April 2008 Archives

Shades of Pink

Dear Finn

If there's one particular standout of the many possible choices why your Dad has less than positive things to say about my mothering, it would be that I've committed the most heinous crime that a mother ever can. Aside from the more minor horrors that I consider canned tuna and baked beans viable food options I've done gone and introduced you to moisturiser! Quelle horreur!

One day, while washing your hands, you noticed the bottle of hand and body lotion by the soap and wanted to know what it was. Well...I told you. It was moisturiser to "make your hands soft". Of course you had to give it a go.

Since that day, when each night you go to the basin to brush your teeth (which you normally do with your Dad), you then insist on putting on some moisturiser to make your hands all soft. Your Dad mutters and moans, growling imprecations under his breath about the more effeminate members of the male half of the species and how it will all be my fault. What I say? WHAT? I think he hopes that one day very soon, your testosterone levels will reach such a high that you will lean over and bitch-slap that lotion clear across the room, howling that such fairy liquid will never again sully your manly mitts. But it's not quite to be...you've moved on from putting lotion on your hands to bringing them to me afterwards to smell...telling me that they smell nice. That cucumber and mint...what a lovely aroma. Last night you even offered them to Holly to appreciate...sniffing your best to show her how she should soak up the scent. The imprecations and growling got a bit louder. Your Dad's eye rolling got so violent there for a second I thought his head might fall off...

I'm not quite clear why your Dad is so annoyed. I mean this is the same man who allowed himself to be persuaded by a group of men who, it could be said, appreciate the delicacies of women's shoes, into dressing up as some sort of Roman gladiator / fairy for a PINK party. Who can say genetics faster than I can say in touch with your feminine side...

I like the fact that you like to pick up flowers. That collecting the windfall frangipani and commenting on the pretty ones, is one of your favourite pastimes when out on walks. This is the same boy obsessed with diggers, airplanes and tractors, a boy who can spot a concrete mixer at 100m and likes to crash his trucks together at high speed. I think altogether this makes you an curious intelligent boy with your eyes wide open to the world.

I wouldn't have you any other way. And neither would your lilac-scented Dad.


For the Dad

Dear Finn

For the last couple of weeks your Dad has been away in Canada. Supposedly on conference, but in reality mostly skiing, or trying to drink the locals under the table, or being accosted by pimps with lovely Puerto Rican ladies on offer. Total suffering in the name of science. You have coped with this, the longest absence from your Dad that you can probably remember, remarkably well. Apart from the thought that every time we go in the car we will go and pick up Dad, and your standard call for Dad to come home from work soon, there hasn't been much said about Dad at all. Until last night. When your Mum had a slight moronic moment.

I have been counting down the sleeps for you until Dad comes home in the hope that you will sort of understand the diminishing length of time. You have shown very little interest in the transgression from 12 to 11 to 10 sleeps until Dad comes home. The night before last though, it was three more sleeps. I then disengaged my brain completely, opened my mouth, and mentioned that we would go to the airport to pick up Dad. Somehow the two concepts of three more days AND THEN go to the airport, became completely unhinged and you were all determined that we would go to the airport to pick up Dad, NOW. That the fact that I said this when I was reading you stories while putting you to bed, only makes Mummy more silly. I was desperately trying to back pedal, to explain that we would not be going to the airport, now, but AFTER three more sleeps. You brushed these explanations away as of no importance, determined as Don Trump heading for some orange hair dye. We were going to the airport NOW. I guess you had missed Dad more than I thought.


While Dad has been away, friends of ours have been caring for a little girl who has been in foster care for the last 9 months of her 19 month life. This got me thinking about all those parents that for whatever reason are away from their young kids, and so miss those never again repeated steps and milestones in their child's development. And that got me thinking about the changes that he will note when he gets home tomorrow.

You have been progressing with leaps and bounds with your toilet training. With the odd accident when you're too distracted, usually by some tremendously exciting set of stairs you need to climb, or a wall you need to immediately jump off, you tend to get to the toilet every time. You tend to dislike being asked if you need to go to the loo, responding with a resounding NO. This is often followed 2 minutes later with a request to go wees. Mr Autonomy. You even took yourself off to a pot plant one afternoon and did the whole thing yourself. Pulled your undies down, did the deed, pulled them up again.


You have discovered a love of singing. Storytime at night is always ended with a song, usually the current favourite, Puff the Magic Dragon. You sing the words that you recognise, usually putting on some silly deep voice to make it extra amusing. Frolics confuses you a bit, as does Honalee. You repeat the subversive messages from Bob the Builder (reduce, reuse, recycle) ad nauseum, with such an emphasis on reeeeecyyyyycle...that I think you're really trying to convert me into some world-saving greeno.

Grandma came to stay and help out while Dad was away and we also had Easter at your cousins' house. They're a bit more free with the chocolate than I am and you managed to make your dinner consist largely of Easter eggs. Four in total. Chocolate in such quantities we have now discovered, does not have a good affect on your ability to slumber peacefully, instead turning you into some crazed jitterbugger practising karate in your sleep. No more chocolate late in the day for you.


Holly has progressed to standing up in her cot. This has helped with her sleeping habits, not at all. Since now whenever she is awake, she wishes to be standing, and once standing, has no idea how to get down. This you may have noticed, has lead to lots of yelling. But also lots of crowing, because climbing the Everest side of the cot is a tremendous achievement. Holly is also expecting a couple of teeth (finally) and has progressed to a forward facing car seat, despite being 1.5 kg under the minimum weight limit.


So now Dad is back. You didn't go to childcare, and instead we all went to the airport to welcome him home. You were pretty pleased to see him, as he was to see you. He had presents for you of puzzles and matching games, which you have been playing with non-stop ever since. Your mate to run round the couch with, dangle you upside down and play hide and seek with, is HOME.

It is testament to his love for you and Holly that it was more than two days before he said it was great to see you all, lovely to catch up, but that he had to head back to Whistler again on VERY IMPORTANT BUSINESS. :)