn when I forward the same email back twenty times followed by an email containing close up photographs of my own spiritual guidance (ie a raised middle finger) totalling 20 MB in size because oops I forgot to compress.

Anywhere near as crazy as mr hissychick may care to hint at. Besides, he can talk.

Now it's your turn....

* it's up to you lot to work it out...unless your feed reader already gave the game away... And here it is: the earlier than anticipated arrival of my mother in law for A's birthday celebrations.

Tattletales and a booby monster meets meat

2008-01-23T20:31:00.000+11:00

Tonight I gave E a chip sized piece of boiled chicken with her usual pureed dinner vegie combo (yes! she has suddenly started eating from a spoon! and someone in this house likes my cooking!).

You could hear the choir of angels singing the nanosecond flesh met tastebuds.

And yea verily, all was good. Finger licking good.

*****************

I am living with a tattletale. The instant mr hissychick walked in the door A told him:

"Mummy has been very naughty daddy. She 'sploded when she was cooking our dinner..and..and she said naughty words and I was scared and said please mummy stop".

Oh what fun to have a child, not yet three ("how many sleeps mummy?') with such an extensive vocabulary with which to condemn my inadequacies.

Mr hissy just looked at me, eyebrows raised.

Once we had the little dibber dobber out of earshot I explained that after running late from daycare I was trying to rush dinner preparations and managed to burn myself with some hot oil. Naturally I hollered and uttered an expletive. Then I had to calm little miss down, reassuring her that I was not angry at her while running my arm under some cold water to ease the pain.

I think I now understand why she calls me Homer. Asking to see my jelly belly this evening merely confirmed it.

***************
While I am at it, I am going to shamelessly plug mr hissychick's blog for this absolutely hilarious post on playing favourites. I am also hoping to elicit your sympathy because by reading it you may gain some insight into why I am the way I am.

Our poor children.

Conversations with A

2008-01-22T21:35:00.000+11:00

Almost three year olds are endlessly fascinating, combining a heady mix of vastly improved vocabulary with a uniquely endearing take on the world. Some snippets of conversations with A today:

On her upcoming birthday:

"It's my birthday soon. When I was a baby, I turned one. Then I got bigger and turned two. But I'm older now, so I'll be three! Then 4, 5, 6, 7 and, and ...as old as daddy"

When playing shops this morning:

"Hello shop lady, I'd like to buy some milk for the cows on the farm, they're thirsty".

Upon finding out that we had to pick up mr hissychick who had missed his stop and ended up stranded at the next train station:

(To whole neighbourhood as we got in the car) "Daddy! DADDY! We're coming to save you! Hurry up Mummy, ley's get moving and grooving!"

Isn't it lovely to be able to post these thoughts, given that E went to sleep at 8pm and nary a peep has been heard since then?

*************
Thanks again for your input about my blog.

I think I will be going just that little bit more personal in terms of pics and details. Not enough to make you turn your head and look twice should I walk past you on the street...but enough for you to see just how gorgeous my kids are. Not that I am biased or anything.

I will also be jazzing up the site from a technical perspective. It's shocking that someone who used to work in IT could be so lazy in that department.

Most of all I do hope to improve my writing. It's funny, I've always been a science geeky girl and it's only recently that I have really discovered the sheer joy of writing. Being a perfectionist I want to ensure that whatever I post isn't merely a passable record for my children to enjoy in the future, but engaging to my readers as well.

Except for you mr hissychick...so that I can talk about you when you're not looking. Note to self: include the following key phrases in the title of any post that I don't want husband to read: 'let's talk about feelings', 'hissychick family foibles', 'should THAT be happening in my nether regions'...

Let's change topics shall we?

2008-01-21T20:21:00.000+11:00

I promise...no more posts about sleep and lack thereof. For now*.

Time to start tackling that BFing post and updating the look of my blog.

One question I'd love to seek your opinion on dear readers (all 3 of you):

Is a blog which contains more personal information, ie names and in particular photos, of greater interest to you than one where the author retains a greater degree of anonymity?

Am uncertain as to whether to become more out there, or concentrate on honing my writing skills so that the material itself is more intriguing and of a higher calibre.

Either way, or both, I hope to make things a little bit more interesting in my corner of the blogosphere. Stay tuned.

*Things might..they just might be on the improve. But I won't say more lest I jinx myself.

The sound of one mother falling asleep on the keyboard

2008-01-20T19:55:00.001+11:00

Last night worst ever.
So tired no longer have coherent thoughts, only meaningless babble running through my head, interspersed with that dreadful Spanish flea song.

Screw the go with the flow hippy shit, it's time to clench one's behind and get into a dreaded routine. How positively boring and uptight, but anything has got to be better than this.

BBL internets. Have couch to lie on and grizzling baby to ignore.

I am a little Spanish flea
I am a little Spanish flea
da da da da da da
da da da da da da
daaaaaaaah
da da da da da da da

PS A reckons that I'm like Homer and mr hissychick is like grover. WTF is that supposed to mean?

Save that dance

2008-01-19T15:25:00.000+11:00

Why, oh why did I open my big fat mouth?

You guessed it folks. Last night was another shocker. Could not get A to sleep until 11, same time as E. Both A and E then tag teamed on the wake up calls.

Mr hissychick then had to deal with a tantruming, shouting wife this morning. And A was almost as bad, refusing to get dressed for her friend's birthday party. E naturally decided to join in on the fun and fuss whenever boob was offered.

Thankfully we are all intact, having survived the festive celebrations. And what a sugar and toy loaded spectacle that it was, worthy of it's own post (mr hissy?)

Anyway something has to give. The balance has swung too far towards the kids, and it's not sustainable. I simply cannot spend every waking and most non waking hours dealing with the little treasures. I need some space to do my own thing, besides a rushed ten minutes on a blog post here and there. Mr hissychick and I also desperately need to spend some time as just the two of us (um yeah, it would be nice to actually indulge in a few special cuddles sometime before 2010, stop laughing mr hissy).

I know we need to enforce bedtime...and this is the bit I dread...wake up time too. If only we weren't so sleep deprived.

Irony sucks, especially when you aren't using it in the correct context. Sigh.

(GO BACK TO SLEEP E, DAMMIT!!)

Heart in mouth, or why we need an open plan house

2008-01-18T19:55:00.000+11:00

I have always suspected that A was physically strong* and an incident earlier this evening confirmed that I may just have a future Olympic weight lifter on my hands.

I was in the kitchen preparing dinner while keeping an eye on the girls who were playing in the living room via the dodgy early 80's buffet window thingo (yes that is the technical term I'm sure).

Sounds of laughter...check.
Chop the vegies.
A suddenly announces "I did it mummy!".
I look up to see my not quite three year old standing there and holding her seven month old sister in her arms.

Note that E is 9kg of booby baby, approximately half of her older sister's body weight. So this was a significant achievement. Ruined of course by my shriek of "Jesus gay!"** before I flew around the corner only to witness E dropped like a sack of potatoes before I could reach her.

Thankfully for miss E there was no obvious damage other than a bit of a shock. Don't you just love the tonka toughness of second kids?

A was quite distressed as she truly does love her sister and was only going for a cuddle. I tried to explain to her that only grown ups should pick up her sister, to which she replied

"But I'm getting bigger now Mum...I won't do it again, not send me to time out" (!!)

I think I need to lie down. Which isn't going to happen anytime soon as...you guessed it...miss E won't settle to sleep.

What a way to celebrate seven months for miss E.

* mr hissychick having been a 'roid raging schoolboy competitive weight lifter and all.

** my sincere apologies to those readers that take this rather unfortunate expression I've adopted as a blasphemy- but it truly is what flew out of my mouth at the time. And I wonder why A can swear like a wharfie.

It happened AGAIN....

2008-01-18T11:49:00.000+11:00

..yes, E slept through for the second night in a row. And went down for a morning nap without fuss.

Is it too early to do a little victory dance?

I've glimpsed heaven...

2008-01-17T08:58:00.000+11:00

...and for a non believer it looks fantastic.

E slept for TWELVE HOURS last night, requiring only one resettle in the first hour and a dream feed. She has happily gone back to bed after being up for an hour.

A is still asleep after falling asleep at 11 last night- this was preceded by three hours of quiet singing, reading chatting-thanks to a daycare nap (we'll worry about the consequences later).

It may never happen again....but for a mum of two under three (just) to be able to sit here, fully dressed and enjoy toast and tea in peace at almost nine in the morning...priceless.

Press pause

2008-01-16T14:08:00.001+11:00

Sometimes it would be so lovely to be able to press pause and simply savour the moment, drink in the amazingness of your children right this very instant. Because if there's one thing I can't help but notice about their burgeoning little personalities, it's blink and you have missed it. The particular quirk, the turn of phrase, the sound of their giggle, the play of emotion across their face.

At other times I simply want to press fast forward. Especially when the fiend pays a flying visit, wreaking havoc at a time when I so desperately want to go with the flow and be in the moment. This morning was a particularly nasty confidence crusher. Let's just say after a brown paper bag type ten minutes in which i thought I would try and let E* wind down to sleep, I then entered the room only to find that she had literally shat herself as she cried. And promptly threw up all over the bed myself, such was the swirl of panic and remorse that overtook me at the time.

Onward and upward.

A* is just awe inspiring at the moment, and I am truly privileged to be the mother of such an incredible individual. I know we all talk about how we start to see our children's personalities develop right from birth, but the stage she is currently at, it's just so....so obvious. Intense. So clear to see the kind of bright, intelligent, thoughtful and passionate human being that she is and will become.

Today she started what will be the first of two days per week of childcare, up from one day per week. After some initial reluctance she took it bravely in her stride, even getting excited once we turned up at the centre. A momentous event occurred before we even left the car. She asked me to look after her beloved Snugzeez as she didn't need to to take them with her anymore. I was utterly gobsmacked. These two security blankets had been with her all day, every day for the past almost twelve months of childcare. I asked if she was certain and she was resolutely clear.

Even so, I popped them into her backpack when she wasn't looking. Just in case.

Once inside she was raring to go outside for outdoor play, and made a beeline for the bigger kids area. It's clear that she wants to go into the bigger room, and she is just so ready for it, but we will have to wait until a space becomes available. I am hoping one will open up soon after her third birthday, as A not only wants but needs the formal preschool program. Not only is she brilliant with her numbers, she is now showing rapidly developing skills in recognising written words plus she has started drawing faces. My clever little monkey.

It was with heart in mouth that I proudly watched my girl blow me a confident kiss goodbye as she ran off to play with the older kids. I only hope that she has found the courage to voice her wants and needs in the care environment, as it is still perplexing to me that some of the carers haven't even heard her talk when she is so expressive and with such a rich vocabulary. On a basic level I do have my concerns about how she will handle toileting, as she wears undies without accident now, but still sticks exclusively to the potty.

I guess I will find out in another hour or so when we pick A up after E's nap. In the meantime I will have a little smile to myself about how A will cut you off mid sentence/explanation with a "I know, I know.....I KNOW", or will sometimes whinge and when I go to reprimand her will suddenly stop and say cheekily "I was only joking mummy". I'm in trouble.

She absolutely adores her little sister too, and is forever showering her with cuddles and making up ways to make her laugh, rolling all over the fall to encourage miss E to get on the move. I only hope that this beautiful relationship survives the teenage years.

E is blissfully sleeping as I type...simply because it is daytime and not night time of course. She shows all the signs of having a wickedly cheeky personality, as she spends so much of her awake time laughing at her sister. And her parents, especially whenever we are making a futile attempt or seven to get her to go to sleep before ten at night. She is winning on that score by the way, having spent most nights this week giggling and rolling all over the fall in front of the late evening telly, shaking her head from side to side in glee as her sleep deprived parents look at each other in bewilderment.

She still luuurrrves her boob and shows little interest in solids but is still stacking on the weight. It is quite obvious when she wants to feed now because she grabs at my top and makes funny little ohhh ohh sounds. We still prefer to breastfeed close to sleep time, as it is the surefire way to slow her down. Besides, when she is awake and up she is far too busy to feed, and will do that dreaded suck, suck pull off, wriggle around, latch back on, suck, suck pull off again routine that is so familiar and so infuriating to most mums breastfeeding 'older' bubs.

Everything within reach is of absolute fascination to her and must be mouthed immediately. Unless it's a baby toy, god forbid. The remote control is the most keenly sought after object at the moment so her father can have no doubts as to her paternity whatsoever. Such a determined little soul...

..And that is where I must leave you for now, as said girl seems to be stirring. Hopefully she will roll over for a few extra zzz's instead of cot induced concussion thanks to her new airwrap.

Either way, it's time to post and leave the internets alone for another day.

* Just so you know, from now on I will be using my children's initials in an attempt to spend more time documenting my thoughts and less time typying out pseudonyms. So A= cheeky monkey girl and E= the pixie monster. Mr hissychick will remain same. Unless I feel like calling him rude names.

Ennui

2008-01-14T15:37:00.000+11:00

You have to love the French, they always seem to have an suitable word for which there is no appropriate English substitute.

Anyway.

I'm in one of those moods today, you know, where you are suffering from a complete lack of interest in anyone or anything.

Is it because the pixie monster continues her nightly wakings? Probably.

Is it because I am yet again being called away to wipe a pooey cheeky monkey bottom and clean up another potty full of excrement? It doesn't help.

Either way, this article is ringing true with me today. And I'm currently on maternity leave, so I don't even have an excuse.

Maybe I'm just a bad mother. Cheers to that.

Note to self: laugh, don't cry

2008-01-11T20:42:00.000+11:00

So I rang my potential saviours at Tresillian today.
Yes, we sound like candidates for a stay with the next available time around mid Feb.
No, monkey girl cannot come along because she turns three while we're on the waiting list.

Sigh.

On a more positive note, my Mum, sister and niece came for a visit today and it was lovely to see all three girl children bond. Am fairly certain they will be ganging up on us women of the older generations as soon as the youngest two learn to speak in English. I suspect they have their own secret language already, but maybe I'm just paranoid.

All that Yazz

2008-01-10T16:32:00.000+11:00

The only way is up, baby, for you and me now...

Well I hope the lyrics of that dodgy 80's song are true because I sure as hell need to know that this little phase will pass.

Example of a typical night in the hissychick household:

5:30 ish: Dinner for cheeky monkey girl and solids refusal for the pixie. Bolted down food for me.

6 ish: Pixie's bath, playtime for Cheeky monkey

6:30: Mr hissychick arrives home. Bath for CMG, breastfeed for Pixie.

7ish: Bedtime for pixie. Put down awake to self settle with her snugzee after cuddles and a story. Storytime and cuddles for the monkey.

7:30 ish: Bedtime for monkey.

7:35 ish: Pixie carrying on like a pork chop. Attempt resettle for twenty minutes. Offer top up, burp and put in bed. Mr hissychick with monkey the whole time who is claiming that her sister annoys her and that she won't go to sleep. Ever.

8 ish: Give up resettling a shouting pixie and bring her out to the loungeroom, in the hope that this will allow the monkey to go to sleep. Pixie is happy and bright eyed, playing on the floor and not requiring our attention.

8:01 ish: Monkey will come out requesting a nappy change, even if it is just a wee. We change her and tell her to let mummy and daddy know if she needs to use the potty next time.

8:03ish: Back to bed.

8:15 ish. Attempt to put Pixie back to bed.

8:20 ish: Even though the pixie is only protesting the monkey is up, claiming we have to help her sister. Mr hissychick goes with the monkey and reassures her that mummy and daddy are looking after her sister, that she's not really upset. Stays with monkey while I attempt to resettle pixie.

9ish: give up resettling attempt and bring pixie back out to loungeroom where she happily plays, knowing full well her older sister needs to sleep because she is exhausted and keeps refusing to sleep/ asking for clean nappies, cuddles etc etc.

9:15 ish: Monkey still not asleep. Try to wait for tired signs from pixie. None are forthcoming. Get irritated about lack of time to oneself and watch some TV while ignoring playing baby.

9:30 ish: Attempt to put baby to bed as monkey is supposedly asleep. Baby protests, monkey is awake and up.

Rinse and repeat until 10:30 when I give up, take pixie into our bedroom, dream(ha!)feed her and put her in her cot. Mr hissychick convinces monkey to go to sleep. If I'm lucky, the pixie goes to sleep. If not...

Midnight: Pixie finally asleep after rocking and cuddling.

Anytime between 1:30 and 4: Pixie wakes. Mr hissychick attempts resettling and when that invariably fails I feed her.

6:15 am: Pixie wakes with mr hissychick's alarm.....

As you can see, we're not having fun yet. The kicker is that you have to follow up this nightly ritual with a full day with a non napping cheeky monkey girl and a randomly napping pixie(so the late bedtime has nothing to do with too much daysleep, in fact the opposite is true) . In other words, I don't get a single waking hour to myself (or sleeping ones really), nor do mr hissychick and i get any time together sans children.

Sigh. The kids' body clocks are officially out of whack and we need help to get things back on track. I know what we need to do, and if we were dealing with one wee one at once it wouldn't be too difficult to implement the necessary changes. But with two we definitely need to get out of the house and into the hands of Tresillian.

Now if only I hadn't rung the booking office just on 4:30, when unbeknownst to be they were closed. So it would appear that we plunge into the deep end of another night. And without the necessary alcohol to cope either....*

Dear readers inside the computer, do you have any ideas that might be of help?

* Yeah yeah, BF post six months post will happen one day. It's not advisable for me to be writing that one up now because I'll only get angry. Well even crankier than my normal operating level. Which is pretty damn cranky at the moment.

Sleep, interrupted

2008-01-06T12:10:00.001+11:00

The pixie monster has gotten progressively worse at sleeping. So much so that it usually takes us until 10 or 11 at night to get her to go to sleep. She then wakes again between 3 and 4, and is up to start the day anytime between 6 and 8. Getting her to nap is a saga and a half, and trying to change the feed before sleep pattern nigh on impossible. The amount of solids she will attempt is a joke.
It's been this way for longer than I care to admit.

My ECHN rang on Friday to confirm she was faxing through a referral to Tresillian, and stupid, stupid me told her that I'd rather try a day stay before a residential one. I don't know what I was thinking. Sleep deprivation obviously has far wider ranging effects than decreasing one's ability to form a coherent sentence or two.

She's a gorgeous girl, albeit somewhat of a potential sociopath. You should have seen the way she laughed with glee when mr hissychick killed a spider sometime around midnight the other night when she was up and partying as per usual.

Anyway I blame it on the French.

**************

We all trouped off to see Hi5 yesterday, as much to my chagrin, cheeky monkey girl seems to have developed an obsession with this overly chirpy and none too educational kiddy dance act.

Anyway.

The performance was about what I expected, the sound quality was god awful-whoever was on the sound desk should be shot for the reverb was shocking- however CMG seemed to enjoy herself immensely.

It was the audience themselves who confirmed my fears about the quality of the act and the demographic it was aimed at (yes I can be an effete snob and especially so when I am sleep deprived, sue me). Luckily they also provided an immense source of entertainment.

Take for example the following phone conversation I overheard at interval time when I was busily breastfeeding the pixie monster in a desperate attempt to get her to have some sleep:

"Hi darl, yeah it's me. Show's Ok but there's no stuff to buy for little boys. Yeah I managed to get Jayden a green shirt but I had to get a purple cup, is that alright? Yeah they have a blue cape for sale but it's too faggy hey.."

Almost made the deliberate kick to the back of the head from said feral toddler worth it.

*****************

To be saved for next time:

The potty adventures of cheeky monkey girl. How many times do you have to stop on the side of the freeway when the urge hits? And what level of confectionery based bribery will it take to convince her to use the big toilet?
Surviving at home with two kids following mr hissychick's return to work. Boo hiss.
Breastfeeding beyond six months. I promise.....

Off for a caffeine hit. Totally unrelated to the pixie's inability to sleep of course.

Work in progress

2008-01-04T14:46:00.000+11:00

Am currently working on a more serious piece about breastfeeding beyond six months (with actual research! and editing!).

In the meantime, two proud mummy moments:

The look of sheer delight on the pixie monster's face as she discovered the joy of sucking her own toes (my little fetishist...)
The way cheeky moneky girl, of her own volition, will not only take turns on the swings with her freinds but will actually push the swing while waiting. And she's not 3 until the end of the month. Would somebody get the Nobel Peace prize committee on the phone already?

Until next time I bid you a fond adieu.

Wild, wild times

2008-01-01T20:42:00.002+11:00

As predicted our NYE celebrations were intense, so much so that we were all home and tucked up in bed by 10:30.

Oh crap, pixie monster waking up again, so I'll be lazy and point you to mr hissychick's summary of the night.

Back again when i can...

Profound...

2007-12-31T16:11:00.000+11:00

...actually I lie.

Even though both today and tomorrow are just ordinary days ending in y I wanted to wish you all a happy new year.

We are off to a child friendly BBQ shortly. I won't be drinking and am fairly certain we'll be home before 10.

How times have changed!

Hello fiend part 2

2007-12-30T16:23:00.000+11:00

The girls must be psychic, because they let me have almost seven hours sleep in a row last night (yeah I know! And the pixie monster was unwrapped and in a sleeping bag.).

Combine that with toilet training progress for the cheeky monkey girl and the end of my period...my not so fairweather friend is out the back smoking a cigarette and making some calls. So as to speak.

Who knows how long it'll be before she's back?

Hello fiend

2007-12-28T16:34:00.000+11:00

She's supposed to be your friend, yet she undermines your confidence and saps you of energy whenever she walks into the room.

She's nice to your face yet belittles you behind your back.

She's a toxic friend, and I am fairly certain that most of you out there have had an unfortunate experience with at least one of these beguiling yet destructive creatures.

One of mine has made a reappearance in my life, although she's not a person, she's a mood. Anxiety has made a stealthy return to my everyday existence.

She crept back in via whispers of self doubt as I try vainly get the pixie monster to self settle and sleep longer. She laughed mockingly in my face as I started, and continue to battle with cheeky monkey girl over behvaioural issues. She sits on my shoulder grinning wickedly as I do battle with my own explosive temper and insecurity. She clapped her hands with glee as I had my first panic attack in a long time yesterday morning.

Bitch.

To be continued...

A wee triumph

2007-12-27T21:39:00.000+11:00

Yes, Christmas was a delight for the girls and therefore us parents*.

Festivities aside, I want to beat my chest and proudly proclaim that cheeky monkey girl has finally, finally used the potty for wees.

Yes, we had to set a deadline, ie "the day after Santa comes there'll be no more nappies in the day".

Yes, we had to ignore the tantrums and begging that ensued from the world's most reluctant to give up nappies before they turned twenty one toilet trainer.

Yes, we parents were slightly freaked when it took until 5 pm for the first wee to arrive even though there had been no accidents all day and said child had drank more fluid than it was humanly possible to store in her bladder for that time.

Yes we had to sit our girl on the potty for about half an hour at a time and alternate between:

simple reassurance "(mummy/daddy/snugzee/hi-5/the girl in your potty book/the omnipresent god that we haven't introduced the concept of to you just yet aren't scared to use the toilet"),

role modelling ("sure honey, you can watch mummy wee, i'll stand up tall enough so you can crouch down and watch, no you don't need to know what that string hanging out of mummy's bottom is")

peer pressure ("all of your friends are using the toilet, don't you want to try as well so that you can still be in with the cool kids without having to buy their affection just yet?")

reverse psychology ("i bet you can't use the potty" "no, don't agree with me (oh ffs where is that parenting manual again)...")

visual and tactile aids ("see this warm jug of water? now pop your hands in and make a trickling sound, now see mummy pour the water out into the sink in a gentle stream, that's what we want you to do (hee hee, wonder if it really is true that you can make someone pee their pants by dipping their hands in water)....no wait, don't you tip it out as well...ok stop crying, mummy will clean up the water you've tipped all over yourself...")

bribery ("we'll give you a chocolate frog! a car! your inheritance! just please...one teeny tiny wee....")

threats ("if you don't do this snugzee gets it and we withdraw all parental affection for you for now and evermore..")

OK, so I made one of those up.

Anyway. Our girl did one wee in the potty yesterday, and two today. Woo hoo!

Just don't ask about the poo. One dose of parachoc, we're still awaiting results. Watch this space if you dare.

In other news, the pixie monster has accepted a whole teaspoon of delicious, lovingly prepared food from a jar. More on that some other time.

*notwithstanding gift issues/lack of sleep/extreme pre lunch tension followed by arrival of post pregnancy period number two. Whatever.

Breastatarianism and (almost) threenage rage

2007-12-24T13:59:00.000+11:00

'twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Could be heard Mummy's voice shouting
For the love of God GO TO SLEEEEP!

*********

It's almost a wrap for wrapping the Pixie Monster. We've managed to get to the stage of wrapping with both hands out without losing much more sleep than usual. Little miss does seems happier to sleep with her hands out, probably because now she can get her hands on her favourite comforter, to which her new Snugzee comes a distant second: my bosoms.

Little miss is a confirmed breastatarian. She simply adores being breastfed to sleep, and I take great pleasure in doing so on the days where everything is going smoothly (and yes, it is possible for a post six month old baby to breastfed to sleep and stay asleep longer than forty minutes so nerr). It's just that on those other days, you know the overtired/teething/developmental leap/ who knows why ones that it can be an issue.....

And as for solids....little miss quite frankly isn't that keen, booby monster that she is. I have managed to convince her to sample banana, watermelon, rockmelon and mango by taking the baby led weaning approach and simply handing her bits to try when I have been eating them- and these have been mostly sucked on and any bits broken off spat out before the entire chunk is thrown to the floor.

However this approach has been more successful than spoon feeding. After a four day mouth clamped shut deadlock I had a brainwave (ie, why would a demand fed bub who is used to controlling her own intake and who has never accepted a dummy be willing to open her mouth for something as foreign as a spoon controlled by someone else?) and simply handed over a loaded spoon for little miss to try herself.

We now bub who has taken in teeny tiny bits of rice cereal and EBM...before throwing the spoon away and spitting the majority out.

Thinking that it may have been the fact that rice cereal is about as tasty as cardboard I mixed in some pear puree this morning and handed over the spoon. The result? A baby whose entire body convulsed in a visceral shudder at first taste.

I'm assuming that she'll be weaned by the time she is twenty one.

*********

Conversation with cheeky monkey girl Part 1:

Me: So A, are you going to be a good girl or a naughty girl today?

CMG: I'm going to be a naughty girl.

Me: Why?

CMG: Because I enjoy it

Me: [Walk away so that she can't see me laugh]

Conversation with cheeky monkey girl Part II:

Me (expecting the standard apology after carrying out a standard time out for behaviour): What do you say to Mummy?

CMG: I say NO Mummy, NO...(glaring at me)....bloody hell!

And so it would appear that we have, at two years and almost eleven months, hit the threenage year. Where on earth has this sassy, determined attitude emerged from? And why is it so hard not to laugh and/or when your little one is like a mirror to your own quirks (ahem)?

*******

The other day cheeky monkey girl had a taste of unprovoked violence at the hands of her closest little friend who had dropped in for a quick visit. Us Mums were chatting away while the girls played when all of a sudden CMG let out a sob and we turned to see her playmate absolutely belt her in the face for the second time with one of the dolls from CMG's dollhouse.

This isn't the first time that CMG's friend has lashed out, but it was the most vicious and it happened without any warning as there had been no squabbles over toys or the like. CMG's face came up in a welt, with two gouges under her eye.

At times like these it sucks being a parent and having to take a mature responsible approach. What I really wanted to do after I had calmed CMG down and tended to her wounds was to whisper in her ear "You're bigger, and stronger. Take her on and show her what it's like as you rain down the pain".

What I had to do was to calmly tell my friend (who is at her wits end with her daughter's behaviour) that playtime was over and to take her little girl home.

I was rather proud though when before they left, CMG went up to her friend and said very firmly that "You must NEVER EVER hit me" (in a voice uncannily like mine). And at least CMG is savvy enough to understand that the reason her friend went home was not her fault.

However I am starting to wonder whether attitude is transmissible via minor flesh wounds....

Six months

2007-12-21T12:30:00.000+11:00

[This was meant to be posted on Dec 18. But you know how it is with two littlies, especially when one is not sleeping well *ahem littlest miss*. In fact, this is only being written up because I am having a slack tart mummy day and abandoning Cheeky Monkey Girl in front of the TV as I type..]

With no apologies to Dora:

We did it! We did it! Hooray!

And so Pixie Monster is six months old and fully breastfed. And no one from Community Services has turned up to take you away, nor have we had to list you on ebay.

You are an adorable two toothed cherub, rolling everywhere, jolly jumping your heart out and determendly trying to crawl and sit on your own. And you're not far off either of these monumental milestones.

You are so expressive vocally, from your cute tiger like growls and excited shrieks to your contented sighs whenever you are on your beloved boob. Your quiet chats with your snugzee (your new 'lovey' as we wean you off your wrap) are pretty adorable too.

You recognise your own name- and love your big sister's rendition of the daggy 70's song that partially inspired your moniker. Speaking of big sisters you both seem to be involved in a mutual sibling love affair. For now.

Dad's an OK bloke if your toothy grins when he comes home from work are anything to go by....and it's a lovely Mummy ego boost to see the way your whoel face lights up whenever I pick you up out of your cot, as is the way you will throw your whole body towards me whenever someone else dares to hold you.

Your first forays with solids on a spoon have so far been met with utter contempt and determined mouth clamped outright refusal, as tends to be your response towards anything other than the boob(then again, who can blame you, rice cereal is gross and dummies don't have that stretchy nipple twistability..yeowch). You don't seem to mind rusks though, so watch this space. Perhaps it will be finger foods for you, my determinedly independent bub.

Little one, before you were born I was worried about how I could possibly love another child as much as I love your big sister. But then you were here, and I do. To the moon and back.

It is a pleasure to watch you grow and become the very specail and unique little person that is You.

FFS

2007-12-17T14:42:00.000+11:00

Sleep! The pair of you! Before 10 pm at night!

Cease and desist with the multiple night wakings.

Please can we get past both of you insisting on mummy and only mummy being there as you go to sleep. Especially if it's the usual 7:30 pm false alarm and both of you are back up at 8pm.

Big miss: please take a day rest in your room for half an hour. For your benefit and mine.

Little miss: please learn to self settle without mummy's boob in your mouth.

Arrrgggghhhhhh............

All i want for Christmas is....

2007-12-13T17:19:00.000+11:00

...my two front teeth, according to the pixie monster.

Yep, not even six months old and she has her first two teeth*, and it looks like one of the top two is on the way too.

All I want is to not get bitten between now and next Tuesday, when we will reach the major milestone of six exclusive months of the good old booby juice**.

After that my dear, you are most welcome to tuck into a good steak with your new fangs. Just don't ask for a bottle of house white to go with that.

In other news...the girls had a Santa photo done this week. We travelled all the way down the mountain and into the hills district because I wanted to visit the good Santa at a certain department store, one that I knew would not intimidate Cheeky Monkey Girl (the pixie I wasn't worried about, being a second bub she's used to being dropped into the nearest spare set of hands when they're mericifully available).

There we were, waiting in the queue. And waiting. Ditto same.

Then good Santa went on his lunch break.

I decided to forge ahead with our photo session, given that Cheeky Monkey girl is fixated with turn taking and I didn't need a denial of natural justice/ no reward for patience meltdown at the moment.

Shift change Santa was lovely, but he simply wasn't on a par with good (read sneaky) Santa, who would disappear away from nervous kids only to pop back into shot when said kids were distracted.

To cut a long story short, we have our photo. With both kids smiling, albeit in different directions***.

I just need to turn a blind eye to the fact that Santa, with eyes closed has a very precarious one handed hold on the Pixie monster whilst trying to reach with his other hand to stop cheeky monkey girl from escaping over the other arm rest and is only just in shot. At least she stopped the theatrical pout/ finger up the nose for that one nanosecond.

Good luck with the rest of the season Santa. Next year I suspect my two will be even more mischievious. And they will be in cahoots. God help us all.

*Actually they cut through on Dec 1,that's how up to date I am with this blog. Sigh

** Six months old? How the hell did the time go so fast? Note to self, ensure that I also regale our dear friends inside the 'puter with tales of your rolling, feet chewing, tiger like growling and other such genius like developmental achievements.

*** the pixie at me as always- so nice for the ego until they turn agin you in the toddler years, Cheeky Monkey girl at her Nana who was trying to bribe her with the promise of chocolate/ MY inheritance.

Make it stop...

2007-11-27T11:38:00.000+11:00

...time that is, or at the very least the hectic pace.

Life has been v v busy of late. We're currently all sick bar mr hissychick and after several months of a catnapping bub, an almost three year olds deciding to abandon a decent night's sleep just after i'd made my peace with the fact that she won't ever nap in the day again, toilet training issues and the return of my period I've kind of...snapped.

Am irritated by the state of the house, the fact that I can't seem to get myself organised on a day to day basis let alone my life in any semblance of order (where to next? work? do we move? or what?)...

But still.

After the storm comes the calm. Well sort of. Big miss is back to sleeping ok at night and little miss has started to extend her day naps (touch wood touch wood touch wood), no longer needing to be fed to sleep but still enjoying a cuddle until sleepy as we slowly and gently teach her to self settle.

Little miss is also now rolling from back to tummy and can turn 360 deg when on her tummy. She even attempted to get up on her knees yesterday so it looks like crawling is not far away. She giggles at her older sister's antics, adores the jolly jumper, loves to give 'kisses' by eating my chin/cheek/shoulder and it looks like her first two teeth might pop through shortly.

I'm also very proud of the fact that we've almost made it to six months of exclusive breastfeeding. Just have to get through this current period of chest cold related breast refusal.

Big miss had a developmental check up yesterday. She is now officially one metre tall at 2 years and ten months of age (97th percentile). Looks like she fooled everyone and will be tall just like mum after all. Weighing in at round 17 and a half kilos, the gap between percentiles for weight and height is narrowing rapidly so I can finally stop fretting. Woo hoo.

Her clever clogs status was officially recognised too. When the nurse was running through the basic checklist and came to the question about whether she could build a block tower, cheeky monkey girl calmly went over to the play table and built one before correctly told the nurse that there were eleven blocks in said tower. She also read out 100, 90, 80, 70 and 60 on the height chart, and said that the Elmo picture on the wall had the letter E next to it (which it did). And at the end of the appointment when the nurse told her to go home and look after her sick mummy she said that she would check me with the stethoscope when she got home.

Ahhh my girls, growing so quickly, so beautiful, my whole world.

I may not have that much time to blog anymore...

2007-10-25T15:58:00.000+10:00

..but i have all the time in the world for:

* cheeky monkey girl's spontaneous cuddles and exhortations of "i love you sooo much"

* the pixie monster's goofy chuckles when i blurt raspberries on her neck

* CMG's exuberant rain dances complete with dora umbrella

*the pixie's contented sighs and gentle pats and strokes of my boob as she feeds

*CMG's cheeky ways of testing boundaries: "stay on the footpath please" . "is this far enough". "no". "is this far enough?" and so on....

*the pixie's delighted squeals when she first spies me upon waking...and her nonstop squealy chatter when she is happily awake (which is more often than it should be for a bub her age. But still..)

*CMG's burgeoning ability to tell the time "what time it is? it's ten o'clock" (correctly too!) and her newfound understanding of the days of the week "it's thursday, mummy's group day, time to see my friends". And isn't it gorgeous to see her play with her friends!

*the pixie's ability to roll halfway from her back to her tummy...even if the motivating factor is to see the telly (ahem)

*CMG's ability to read speed signs "two eighties mummy!" (very handy for avoiding speeding tickets too)

*the fact that the pixie now weighs a whopping 7.4kg and her thighs are like delicious little ham hocks

i could go on and on, but that means more time away from my beloved girls.

it's times likes these that you realise it is all so worth it.

Where is the love?

2007-10-15T21:53:00.000+10:00

Tell me: how do other parents find the time to, ahem, share the love? There is no time or space in this household for romance, what with the almost 7kg booby monster catnapping and wanting her mummy dummy and the nap refusing not sleeping until 10 pm cheeky monkey girl demanding cuddles because "I love you so much, please hold me". "I love you too sweetheart but its time for bed". "WHY?"

Yes, the dreaded why. I thought we might escape until CMG turned 3 but no dice (so too the swearing but that's entirely my fault). I also thought that the Pixie wouldn't catnap because she doesn't use a dummy. Turns out God hates me. What other explanation could there be for non sleeping highly intelligent children? I only wish my own mother would stop laughing and making unhelpful remarks about what goes around comes around.

But I digress.

Anyway I've lowered my standards. A moment's peace, not sleep, is the new sex around here.

[This post is dedicated to mr hissychick. Turns out he does read my blog, as evidenced by the incredulous "You want a third? Well good luck with your next husband" muttered in my ear late on the night I last posted. Guess it's a good thing I haven't posted all the sordid details of my affair with the pool boy. Whoops.]

Lumpty

2007-10-07T20:06:00.000+10:00

Cheeky Monkey Girl (CMG) has a fantastic imagination that extends to her vocabulary. 'Lumpty' is her word of choice for things that are not quite right, such as a scratchy CD or a rumpled up bed.

I guess you could say that things have been a bit lumpty until recently. Now that we've sorted through various sleep issues for both girls, feeding (for the pixie monster) and behavioural (CMG) I actually have the time and energy to post*.

It's hard to believe that the pixie monster is almost four months old. The newborn phase is well and truly over. Somehow over this very short period of time my teeny tiny second born with the giant grey eyes has been replaced by a rolly polly bub with giant expressive greeny blue eyes. So gorgeous!

The pixie is an utter delight, a happy smiling and easy going baby provided I read her sleep and feed needs correctly (yay to wrapping/slings, cuddles and boobs, boo to dummies/bottles and being in a pram/rocker/carseat without a good deal of prior and post snuggling). Without jinxing myself I think she is starting to fall into a pattern in these areas- including sleeping a lovely long night time stretch after her dreamfeed, sometimes all the way through to 6 am (oh please I hope i haven't jinxed myself). Soon it will be time to move from the bassinette to the cot. Thankfully mr hissychick is happy to have the cot in our room. Not that he was going to have any choice!

The pixie is so vocal and smiley and loves to chat while on the boob which is so very cute but does not facilitate public breastfeeding. But who cares...the pixie is a real mummy's girl and I am lapping up the attention. She is working on grasping at toys, and is a real pro at the tummy to back roll, and it looks like she is making some serious attempts at the back to tummy roll too.

Of great delight is the burgeoning relationship between the pixie and CMG, the former greeting her elder sister's often less than gentle cuddles with squeals of delight and the latter constantly telling me how much she loves her little sister. CMG drops whatever she is doing whenever her little sister wakes up and races me into the bedroom to greet her and is very protective of mini monster too.

Wonder how long before sibling rivalry kicks in?

And CMG.....
1. Has a penchant for renaming her loved ones. Apparently I am not Mummy I am Swiper (from that dreadful Dora show if you must know) and Mr Hissychick is B2. Must. refrain.from. smart. arse. comments....

2. Loves nothing more than to share her deepest thoughts. "Mummy I love you sooo much...but you have wrinkles". "Daddy you have only a little hair, just like the pixie monster". "Mummy your boob is falling off...no it's popping out!". The last one said in public of course.

3. Can swear like a trouper. "Oh shit" is uttered about forty times a day in perfect context and in perfect mimicry of mummy. Ahem. Must work on that one. And the toddler too I guess. Wonder what they think at daycare?

4. Is recognising lots of letters and numbers, and some words. It can't be long until we can no longer spell things out when we don't want her to know what we are talking about.

5. Has the memory of an elephant. Yesterday morning I put on a pre pregnancy dress, and she told me to "swirl around and dance just like at the wedding"...which was the last time I wore said dress. Almost TEN months ago.

6. Loves nothing more than leaping and gymnastic daredevilry (ifthere is such a word)....amongst other things rearranging lougeroom furntiure so she can leap off the couch into a beanbag with an exultant "splash". She doesn't get it from me that's for sure.

I could go on and on....and moan about how hard it is to get CMG into bed nowadays, and how we are having to use the 123 magic concept to rein in some behaviour (supermarket tantrum yesterday if you really must know). But I won't.

Tonight I am simply feeling lucky to be blessed with two beautiful, blossoming little daughters.

So much so I already want #3!

*What I won't have is the space to post shortly, due to the arrival of MIL on Tuesday. Am very happy to sacrifice 'puter time for hands on help though. Plus my parents are back from overseas this week too. I'm going from a two month grandparent drought to a deluge and I am quite frankly thrilled. And so is mr hissychick because it might take some of the pressure off him. HA!

Just another day in paradise

2007-09-12T14:24:00.000+10:00

(Thanks to my sister for the title. She's the one who put it into my head. It's our code on days where we play phone tag, our way of letting each other know just how delightful it is to be a SAHM at times).

You know why I don't post that often? It's because I have no freaking time to myself. At all.

The pixie monster is catnapping and breast refusing her way through the twelve week growth spurt, and cheeky monkey girl is being an absolute horror, coinciding with ditching her daytime nap now that she's in a bed.

Take this morning. Little one happily playing on gymini, CMG happily watching TV and me in the dadjacent laundry popping on a long overdue load of baby clothes et al. Next thing I hear "Haha mummy, stay in your room until rest time is over" (sound familiar?).

Next thing i know my girl has locked me in the laundry using the latch that we used to use to keep our pusscat in.

My hear pounds, I can hear the pixie start to cry as I frantically race out the external laundry door. I try the back door. Locked. I race around the front and up the stairs. It's locked too.

By this time the pixie is screaming so I yell through the laundry door, begging CMG to open up. Which she finally does after five minutes.

I've taken a screwdriver to the latch, and have my housekeys in my pocket. Lesson learnt.

I'm sick of the defiance, I'm sick of the mess, I'm sick of the tantrums and I am jack of the shrieking urgency with which each and every demand is delivered.

Lorks alordy, my eldest is just like her mother.

Gotta go, I hear the sounds of a bedroom being demolished.

FFFUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How did that happen?

2007-08-31T08:25:00.000+10:00

The pixie monster has been fed and is now back in bed without tears, and cheeky monkey girl is having a sleep in in her new bed.

That's right folks, for the first time in ages I am having TEN WHOLE MINUTES TO MYSELF! And I am dressed! And I've had a cuppa! And some breakfast! And I am ignoring the chores! And I am using too many exclamation marks so I am obviously way too excited/still in need of more sleep!

Have I just jinxed myself?!

Keep rollin' rollin' rollin'

2007-08-24T14:16:00.000+10:00

So much to write about, too much anxiety to post properly.

Just wanted to note that today the pixie monster rolled from her tummy to her back three times- at 9 weeks and 4 days. Clever girl. Must have been something they put in her two month vaccinations*

Did I also mention that little miss is now over five and a half kilos, and is well on her way to doubling her birth weight by three months? Hooray for boobyjuice!

Better get back to the paperwork before I have to pick cheeky monkey girl up from daycare. It's been a rollercoaster couple of weeks with my big girl (did someone say flu and sinus infections, utter chaos and defiance when i am breastfeeding and a newfound habit of wriggling free of my hand to bolt onto the road?). It's a good thing that we have had lots of beautiful moments too.

My brain is mush right now.

*What a relief it was to see the rotavirus oral vaccine go down the hatch...

The horror

2007-08-10T14:15:00.000+10:00

Note to self: never, EVER accidentally sleep in until 8 am, even if it is due to the flu. Am still cleaning up after what would have to be one of my worst mornings as a parent to date.

BBL for a nicer more upbeat post. I hope.

The catch up

2007-07-27T14:16:00.000+10:00

No, I am not referring to that short lived dodgy Channel nine show.

I've been meaning to write a post for a while, but the time and energy simply haven't been there. Perhaps I will write more when we hit the Pixie Monster's six week landmark on Monday.

For now I think the following will suffice as to why I have been MIA for the last few weeks:

1. Had to get the breastfeeding sorted out. After suffering excruciating engorgement following the mastitis episode, a day stay at a parenting centre to try and get things back under control, an absolutely hysterical visit to the doctor to get medication to dry the milk up and formula bottles all ready to go...I am still feeding the Pixie exclusively on the boobie juice. Not sure what happened, but I just couldn't go through with the weaning and then just kept on going. The little doll is happy to feed 3-4 hourly in the day and five hourly over night. Textbook child. Not quite textbook feeding style (refuses cradle style on the left), but we'll get there. Weight gains are great so we'll keep on trucking for now. Thank goodness she has, to date, been so placid and easy going (oh god I bet I just jinxed myself).

2. Cheeky monkey girl has been a nightmare to get to go to bed and stay asleep, suffering what seems to be severe separation anxiety from her now back at work father on top of battling another ear infection, and...wait for it...cutting all four two year old molars within the space of a week. She takes until after nine pm to go to sleep, and wakes every single hour until morning. Irony is she doesn't get out of bed even though she can now that it has been converted into a toddler bed (her choice)...she just cries and cries until we come to the rescue. If only I could read the mind of a two year old who has been through so much upheaval. Poor poppet.

So there you have it. Parenting second time round. The newborn sleeps thus far, the toddler doesn't and so neither do the parents. It's a cliche but it's true. Two kids* truly are more than twice the work, and no, you certainly aren't an expert second time round.

*Word of assvice for those with the luxury of determining spacing of siblings: do not go the two and a half year gap. Make it eighteen months or over three years. Really.

Taming the beast

2007-07-08T11:27:00.000+10:00

Cheeky monkey girl is better, and much more settled into the new role of big sister this week. Still Daddy's girl, but Mummy is now OK again too.

The pixie monster continues to be a contented little one for now...as well she should, having gained 360 grams in one week.

A mixed blessing of course...because I have mastitis. They think. As in I have a big nasty sore red patch on my right boob and oedema type swelling but no one can find the underlying plugged duct. Am on antibiotics, isn't clearing as well or as quickly as it should so I'm off for an ultrasound tomorrow morning to see what is going on.

Am hoping to get into a day stay clinic after that, as I would like to put a stop to comfort expressing (up to 500 ml a day!) and just be able to feed. I can put up with the overactive letdown (going to be great for public feeding, excuse me while I just pop my baby off and catch the initial torrent with a towel) and the nipple vasospasm (see them go white, blue and red in the cold, ouch)....it's the expressing to ensure that the affected breast isn't too full that is killing me and only making the supply situation worse. That and the fact that we still need to work on attachment. I hate the football hold, and the modified combo football/cradle hold. I want to just be able to do the blissful baby in cradle hold gig. Enough said.

I want to be able to concentrate on family dynamics, practice juggling two kids and actually venture out into the world with mr hissy and the girls.

Sigh.

Booby call

2007-06-29T16:34:00.000+10:00

So the Pixie monster and I are currently working through all the challenges that breastfeeding seems to involve. Silly me thinking it would be easier second time around. Well it is- and it isn't IYKWIM.

We seem to have ironed out attachment at last, and we're on the way to getting my monster supply under control (so funny to see the looks on some of the other mum's faces when I was in hospital. Days 1 and 2 saw me squeezing pathetic amounts of colostrum out of B cups, Day 3 I walk into the nursery with swollen milky C cups and by Day 4 I had monster hard fake looking D cups. Woah mama).

Now that leaves my overactive letdown and super speedy flow rate to contend with. I may actually be able to put a top on and leave the house shortly, thanks to the arrival of my booby bibs. I laugh myself stupid at the very concept of breast pads containing my 'leakage'. Hell, I use a bottle/bowl to collect from the opposite side on which I am feeding.

For such a small bub the pixie seems to be determined to face the full force flow and not miss a mouthful. We're currently feeding one boob per feed and little miss is now punching in at 60g above her birthweight on Day 10/11, which is very pleasing indeed. We're only 40 g off the 3kg mark now, she's practically a bruiser!

The poo monkey-much better now and to celebrate this and her new big sister status shall henceforth be known as Cheeky Monkey Girl (CMG)- is aboslutely fascinated by breastfeeding. "Evie having Mumm's booby juice. I used to drink booby juice!" is a common refrain, and she loves to help by holding the towels up to catch any drips from the other boob. God love her.

Anyway must be off to rest. Would love to talk about how after all of this I am still very ambivalent about breastfeeding

One week ago today...

2007-06-25T11:38:00.001+10:00

....Evelyn Ruby, aka the Pixie Monster arrived in a great hurry*

She's tiny-at birth measuring 2.9kg, 46cm and a head circumference of 33.4cm- but absolutely perfect**

Will update later, life here is a wee bit stressful at the moment***

* After 48 hours of prelabour, I went into established labour and delivery within one hour, meaning I got the natural birth I so didn't want. Admitted to hospital at 3am with one contraction every ten minutes, at five am I was still one in ten, about ten-fifteen minutes later the contractions were on top of each other, whilst screaming for the drugs I was examined and found to be 9cm dilated and I had her out by 6.02am, one push for the head, which was out by the time the OB arrived and then one push for the body. That's just a wee bit quick. Let's just say I had lockjaw from the gas and mr hissychick is covered in scratches and bruises. Desrevedly so I might add.

** Well except for the damage she has wreaked on my right nipple. Open wide sunshine.

***The poo monkey has been in hospital overnight with rotovirus. She's been sick since the Pixie and I came home. It's a waiting/isolation game to see if we succumb too. Now that is the definition of stress folks.

I hate prelabour

2007-06-17T15:41:00.000+10:00

Bloody hell uterus, make up your mind. Have had no sleep for the past 24 hours because everytime I lie down you issue forth spasms so forceful that I have to leap out of bed to stand, get down on all fours, pace or bounce on the fitball. Anything but actually rest.

So I've tried to get things moving by being active. Whenever I get to a surge every fifteen minutes for about four in a row you then go quiet....so I think that you are resting and that I may as well too. And then we start all over again.

I don't want to ponder, I don't want to call the hospital, I don't want this to go on until Tuesday's appointment.

Is it too late to ask for a refund?

Pulling the plug

2007-06-15T18:37:00.001+10:00

39 weeks 2 days

It's official little miss, the clock is ticking. BP stable but still high at today's checkup, so if there is no movement at the station soon you will be served an eviction notice following an internal next Tuesday.

Your sooky lala mum baulked at an internal today, opting instead to attempt all manner of old wives' labour inducing methods this weekend. Problem is, I know that nothing will work until we pull that mucus plug so as to speak. Ho hum.

(Mr hissy, your functional coitus services are required so please give your mum and Dad $50 to take the poo moonkey out this weekend. Oh yeah, and I get naming rights so nerr.)

Yeee hah

2007-06-14T08:54:00.000+10:00

39 weeks 1 day.

Am STILL here. Usurper is very much locked and loaded, I'm strutting around like a cowboy but alas there is no movement at the station. Then again, if you were a baby yet to be born, would you want to leave the nice warm tub of amniotic fluid for the chilly chilly air of Sydney?

Meh!

June bugs

2007-06-10T21:40:00.000+10:00

38 weeks 4 days

Still here, blood pressure still high but stable...still pregnant!

I'm beginning to think that bubs might actually go full term, and who could blame her given that it is a hell of a lot colder out here than in there. Not to mention that fact that out here both the poo monkey* and I are battling colds again, and we have everything crossed that we won't be getting the poo and spew bug that is doing the rounds of daycare.

Can't wait to meet you little one...but not looking forward to the birth bit one bit.

Next BP and wee checkup is scheduled for Tuesday. Who knows what will happen in the meantime?

* My darling little poo monkey, I feel all teary just thinking about how this truly is our last little bit of time together as mum and one daughter. I love you so much, hope your sister provides you with at least a bit of the joy that your new trampoline has been providing.

More up the duff than ever before

2007-06-07T16:21:00.000+10:00

38 weeks 1 day.

Last time around I had the poo monkey on this day. I will make a bold prediction- it's fairly safe to say that I am not going in for a repeat early bird performance this time around.

Blood pressure is still high but stable, so no scary talk about hospital admissions and inductions as of yet. Next check up is tomorrow. IN the meantime I will be enjoying all the extra clingy cuddles I am getting from my girl. Maybe she knows something that I don't.

And so the waiting game continues in earnest....

Under pressure

2007-06-02T15:55:00.000+10:00

Hum along to that famous Queen song, because that's where I'm at baby.

37+3 weeks today, and my blood pressure is on the rise. Literally. From 120/85 last Monday to 135/95 on Friday. Usurper is head down, 3/5 engaged according to Friday's quick scan, which surprised my OB but not me. I'm the one feeling the hiccups in the vicinity of my pubic bone after all.

Another check up scheduled for Tuesday, in the meantime I am to rest and relax. Bit hard with the inlaws here*, an edgy mr hissychick and a demandapuss poo monkey to boot.

My guess is that I will be giving birth sometime this week. Sugar. Honey. Ice. Tea.

Off I go before my heart hammers its way out of my chest cavity.

De de de dedede. De de de dedede.....

*Mixed feelings on this one. Glad that I won't be alone if something happens when mr hissychick is at work, appreciating the help with the poo monkey and around the house...but I feel like I am somewhat of a watched kettle IYKWIM. I need some space. And I need to keep our space in the type of order that calms me, ie I don't need the nursery being used as a guest room, I need to finish setting it up.

Highs and lows

2007-05-14T20:41:00.000+10:00

I have been on such an emotional rollercoaster over the last week...

The good: Have finished up at work so I can spend some quality time with the clever and ever so cheeky and adorable poo monkey. Am 35 weeks on Wednesday, Usurper is happy and healthy. Following a quick scan last Friday it looks like little miss will be around seven and a half pounds at term- a textbook average size to go along with what has essentially been a textbook pregnancy. Here's hoping the birth is straightforward (mwhahahahaha), and neither too early or late. Around thirty eight/nine weeks will do just nicely thanks. Guess that means I'd better start packing a hospital bag..and preparing her nursery. Ahem.

The bad: The poo monkey's intenseness, and the tantrums that seem to go with being a bright but very sensitive little girl trying to make sense of the world. Recovering from a stomach bug courtesy of same little girl. Enough said.

The ugly: Something that mr hissychick has done, something that I wrote and deleted a post about when everything was just so raw. I think...well I hope that I am dealing with this in a mature manner. Let's just say that while I am very resentful that I have nothing wrong yet I am the one who has suffered the sleepless nights and intense anxiety that goes with being dealt a huge shock, I am also determined not to sink just yet. It's just so complicated...........

Choose your own title

2007-04-18T14:03:00.000+10:00

So it's been a while since I've last posted. I guess the creative juices haven't been flowing. Oh yeah, and there has been a holiday in Melbourne/a sick poo monkey and the sudden onset of a 'minor' pregnancy discomfort for me:

Melbourne: I survived, the poo monkey thrived on the attention of her adoring grandparents, visits to the zoo, aquarium, play centre, the novelty of the plane etc etc, husband was happy to be back 'home' for a while.

Did I mention that I survived? Quite frankly find it so hard living in the ILs house, just as I find it challenging when they stay with us. I am a creature who needs private space to collect my thoughts, read etc, my MIL is an extrovert who talks to anyone and everyone and wants to be at the centre of it all, all the time. It can be very draining at times. Luckily I was able to sneak off for 'naps' when the poo monkey was sleeping or there would have been some serious marital disharmony.

So much more to say on the topic of IL relationship dynamics...but it may not happen. At least that's all I am saying for now.

Otitis media: Make that a mega. The poo monkey was really unhappy last Sunday, clinging and cuddling and not speaking or eating (a world first), in other words the complete opposite of herself. We finally managed to get a "Abi's got a sore ear", and so off we went to the new GP clinic at the nearest public hospital.

After a mere forty minute wait (bless this new means of avoiding emergency when all you need is an after hours GP), little miss was diagnosed with a nasty infection of her right ear, which was accompanied by a fever. Off we went with our script for antibiotics and new supplies of paracetamol and nurofen. At least we could help our precious girl.

Well. After lots of cuddles and rest and tears, little miss woke at about 11pm- with a fever of 39.5. Now we've been so lucky to date, never having faced such a high fever or illness until now, where the bonus is that little miss can use words to tell us what's wrong. Two hours after a dose of panadol, the fulfillment of repeated cool washer demands and a fretful mother vigil (please no febrile convulsions, please no delirium) the poo monkey's fever started to abate.

Monday was a write off, with the poo monkey quite ill and actually taking a sleep in bed with me in between bouts of fever- and diarrhea from the antibiotics.

Yesterday there was even more improvement, albeit lots of resting and cuddling involved, and one post nap pre major upset stomach episode tantrum.

Today we have a new girl, happily playing outside and giving me cheek, not to mention eating a ton of food. So I guess we are getting back to normal. Phew.

One positive out of the whole exercise is that the poo monkey has loved having mummy at home rather than work. But that's a topic fraught with mixed feelings for me and shall be told another time.

Usurper vs my pelvis: I find myself at 31 weeks today...eek where did the time go? All is well with daughter number two, and pleasingly I am rather compact for a second timer too (shapewise, let's not talk about the scales where i have the dubious honour of outweighing mr hissychick).

However....my pelvis has decided to pack it in. Symphisis pubis dysfunction, and lower back pain that shoots down my right leg. Apparently it is called Pelvic girdle pain, however I prefer to call it 'what the fuck how am I supposed to get through the next eight weeks or so if i cannot do anything and don;t you realise how that shits me' torture?

I'm trying to do all of the right things:

Pelvic support band? Check

Avoiding housework like sweeping? Check

Avoiding lifting heavy things? Oh come off of it, I'm the mother of a sick toddler.

Pelvic tilts/pelvic floor exercises? Check

Pillows between knees in bed? Check. By the way loving the way I wake up in agony everytime I need to roll over. Rest before baby? Ha!

Oh well, guess I will have to muddle through until next week's OB appointment. I hate the third trimester (for the symptoms, not the baby. Keep growing little usurper!).

What else?

ESP: The poo monkey has the sixth sense, I swear it. Everytime I find myself getting wordlessly exasperated with mr hissychick, she pipes up with her father's first name in the exact tone of voice I use when I am cranky. Last night she even called out from her bedroom just as I was jokingly reprimanding the man!

It's hilarious. She knows her own full name, my first name, her grandparents first names etc etc*, and they are all said in a gentle and loving tone of voice. But dear old Dad, he cops it- and deservedly so.

Other developmental milestones? Too many to mention. Oh ok....she can throw and catch like a champion, she can really hold a tune and is constantly making up her own little songs that actually make sense, she can wield a fork better than june dally watkins herself and is finally, finally riding on push along toys (thanks daycare...and yes she is settled in there happily too). The missing lateral incisor has made a rapid appearance and we actually get to hear yeah and yes rather than no all the time. Woo hoo!

She is comfortable with separation at daycare, announcing proudly to all and sundry when I arrive to pick her up that "Mummy ALWAYS comes back"....and I think we're seeing some empathy too.

Take this morning's conversation:

Poo monkey: Mummy pick us up?
Me: Sorry darling, Mummy's back is a bit sore. Would you like to climb into my lap for a cuddle?
Poo monkey: Abi rub your back...ohhh, can't reach. Mummy kneel down?

And so I did. And she did rub my back before proudly pronouncing "All better" and giving me a cuddle. It's a cliche but it's true...I'd go the moon and back for her.

I guess it's also a cliche to be a bit worried about having enough love for another one...and trying not to think about the birth thing. But those are topics for another time and place.

* Oh yeah, and the name we've chosen for her little sister too. It sounds so cute when she says it too.

Karma police

2007-03-31T20:41:00.000+10:00

To the lowlife scumbag who attempted to break into our house,

Thanks a lot, your timing was impeccable. It's a real treat to walk into one's house on a Wednesday evening just before your toddler's bedtime, mosey on down the hall to get the phone to call your husband who is of course away...only to suddenly feel rather strange as you quickly retrace your steps down the hall to where you suddenly realise that the glass panels next to the front door are smashed in and your toddler is just millimetres away from stepping on glass, which is, oh, i don't know, everywhere.

Better still, ta muchly for the incredible adrenalne rush upon realisation that there is no sign of forced entry via the door, nor anything noticeable missing and so with heart thumping and unborn baby kicking madly you scoop up your toddler as you hotfoot it back to the car with the sudden realisation that you, you despicable excuse for a human could still be in the house.

I'm sure you'd also get a laugh out of the fact that the interior light in the car was blown and that I couldn't get a neighbour to come to my assistance in our dark little cul de sac.

So nice of you to change my daughter's bedtime routine into a trip to the local police station, followed by a return trip back home with a patrol car and two officers who confirmed that yes, you had tried to break in, but that you had failed and oh, look that's your blood everywhere, including all over my daughter's beloved dolly sitting innocently on the front verandah.

Thanks for the bonus treat too. You know, the one where upon opening the mail at the police station before help in the form of saintly grandparents to arrive I discovered that you had torn into it and wiped your filthy blood all over a birthday card and a catalogue of children's things I had been showing my daughter.

Yep, you've been great. Thanks for turning my home into a crime scene for which we had a two hour visit from forensics and the ten hours' work it took to clean up your handiwork. Really loving my even greater inability to sleep well ever since your little visit just thinking of what might have been, and the fact that you. bled. on. my. daughter's. doll. And. that. we. were. alone.

I don't care if you were drug affected, or that your mummy didn't love you enough as a child, or whatever bullshit you tell yourself to justify your sorry existence. All I know is that your hurt yourself badly enough to warrant medical attention.

Quite frankly, I hope your freaking arm turns gangrenous and falls off.

Don't you ever come near my house again.

Yours sincerely,
hissychick.

Partying like it's 1976

2007-03-22T14:03:00.001+11:00

Thought for the day: I am not thirty one, I am celebrating the tenth anniversary of turning twenty one.

Happy birthday to me. And stuff.

MIA

2007-03-16T11:51:00.000+11:00

I know, I know, I've been missing in action.

I've meant to post for a while now as there's no shortage of material but I've been feeling rather down these last few weeks. Stems from the fact that I'm trying to juggle parenting a toddler, pregnancy, a husband under enormous work pressure and my own job...and I'm doing any of them well:

- The poo monkey is showing some major signs of regression following her introduction to daycare which i won't go into just yet, but it has me seriously questioning whether it was such a good idea after all

-I'm so tired and rundown and blah, I can't believe that there is still at least 12 weeks of being a fat chick to go. At least usrper is healthy, god only knows how when all i seem to do is stuff my face with chocolate

-Husband has so much on his plate, I feel so guilty that he has to come home to a tearful cranky wife who can't be stuffed doing even the most basic of housework after a day of zero patience with the poo monkey

-I've been so tired when I get to work that I have barely been able to keep my eyes open, let alone do anything productive.

This too shall pass. I hope. Sigh.

Testing times

2007-02-22T13:49:00.000+11:00

This post is on the fly, hard to concentrate with the poo monkey going mummymummymummy every five seconds. Guess today will be a no nap day, which are alarmingy becoming more and more frequent nowadays. As are the incessant demands for "dummy! snugzeez!" whenever I dare to say no to such requests as two hours of wiggles videos in a row or chocolate cake mix for breakfast.

So, um yeah, guess you cn already tell which direction this post is going....

Test #1
The toxo thing. Thankfully my first blood test came back in the clear, however I will do a repeat in about ten day's time just to make sure that I haven't been really unlucky and was merely incubating an infection at the time of the last test. So Usurper and I aren't totally in the clear yet, but it's looking like the odds are in our favour.

Not so for our cat. No infection for me means no immunity either, and as he will still be a carrier regardless of his own immune status we have to find him a new home. Any takers?

Test #2
The scene is outside of a friend's house post mother's group today. I have not been able to coax the poo monkey into her car seat for twenty minutes. I cannot put her in there myself, given that she is 16.5 kg of rigid toddler when she has a hissyfit, and I am disturbingly showing signs of symphisis pubis disfunction at 23 weeks. Bear in mind also that mr hissychick has been away for work and won't be returning until late Friday night.

Me: (after all attempts at bribery, cajoling have failed, and patience is extremely thin.) Poo monkey, for the last time please get in the car seat. (Utter desperation) Do you want a smack?

Poo monkey: (Immediately sitting back in her chair). Yes please mummy. Smack! Smack! Abi wants a smack! Hooray!

Me: (Trying and failing not to laugh). You don't know what a smack is do you darling? I said smack, not snack.

We both laugh and drive off.
Ah the terrible twos.

Test #3
Tomorrow is the poo monkey's first day of formal childcare. A spot has come up, we've decided to take it now given that:
a) If she truly hates it it's no big deal to withdraw her until we absolutely have to put her in care once my maternity leave is up

b) It gives her a chance to socialise (although don't get me started on the heartbreak i felt today when the poo monkey went up to one of her little friends, held out her had and said "Ring a rosie Kaija?" only to be brushed off)

c) It may provide me with a chance to spennd one on one time with usurper and give the poo monkey her own special time doing lots of interesting activities, without being linked with the arrival of her sister

d) It gives me some time every week to feel alternately guilty and absolutely ecstatic to have a break. Break meaning time to do all the chores that you simply can't get done efficiently with an exuberant little girl around.

Wonder who will cry the most? Bet you a dollar it's me.

Time to sign off, and surrender the fantasy that a nap will be taken by anyone in this household right now.

Toxoplasmosis

2007-02-16T17:06:00.000+11:00

So many low risk concerns in pregnancy have been blown out of proportion nowadays:

- Listeria (rhymes with hysteria, if you take sensible precautions with food you're very unlikely to cop this one)

-Toxoplasmosis (people it's ok for a cat to look at you, you'd be so unlucky to contract this and face an agonising wait to see if your unborn child is also affected, and by affected I mean at risk of stillbirth, mental retardation and so forth. Provided you don't eat cat poo hahahaha )

...no wait, scratch that last one.

My cat has just been diagnosed with severe systemic toxoplasmosis following a trip to the vets for a seemingly innocuous eye infection.

I have just had a blood test, and am awaiting test results early next week to see if I have immunity or no immunity to the disease. If it's the latter I have to wait another two weeks to see if I have contracted the disease, as there is an incubation period.

To say I am beside myself is an understatement. Then again, I'm always a winner with the low odds. Ectopic pregnancy, Graves' Disease anyone?

Fuck this shit.

A quickie

2007-02-07T13:48:00.000+11:00

Finally back on line now that the inlaws have left. Need some breathing space before I can write a decent post, especially a celebration of the poo monkey's second birthday which was last week. So please note for now:

1.How many newly turned two year olds will calmly announce to an unknown man in the library that "mummy isn't inspired today" in between loudly declaring the colour of each book on the shelf in front of them, and asking "what's that letter?" to which I cannot provide pronunciation of said letter and an example word quickly enough before said two year old is off jumping up and down and singing all the words to "where is thumbkin?" You are all action, colour and movement, with a complex commentary thrown in for free. No wonder people don't believe me when I say that you've just turned two. And that's not just because you look like you're older in the first place!

2. 21 weeks today, and plenty of movements that can be felt both internally and externally from a healthy happy usurper. Daughter number two seems to be taking it all in her stride.

Now if only there was time for a lie down.

Hot dog or hamburger?

2007-01-25T19:10:00.001+11:00

Today I had the 19 week scan, ie the big one, the oh god oh god I hope everything is alright and it's not just gas scan.

Good news is that Usurper is doing well, all major morphology markers are looking good for a healthy, 'normal' baby.

And we most certainly were able to find out the gender.

But I'm not telling right now, other than to state loudly and proudly that the poo monkey is going to be a big sister and we, the parents, are thrilled*

*Until the birth bit, and the no sleeping bit. Minor details folks, minor details.

I'm an auntie!

2007-01-09T21:07:00.000+11:00

This morning, my sister and brother in law became the proud parents of beautiful baby girl C. She is healthy and delicious in every way, and the new parents are both doing well.

Welcome to the world little one, may your stay be a long, healthy and happy one. You're already very very much loved, even though:
1. Your parents pinched the name we had picked out when/if we have another girl (first in best dressed as they say, and it really does suit you)
2. You decided to puke mucus all down my back (hey, what's a bit of baby vom when you're family?).

The poo monkey adores you too, and was very happy to tell all and sundry that the "new baby here, out of auntie n's tummy house".

I couldn't have put it better myself.

23 months/ 15 weeks

2006-12-30T21:19:00.000+11:00

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..

Public service announcements

2006-12-21T15:35:00.000+11:00

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.
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!
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.
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.

13 weeks

2006-12-13T14:26:00.001+11:00

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...

22 months/ 12 weeks

2006-12-07T14:31:00.000+11:00

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.

Sayonara waistline

2006-11-22T20:30:00.000+11:00

10 weeks...and I already have the prominent preggie belly that took 16 weeks to appear last time.

What the ?!

We have a live one

2006-11-16T19:57:00.000+11:00

1. Usurper

This morning we had an appointment at our IVF clinic for what I hope is the last ride of the ultrasound wand in a long time. And there it was, a small human like creature, heart beating away, budding limbs twitching and the right size for dates.

So it's official, we really are in with a good chance at having another baby. Mr hissychick has nicknamed the (almost) foetus Usurper, totally appropriate given our shared sense of humour. The poo monkey couldn't have cared less, simply demanding "Open the door" as I was lying there, legs akimbo.Wonder what she will make of her first trip to the Obstetrician's office tomorrow?

2. The poo monkey

Speaking of livewires, the poo monkey deserve a special mention of her own. I'm sure she knows that something is up and making mummy tired because whenever she doesn't want to do anything she simply runs away laughing. She's also insisting on having showers and not baths. Think she's also having a secret giggle at how fat mummy's tummy is rapidly becoming (surely all baby and not honeycomb kitkats...)Then again, how can I do anything but giggle in return when mid chase of a naked child she stops in front of the mirror and proudly declares "I've got boobies" ?

Usurper, the standard has already been set. I wish you the best of luck...

Pros and cons

2006-11-09T21:16:00.000+11:00

The advantages of an early talker:

* The poo monkey is able to tell me when something hurts so I can make it better. Tonight she pointed to her swollen gums and said "mouth hurts". I was then able to say "Would you like your vegies pureed tonight?", to which she replied "okay, better". Late teething is not so bad after all.

* The liberty the poo monkey feels because she can make choices. "Would you like yoghurt or milk?" "Yogurt, not milk".

*The amazement on people's faces when they discover the little chatterbox in front of them is not two until the end of January...especially when said toddler is happily chanting the ABCs song at the top of her voice. Or singing and doing the actions to "rock a bye your bear". Or providing a running commentary on her playground adventures "Abi climb up the stairs, red slide, abi go down slide, 123 go...."

* A rapidly developing sense of assertiveness and self esteem: "Abi's turn now ok?"

The disadvantages of an early talker:

* The fact that you cannot pretend that you don't understand what is being requested. Especially the bellows for "More pikies! Cake!" when doing the shopping. Or "nudey nudey" time when it is less than twenty degrees outside.

* Embarassing public conversations. "See mummy's boobies/ pom pom (as you may recall, this is the poo monkey's name for my ahem, hairy nethers)?, "Mummy take booger away?", "Mummy do wee wees" (loudly whenever we are in a public toilet). It will only get worse. Much worse.

* The fact that like other milestones, people can't help but compare their own children. It's not a race folks.

Six days until live baby check.

Thyroid ok....but am i?

2006-11-08T15:00:00.000+11:00

Eight weeks today.
Thyroid behaving nicely.
Am moody- and v tired- cow. Poor poo monkey. Especially seeing as mr hissychick is away for work until the weekend. How convenient.
Loving the all day nausea, especially the post 3pm peak, for which there is no cure other than hot chips. Is there a more disgusting overly fattening food than deep fried potato?

Live baby check in a week.

(Hope this doesn't come across as too much of a whinge, am very grateful that things are going so well. I'd just forgotten about the complete and utter bleurgh that is the first trimester...)

21 months

2006-10-31T09:43:00.000+11:00

The poo monkey has come of age, and is already expecting her own set of keys to the house. And well she should, for over the last month she has become even more of her own little person, very adept at telling us exactly what she wants and when she wants it, in addition to a constant running commentary on her life.

“Aye- bee- eye…ABI!”
“Turn telly off!”
“Mummy lie down too”
“Lights! Camera! Action! Wiggles!”
“Another cuddle”
“Don’t like it”
“Our turn”
“Run run run jump!”
“More stories pliz”.

Counting from one to ten has well and truly been mastered, as has the difference between red and green lights…and arrows. No that is not a misprint, little miss is the finest backseat driver there is.

Our girl is also a budding singer, singing along to so many songs that it is quite amazing to watch. The aforementioned LCA Wiggles song, all the Dorothy ones (“Dorofee! Dorofee!”), twinkle twinkle little star, I’m a little teapot, the ABC song, five little ducks…you name it, she’ll sing it. And do the relevant actions. Funniest of all is “Rolling down the Sandhills” as she rolls form one side of the room to the other, just like her beloved Cap’n F’sword.

Little miss has mastered the fork, and is even starting to try a few new foods again now that she has moved to a later shared dinnertime, but there are no new teeth to report. I’m willing to bet we will have the first two year old who still doesn’t have her second top incisors.

Our girl is also gaining confidence in the running, jumping and climbing department. She especially loves climbing into and out of the car and car seat, so much so that you have to build in an extra ten minutes whenever we go out so that she can have a few practice turns. We’re also back at swimming, and although she is still not clean on going under water (“Mummy wipe it away” is a common command when she resurfaces) I think she is rather enjoying the social aspect.

Speaking of social skills, the poo monkey is definitely like her Dad, preferring to stand back and watch other kids before slowly integrating herself into the action. And she doesn’t half love to tell you about what happened on the way home from any social outing (“kids cry…abi no cry”, “held the baby”, “good dinner” and so on).

Books are still a major love, with the poo monkey loving to play anticipatory games as we read her favourite stories:
Me: “It must be your turn…”
PM: “Head!”
Me: “Shut your…”
PM: “Ears!”
Me: “Bless you…”
PM: “Nose!”
Together: “Can you smell the sleep?”

All Spot books are much loved, as is the Daddy book. We’re also getting right into “Where is the Green Sheep?”. Little miss is forever trying to stall bedtime with her calls for “More stories”. It’s hard to resist.

She’s hard to resist. I’m crap at discipline…but she is really good with the few firm but fair boundaries in her life. Except for those relating to yummy food. Then again who isn’t? Although in this department I’m trying to be firm as the poo monkey is still a beautifully cuddly girl, however I think she is starting to plateau as her tummy is less protuberant nowadays. To be honest I think she is very much in proportion, especially given her rather large cranium courtesy of her Mum. Maybe she will also be a six footer just like me.

Love you so much sweetheart, you are an absolute pleasure to have around and your zest for life so re-energizing.

Let's make this official

2006-10-26T20:02:00.000+10:00

Yes I'm pregnant. 6 weeks and 1 day in fact. Due 20th June 2007.

What a relief to confirm* that:
a) Dottie is in my uterus and not my fallopian tube
b) Dottie is showing the beginnings of heart activity
c) Dottie is singular and not plural.

Where to from here?
Week 7: GP for referral and bloods
Week 8: Endocrinologist to work out how best to manage my pesky thyroid (don't want to think about it at the moment)
Week 9: IVF docfor for a heartbeat scan...

..and finally, hopefully, everything crossed, the obstetrician the following day.

This is really happening folks!

* So sick of riding the wand, but hey, what's a transvaginal when you are getting such good news? Will miss you, cold plastic friend. Not.

Serenity now

2006-10-19T14:31:00.000+10:00

After a rather hectic week to say the least, I am pleased to report that all is going well with the microdot, in that my thyroid appears to be behaving and I am actually starting to fill out a bra again.

What I am not so pleased to have to discuss is gossip, and why those who indulge in it need to stop. Now. Without naming names, I was rather disappointed to find out that someone has been sharing the fact that mr hissychick and i have done ivf with people outside of the immediate family.

Whilst I am certain that no malice was intended, and I am in no way ashamed of the means by which we are creating our little family, I do not think such personal information is a topic for general discussion within the extended family. I know for a fact that those I have chosen to speak to are people who by their very nature would not tell others. That's precisely why they know.

Put another way: it is up to mr hissychick and I to determine who we disclose this information to, and that it is us who do the telling. What worries me most is that I am sure news of our latest pregnancy has already been broadcast around the country.

And I simply cannot think about that.

It's a common adage that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. I disagree. Try gossip. Use your brain cells to think about and discuss other issues, rather than living vicariously through what you think you know about other people.

OK, time to shut up before my cortisol levels shoot through the roof again. One week until scan day.

Well what do you know

2006-10-13T09:48:00.000+10:00

According to yesterday's beta there is a teeny tiny bunch of rapidly dividing cells that are producing hCG somewhere in my body.

Now please please please:
a) Be in my uterus and not my remaining fallopian tube
b) Behave yourself oh thyroid of mine ( don't hate me, but I lost weight during this IVF cycle..).

Thyroid function test results available today after 11 am, first ultrasound in two week's time.

In the infamous words of the poo monkey, "seat belt on mummy".`

Testing times

2006-10-10T09:06:00.000+10:00

Know this: My MIL is arriving on a week long visit tomorrow evening. My beta is Thursday morning. She knows that I am doing the test. To say that I am pissed off about the lack of privacy at this critical time in the cycle is an understatement. However, it is no one’s fault but mine for sharing cycle details with family. Mine out of necessity so that the poo monkey could be cared for at EPU, mr hissychick’s so that there would be no jealousy or implied accusations of unequal treatment. And I’m the winner. Yay me.

Know this: Life has not stopped following ET. I have had the occasional glass of wine. I have enjoyed several cups of tea every day. I have not taken it easy, work has been busy and the poo monkey has had some broken nights of sleep thanks to a cold/hayfever that won’t go away. In other words I am living life as opposed to waiting for something over which I really don’t have any control. I am tired of fear and fortune telling.

Know this: In absolute contradiction of the above statement, I have been and will be testing each morning until my beta, yesterday being the first time I dipped a stick, when I could be sure that 14 days post trigger shot I wouldn’t be getting the good old hope crushing false positive that are yet another bonus of IVF. The two tests so far have given the same result. But guess what? I’m not telling you a thing until the beta is done.

Poo monkey’s word for the day: crusty (in reference to the state of her nose).

Progestermoan

2006-10-04T20:04:00.000+10:00

I am so blah
I am so blah
Blah blah blah
I am so blah.

It would appear that Crinone is dong squishy things to my mind as well as my nether regions. I'd honestly forgotten about this aspect of the stim cycle.

The luteal phase has never been a good friend of mine, usually resulting in pustular eruptions on my face and mini meltdowns of my mind, hence the reason I love shutting it the fuck up with those wee tablets that come in a pack of 28.

Now it would appear that the nightly squirt of cooter cream is not only making me doubt my worthiness as a mother to the poo monkey, it is also making me eat salty, salty two minute noodles and rare bloodied lamb chops- laughing maniacally at the fact I was once a vegetarian- as I frantically order 10 cheap HPTs off the ‘net because, of course I’m not even thinking of testing before my beta next Friday.

This morning my girl said “I gorgeous” to me. You are, my darling. Wish Mummy wasn’t feeling so ugly though.

Twenty months

2006-10-01T13:54:00.000+10:00

Can it really be possible that the poo monkey has reached her twenties?

Two new teeth are on the scene (another bottom jaw molar and eye tooth...when are you going to get your top second incisors?), you are taller and still delightfully rounded in that delicious way only toddlers can be.

Over the past month we have again seen you take great leaps with your speech, you love to parrot sentences and love to use your action words and personal pronouns of sorts. As I have written earlier, you occasionally use "I do it" and "you do it", although mostly you stick to "abi x..mum x, daddy y" etc etc. You continue to astound us with the number of words you know and add to your vocab every day. "Up", "down", "on/off", "in/out", "yucky/better" are all used in their appropriate contexts.

You also own everything, it's not our car it's Abi's car, Abi's 'puter...

You also speak many universal truths, like "Red stop" and "green go"...our little backseat driver!

Conversations with you are gorgeous, going along the lines of:
Poo monkey: "Dip! Daddy dip!"
Daddy: "Do you want to go on the slippery dip"
Poo monkey: "Okay!"
....as if it was our idea in the first place!

Mummy: "We're going to put your socks on because it's cold"
Poo monkey: "Ahhh....better!"
...this Poo monkey seal of approval is particularly cute.

You are also developing manners, always saying "Thankyou Mummy/Daddy/Nana"...and even "Thankyou much". We're also getting the occasional "Pliz" too. Let's hope this stays with you during the teenage years.

It is utterly hilarious to hear you say "Abi burp" and then fake one. Then again, your mum has always had a sophisticated sense of humour.

You can count from one to ten, well mostly-nine is your stumbling block- and if you don't feel like counting all the way you just go "...ten HOORAY", all pleased with yourself as you should be.

It is utterly adorable to hear your attempts at singing "Twinkle twinkle little star", complete with actions. And it is recognisable to persons other than your mummy! You also love to unambiguously do the actions and sing along where you can to assorted Wiggles songs, especially "Quack quack", "Jonie works with one hammer" and "Five little ducks", rapidly improving on the skills you were only starting to display a few months ago.

Your love affair with the Wiggles grows everyday, as does your associated Wiggles vocabulary ("henry puss" "wags woof", "jeff", "murray"). So far your parents are using your brand recognition skills for good rather than evil. When you need a top up of dairy food all we need to do is pull out a Wiggles yoghurt and you're away ("'iggles ogurt..yay!).

You are starting to enjoy more grown up activities such as Play dough ('Tay-do! Tay-do!'), cutting the dough (Abi cut it), flattening the dough ('hammer! hammer!') and pressing moulds ("press down"). You still love your stickers and drawing. And reading of course. Nowadays you love to tell us the story from your favourite books, especially "Goodnight me".

You love to 'help', especially sweeping, pulling clothes out of the basket and 'cooking' with your very own cupboard of plastics. "Abi too" is heard an awful lot around these parts.

Your fine motor skills are amazing, you love to undo and put on lids and caps of all descriptions, which has led to your Daddy and I having to be a bit more vigilant with objects previously safe from your reach. Especially Mum's lip balm...there is nothing in this world you love more than your "lippy".

We're making lots of progress in the gross motor skills department too. You are absolutely delighted with your ability to climb on and off things like your see saw rocker and ride on car....doesn't mean you like to use your own legs to push though..."Mummy/Daddy do it...better!". You love nothing more than to climb on and off the sofa nowadays too, and are attempting to jump and sometimes run.

I could go on and on...and I usually do...but you are now up and happily eating a yoghurt all by yourself in the chair adjacent to mine- and this yoghurt won't last forever.

Love you so much our little girl, for you truly are a little girl now.

Mummy will also let you in on a secret: if all goes well you might be on your way to becoming a big sister next year. Whether or not you'd appreciate that remains to be seen!

[ETA: How could I forget to mention how many colours you know: red, orange, pink, green, purple, yellow and blue? Or that stand your ground with a strong "Enough"?]

One in the ute, five in the freezer

2006-09-29T15:50:00.000+10:00

It's done. There is one very attractive four celled embryo within the confines of my uterus, and another five in the deep freeze.

Our doc says it was a beautiful cycle, and that all we need to do is cross our fingers that said embie is genetically OK. Then again, he could have just been on a high because he was off to Melbourne to watch his beloved West Coast in tomorrow's AFL Grand Final. Can you trust an Eagles fan?

So there you have it. Only four people present at what is hopefully the start of the poo monkey's ~~usurper~~ sibling's existence Now all I have to do is try and avoid fixating on the success rate of day 2/3 transfers versus blastocysts. Oh yeah, and ignore the endless abdominal protests courtesy of the cramp inducing cooter cream known as Crinone.

Wouldn't it be nice if this works, and then we can get #3 from one of our little popsicles. It would kill mr hissychick. A girl can dream!

[Tip for the day: if you have always found gynae exams uncomfortable to say the least, open your mouth and ensure that your tongue is not on the roof of your mouth. You can't tense up as much. Trust me girls, it works.]

Lucky eight

2006-09-28T11:23:00.000+10:00

Had the call from the lab:

10 eggs were injected with mr hissychick's sperm, and eight have fertilised. I can live with that.

Day two transfer booked for 10 to 10 tomorrow morning, and we'll freeze what is left, depending on how the little critters go between now and then. Divide for your life little embies!

It's such a mind fuck, this waiting game. Oh well, no time to navel gaze, am dead tired after a bad night with the poo monkey. Was it illness...or can she sense competition in the air?

Legs eleven

2006-09-27T16:58:00.000+10:00

Eleven eggs retrieved at this morning's pickup.

It's all quiet on the western front until tomorrow morning's pick a number, any number of embies phone call. Hopefully mr hissychick's sperm did their thing, after almost being scared out of making an appearance (note to nurses: do not knock on the door of a man who is mid date with the cup).

That is all.

I've pulled the trigger

2006-09-25T19:57:00.000+10:00

At least ten nice big juicy follies were seen at this morning's cooter cam extravaganza, so at 5:30 pm* this evening I had my trigger shot in preparation for egg pick up on Wednesday morning at 7 am.

Kapow.

* And I nearly didn't make the deadline, no thanks to the joke that is Sydney traffic, followed by the ~~complex scientific lab procedure~~ dead easy mixing process involved to prepare the injection when one has a tired hungry toddler in tow.

Now to deal with the onerous task of insurance companies- and how to extract money for loss of frozen food courtesy of the wee little power failure that is still ongoing in our part of the world. If someone else in the media mentions the self fulfilling words 'horrific upcoming bushfire season' or the like I am going to scream, and insert crinone gel in a particular orifice of said offender where the sun don't shine.

Hard boiled

2006-09-20T21:25:00.000+10:00

Just did injection number six (150 IU) AND I can't fit into my jeans thanks to my hugely bloated drug fuelled belly AND I am a moody cow from hell who couldn't even be polite on the phone to an interstate hubs AND the poo monkey is now saying "I want", for the love of god I do not need her to assert her autonomy right now.

Did I mention that my clothes don't fit on day six of stims?

Hurry up Friday bloods. There better be a baker's dozen of beautiful googies in there or I'm going to ~~go postal~~ cry.

(I guess now is not the time to write a catch up post on last Friday, which was our 5th wedding anniversary. We celebrated by taking the poo monkey to Featherdale Wildlife Park and our girl was absolutely thrilled with the chance to feed the kangaroos, offering "more! MORE!" even though her big grey of choice was absolutely stuffed. Oh look, that'll do.)

Stick it sister

2006-09-16T19:46:00.000+10:00

It's official: I survived my first attempt at putting a needle into my own flesh.

I was too much of a wuss to do the needle thing for the IVF cycle that (eventually) resulted in the poo monkey..and I will admit to being a huge sooky lala last night before I did the deed.

But you know what? It wasn't that bad. The needle bit that is. Can't vouch for the drugs, I know how bloated I am going to get by the time I go to the clinic for bloods this Friday. Not to mention emotional (thanks for the work on that aspect of my mind to date, friend GnRH agonist).

I am barely a syringe width away from injecting smack straight into my eyeball.

Must be off to snort the Syneral right now, then get out the ~~spoon and tourniquet~~ injection pen and associated accoutrement for the follie stim high at 9pm.

Whee!

One more thing before I go. As I was getting into the shower this morning, the poo monkey did her usual gleeful giggle at my "boobies". Then a new move. She pointed at my admittedly hirsute nether regions and loudly declared "pom pom". Is that a sign I need to get to work on tidying up before next week's cooter cam and egg collection action or what?

(Mood) swings and roundabouts

2006-09-13T13:37:00.000+10:00

Let's see if I can organise my thoughts:

1.Cycle update
There isn't much of excitement to report, unless you like hearing about hot flushes in glorious detail. Which you aren't getting. So nerr. Tomorrow is first bloods and learn how to be a junkie day. Hooray and stuff.

2. The poo monkey
Gorgeous as ever...snotty as ever..and food fussy as ever. In other words, and entirely normal almost nineteen and a half month old.

I continue to be amazed and flabbergasted at her language development and how quickly it is taking place. Her mind is simply soaking up the English language. Our girl now sings along to her favourite wiggles songs. She can sing the "'ans in air/rockabye bear/ bear sleep/ shh shh shh" bit of her eternal favourite, "Rockabye your bear". She also sings bits of "Numbers Rhumba", "Dorothy the Dinosaur"- especially the spelling bit!- and the does the most hilarious version, including actions of "Quack quack" (imagine a toddler squealing quack! quack! cockadodledo with delight as she mimics the Wiggles' funky dance moves).

Little miss also loves participating in negotiation/decision making conversations..which is fantastic as we are seeing less and less of the dreaded tantrum face as a result. She is quite happy to tell you when something is "nice" or "better" or "enough", and will answer either "okhay" or "no when you tell her something like if we do x first, you can watch the wiggles after that. The poo monkey is also quite clear when she wants to join in ("Abi too") or do something for herself ("abi do it"). Simply amazing.

Our girl is now getting into all things three...although the obsession with two remains. Two new obsessions are kissing her reflection in the mirror, and pointing herself out in photos..even as a baby!

I could go on, and on...and I usually do...but I want to get onto another topic that's been on my mind when the mood unpredictably turns that wee bit darker...

3. The dumb/assholish comments people make when they find out you're doing IVF

This has been done well by others, but here's my take on a few of the hoary old chestnuts that have popped up again lately:

You're doing IVF again? But I heard from a friend of a friend who did IVF for number one, and then fell pregnant naturally with number two because her body knew what to do...

Oh, how nice. I suppose you also knew someone who was just about to adopt and the same thing happened? Stupid me, I forgot that fertility problems are a female only issue. Of course it's up to me to miraculously make our male factor issue disappear with the magic powers of my previously occupied uterus. I mean, it's also up to me as to whether we have a girl or a boy right? Off with my head if an X rather than a Y sperm is involved in fertilization. Tell me,
how many years of biology did you do at school?

But you've already got one beautiful child and you should just be happy with that...

I am happy, indeed blessed with my beloved and precious daughter. Now, which one of your kids are you going to hand back?

Doesn't IVF increase you risk of cancer because it isn't natural?

Great, thanks for your support. I'd tell you about the research done to date but it's clear to me that you don't want to hear something that doesn't back up your own assumptions. Speaking of unnatural, how about that heart/asthma/diabetes medication of yours...

And of course, my all time favourite:

You guys need to do IVF? I only have to look at my husband and I'm pregnant. Really, we are as fertile as the Nile delta,blah blah boring..

This really, really should be answered with a fuck you asshole. Would you speak to a friend who has told you that they have terminal cancer about how healthy you are, and that your GP told you you would be running marathons at 80? I don't care about the fact that you and your partner just have to shag to make a baby. Congratulations on finding the right hole (and thanks for your other helpful advice about doing it "right"). Now fuck off, this isn't about you at all.

There. Much better.

It's ok to spray

2006-09-06T12:41:00.000+10:00

I'd forgotten just how shite Syneral makes you feel as you commence down the road to the pseudopause. My mind is mushy and headachey, my nose is as irritated as a coke addict and my muscles feel like jelly.

Meh.

Thank whatever for the poo monkey, and her ability to point out and loudly declare "man boobies".

Insane in the membrane

2006-08-31T20:30:00.000+10:00

Monday 3 September: Start snorting Synarel to bring on the hot flushes et al.

Thursday 14 September: Give good vein and learn how to stab myself in the stomach again so as to maximise bruising and tenderness.

Friday 15 September: Commence filling up my loudly and proudly displayed hazardous waste bin with the pointy bits from the Purgeon pen, muttering "happy 5th wedding anniversary" to hubs as I go.

Chuck in a couple more blood extractions and a date or two with the ever exciting dildo cam, a hormonally induced emotional breakdown and a weight gain of about five kilos, then...

Sometime after the 25th September:

1. Succumb to the delights of general anaethesia so that my fertility specialist can insert an enormous needle through the wall of my cooter to suck some googy eggs out.

2. Sperm, meet needle. Needle, meet egg. Newly formed embryo(s): divide for your life!

3. Indulge in a hot and heavy fifteen minutes of baby making two or so days after (egg) pick up. Just me and hubs....and the embryologist, and the catheter wielding doctor...

4. Spend the next two weeks wondering if the reason I have turned into such a moody biatch is because of crinone *ahem* squishiness or because I am, once again, host to a small human like creature. Either way, a lot of the cranky pantedness will definitely be due to the sudden removal of caffeine and the (sometimes more than) occasional glass of wine from my diet.

5. Blood let one more time to know whether I will indeed be getting fatter and even moodier over the next eight or so months. Or whether we will be having a break before thawing one of our frozen pop tarts (if we have any), or whether we will be repeating steps 1 to 7 again (and hopefully not again, and..).

Am I completely nucking futs or what?

Nineteen months

2006-08-30T13:07:00.000+10:00

"Cup of tea...owright?!

And this, my darling girl, pretty much sums up where you are at right now at nineteen months of age. Hurtling towards proper speech, a born to be wild attitude, a living breathing manifestation of human passion.

We've lost count of how many words you know, new ones pop up all the time, usually in little sentences, sentences which show us that you are also learning so many other concepts as well:

" Wed car-duh-gin" you said to your Nana yesterday, as you played with the buttons on what was indeed her red cardigan.

"Ah-bee up and ah-bee dohwn"...a running commentary along with the Wiggles' 'twist' and whenever you are picked up or want to get back into the action.

"Cooking", "Cleaning", "Walking" . Those action words are starting to creep into your vocabulary.

" Cold 'ans...cold mummy" you correctly observed as I have undressed you for your bath, unintentionally touching your lovely warm skin with my icy cold fingers

"Hot cuppa tea" is one of your favourite sayings, and you also delight in pointing out your "bot-uhl..warm" as your wrap your fingers around it in the morning.

"Punkin bread oh punkin bread more punkin bread" . It should come as no surprise that you know so many food related words, given your love of tasty treats. At the moment you adore your yellow and orange fruits and veg, and are totally self feeding, which is a huge relief. Your dolt of a mother did not realise that the reason you were throwing meal time tanties was because you wanted to do it all yourself, especially things like yoghurt which you delight in spooning carefully into your mouth. You might not be au fait with your fork, and you often toss the spoon to one side and simply dig in with your fingers...but you do love your newfound sense of total feeding independence.

Colours, temperature, counting...you love to point out two of everything, indeed everything in your world is to be paired up for peace to prevail. The number three is so far reserved for pushing off on your slide, which you climb up with ease before gleefully shouting "Owright" as you stand at the top. This month has seen you gain greater confidence in your gross motor skills. Your fine motor skills are just plain scary, as evidennced by your ability to do up the straps on your booster chair and stroller.

You are totally a Nana's (and Daddy's, and Poppy's...) girl at the moment, saving your best tanties for Mum. Let us not speak of your increasingly frequent outbursts of raw toddler frustration and emotion. "No jumper...hot...no! no! No!!" Enough said.

Nine teeth now grace your mouth: two top front teeth, two top molars, three and a half front bottom teeth and one bottom molar. Teething, like most other things, is not being done in a conventional fashion.

We're back to sleeping well both in the day and at night *fingers so tightly crossed it almost hurts*.

Love you so much, beautiful girl. You continue to delight and amaze us, your Mum and Dad, the mere mortals given the extraordinary priveledge of bringing you into this world. Keep charging full speed ahead!

Poo de doo

2006-08-24T13:58:00.000+10:00

In an ominous sign that all posts continue to be poo related for the next little while, it is my solemn duty to inform you, dear reader, that the poo monkey is currently suffering from a tummy bug. A bug I shall name the Clayminator, due to the yellow paste explosions that are the result of this critter's dastardly work.

Suffice to say, my girl is not feeling that well. It is not the many tantrums that I have endured if I fail to switch on the Wiggles' DVD within a nanosecond of being issued the demand over the last couple of days that has made that abundantly clear to me.

Nope...little miss has lost her appetite. Yes, you read that correctly. The poo monkey is not eating as much as normal. And she is refusing food too.

What next, a fussy feeder?

Poor little mite. And she's teething, just to add to the hilarity of the situation. Here's hoping things improve soon. I want to get back to marveling at the freakish speed at which our girl develops news skills (where the hell did she learn about elbows, I ask you).

In the meantime...hubs, if you reading this can you please empty the ~~festering pit of faecal doom~~ nappy bin when you get home?

All done

2006-08-17T13:14:00.000+10:00

So the poo monkey used the potty for a total of twenty four hours, with a 100 % success rate. I was stunned. Her father was stunned. The poo monkey could not have cared less.

The very next time I asked her if she needed to go, she said "no, no potty"...went away for a play and promptly loaded her nappy, proudly announcing "poo poo". Now she passes by the potty, points out what it is and then goes on her merry way (usually back to demanding to watch the 'iggles for the forty seven thousandth fricking time that day).

To me it seems to be a case of, "been there, done that, what else is there to do?".

Am very happy to wait until summer...and training straight to the toilet. Note to novices, a poo floater in wee sauce is a sensory delight. Not. Do NOT buy a white potty, our blue one is bad enough.

Our girl is moving onto other things, like not sleeping, quite possibly due to ~~Wiggles overload~~ all of the learning due to the excellent quality stimulating environment that Mummy always provides.

Fun times people, fun times*.

*This sums up what it is like to be the parent of a toddler going through a massive developmental leap. You are constantly in awe of them, love them to death...but just want the little munchkins to go to sleep so that you can have a short bit of respite from the constant demands...

...bit I'm not ready for this!

2006-08-13T14:07:00.000+10:00

So the poo monkey has decided that it's time to toilet train. I'm firmly convinced that she knew that her mother was not ready for this, hoping instead to do the deed over summer when there are less clothes to be shed and more favourable warm conditions for bare little bottoms. Not to mention the fact that she's only 18 months old...

No such luck. The number and frequency of pre poo and wee pronouncements, the post movement proclamations of "poo poo nappy" became too much to ignore.

Last night, as she was sitting in her bath, little miss simply said "poo poo...potty. Abi potty". What choice did I have other than to let her give it a go?

And so here we are, potty training. Little miss lets us know when she wants to go or we sit her on the pot after meals/when she wakes up/ at bathtime...and she does her business. We've hastily bought some pullup pants thingies as aparently nappies are now so last month.

I have no idea what I'm doing..but whatever. We'll just go with the flow, pardon the pun.

Tick cluck...tick cluck...

2006-08-09T20:41:00.000+10:00

I'm ready, so watch this space!

Eighteen months

2006-08-02T20:36:00.000+10:00

Our little girl is a year and a half year old, and to celebrate she has started to talk in two and three word phrases or sentences. It is so hilarious to have your little one holler out "MUM" (no mama or mummy here)and then run up to you exclaiming "dirty hands! dirty hands!" before replying "thankyou" (ta is for babies Mum) when you have remedied the situation.

Add that to the minimum ten or so new words added to the poo monkey's vocabulary each day, her ability to identify over forty items in picture books and puzzle boards and to name and point to at least twenty different body parts on herself and others and I think it is fairly safe to say that we have no problems in the speech and cognitive development department.

********

The poo monkey is making slow but steady progress when it comes to gross motor skills- she can blame her genetic heritage for her cerebral rather than sporting prowess- her climbing skills are improving, as is the speed at which she walks and runs. Part of the problem is her Mummy's anxious overprotective tendencies, the poo monkey's complete lack of fear and a ready team of devotees ready to do things for our girl before she even gets the chance to try for herself.

It is in this area that we are seeing a few mini tantrums.....

********

Cheeky little miss is still a well rounded girl, weighing in just over 14kgs and therefore off the charts. Hopefully the weight gain will soon come under control with a combination of finally agreeing to mostly feed herself when it comes to using a spoon, using a little table and chairs rather than a high chair (so that little miss can more readily wander off when she has had enough instead of cleaning the bowl), an increased level of physical activity and little miss being able to clearly express "all gone" "all done" and "more".

Can't say we have ever experienced the stock standard toddler fussy feeding habits EVER in this household, in fact it has always been the opposite. One disadvantage of having an early talker are the constant requests for "pikeys (pikelets)! bikkies! cake! (the girl has an exceptional memory, having only ever had a few morsels in her time) cheese! (her favourite food in the world- still)". The advantage of having a great feeder is that you can usually tempt her with healthier options such as fresh fruit or even steamed or baked vegies when she is feeling peckish.

It will all come good. I hope.

***********

As I type I can see the poo monkey on the monitor, fast asleep in spite of a really dodgy head cold. Copious amounts of the snotty stuff aside, I'd like to finish with something that really sums up why it's all been worthwhile:

The poo monkey now says "Bye bye Mum" and blows me a kiss at bedtime.

Does it get any better than this?

It's a toddler's prerogative...

2006-07-14T13:03:00.000+10:00

...to change their mind.

Forget my smug proclamations about an easy switch from bottles to cups. The poo monkey took one look at her sippy cup this mooring and cried her eyes out for her "bot-uhl". Being the tough love parents that we are, said milk was reoffered in the plastic boobie substitute in about, oh ten seconds flat.

Then little miss decided today was the day to throw her first I-refuse-to-sit-in-the-trolley-damn-you-to-hell-mother tantrum. Which would have been fine, except that towards the end of our shopping expedition I had no other choice other than to carry her to stop her from making a bold bid for freedom and/or grabbing everything in sight.. This would not have been a problem if:
a) She didn't weigh as much as your average two and a half year old (or more)
b) We weren't in the express lane at Coles where we then needed a price check on a spare milk sippy cup (yes, I am an idiot), much to the disgust of the queue of cranky old biddies behind us.

Is it wrong to pop your beloved daughter down for her nap, close the door and punch your fist in delight?

Picking up the pace

2006-07-13T13:47:00.000+10:00

The poo monkey has picked up the pace in the last week or so. Silly mummy thought it was merely two new molars responsible for four night's of ridiculously little sleep (even my boss took pity on me this week and let me sit and stare inanely at my computer screen, knowing full well that he was not going to get his punchy brief on...well the stuff that I work on that I won't bore you with).

Nope. Look what my girl can do now:

1. Say mummy, daddy, nana, pop, nanny, pa, nicki (auntie), kooka (uncle), paul (other uncle), abi (yes her own name) properly and to the right person, both in real life and in photos as is the case for her Melbourne based relatives.

2. Further to 1, don't even get me started on the number of words added to the poo monkey's vocabulary each and every day. It's gobsmacking. As for actual phrases..."there you go", "daddy gone"....it just goes on and on. And don't get me started on the rapid fire direct imitations. Thank goodness I have trained myself out of swear words, "crikey" sounds much better coming from the monkey's mouth than some of mummy's other favourite phrases.

3. Animal noises. What does the monkey say? "ooh ooh!"! And the elephant, the snake, the lion, the dog, the bird......

4. Sing my little heart out. We've added "pay skool" to the repertoire!

5. Eat sitting down at her own small table and chairs. I mean, high chairs are for babies didn't you know?

6. Perform new physical tasks with death defying ease. Climb up and down stairs even though I have never really had the opportunity to do so before this morning's mother's group? No problem, give me less than three seconds and it is sorted.

7. Happily use a cup for milk rather than a bottle. What do you mean I kicked up a stink over the three months of prior attempts Mum, don't know what you are talking about.

8. Follow through with some fairly complex instructions. "Go and find baby and put her to bed", "blow your nose with the tissue and then put it in the bin". I kid you not.

Ahh my little monkey, you saved all this new stuff for the week after I wrote your seventeen months post. You certainly are a cheeky one. And mummy loves it.

Seventeen months

2006-07-05T13:02:00.000+10:00

What a joy it must be to be seventeen months old, my little poo monkey -although I can't really call you that anymore, otherwise you will follow me around repeating that phrase all day-:

* To dance unashamedly when and wherever the mood takes you, just as you did this morning at library storytime. And let's not forget how well you do the actions to "Rock a bye your bear" (oh lordy, mummy cannot get that song out of her head)

* To sing enthusiastically along to the daggiest of songs, both mummy invented and on the radio. Your current fave is "Feeling hot hot hot", to which you enthusiastically shout " owehoweh'ot, 'ot, 'ot" like some pint sized french exchange student. And let's not forget that perennial Wiggles classic "hot potato". I've never heard such beautiful harmonies.."Tato! Nana!".

* To love and hate your toys with such abandon. You are fixated with bears and bananas in pajamas, and your little "baabee" doll. Not too sure about your Britney Spears method of care for the latter though.

You are undergoing so many changes my little blossom, physically you are blooming into a beautiful little girl and are getting more and more confident with running and doing some climbing. You are very pleased with yourself for being able to turn in a graceful circle when the mood takes you, kind of a toddler pirouette.

Just don't get any ideas about ballet, Mummy is still scarred from her own childhood experiences. But I digress.

You have a vocab that must be in the range of 50-100 words now, and some of them are just too funny, like 'lippy'. You are working so hard on sentences, the other day you said "bear gone" when that ^&** bear song was finally switched off, and you do love to repeat words in threes, like "clap clap clap" and as mentioned earlier "'ot, 'ot, 'ot".

Speaking of numbers, you most certainly have mastered the concept of counting to two. If I grab one of your shoes and say "one", you will find the other and say "two".

Genius at work.

My little princess, I had intended to write so much more, or at least get the chance to edit this post, but alas I must be off as with your single day nap of 1.5 hours there is not much time to get things done. You aren't the only one dealing with feelings of frustration from time to time!

Love you my girl, you are my world.

ETA: How could I have forgotten to mention that you now wait in the morning for a clean nappy, and then you go over to a quiet corner, squat, and once the job is done proudly announce "poo"? I think your mummy is in denial about the up and coming trials and tribulations of toilet training....

Second thoughts- part 2

2006-06-30T13:40:00.000+10:00

So I am having second thoughts, especially introducing the poo monkey to the Wiggles' song "Rock a bye your bear", which now has to go on repeat in the car. The song is one and a half minutes long, the trip to my parents' place takes 45 minutes.

You do the maths.

Is it just me, or can you picture that song in place of "Stuck in the Middle With You" in the infamous ear scene in Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs?

Anyway on a more serious note, I have been doing a fair bit of navel gazing lately. In short, I want #2...but I don't want the reality that goes with #2:

1. IVF
I don't want to do all the snorting, shooting up, bulking out, dildocaming up and spinning out again. Insert a whiney 'it's not faiirr' here, especially as there have been a number of new pregnancy announcements in my life lately. From people who just had to shag their husbands. Imagine!

2. Witching hour
I'm crap at it with only one child, as the poo monkey kindly pointed out two weeks ago when she sank her fangs into my shoulder in a display of frustration that was only slightly less rational than mine. Enough said.

3. Career suicide
You can manage work with one, we are so lucky in that my parents look after the poo monkey the two days that I work every week...it would be pushing the friendship to throw another munchkin their way. Oh yeah, and did I mention that I was stupid enough to put in for a more senior position at work and that the interview is at the end of this month? Torn being trying to have it all (and some decent money)...and heading off down the Mummy track. Bah.

4. Living here
We live in the Blue Mountains. Both hubs and I work in the city. The commute is horrendous, up to two hours each way. It's so bad that the poo monkey and I actually stay with my parents on the days that I work- because they are only on hour's commute from my job, and hubs tries to organise his work travel to coincide with those days. Great for the marriage and all.
Not to mention that I am sick of our house. Yes, it's a beautiful area but we can't really go outside with our girl because of the dodgy, dodgy layout of the yard, with head splitting potential just trying to get into the car. I need an excavator and a licence and I would level this sucker I tell you. The yard, that is, not the house.

5. Thyroids ahoy.
Latest blood test looking OK, what is not OK is having to wait until October to see an Endocrinologist to best work out how to manage my condition before we have completed our family. Stupid gland, couldn't you have waited another five years before having your hissy?

Common sense dictates that my feelings about 1 through 5 need to be resolved before we trudge down the Assisted Conception TTC path again. So why do I feel so teary whenever I see a newborn, and my heart beat so fast with that niggling and mostly irrational fear that I may never get to experience all of that again?

Sigh. Guess we should get through hub's surgery first (yes there's that too).

ETA: Just realised that the poo monkey is seventeen months old today. Will have to get around to a special post about that another time, there are so many new and amazing skills and developments to report and i fear I won't do my girl justice in my current mood.

Second thoughts- part 1

2006-06-14T19:11:00.000+10:00

So I am having second thoughts about some of the trivial issues in my life. You know, TTC #2, work/life balance, where we live, whether to flush the stupid thyroid medication down the toilet, consequences be damned....

Sigh. Too tired tonight to blog properly. Will be back some other time (inlaws arrive tomorrow).

On a lighter note, the poo monkey's favourite new word is booger. Don't ask, 'cos I am not telling.