Thank you for the days.....

Dare I say it but things seem to have settled down here. Crazypixie is teething; canine no.1 has just cut through, but is dealing with it superbly. These are the first teeth that have cut through since she weaned so it is considerably easier on mummy too.
Tinyelf is now 3 weeks old and it seems as if she’s been around a lot longer. Her sister showers her with kisses daily and when tinyelf cries, crazypixie admonishes me, ‘Mummy (we’ve progressed from Mama), row, row…’ Meaning, sing ‘row, row, your boat.’ Mind you, ten minutes later tinyelf is often jolted awake by crazypixie shouting ‘boo!’ into the pram……..
Our days are on the whole very enjoyable. We don’t go that many places: we’ve made a trip to the doctor for checkups and vaccinations and we’ve recommenced our weekly trip to the farmers market for some decent food. We also make the odd visit to friends and family but otherwise they have all been coming to us.

Once crazypixie is in bed, you’d think things would be even calmer…but, oh no.
Tinyelf, like her sister at that age, has a witching hour (more like 2 to 3 hours). This involves general restlessness and crying and the ritual dousing of mummy. Over the last three nights, I’ve been pooed on once and puked on twice. And we’re not talking spit up here, but the type that requires both mummy and tinyelf to strip down completely (much to himself’s glee) and be power-hosed. All I can say is, I don’t know how the parents of colicky babies cope……10 mins of crying and we’re all at our wits end here.
I’m currently cutting dairy out of my diet to see if that has an effect of tinyelf’s windiness but it may also be due to the drops she’s on for thrush, or a myriad other reasons and we may never know………….. ah the joys of it all.

So my final thought for today:

Sometimes being a parent means having to scoop poo from your cleavage………

Wedding Regrets

We were invited to a wedding today. We couldn't go. Here's the email I sent to the happy couple.

To the Bride and Groom,

As you exchange marriage vows, we’ll be thinking of you while we change yet another nappy.
As you sip champagne and chat with your guests, we’ll think of you while we cuddle our girls and put them down for their naps.
As you eat a wonderful meal with your family and friends, we’ll think of you as we try to grab some dinner while ducking to avoid flying toddler bowls
As you share anecdotes and proclaim your happiness in speeches, we’ll think of you as we read Woof’s Bedtime Story for the 2000th time.
As you dance the night away, we’ll think of you as we pace the halls soothing our newborn baby.
As dawn breaks and you happily head to the bridal suite, we’ll think of you as we are roused by an enthusiastic toddler and a very hungry baby.

Have a great day.

Myself, Himself, Crazypixie and Tinyelf.

Nap Time

Crazypixie has a daily routine that she is rather fond of, or should I say if she gets her naps and food on time we can avoid TTM (total toddler meltdown).

Today was the first day where I didn’t have assistance from himself, my mum or my sister at nap time.

Now, rather than be worried, I was optimistic. I’m a very capable woman (had to stopping typing there as had a fit of crazy laughter). I had even dared to plan on taking a nap myself as my two darlings snored sweetly (I know…hilarious)

Nap time is about 10:30, so I reckoned and hour and a half lead in time would be plenty.

This is roughly how it unfolded:

9:00 Put on kettle for cup of tea before the madness. Decide to do a quick wash-up as there is a lot of water in the kettle (feeling so organised and supermumish). Crazypixie helps by emptying cupboards.
9:15 Tinyelf begins to stir. Play a last game of build-the-bricks-and-knock-them –down-again with crazypixie, while keeping an ear out for tinyelf.
9:30 Feed tinyelf while reading animal book with crazypixie (definitely heading for mum of the year now).
9:45 (yes, she’s a speed feeder) Started to change tinyelf. Lifted crazypixie down from the table.
9:50 At the insistence of my toddler put nappy on crazypixies dolly, lifted crazypixie down from table for the third time.
9:55 Calmed crazypixie down after a Oscar-winning dive to the floor (from the floor) and big crocodile tears. Here comes the TTM………….
10:00 Manage to finish changing tinyelf, who’s not too impressed at this stage, as crazypixie flings her dolly around the room.
10:05 Give crazypixie her morning snack. All smiles and sweetness again. Lay tinyelf in her pram to kick about and so she’s out of reach from crazypixie who’s doing her best to introduce her sister to solids a little bit too early.
10:10 Run upstairs to get sleeping bag and bear. Tinyelf starts screaming. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram.
10:15 Realise sleeping bag is covered in poo from this mornings ‘good morning mummy’ gift. Run back up to laundry room to locate clean sleeping bag, crazypixie quite happy sleepily clutching bear but tinyelf wakes crying again. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (going into crisis mode now) .
10:20 Chase crazypixie who has woken up again and decided that mummy needs more exercise (she may have a point) and then play I’ll-try –to-change-your-nappy-while-you-try-to-flip-yourself-over-and-run-away-at-every-possible-opportunity. Tinyelf wakes. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (smiling on the outside, tearing my hair out on the inside).
10:25 Dismantle nappies and put them in bucket for washing later. Wash crazypixie’s hands after removing them from toilet. Tinyelf wakes. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (I think I'm developing a nervous tic).
10:30 Put crazypixie in her sleeping bag. Start to sing her sleepy song while rubbing her hair. Tiny elf begins to wake. Run upstairs with crazypixie, give her a kiss, say night-night while putting her into her cot. Remove and hide extra toys that will keep her awake. Turn on monitor.
10:35 Run back downstairs to the now screaming tinyelf. Wind and soothe her…….give her another small feed……….walk around and sing to her until she dozes off.
10:50 Put tinyelf back in pram, settle her gently when she stirs again.
11:00 Both girls asleep. I enjoy a cold cup of tea while venting into the blogosphere…………..(it wasn't that bad, really)
11:30 Cr@p! Is that crazypixie stirring?

And then there were two.

Almost two weeks in and I’m beginning to discover the realities of two under two.

Here is a taste of the parenting dilemmas I’ve faced to date:

Tinyelf is latched on and frantically trying to deal with my Niagara-like let down, crazypixie is happily rolling around on the ground when I notice a suspicious brown substance running down her leg.
Solution: Ignore suspicious brown substance as himself is due home and finish feeding tinyelf.

Tinyelf is screaming with wind while I rub her back, meanwhile crazypixie disappears briefly then reappears chewing something that she refuses to show me but I catch a glimpse of a lump of blue stuff. Bluetac?
Solution: Prop tinyelf up with cushion and chase crazypixie and pry her mouth open. Only blue paper – whew. Let her eat it and resume winding tinyelf.

Tinyelf is fretting a bit with her nappy off as I clean off a particularly explosive poo, crazy pixie picks this moment to climb up on the garden bench, then onto table, then she proceeds to stand up on table and totter around precariously close to the edge.
Solution: Grab naked tinyelf and run to intercept crazypixie before she does a header off the table. In the excitement tinyelf pees all over my t-shirt and my only nursing bra that is both clean and fits.

Tinyelf is nursing enthusiastically when crazypixie disappears from view in the garden (don’t call social services, it is an enclosed garden and I’m sitting at the French doors).
Solution: Attempt to keep tinyelf latched on as I run around the side of the house. Crazypixie is just attempting to get in the cat flap but the neighbours are now wondering why I’m running around with my boobs hanging out and spraying milk in all directions as tinyelf howls for more.


And I have a feeling the fun is only beginning…………..

Welcome to the world.....

There is a new person in the world. My little sister is a mother. I’m an auntie. My daughter is a cousin.

My first nephew was delivered by c-section on Monday morning and we’re all besotted. They gave him a lovely name but let’s just call him lilman here.
He is beautiful and amazing and I want to cuddle him all the time. Maybe it’s my hormones but watching my sister with lilman makes me just want to smother them both in kisses and love (obviously I restrain myself as I don’t want to freak her out totally).

Over the last 9 months I’ve had the privilege of being there to witness my sis go through her first pregnancy. I’ve watched in amazement as this career girl let her maternal side emerge as she embraced impending parenthood.

Being due only 3 weeks apart meant we got to spend a lot of very special time together and compare notes on both the wonders and trials of pregnancy. We would sit in sis’s kitchen, while crazypixie reorganised all her cupboards, eating fruit and chocolate (standard pregnancy fare) bemoaning varicose veins and swollen ankles and sharing the wonders of little kicks and wriggles.

I’m now looking on in awe as she takes to parenting like a natural (which she is). And I feel the overwhelming pride of big sister as I watch her and her husband deal calmly yet confidently with specialists about health concerns and as they battled the health system to make sure their lilman could be exclusively breast fed (why oh why do the some midwifes think a bottle is the solution to everything).

We’re having conversations now that I never imagined: there are text messages in the middle of the night about the joys of blocked ducts and sore nipples.

I’m so looking forward to the weeks ahead as our little ones grow up alongside each other.

I’ve also been thinking of my girls and I can only hope that crazypixie and littlespud share a similarly supportive relationship (oh, I know they’ll be fit to kill each other at times too) throughout all the ups and downs of their lives.

Oh dear, I think I may be turning into a sentimental wreck in these last few weeks of pregnancy……..

Potty talk.....

Well, today crazypixie decided operation pee-pee was progressing way too slowly for her liking and took matters into her own little hands.

Operation pee-pee was started around about the same time I resurrected this blog. I had been flicking through one of Tracy Hogg’s books and read with interest that half the worlds children are out of nappies by a year and that the time between 9 and 15 months was ideal for introducing the toilet. Anyhoo, I had the temerity to mention this on a parenting forum I frequent and what ensued has been described by a mammy friend of mine as ‘toilet gate’. Honestly, there was uproar. How could I do this to my child? Was I serious? I must be taking the piss (sorry, couldn’t help myself with that one)? I must have way too much time on my hands! Did I expect her to eat with a knife and fork as well? Could I not let her just be a baby? Why did I want to her to grow up so fast?

I tried to explain that this was something we would be introducing slowly and gently and with a sense of humour. I must also acknowledge that there were some very supportive mums out there. I thanked people for their input but mentioned that ridiculing my parenting ideas might not be the best way to communicate. Anyhoo, apparently I had overreacted and those who had children older than crazypixie knew a lot better than I did.

So I just bit my tongue for a bit (you have no idea how difficult that is for me).

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, every time I use the loo I’ve been explaining to crazypixie what is going on. So she now understands mummy do pee-pee or poo-poo and I usually have to wrestle her away from trying to peer in for a closer examination of proceedings. We also started putting her on the loo when it was obvious she was performing. We kept her entertained with books and poo-poo songs to the extent that recently she’d be telling us ‘poo-poo’ and trying to climb on the loo just to read books with mummy or daddy.

Anyway as I’ve gotten bigger and lazier, I’ve managed to miss (or ignore, I admit) a few poo-poos and she’s had to just go in her nappy like any other self respecting 14 month old. But by today she’d obviously had enough.

This morning she pulled out the potty from next to the toilet and brought it into the hall. Then she sat on it and made her grunting sounds. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s for poo-poo.’ We then went out for the day and I thought no more of it.

We arrived home just before dinner time and as I checked my emails she pulled the potty to a corner and sat on it (fully dressed) and did her poo. I gave her a big kiss, and congratulated her, then took of her nappy and cleaned her up. I then left her nappyless to see what would happen (a trait of mine that gets me in no end of trouble).

Sure enough she went back over to the potty and sat on it. I handed her a baby wipe and she made an attempt to wipe herself and I jokingly congratulated her. But when she stood up, there was a pee-pee. In the potty! And 20 minutes later she sought out the potty and did it again!
I think my daughter has just potty taught herself.

And now, I’m not sure where to go from here. I think I might leave her nappyless for a bit of time each day and see how we get on. I wonder is she too little for knickers? Pull-ups aren’t an option as we use cloth.

Do you think I should post about this on the aforementioned parenting forum? Or would I only be inviting trouble? Should I also mention that she’s been using a fork for the past two weeks?

Scoobidy doo, i want to be like youoooo....

Crazypixie is proving herself a great mimic. While we were visiting my lil sis and hubby at the weekend, they were in knots of laughter as she bent down to pick something up.
What, I asked.
Hadn’t I noticed she was grunting and sighing?
Apparently every time she bent down, went to pick something up or even lowered herself to sitting, she was grunting……….like a pregnant woman!
And later that day she followed sis hubby around the house doing a perfect impression in miniature of his walk, hands behind the back, long stride, much to our collective amusement.

So, I’m realising that, yes, we parents have a huge influence on this little persons behaviours and attitudes (oh, the weight of parenthood) and, who’d have thought it, I’m now a role model (methinks mummy’s crazy 20’s will have to become a family secret and never be mentioned!)

However, please note that crazypixies tendency to run around the house naked clutching only her green handbag did not come from me, nor did her penchant for parading in front of the mirror wrapped up in my ‘special occasion’ silk negligee. No, I’ll lay claim only to those traits that reflect well on me!

From angel to diva.

We appear to have come to a whole new range of ways letting mummy know when she is not meeting expected levels of service.
Oh, yes, the tantrums have arrived. And there are no half measures here. Crazypixie now voices her disapproval at being offered the wrong piece of fruit or having her shoes put on by back arching, red faced, arm and leg thrashing screaming and if that isn’t proving effective she throws in some fake choking.
The first time this happened I thought she was having a seizure and acted accordingly. Bad idea, the ole positive reinforcement ensured that this will be part of our daily communication for the foreseeable future.
I understand that she’s trying to deal with a whole host of new emotions and so far this is her only way of coping with the frustrations of being thwarted. And it’s not as if she got her strong will from the ground, both himself and myself are the oldest in our families and are fairly opinionated and headstrong to boot. Oh, there’ll be fun when she hits her teens.
In the meantime tantrums have been restricted to home but we’re going to the supermarket this morning and I have a funny feeling I’m going to get my first taste of those disapproving looks from strangers.

Thinking small.

Himself is in the kitchen with crazypixie keeping her entertained by reading the local TD’s latest newsletter out loud in various ‘funny’ voices. I walk past every now and then muttering obscenities about the lying feckers (politicians, not wonderful family) under my breath.

It’s made me think about the things we grown adults do to keep our little ones occupied, enable them to fall asleep and prevent meltdowns.
In the past year some of the tricks we’ve learnt are:

• Kiddies Cd played at full volume in the car enables crazypixie to fall asleep. This particular Cd contain such classics as ‘I can count with my fingers’, ’10 elephants came out to play’, ‘Alice the Camel’, and most annoying of all, ‘One, two, three, O’Leary.’ There is no switching back to the radio once she’s asleep, oooh no, she can sense that and is instantly awake. We’ve emerged from the car after three hour drives totally stupefied and fit to strangle any happily singing kid that comes within our reach. But, hey, crazy pixie gets her nap and arrives at our destination all smiles and sweetness.
• ‘Row, row, row your boat’ sung a double chipmunk time will comfort her back to sleep at night. Sing too slow and she’ll scream the house down, hit her preferred speed and the thumb goes in the mouth, she rolls over and nods off. It usually doesn’t take more than half an hour, and if you rub her tummy clockwise at the right tempo things are speeded up.
• Giving away my credit cards to total strangers ensures the crazypixie stays amused during shopping trips. Whether in the sling, the buggy or a shopping trolley once I produce my wallet she has to have it (in the ‘I’m going to scream until I’m sick unless you give it to me’ way). Then she might chew on the leather for a while before she goes about getting it open. The credit and loyalty cards are the removed one by one and either flung on the ground when mummy has her head turned or handed to total stranger with a smile and a ‘ta ta’.
• Predinner meltdowns (when mummy hasn’t got her ass in gear in time to feed the hungry child) can be averted by pouring rice crispies onto her tray. She eats them individually so providing the window of opportunity for mummy to come up with some culinary delights.
• In desperation, when all the ‘row, row’ rowing has not worked she’ll happily sleep parked under the extractor fan in the kitchen. So environmentally friendly, I know.
  
  People (you know the finger wagging kind) might tut-tut that we are ‘ruining’ her and that ‘she’s the boss’ and they may have a point, but I’ve realised that we just have to do what we can to help her cope with her frustrations, and us with ours, and there are times when being parent involves thinking like a toddler.

Loving being a mummy.....

I've been tagged by Irish Mammy on the run so here goes:

Five things I love about being a mother

(off the top of my head, and in no particular order...)

The chaos
Finding shoes in the food cupboards, duckies in the toilet, tomato puree in the toybox, little socks scattered everywhere…..I love it! At 13 months old she’s taken over every corner of the house and our hearts.

Watching my daughter and my husband interact
It is the most heartwarming sight, and makes me love each of them even more. He does bath with her every evening, and I love to see them laugh together and enjoy each others company.

Knowing my pixie
I have the privilege of being the person who sees this little girl grow and develop day by day. There is nobody who gets to know her quite like her mummy.

My motherly body
I feel so different about my body and my womanhood now that I’ve given birth and that I’m nursing my child. It all feels right somehow.

It’s not about me anymore
I love the feeling of looking after someone else, of being so much more than myself – being mummy.

Different the second time?

With the reality of having a second baby in two months time sinking in, my thoughts turned to a question I was asked recently. ‘What will you do differently this time?’
Don’t worry, I’m not going to analyse every parenting decision we’ve made over the past year. Well, I do that all the time but I’ll refrain from subjecting innocent blog browsers to my hypercritical self analysis.

There are a few obvious things though.

Firstly the birth……….
I don’t care if this baby wants to arrive two months late; I AM NOT BEING INDUCED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Let’s just say that it was not the most pleasant 24 hours of my life and leave it at that.
This time I plan on waking up one morning to find that I’ve slept through most of the first stage of labour, that contractions are five minutes apart and it’s time to go to the hospital. Like my birthing CD promises, gentle surges will help my cervix to open like a rosebud and my baby, who is the perfect size for my body by the way, will emerge gently. Through it all I will remain focused, calm and in control. Don’t argue with me, this is the way it will happen!

Secondly, I will accept more help…
I may have mentioned the control freak aspect of my personality before. I think this may have played no small part in my three bouts of mastitis as I tried to be all to my wonderful new daughter. I will remember my limitations, and those of himself, this time round and gratefully accept all offers of help (it’s my catholic upbringing making me sound contrite , I can’t help it).

Lastly, less obsessing……
Ok this whole control thing is becoming a major theme, but last time round I was so obsessed with just making sure my daughter survived (she was perfectly healthy) that I may have compromised the enjoyment a little. Now I know the extra crazy hormones (as opposed to the average crazy ones) will take over but I’m going to work at keeping things in perspective a little.

What do you know, I feel better already. Nothing like a good ole self therapy session into the anonymous void of the blogosphere.
We will not only cope but it will be a wonderful experience. And one thing I know for sure is that crazypixie will be a great big sister.

Be careful what you wish for........

After a weekend of single-parenting by yours truly, himself arrived home, exhausted I might add, after a weekend of proving his manhood on the water. Immediately crazy pregnant lady (I’ve been possessed, and take no responsibility for my words or actions)) berated him for being absent during crazypixies terrible weekend of teething and sleepless, for not being attentive enough to his seven month pregnant wife, and for his existence in general. He then thanked her for all she was doing and offered to share the night shift. Thus ruining a perfectly good argument and underlining the futility of lying awake fuming…….

So, the plan was, he’d take the first shift and we’d switch at 1 am so we’d both get at least 5 or 6 hours sleep. Crazypixie dutifully fell asleep for seven and I headed to bed armed with chocolate biccies and book. This was going to be great.
Crazypixie woke at 8 and I hid my head under the duvet (shame on me) and himself went in. Now bear in mind that for the last three nights when she’s woken it has been at least two hours before I could coax her back to sleep, and then she’d only sleep for 40 minutes. Enter wonder daddy. Two verses of ‘row, row, row your boat’ and………..silence. So off he goes back downstairs to watch the grand prix.
I lie awake in the deafening silence, unreasonably peeved. Time for the relaxation CD and sleep. But, no. wakey time for the littlespud, and mummy’s bladder is as good a trampoline as anything. Several trips to the loo, and wee bit of bonding time with my baba later and it’s definitely sleep time now. Coincidently, just as the chocolate biscuits are turning out not to be such a good idea at bed time. Up and search for gaviscon………..damn, finished bottle last night. Nothing for it but prop up with pillows, ignore burning sensation in chest and repel thoughts of himself chilling in front of the television.
Sleep…eventually.

Awake again at 1. Himself arrives in and heads towards bed. ‘How was it?’ I ask sympathetically. ‘Fine’. She’d slept through so far. Hmmmmmmmm…

We decide to move her into her cot so we could both sleep in our own bed as opposed to me camping with her on the mattress in her room again. Bad idea. She wakes screaming.
Himself heads off to bed. I head to the nearest phone booth to turn in super human soother and nurse her to sleep.
She dozes off, but is sleeping so lightly that I dare not move even a finger. Re-enter chronic indigestion and bladder bouncing littlespud. Eventually though, sleep.

4:30 insistent little hands pulling up my top, the human soother is called into action again.
5:00 wide awake crazypixie attempts some sort of manual dental surgery on mummy.
5:15 crazypixie attempts to batter down bedroom door (mummy hides under duvet, feigning sleep, in the hope crazypixie may join in).
5:30 crazypixie reads mummy stories, while sitting on her head (mummy still feigning sleep).
5:45 crazypixie decides mummy need new hairdo. Mummy attempts a rendition of ‘row, row, row your boat’, but to no avail.
6:00 time to open all the drawers and empty the contents onto the bedroom floor.
6:15 mummy relents and takes crazypixie down stairs for brekkie and toys.

And last night is the most sleep I’ve got in over a week.

little did we know...

So there we were at midnight; himself, myself and the crazypixie, sitting in bed eating bananas and toast and laughing at how we’ve mellowed over the past year.

Pre-crazypixie we would look at other kids and parents and sagely (or so we thought) shake our heads, saying ‘we’ll never do that’. Our kids would only eat in the kitchen, have beautiful wooden toys (no plastic allowed) that would be passed down the generations, and they would never, never be snotty. Yes, I admit, himself and myself are both control freaks and perfectionists (who else would have us?)

Well, little did we know…

We’ve now learnt that a teething baby is a snotty baby and besides attaching a little snot catching trough under their nose there is no way to keep it under control.

We do have the wooden toys but we also have the plastic ones, but do seem to have avoided the worst of them – you know those that sing alphabets at you incessantly in an English or American accent. Guess which ones crazypixie prefers?
And, I admit, we have even, on occasion given her boxes of tissues and tubes of nappy cream (shock, horror) to keep her amused for a while.

As for eating in the kitchen, well that does happen most of the time but we have had a pizza picnic on the sitting room floor (the carpet will never be the same) and last nights midnight feast to lighten the tedium of another bout of teething was a welcome break from the norm - mind you sleeping in toast crumbs and banana mush is a tad uncomfortable so we may have to rethink future menus.

On the other hand I never thought I’d be breastfeeding a 13 month old, with the prospect of tandem feeding growing ever closer, not to mention carrying her in a sling while seven months pregnant. Nor had we imagined the strength of personality of our crazypixie and how we would have to work out ways to live together as opposed to us just imposing our ideas on her.
Yes, the past year has definitely been both a humbling and learning experience.

As a result, we so do not judge other parents anymore (well, a lot less any way). We know that they, mostly, are just some poor eejits like ourselves struggling to do their best for their little ones.