October 2007 Archives

Uncle Bobble

Dear Finn

For the last week or so, we have had my brother Bob, his wife Ally and their kids Eden (2) and Georgia (6 mo) staying. They were over here on a reconnaissance mission as they are moving here next year. It was a little bit daunting wondering what it would be like having them to stay, as this is just a 2 bedroom apartment and does not therefore have a whole heap of space available to 4 adults and 4 small children. But it was absolutely fantastic. Your cousin Eden is one day older than you, and you two seemed to find a whole heap in common. A love of the word NO was a particular favourite...as you stood yelling it at each other, shaking your heads madly and laughing wildly. It was great fun to see.

Between the two of you, you have a completely different sets of skills. Eden can dress herself, is toilet trained and thinks that raw asparagus, corn and beans are delicious. You can talk, recognise most of the alphabet and count to 20, while living and breathing on fresh air. You worked on how the door locks and unlocks together, and how to colour in the cow. I'm wondering whether she showed you how to use the computer mouse...because before this week you seemed to have no idea.

You perhaps remembered Bob from his previous visits, and you rapidly starting calling him Uncle Bobble, a cute name for him which the rest of us found rather funny. Your uncle Bob has in recent years, it is fair to say, become rather more bobble shaped than he used to be. But it matters not. Uncle Bobble is well the favourite uncle. You greeted him with an enormous HELLO whenever you saw him, and you were distraught whenever he went away. Yesterday you went to childcare (very unwillingly) and when I picked you up they were gone. You wandered around, a bit bewildered, asking about "Uncle Bobble, airplane?".

I was rather sad to see them go myself. Ally and Bob are the most natural parents I have ever seen. Watching them in action made me wish I had half their skills and patience. Given that they left their four other kids at home, it is perhaps understandable that having only two around would feel like a parenting holiday in comparison. But they showed immense affection for you, and received mountains of affection in return. You had no issues with leaping into their arms from the side of the swimming pool, or being put to bed by them. Your Dad and I got to go out for a BEER one night. I write that with all the emphasis of Homer Simpson. It was a lovely (fleeting) moment.

Living here, we don't see family as often as we should. We have often yearned to be closer to home. Closer to the Grandmas...willing and loving babysitters that they would be. Closer to the farm and all the experiences it contains. And so I'm hoping that when they actually move here, it will be as fantastic as this brief time we have had.

Families are cool.

love
Mum

Fairy Godfathers

Bye-bye Ian

Bye-bye Mikey

I'm going to miss you.



love
Finn

Limp Rag

Dear Finn

Today is Tuesday and it is pretty much always thought of in this house as Childcare Day. A day that you and I probably yearn for with equal fervour. Not that I don't like having you around, it's just that I don't like having you around ALL the time. I like to have my days where I can think about how much I'm going to miss you on the one hand, and how much I'm going to enjoy the peace of writing an email, without being pestered for cow or monkey, on the other. A day when I can potter around the courtyard without being pestered to put you in the swing, and then deal with the nuclear aftermath of taking you out of the swing when I deem swinging to be finished. I can forgo the pleasure of offering you an eclectic mixture of edible delicacies which you can now verbalise about and say WOW upon examining them, but still don't actually eat. I can leave the felt tip pens in their packet.



Mostly however it's a day when I do what I always do. It's just that on the days when you're here it gets crammed into your midday nap time. On the days when you're not here it stretches out to fill the whole day. I doubt I get anything more done. In fact I probably get less done as I don't have the oncoming train of your awakening charging towards me at high speed. The days when you're away are just basically a heap more serene. I have quiet raining down on me from all sides and I have very little that actually needs to be done. Apart from housework which I gladly ignore anyway, there's Holly. And she is at the dream easily-attended-to age that used to be you and which I treasure now that I know how transient that time is. You are a high-maintenance demanding frenetic little dynamo of a boy. You can be marvellously energising and frightfully exhausting. And on a day like yesterday, when my patience threshold seemed at an all time low, I look forward to childcare with extra glee.

This should not be completely construed as a time when I get rid of you for the day because you're annoying and whiny. You are those things sometimes, just as I am sometimes the epitome of Mother Teresa selfless and at other times Cruella de Ville snappy. This is the way it is. You are two years old and I am your mother.

This morning as we were meandering around getting things ready, you were in turns either excited about going to childcare or demanding toast and juice for breakfast. At the vege markets in the weekend we had bought some passionfruit butter which we have found through repeated trials turns breakfast morning toast into something most elegantly delicious. You took note of this divine concoction and asked if you too could have some "yellow toast". Of course you can I said.

love
Mum

Polar Plunge

Dear Finn

The weather has started to hot up and it's time to use the pool again. To my mind the water is still freezing and to your body as well (judging by the way your lip starts to shudder after about 5 minutes), but no matter. You love it. The idea of you getting into that icy cold water and staying there all afternoon is about the best idea ever.

As with all things these days it is only when the activity is deemed to be finished (by the evil Mommy of course), that the unhappiness really starts. The screaming and the whinging. The crying and the kicking.

Maybe I should leave you in the pool all afternoon.

xx