February 2007 Archives

Sometimes

Dear Finn

Sometimes...on a day like today...a Sunday...when your Dad has gone to work and made it feel like my weekend is slightly less of one...a day when I feel slightly grumpy and tired...a day when I have deliberately made the effort to cook you some food that you like...Spaghetti Bolognese which once upon a time was your favourite...and made that effort to cook it so that it will be ready in time for your dinner rather than wait for your Dad to get home...and then to have you turn up your nose at it...a little crack appears in my facade...

Sometimes...on a day like today...I have this teensy weensy urge...an incy wincy inclination...just to dump that whole beautiful bowl of perfectly made...delectably tasting Spag Bol on your head...stalk out the door to the nearest pub and order a very strong mojito.

I don't however...and you know why? Because I have the patience of a saint. I never understood this whole saintly patience thing hitherto becoming your mother...but I think I get it now and I know that she (for how could she have been anything else?) must have had a toddler...and I think it would be safe to assume that toddler was a bit of a picky little thing as well.

So there you go. Mr Try the Patience of a Saint.
Enjoy your dinner of fresh air.
My Spag Bol was delicious.

love
Mum

Blogless

Dear Finn

The reason I don't get any blogs written these days is:

xx
Mum

Stuff and Nonsense

Dear Finn

I think of so many things to say to you, or recount about your actions these days, but I forget them just as fast. I live so in the moment of now, today, that I seem to have no memory of anything that went on before that. Luckily your Dad has become my memory...although I'm somewhat suspicious. He always ends up being right in all recaps of conversations...pretty sure that's not the way it happened at all.

Yesterday you crayoned your first artwork. I thought it was pretty cool, and your Dad showed everyone at work...we definitely think you're way more artistic than any abstract laden chimpanzee or elephant in the zoo. It was a bit of a milestone...before today you have only really liked the idea of removing and replacing the crayons from their box and perhaps looking in awe at the brilliant renditions of butterflies that your Mum can draw. But yesterday you actually drew on the paper. All by yourself. And once finished, you sealed your forthcoming future as a unconventional bohemian type by gnawing the head off the orange crayon and eating it. Rock star here you come.

Yesterday you also had your first wee in the toilet. Toilet trained at 18 months I hear you repeat with glee. But no. I think not. You seem to have a bladder the size of a teaspoon so I think we have a little while to go yet. You do actually understand what weeing is though, which is a start, and I know that generally the first thing you love to do once your nappy is removed is have said wee. So yesterday I removed your nappy and standing you up on the toilet seat asked you if you wanted to have a wee. You duly bent your knees slightly, and stared at your willy with avid intensity to make it do its thing. Telepinesis I think this is called (ha!). A dribble appeared, and you were so enormously pleased with yourself. What an achievement. Being able to clamber onto the toilet and flush your own wee down...how evolutionarily advanced is that?

One thing I need to start talking to you about, and I'm not sure how or where to start, is that you are going to become a big brother in July. There's going to be a mewing squawling little invader demanding your parent's time. Impinging on your uniqueness. Reducing your importance. Not reducing your importance at all really, but I imagine you might see it as such. I look around me, and know that there are many many families that have successfully managed to get through this...how hard can it be? I hope it's not too dramatic. I hope that you realise that no matter how much time and effort we lavish on the new baby, it in no way changes the love we feel for you. Our family heartspace is as big and as wide as it is because of you.

love
Mum

Phone home

Dear Finn

We have just come back from holiday. As with most of our NZ trips it ends up being a mad dash around family and friends with not a lot of free time. We planned a short holiday within a holiday at Akaroa, which is a lovely place to spend time, and you had mountains of fun terrorising the seagulls and getting covered in sand. You didn't sleep very well much of the time and usually ended up with us at some stage in the night, which is also pretty standard for our holidays. Your Dad had plenty of uncomplimentary things to say about you kicking him in the head. When that got tiresome you apparently proceeded to fart on his head. No better way to say I love you Dad. I would try it myself, but I just know the favour would be returned ten fold.

You were very pleased to be home again, which was pretty cool. I have the feeling that you finally remember what your home looks like. You rushed around very happily...dragging out the vacuum cleaner, clambering up on to the toilet to flush it, and then kindly cleaning it (as well as most of the bathroom floor) with the toilet brush. You even slept all night.

Yesterday you obviously missed the family in NZ. You picked the phone off its cradle and held it to your ear (the wrong way around), and wandered around in your own imitation of your parents on the telephone...speaking your own private babble...eedle eedle eedle. Your Dad and I weren't taking much notice, until your Dad suddenly said a very rude word. He had realised with horror that there was someone talking on the other end of the phone, grabbed the phone and hung up.
In the midst of trying to figure out who we have called recently...thinking you probably just redialled them...the phone rang.

It was Oma in NZ ringing to ask if you had rung her up. Apparently Opa had answered the phone, and upon careful listening to the babble, had handed the phone to Oma, telling her it was for her. She thought you were very cute. Considering it was 11 pm NZ time, you are lucky to have such understanding grandparents.

Welcome home mate. Back to the land of sun and swim.

love
Mum