Category Archives: P.- the second year

Sandwiched

On Sunday, I was eating lunch with Q. and the kids and getting ready to take E. out to a special concert (an early Christmas present). A flurry of messages from my sisters led to a phone call to my mother, which led to me putting P. in the car on Monday morning and driving for the rest of the day.

My Dad has been very unwell over the last couple of weeks with several major ups and downs. My youngest sister had been in to see him that weekend and it was clear that one of us needed to be there after she left.

The drive up reminded me of those train rides after he first had the accident, the landscape equally bleak, his status equally tenuous. It is easy, too easy really, for my sisters and I to shift back into crisis-management mode. We have done so much of it over the last (almost) two years.

The big change, of course, was that I was driving rather than on the train, because the unborn baby who rode that train with me was now a toddler giggling at me through the backseat mirror as she made her stuffed animals dance to the music. She was better company, certainly, than when she was still in utero, even if we did have to make a few unscheduled stops in the parking lots of roadside rest stops so I could put her boots back on after she pulled them off, tossed them away, and then regretted that choice.

Better company, but not easier to manage.

I was able to come only because my father’s health crisis occurred both after my semester had finished and before my mother had moved. Q. had enough flexibility in his work week to do the school run on the days when we didn’t have our nanny, and I was able to stay with my mother and leave P. with her during the day while I drove to the hospital. The drive is an hour and fifteen minutes (except for last night when it was inexplicably two and a half hours) and during the day, when it’s clear, it’s a nostalgic journey through the landscape that still feels like “home” to me. At night, or in a snowstorm (we had one of those this week too), it’s long and tedious.

By the time I was able to see my Dad on Tuesday morning, he was much better, and by Wednesday he was clearly on the mend, despite, as his doctors said, their total inability to find out what had been wrong with him in the first place. It must have been an infection of some sort- his nurse told me that it happens not infrequently where a patient gets sick and then recovers without them being able to identify where the infection is hiding. It would have been better if they had known what it was. The work required to allow my father to leave the hospital and live in his new house progresses at a glacial pace and this latest scare will no doubt contribute to even more heel dragging on the part of my stepmother.

I am taking P. with me to the hospital this morning for what will almost certainly be a very brief visit with my father (busy toddler and critical medical equipment not being an ideal combination). Dad is looking forward to seeing her. It’s been nice for me to have some time just with him, something which, again, hasn’t happened since the early months after his accident as usually when I’m in town I have both children with me. We’ve been able to talk about my work and play some online Sudoku. I’m confident that I’m leaving him in relatively good spirits and restored to (his version of) good health.

We are out of crisis and back to our (still new) normal.

By the time I am home again, I will have put close to 2,000 kilometres on the car and spent more than twenty hours driving.

I have blown an entire week of work.

I have been Christmas shopping online at 5 a.m. when I can’t get back to sleep after P. has woken up to nurse.

I am glad I came.

It was the right thing to do.

But I am tired.

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Filed under Butter scraped over too much bread (a.k.a. modern motherhood), Family, P.- the second year

Road Trip

We drove back yesterday from visiting both parental households. Q. and I spent most of the drive discussing the current state of my parents (mother very stressed but long-term prospects are still good; father’s situation provokes rage and despair in equal measure). There was a lot of ranting (not all of it from me) and some serious talks about what to do next, all buried under loud music for the sake of the little pitcher with huge ears in the back.

Meanwhile, it the backseat, the drive looked a lot like this:

Five scenes from a six hour drive

Scene 1. Turia is driving. P. is asleep. E. is telling a story to himself.
E.: *unintelligible* “Don’t worry, I borrowed it from the solar system! The Earth said it would be all right.”
*muttering*
*sound effects of crashing and explosions*
E.: “And all the planets were consumed!”

Scene 2. Turia is driving. We are thirty minutes away from stopping for dinner.
P. *shrieks of laughter*
E.: “Pick up the monkey and throw it back to me, P.!”
*flurry of motion in the rear-view mirror*
E. & P. *shrieks of laughter*
Repeat scene with everything within reach in the backseat

Scene 3. Q. is driving. We are trying to get back on the highway after having to take a detour to avoid an accident right before our on-ramp.
P.: “P. Door. Car.”
E.: “How far away from home are we?”
P.: “P. Door. Car. Out.”
Turia: “One hour and forty-three minutes, according to Google, once we get back on the highway.”
P.: “Mummy, Mummy, Mummy!”
E.: “I meant, how many kilometres?”
P.: “P. DOOR. CAR. OUT!!!”
Turia: “One hundred and sixty-eight.”
P.: “Mummy, Mummy, MUMMY!!”
E.: “Oh, ok. I will not start to look for the [very well-known building] yet.”
P.: “P!!! DOOR!!! CAR!!! OUT!!! MUMMY, MUMMY, MUMMY!!!”

Scene 4. We are listening to Sharon, Lois, and Bram’s Greatest Hits. Q. is driving. “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain” is playing.
E.: “You know, I think there are other versions of this song where they are eating things other than chicken and dumplings.”
*song ends*
P.: *very quietly* “Choo-choo.”

Scene 5. P. is asleep again. Q. is driving.
E.: “I still feel sad when I think about P. [our cat who died in April of 2016] just like I still feel sad when I think about Grandpa I. [my stepfather, who died in August 2016].”
Turia: “It’s ok to feel sad, E. You feel sad because you loved them and you miss them. I still feel sad when I think about them too.”
E.: “Remember after Grandpa I.’s funeral and I said that maybe at night he would get out of the cemetery and go geocaching? Maybe our cat gets up at night too.”
Turia: “Do you think she’s the one who makes our floorboards creak when L. [our other cat] is asleep on our bed?”
E.: “Yes!”
Turia: “Is she a little cat ghost?”
E.: “No! She is a cat zombie! She gets down off the shelf in her box and goes all around the house.”
*long pause*
Turia: *very quietly, to Q.*  “We really need to make time to bury her and get the box off of our bookshelf.”
E.: “Brrrrraaaaiiinnnnssss!”

Happy chaos.

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Filed under Blink and you'll miss it, Choose Happiness, E.- the seventh year, P.- the second year, What were we thinking? (aka travelling with small children)

Weather Patterns

Yesterday I spent most of the morning in the park with P., who had a wonderful time despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that I had both forgotten to bring a towel to wipe down the equipment and neglected to put her in her rain suit. She ended up completely soaked, but it wasn’t a total #momfail as I had packed spare clothes in her diaper bag and I still had the cozy sleeping bag on the stroller even though it was probably too warm outside for it. So she had fun getting soaking wet and dirty and then I was able to wrestle her into new clothes to keep her warm and dry long enough to get home.

What was interesting about the outing (other than the fact that I learned to keep spare mittens in the diaper bag because P. will always opt to play with puddles) was that during the whole time we were at the park we saw a total of twelve other people.

Every single one of them was an adult walking a dog.

When I think about the winter that E. was this age, some of my clearest memories are of the two of us at the various neighbourhood parks, without another soul around. (I can remember taking multiple photos to illustrate this point because I just couldn’t get my head around it.)

I don’t understand why it seems to be accepted practice here that once the temperature drops below about 8 degrees Celsius, or it’s a bit wet, the dogs have to go outside but the children don’t.

I get that if you don’t take dogs outside for walks they will pee on the floor and eat your furniture, but if I don’t take my kids outside they may not pee on the floor (ok, P. would if given the chance) but they will certainly destroy the house (or make it feel like that’s what they’re doing) and drive me absolutely up the wall.

We had an extremely wet Sunday a couple of weeks ago and after P had woken up from her nap I stuffed her and E. into their rain gear (under mighty protests from E.) and took them outside to jump in puddles. We ended up finding a massive puddle in a nearby laneway and they spent a happy forty minutes playing in it (E. jumped in it and ran through it; P. did everything short of lying down in it face first). When they were both soaked (despite the rain gear) and starting to look cold, I brought them back inside for a bath.

They were SO MUCH happier for the rest of the afternoon and the evening, which meant that I was happier too.

There was no whining.

No meltdowns.

No tears.

No shouting.

Admittedly I will keep them inside in extreme weather conditions (massive thunderstorms or temperatures below -30 degrees Celsius), and there are days when we don’t go out for long, but even fifteen or twenty minutes mucking around in the yard does wonders.

E’s school has just started a pilot project where the children go outside for recess no matter what the weather is (unless it is dangerous). It won’t be fully in place for another year or two, but I was so pleased to hear about the initiative. I can’t imagine what it is like for the teachers on the days where the kids don’t go out.

As for my two, P. loves to go outside, so it’s never a hard sell with her. E. is very much a homebody and thinks he would be happy to stay inside all day long, except that by the late afternoon he’s crabby and combative and bouncing off the furniture (literally- he will run around the main floor telling a story while ricocheting off of the couches).

I sympathize, because I’m a homebody too at heart, but I’ve learned that I need to get out of the house as much as they do. I’ve had to take a hard look at my wardrobe to make sure that I’m not making it easier to keep them inside because I don’t have the right clothes to be outside with them.

Most of the time, there’s no bad weather, just bad clothing.

Do the kids vanish from your neighbourhood as soon as the weather shifts?

 

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Filed under E.- the seventh year, P.- the second year, Soapbox

Winter is Coming

We had our first big freeze last night, severe enough that Q. came home early from work to make sure he could roll up the hoses and put the cover on the air conditioner.

Last night, once both kids were in bed, I thought to myself, “It would be a really good idea to go and find all the cold weather gear now.”

And then I watched an episode of House of Cards with Q. instead.

This inevitably led to me running around in a mad panic this morning when I woke up and discovered that yes, it really was -12 outside and yes, there had been a dusting of snow. Luckily I knew where all the winter gear was and E. went off to school this morning in snow pants, jacket, neck warmer, waterproof mittens, hat, and winter boots (last year’s- he says they still fit, so the ones I bought on sale in the spring are still in the box for now). When we left, P. was marching around the house in her new (to her) snow boots and looking deeply pleased with herself.

At drop off, I couldn’t help but notice three or four kids who were wearing snow pants that stopped at the tops of their boots. I’d have been right there with them except two weeks ago I had the sense to realize that E. was going to need new snow pants this year and I asked a friend for a recommendation as I hadn’t been happy with our two previous pairs. The brand she recommended happened to be on sale that weekend so I ordered E. a pair along with a hat and a balaclava, and a neck warmer for P.

I could be feeling smug about how well prepared we are for winter (we put our winter tires on the car at the end of October) except for the fact that I have over 150 bulbs I haven’t put into my front garden yet.

Luckily it’s supposed to be well above zero again by the middle of the week, so I should be able to get them planted.

Are you ready for winter?

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Filed under Blink and you'll miss it, Daily Life, E.- the seventh year, P.- the second year

Microblog Mondays: Thankful

It was Thanksgiving here north of the border a couple of weekends ago. Q. and I opted to rent a cottage for the weekend, rather than making the drive to see my parents, partly because we couldn’t face the idea of driving in holiday traffic in both directions after the abject horrors of said drive the previous year and partly because we realized that we hadn’t gone anywhere without friends or family since August 2014, when E. was three.

It felt both wrong and right to put my little nuclear family first, even though we found another weekend this fall where we could go to see my parents (E. has the Friday off from school and we’ll pull him out on the Monday as it’s not feasible to do both houses unless we have four days) and there’s the possibility that my father might be actually moved into his new house by mid-November. Gaining an extra five hours to visit (instead of sitting in traffic) and avoiding the horrors of visiting in the ICU with a toddler in tow seemed like a no-brainer, but I still felt guilty knowing that my sisters had made similar decisions and this meant that all the parents would be alone over the holidays. Our family is not in extreme crisis any longer, but it would be a lie if I said either situation was easy at the moment.

When asked if I was looking forward to the cottage, I said that I expected it would be not remotely relaxing but that it would be a nice change of scene, and (surprise, surprise) I was right.

There were some excellent moments (E. learning to kayak, discovering a tree castle on an island in the middle of the lake that E. could climb, watching the storms blow in and blow out again, E. catching tiddlers off of the dock, P. sitting up on the big outdoor benches eating her lunch) and some less than perfect ones (having both kids screaming within ten minutes of going outside because E. had fallen off a wooden swing and hurt his tailbone and the swing had then swung forward to smack P. in the head, not going hiking with our friends because the car couldn’t get back up the driveway that I had told Q. on arrival I didn’t think we should drive down, but which Q. thought would be fine, and then taking two hours to get said car up the driveway, breaking a taillight in the process). P. struggled with the slope of the ground between the cottage and the lake (read: fell down a lot), and tried to throw herself (or any toys within reach) off the dock at every opportunity.

E. had a blast.

Q. and I each managed to get in a bit of solo kayaking, and Q. even braved the lake for a (very) brief swim. I didn’t get much time to play with my camera, but I did what I could.

 

 

 

A cottage will be easier next year, when P. is older, and even easier the year after that, but I am trying not to wish away the phase of life that is my present. Two years ago we went to another cottage with friends for Thanksgiving. I had learned I was pregnant the day before we left. We didn’t yet know how it would turn out, but now, two years later, here was P., giggling and smiling and climbing into the kayak when she thought we weren’t looking.

I am so thankful.

How do you balance vacation time between your immediate family and your extended one(s)? Does anyone else find this incredibly difficult?

This post is part of #MicroblogMondays. To read the inaugural post and find out how you can participate, click here.

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Filed under Blink and you'll miss it, Choose Happiness, E.- the seventh year, Microblog Mondays, P.- the second year, What were we thinking? (aka travelling with small children)

The Fourteenth Month

Dearest P.,

I feel like you grew up so much this month. Your face changed in a way that made you look so much older. I don’t know what caused it- you didn’t get any more teeth and your hair is still coming in at a snail’s pace- but your Daddy noticed it too. Your Grannie has been saying for months that you were going to be trouble- she has always maintained there was a lot of mischief brewing behind your big brown eyes. This month you made it clear that she was absolutely right! This month was a lot of fun, as I was home with you and your brother and we had a chance to enjoy the summer together, but it was also filled with days where I found myself constantly one step behind you, trying to keep up and predict what crazy thing you were about to do next.

This month you decided you were ready to walk. From the very beginning of the month you were able to take five or six steps independently, and you could take more than forty if you were holding my hand. Mid-month you were up to 11 or 12 steps, and then, almost overnight, you were suddenly walking more than you were crawling. I think the critical factor was you were tired of trying to carry something while crawling and you realized just how much easier and faster it would be to walk. By the end of this month you were getting much faster and much more confident on your feet, even when outside on uneven ground.

Along with your newfound walking abilities came something that caught your Daddy and I completely off-guard. You, my darling girl, are a climber. Your brother was not a climber as a toddler (and still is a cautious child), so we simply weren’t prepared for what you were going to do. Part of your motivation, I’m sure, was trying to keep up with your big brother, but I also think you’re inherently bolder than he was at this age. It started innocently enough at the very start of the month when you finally succeeded in being able to climb onto the couch (something you’d been working so hard to achieve last month) and onto the coffee tables. Less than a week later you figured out how to crawl up onto the cushions at the back of the couch to look out the window, and then two days after that you proved you could stand up and balance on the very back edge of the couch, just like your brother does. That day, in particular, was nothing short of a gong show: not only did I catch you standing on the back of the couch, but you also demonstrated you could climb into your high chair all by yourself (and stand up in it), you managed to push out one of the screens of the living room window and let our (indoor only) cat escape (luckily she was too confused to go far), you got your hands on your brother’s scissors, you pulled off the (small, total choking hazard) metal end of the drawstring of your Daddy’s shorts, did the longest stretch of walking we’d seen to date, and tried to pull the protectors out of the electrical outlets. To top it off, you ate more beef and potato pie at dinner than anyone else in the family! We were all exhausted by the time you went to bed, and your Daddy and I spent that evening setting up a new round of baby proofing.

Despite our best efforts, you keep finding trouble. Two days after the day you gave us so many new grey hairs I found you on the kitchen table- you’re still too small to climb up onto the chairs yourself but you pushed my backpack over next to a chair so you could use it as the first step. The day after that you climbed onto the top of your toy shelf (which required you to climb onto the back of a chair to reach it). And then you discovered how much fun it was to try to climb from the coffee tables directly onto the couches. At the end of the month we were visiting your grandparents and you spent the entire visit climbing in and out of every chair in the backyard. Climbing into your high chair when I wasn’t looking became a game, so we had to institute a new rule that the tray was washed before you were allowed out at the end of every meal, as you can’t get in when the tray’s attached (or at least, not yet). We also had to move your brother’s stool out of the kitchen as you would climb onto it to make yourself tall enough to reach the buttons for the washing machine (luckily you haven’t yet figured out which one turns it on).

By the middle of the month you’d succeeded in learning how to pull the covers off the electrical outlets, which you also thought was a wonderful game. One day your Daddy and I were both in the kitchen and you obviously felt we should be paying attention to you. You pulled both the outlet covers off from the outlet nearest the table and then came around the corner to where we could see you with a huge smile on your face. You brandished the outlet covers at us with a triumphant “Yah!”, knowing full well this wasn’t supposed to be something you were doing. Your Grandpa observed that you have a real cackle of a laugh when you’re intentionally being naughty. I hear it frequently when I’m changing your diaper because you love to try to reach down and grab the old diaper. If you’re successful you’ll then swing it around over your head, so I’ve learned to be much faster at getting it out of your reach!

When not rampaging around the house causing trouble, you’re communicating more and more with us each day. You absolutely hate to be told no, and you cry in frustration when things don’t go as you had planned (such as when your mean Mummy doesn’t let you play with the sunscreen bottle while you’re eating lunch). When you’re eating something you’re really enjoying you have a “yummy yum yum!” sound of appreciation. You never sign “milk” anymore, even though you’re still nursing frequently. You find it’s more efficient to just tap my chest or tug at my shirt. Since that was the only sign you’d adopted with any real consistency I think we have to acknowledge that baby signing isn’t for you. When you don’t want something you have a firm “Na!” with a head shake and a hand to push away the offending item. When you do want something you’ll wave your hand at it while chanting “Mee-ma, mum-ee, ma-ma”.

We went to the zoo this month and we ate lunch near the large water park. Your brother had a blast running around but we thought we’d managed to conceal it from you, as we wanted to make sure you ate a good lunch. After lunch, while we packing up getting ready to go see some more animals, you went over to the stroller and pulled out your spare romper and started putting it on your chest and fussing- it was obvious you wanted to wear it. I wasn’t sure what you wanted but decided to humour you. As soon as you had been changed you started trying to walk to the water park- you had thought the romper was your rash guard! Once we realized what you wanted we put you in your rash guard and you then had a lovely time getting absolutely soaked. I eventually had to remove you from the park, with you protesting mightily, even though you were shaking with cold.

Going to the zoo is always an interesting experience with a very little person, and I have to admit there were quite a few points where we debated getting you out of the stroller and ultimately decided to leave you strapped in because we didn’t think you’d be interested in what we were looking at (“You see that very large grey lump over there, P? Not that one, that’s a rock. And that’s a rock too. But THAT one? That’s a rhino. It’s asleep, so it’s not moving or doing anything at all to distinguish itself from a rock.”). With that said, you did really enjoy the giraffes and the penguins. It was great timing for a zoo visit as just this month you’ve started to become fascinated by animals. You point to all cats and dogs outside and have a “buh buh” noise if we ask you what a dog says (although you seem to think cats say it as well). You also have a “bur” noise for birds when you see them, and if we see a bird in a book you’ll point outside to show that you know we see birds outside. Your favourite books at the moment involve animals: Ten Little Ladybugs, I Am A Bunny, Doggies, Baby Woof Woof, the Bright Babies Animals book, First 100 Animals, and First 100 Words (which has many pictures of animals). This marks a big change from before we went to Australia, when your favourite books were Global Babies and Baby Faces Peek-a-boo. You started choosing your own books at bedtime this month. I put you down on the floor in your sleepsack and you carefully pull out the book you want to read, and then I lift you up into the rocking chair. The book that was chosen most often this month was our utterly battered copy of Baby Woof Woof (battered because your brother loved it so much at this age too). I’ve had to try to repair it with duck tape! You noticed our cat months ago but now whenever you see her you let out a huge high-pitched shriek of excitement (which means that the cat then vanishes almost immediately). The cutest change is you’ve adopted your stuffed koala, Fuzz, as a lovey. We put your blanket bunny, Arsinoe, in your crib last month, and you think she’s all right, but Fuzz you specifically asked to have in your crib (and you just as clearly rejected a stuffed bunny when it was offered). Whenever you see Fuzz you grab him and snuggle him up against your face. It’s adorable.

Once you were over the jet lag at the end of last month you settled back into a predictable routine. Your first nap is still close to 90 minutes long (sometimes it even cracks the two hour mark) and your second nap starts three-and-a-half or four hours after your first nap finishes. I’m a little worried about this as you won’t be able to have two naps once school starts up again- the timings for that second nap won’t work with your brother’s pick up schedule- but you’ve proven to be remarkably adaptable thus far and I can hope that will continue. I noticed this month that your eating has slowed down considerably- I thought at first you were teething, but no new teeth appeared, so it could be that you’re not in a growth spurt or that you’re just moving into the toddler stage of being too busy to eat. It’s especially noticeable with breakfast- you’ve gone right off oatmeal and anything else you usually only take a couple of bites before pulling off your bib and throwing everything off your tray. I’ve started experimenting with giving you your own plate, but I have to be careful to only put a little bit of food on it as the moment you get bored you flip it over (or throw it onto the floor if I’m really unlucky). We’ve also started to give you a spoon. You did really well immediately with a bowl of Cheerios and milk and with soup. Oatmeal and yoghurt have proven to be trickier, I think because they’re a firmer texture and require a bit more dexterity to get them on the spoon. You still nurse before both naps, before bedtime, when you first wake up, and once over night, and you often have smaller snacks in between, especially late in the day if you haven’t slept well. I love that you still get so much comfort from nursing and am in no hurry to wean.

This month saw your first fever- we’re still not sure what caused it, as it came accompanied by a very upset digestive system, which took a full week to get sorted out. The fever was high enough that I was planning to take you to the doctor the next morning when the Tylenol finally started to work. It was one of those rare times when I’m reminded that you only have one kidney because we’re not allowed to give you Advil, and I’ve always found that Advil is much more effective than Tylenol when your brother has a fever. Once the fever finally broke you were still up a lot in the night needing diaper changes and extra snuggles. It was wretched to see you feeling so miserable, but it reminded me how rarely you’ve been sick and how cheerful you generally are.

You spend a lot of time imitating us, and you want to do everything that we do. At the table you reject your sippy cups whenever possible and ask to drink from our glasses (you don’t want your own plastic cups either). If we have ice in our water, you want ice in your water. If we give you a cloth, you will try to wash your own face (although you mostly just rub it in your hair). You have this fantastic “I dunno” gesture where you hold out both your hands to the sides, palms up, and look at us with a quizzical expression. You tend to do this right after you’ve intentionally tossed your sippy over the side of the high chair- it’s like you’re pretending to be surprised that this happened. Your favourite thing to do in the mornings is wrestle with your brother. Usually you’ve woken up before he has, so when he stumbles down the stairs you make a beeline for the couch where he’s sitting. He just wants a few quiet minutes while he wakes up, but you’re too excited once you’ve seen him to do anything but jump on him while shrieking and growling with excitement. He occasionally flees to another room, but as long as he stays on the main floor you will toddle after him and start the game again- you are tiny but determined!

This month was bittersweet, as it was the last full month where I was home with you. All too soon you’re going to be spending three days a week with your nanny, one day a week with your Daddy, and one day a week with me. I know we’ll all get used to the new routine eventually, but right now I know I’m really going to miss our time together. You’re so much fun, and I don’t want to miss a moment.

Love always,
Mummy

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Filed under Letters to P., P.- the second year

The thirteenth month

Continuing my approach of “better late than never” when it comes to these…

Dearest P.,

This was a very exciting month, as it marked your very first time travelling to see your Daddy’s family in Australia. The exceptionally long flights and the resulting jet lag weren’t fun at all, but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to it, as you’ll be making that trip every two years for your entire childhood. The flight there was during our usual night, so we changed you into pjs in the departure lounge while we were waiting to board the plane. You had a lovely time climbing all over the seats without incident, but you managed to fall off a heating duct near the window and get carpet burn on your forehead just as I was putting on the Ergo to load you up for the plane. The flight itself was very tiring: just like your big brother on his first trip you came down with a severe case of Mummyitis and wanted nothing to do with your Daddy. You were happy to nurse and sleep for much of the flight, although you got very manic when you were awake and tired. Mummy and Daddy were so relieved when the plane finally landed. Little did we know that we had a much worse ordeal lying in wait for us on the return journey. The flight home is a day flight, which meant that it should have been easier to entertain you as we didn’t have to worry about passengers sleeping nearby, the lights were all on, and the window shades were up. It was, your Daddy and I agree, the worst flight we’ve ever experienced. You couldn’t nap well and then didn’t sleep well when your body thought it was night. Our best guess is that you slept a total of seven hours, in four stretches, over a twenty-four hour period. The lack of sleep meant that, although you did have lots of periods when you were happy to play (and we were able to take advantage of the fact that we had a spare seat where you could sit), there was also a lot of crying. But, as I kept saying to your Daddy, we’ll never see any of those people ever again and we never have to take a toddler to Australia again!

The good news is you handled the jet lag much better than your brother did at this age. When we arrived you had a few mornings where you got up for the day well before 6 a.m., but you were mostly sorted out by the third night, which is pretty impressive. We took a hilarious video of you falling asleep in the high chair the first evening we were there. We were trying to get you through to a regular bed time and you were fading fast! (Your brother had already taken himself off to his room a couple of hours earlier “for a little rest” and passed out.) You also had a much easier time on the return journey because we’d learned from our mistakes when we’d taken your brother to Australia when he was a toddler. Instead of trying to establish bedtime first, we focused on getting a 12 hour “day” (even if that “day” started at 11 a.m.) and then gradually worked to align that “day” with our home time zone. You did have a few nights where you were up for an hour or so in the night, but you were content to snuggle and nurse before going back to sleep.

You had a wonderful time in Australia! Your relatives were so pleased to meet you. We had an official first birthday party where you slept through the main course and then refused to eat any of the cake your Aunty had baked for you (a yellow dump truck at E’s request), except for the strawberries. You loved watching your cousins run around (you were clearly very keen to run around with them, but not keen enough to start walking while we were there!) and you had so much fun playing on your Granny’s lawn. You also loved going to the beach. You were very good about not eating sand, although I did have to keep an eye out for pebbles- apparently they were tastier. We had gorgeous weather- one day you played in the rock pools only wearing a diaper, even though it was winter. We went to the Blue Mountains, went out on the family boat, took the train, ate Yum Cha in Chinatown (your favourite was the minced pork that came with the green beans), and did lots of hiking. You loved riding in the Ergo, but you wouldn’t nap well, and you also started trying to take off your hat whenever you thought we weren’t paying attention.

When you weren’t jet lagged, this was a pretty good month for sleeping. With the exception of a few days right at the end of our trip (explained by the appearance of tooth number 6 the day after we got back), for most of this month you consistently slept through until 4:00 or 4:30 before nursing and then going back to sleep until around 7:00. You still need two naps. The first one is usually around 9:30 or 10:00 a.m. and lasts for about an hour and a half, and then you’re ready for your second nap three hours after you wake up from your first. That second nap is sometimes only thirty minutes and sometimes an hour and a half- it’s much less predictable.

You made the jump this month from babbling to jargoning- you sound like a little creature out of Star Wars most of the time. You’re clearly speaking in full sentences, with syntax and emphasis, but we have no idea what you’re saying! The jargoning also started right after we arrived home, so it’s possible that the horrific homeward flight was largely a result of teething and a developmental leap. You started making a hilarious growling noise this month, which has meant we’ve started asking whether there is a tiger in the house (which you think is equally funny). You’re really not that interested in signing, unlike your brother. You’ve largely stopped using the milk sign and will just crawl over and tug at my shirt. “More” still isn’t consistent and you prefer to pull off your bib rather than using “all done”. If you want something in particular you make it clear through pointing and fussing. This month you developed clear interrogative “dere” and “dat” noises when you were pointing and wanted something identified (which is pretty much all the time). You also have a strong “na!” with a head shake for no, a “nigh nigh” for “night night” (with waving, although not consistent) and an “ah da” sound for “all done” that your Daddy and I belatedly realized was actually your first word as it’s the same sound you’ve been making since you were just under nine months old. Most exciting (for me) this month was the development of a clear “Mumm-mee” (as opposed to “ma” or “mama” or “mum mum”) when you want me. You have the sweetest little voice and I never get tired of listening to you chatter away.

You love standing and will walk holding on to our hands (something I swore I’d never do and refused to do with your brother). By the end of the month you were confidently walking around holding just one of my hands and were taking two or three steps independently. I know you’re going to walk soon, because it was clear in Australia you’re a FOMO baby- you hated watching your brother run around with your cousins knowing that you couldn’t crawl fast enough to keep up. You also wanted desperately to ride on their scooter and would try to climb on to it any time it was available. You are obsessed with your brother’s baseball cap and try to put it on your head whenever it’s left lying around. You also try to put on your own hat before we go out and put your socks on your feet- you occasionally meet with some success with your hat but the socks are proving to be more troublesome.

You can stack rings and fit three shapes into a shape sorter, but you get bored easily with both activities. You’re also still not very interested in sitting and listening while I read you stories. You’ll choose books from your shelf and hand them to me, but you tend to take them back and close them almost immediately (only to then hand them back to me again a minute later, and so on). You’re much more interested in mastering physical challenges: you’re desperate to be able to climb up onto the couch, and although you can get one knee up, you can’t quite manage it yet. You love to play games with people: while in Australia you started doing downward dog with your head right on the floor so you could look back between your legs. If I bent over to look back between your legs at you and said “boo!” you would howl with laughter. You try to catch the attention of everyone you see when we’re out. Even on the airplane, you were trying to make friends by peeking between the seats at the people sitting behind us (on the flight to Australia we were lucky enough to have experienced grandparents in that row who were more than happy to engage with you at all hours). When your plans are thwarted or you’re told no, you’ve now mastered a fake cry that comes complete with a monkey face where you push out your lips. It is very hard not to laugh when you do it, which of course only makes you more insulted.

You remain a very cheerful little soul with a very big personality. I’m so glad you joined our family- we can’t imagine our lives without you.

I love you very much, my darling girl.

love always,
Mummy

 

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Filed under Letters to P., P.- the second year