Sunday, March 12, 2006

In the footsteps of the great blogger Heather Armstrong (see I have decided to do a monthly diary entry for my children, a newsletter of sorts, so we can all look back at what they were up at each particular age and stage. There has been much too much negativity in my feelings, thoughts and reactions towards my beautiful children and this is one small step towards redressing this problem.

So here is my March Edition of what I choose to call "Kids' Kapers" (I do love a bit of aliteration) .


You continue to test my patience, my blood pressure and my will to live. You continue to charm me with your gentleness, sense of humour and the huge amount of love you carry around in your thin little chest.

My top 5 list of problems are:

1) Not doing things in a timely manner, i.e. eating, brushing teeth, getting dressed - they all eventually get done - but only after a number of gaskets have been blown in my operating

2) Wanting to do things when it's innapropriate, i.e. wanting to go outside to jump on the trampoline or go on the swing after you've been bathed, dressed and fed your dinner.

3) Annoying your sister, i.e. poking her, uncrossing her legs, patting her on the head (Benny Hill style), etc, etc when we're driving. You especially like to do so when she's just fallen asleep, guaranteeing an extra loud and teary reaction.

4) Well, really I can't think of any more right now. These are the worst offenders, so maybe things aren't so bad after all.

My top 5 list of wonderful things about you:

1) You never hesitate to tell us all how much you love us, or to give us a kiss or a hug.

2) You are very gentle, loving and playful with your sister (when you're not involved in point 3 above). I love to see the two of you crawling around on the floor, giggling, exploring, just having fun.

3) You love my music and sing along loudly to my Robbie Williams and Red Hot Chili Peppers CDs. I can't tell you how proud and happy these moments make me. It is worth everything for the precious joy of those moments we share as we drive from here to there and back again.

4) You love school and you love your friends. This means so much to me. I worried for a long time whether you'd fit in at school, whether you'd cope with the work, the routine, the playground, whether you'd get bullied, whether you'd make friends. So far school has been a pleasure for you and, as such, for your father and me. I keep all my appendages crossed that this continues.

5) When you're not driving me nuts you just make me happy to be around you. You love life and enjoy every experience (well, mostly!). I love the simple moments in our day when we lay in bed and read together and I marvel at how far you have come in life, my wonderful little man.


Well you are now 9 1/2 months old and a real dynamo. I fear for the future if your personality is what it is at this age. You want to get out there and explore, you won't be held back by chronological age or by the mere fact that you can't actually walk properly yet or that you are very very small. You want to walk and you try so hard. You want to explore and use every opportunity to do so.

You are now crawling everywhere and at top speed. You can stand up in your cot and playpen, as long as you have something to hold onto. You haven't quiet figured out how to walk holding onto your stabilising object of choice but I'm sure that must only be days, maybe weeks, away. You walk very confidentally if someone holds your hands, in fact you'd rather walk in this way than be carried, which makes life interesting (especially at times like today when we were going to the beach).

You have become very friendly with your vocal chords and like to utilise them whenever possible. This means you are constantly babbling, yelling, shrieking and making every type of noise imaginable. Sometimes it sounds so much like you're repeating a word you've just heard I have to remember you are only 9 months old.

You love to eat and are happy to eat most things. In fact you prefer to try something we're eating than whatever baby-type food we have prepared for you. You've always enjoyed WeatBix for breakfast but lately you are wanting a bit of the toast your daddy likes to have. So now we have to make sure you've eaten your cereal before you see the toast otherwise we can't get you to eat the WeatBix. It won't be long now before you are demanding to feed yourself and that won't sit well with my anal retentive leanings about cleanliness and my morbid fear of child-induced mess. However, I will make an earnest effort not to stand between you and that spoon and bowl (I can feel my jaw clench as I think about the state of the floor after your food experiments... deep breaths, in through the nose, out through mouth).

I have decided it's now time to start reading to you before bed every evening, as we do with Will. So far you're not all that interested, preferring to eat the book rather than marvel at its prose and/or illustrations. I will persevere and I'm confident success will follow.

I wonder if you're going to be a Bratz girl or a Barbie girl. There are countless ranges of girlie stuff out there and I am both repulsed by them and enamored with them. Part of me plans to lecture you on feminist politics and part of me is dying to sit on the floor with you doing Barbie's hair and changing her clothes, deciding whether she's going out with Ken in the Barbie convertible or the campervan. Oh, the possibilities!

Friday, March 03, 2006

Pure weariness is simply sucking out everything out of me. Updating this blog, something I love to do, has become a chore I really can't find the time for.

It's Friday night and all is peaceful in Pomona Street, at least at our house. Will is in my bed watching Wizard of Oz (what the hell did parents do before vcr/dvd/playstation et al??? god help us, just the thought scares the bejesus out of me!). Marianna is in her cot asleep (I hope, at least there is no noise eminating from her room). Big J has gone to his friend/boss' house to play poker... it's the new craze... can't see the attraction myself but what do I know.

This week has been pretty good overall. Will's behaviour is undoubtedly improving and my coping mechanisms are improving also, so things are generally happier and calmer, can't complain about that... though I often do.

I'm still very tired however. I think it was helping with the school fundraising this afternoon which did me in. It involved sorting a zillion boxes of Snakes and Dinasours (of the lolly variety). There was much lifting of boxes, sorting of boxes (done at ground level in a very uncomfortable crouching position), then lifting of more boxes. My back is done in, I feel crippled. I don't think I've ever felt the need to have a Panadol and get into bed as much as right now... well, at least not since my last period not that long ago.

I really want to see Capote. Philip Seymour Hoffman is an actor I adore, there is no-one like him. He is not a star, he is not a celebrity, he is not a pretty boy punce. He is an ACTOR. I know it's hard to recognise one, not many of them around, but he is definitely one of the few. He was so delicious in The Big Lebowski, so grimy but real in Happiness. I love him in each and every role and I'm sure he'll bring his own magic to the role of Truman Capote. How to find the time?

I hope next week will be my week to write all those letters to politicians re: adoption reform following from the ICA inquiry which I have been meaning to write since we returned home. Sometimes I have an overwhelming feeling of pushing a giant rock up hill but I know I (like so many I know) must keep trying because so few really care it would be a lost cause if we didn't keep making an effort. How to find the time?

How do I reconcile my feelings of joy at having two beautiful, wonderful children, children who I didn't come by by accident, children who weren't "mistakes", children who I love so deeply it terrifies me, with my daydreams of having a full time nanny who would actually do the "dirty work" parenting for me and just bring nice, clean, freshly bathed, pre-homeworked children to me to kiss goodnight? I am such a bad person and a worse mother. "Mommie Dearest" will read like a love poem when my kids write their biographies.