From baby steps to giant steps

Being a parent is a tough job. Some days, I think you'd have to be crazy to sign up for it.
I'm not complaining about the sleepless nights, the terrible twos, the fevers and worries. Oh no. TV, books, stand-up comedians - the whole world prepares us for that. But really, the difficulty in parenting is that even when you do it right, when everything goes according to plan, it's bloody heartbreaking.

When you have a baby, the first few weeks are a sweet-smelling haze of unusual hours, nappies, feeds, cuddles and secret smiles shared with your partner about the magical being you have created. About six weeks in, you get your first 'First'. That smile. The one you're certain wasn't wind. Baby has reached a milestone, and you bask in the pride of the moment.

Soon, you're excitedly waiting for signs of a first tooth. With Little Man, we waited ten and a half months for a tooth! The eventual arrival was greeted with celebrations of the highest order. Once again, our clever boy had achieved a wondrous thing, a step towards being a proper person.

There are first sounds, first words, first tentative steps. Each one a moment that you look forward to, that you cherish.

And then it hits you. Those perfect pearly teeth mean no more gummy smiles. When they're older, the changes are bigger and faster than you expect. Dressing themselves, using the toilet, saying 'please' and 'thank you' without being prompted. Each of these is a sign that you have done your job well. As a parent, you have created and nurtured a person who can survive in the big wide world, a person who will be liked and accepted in that world. A person who each day is growing further away from you.

Pride and heartbreak have a strange symbiotic relationship for a mother. Our job is to make our children independent of us. We shoulder this burden, we know it from the moment we feel the first flutters in the womb, those are the first strainings towards autonomy. We just know that the journey is what we've got to look forward to. That all of those firsts, and seconds, along the way are ours to enjoy and encourage.

But sometimes, a step towards the future feels too big, too sudden, too unexpected. My Little Lady had her first haircut at the weekend. She has a layered bob now, with a side fringe. She looks gorgeous - like a proper Little Lady indeed. Somehow, it makes me want to cry. Those blonde-tinged curls, that unruly mess of hair, that was the hair of my baby. She's two-and-a-half now. Of course, I knew she wasn't really a baby anymore. In fact, she loves nothing more than to mind babies herself! Little Mammy would probably be a better name for her. But those curls, they made her mine, my tiny baby who needs me more than anything in the world. And now, they are discarded on the barber's floor. And my Little Lady is a little girl. Not even really a toddler anymore.

So, I'm feeling slightly in shock. Amazed at where the last two-and-a-half years have gone - where the last four years have gone since her big brother was still nestled safely inside me. But with the tears sparkling in my eyes, I'm still smiling. Because they have been the best four years ever. Because that serious Little Man and kind-hearted Little Lady are just as I would like them to be. Funny, charming and strong, alternating between fierce independence and a desperate need for affection. I know that if we continue to do our job right as parents, our children won't need us around anymore, but if we do it really, really right, they'll still want us around. For now, I'm going to keep enjoying the journey, and for every secret tear I shed when I feel them moving from my reach, there are a hundred kisses, a thousand smiles and a million memories that make it all worthwhile.

It's the little things

So I haven't blogged in a little while. I suppose it's to be expected.
As a mother, a wife, a sister, a daughter, a friend and an employee, it seems like being a blogger is going to be difficult to fit in.

But that's ok. Sometimes it's enough just to do things, rather than talk about them. And sometimes, like this little post, the little things are fun too.

My darling Little Lady brought me one of those little moments of perfection this week. We were playing. I was the baby and she was the Mammy. And I pretended to cry. So, my gorgeous girl came over to me, threw her arms around me, cocked her head to one side and said 'It's ok baby girl! I know, I know. It's a tough old day.'

So it turns out she does listen to me after all!

Toddler talk

In our house, we have our own language.

We didn't always have it. I was careful to ensure the kids had the correct pronunciation of each word they tried, paranoid after we were told that their (temporary) hearing problems may have an impact on their speech. But life is short, and toddlerhood is even shorter. One of the most heartbreaking times of our lives was when Little Man stopped saying 'crocodiler' and 'the affe' and started saying 'crocodile' and 'giraffe'. His own affinity for language meant that we got less than 24 hours of 'eebops' before he self-corrected to 'hiccups' - who can honestly tell me that's an improvement?

So, we've relaxed. And by 'we', I mean 'I'. Hubby has always been more naturally relaxed with just watching them grow. I'll still help them with pronunciation when they're stuck, but maybe not everything needs to be totally perfect just yet. This means that when you come to our house, you'll see a drawer in the playroom labelled "pooting things and booping things". I was genuinely shocked when I revealed to coworkers that Little Man wanted a pooting thing for Christmas and they didn't understand my dilemma. Apparently, most people would call it a "gun". Who knew?

I've also recently been guilty of telling the doctor that Little Lady's cough is not improving "even though she's using the Roro every day!". Thankfully, when I explained that we always sing "Row, row, row your boat" while using the inhaler, she realised that I am still a fit person to be a mother!

There is so much joy to be had in the kids while they are small, and excitable and utterly innocent that I just can't bear to take any of it away just yet. So come to our house, where you'll notice as flish as a flash that things are a little different there. Our favourite television show is Happy Pig, which is best watched while wearing jaamas. We love it when Nanny and GwanGwand come to visit, or our "Auntie" Beeraid. We do NOT like things that are Beeskusting, but love eating Beetatoes.

Our little language sets us aside, says that the four of us are in this thing together and that we understand each other like no one else can. It is our language of love.

Cute conquers all

"Wah"

...

"WAHHHH! Maaaaahhhhmmmyyyyyyy!"

Sit straight up in bed. Mmf? Check clock. 00.47. Ugh. Scramble for dressing gown. Give bleary medicine instructions to Hubby.

"Maaaaaahhhhhmmmmmyyyy!"

Stumble down hall. Cranky. Open door. Crying stops. Mumble soothing noise. Pray she'll go back to sleep.

"Mammy - the silly cough is coughing in my mouth!"

Smile. Relent. Well played, gorgeous girl.

Lift her up. Sit in rocking chair.

Cuddle.

For sale: One Mammy, hardly used.

It's a really old cliché; Kids grow up so fast.

Most of us accept it as patently true. Sure, they grow half a foot every time you turn your back, you can hardly pretend it's not happening. I think most parents though, are allowed to actually *help* their kids to grow up. Not us though. I'm starting to suspect that our kids only keep us around in order to reach the sweets in the high presses.

Heading off into their future together

Last March, one Saturday morning while Hubby wasn't even in the country, Little Man decided to potty train himself. He did a great job. Heaped praise on his own successes, insisted on cleaning up his own messes, and decided it was time for nappy-free nights just a couple of months later.

The dodie tree

Last weekend, this same Little Man decided he was now too big (cue gesture from toes to head to show exactly *how* big) to have a dodie. In fact, he wanted to give his dodie to the baby birdies. In Nanny and Grandad's garden. Tomorrow, after lunch.

Having been informed of these plans, Hubby and I happily went along with it. The dodies, tied to coloured ribbons were strung from the trees, and Little Man sang a song to encourage the birdies to come along and take them. Another success!

This weekend, Little Lady - who is not yet 26 months - decided to potty train herself. She didn't even feel the need to tell us. Oh no, it was the presence of an idle nappy on the sitting room floor that alerted us to the fact that she was now wearing a pair of her brother's pants, pilfered from a radiator!
After a few false starts on Saturday, she seems to have the hang of it, and has been despatched to creche with enough spares to last the day. I hope.

Once again, Mammy has had little input here. Still, at least I can feel confident that when it comes to parenting their own kids, they'll already have first-hand experience, having raised *themselves* so well.

Actually, I've just realised that I can only reach the lower shelf of the high presses. Even I need Hubby to help with anything higher!

Oh dear. If you need me, you'll find me on a street corner, bearing a cardboard sign. "Will parent for food"

To bed, perchance to sleep!

Some people may wonder why I'm tired these days. Why I don't spend my evenings in cool coffee places with friends, or even sitting on the couch chatting on the phone.

Mostly, these are people who don't have a daughter who has just turned two.

To be honest, I've been a bit baffled myself. She's tired, I put her to bed. Simple, right? So why am I still in her room an hour later?

Well it turns out that 2 year olds are very busy people. My Little Lady even has a checklist that she *must* complete before sleeping. It's quite complex actually. Really, I should be the one feeling sorry for her.

I happen to have gotten my hands on a copy of her checklist and I decided to share it here.

1) Give Daddy and big brother a Night Night Giss
2) Go to bedroom
3) Run back down hall to give Daddy another Night Night Giss
4) Close bedroom door BY MYSELF
5) Sing ABC song. Twice
6) Round of applause for a song well sung
7) Ask Mammy if Daddy is assileeeeep?
8) Ask Mammy if Ebbybody is assileeeeep?
9) Give Mammy a Giss
10) Tell Mammy that Baby Fuffie (Sophie) was crying in school today, because she was sad
11) Tell Mammy that Baby Fuffie is NOT crying emmymore. She is all better
12) Take dodie OFF blankie NOW
13) Sing Mr Golden Sun
14) Sing Bob the Builder
15) Tell Mammy to SHUSH, because Ebbybody is assileeeeep!
16) Ask Mammy to put blanket on my back
17) No, my OTHER back!
18) Put dodie ON blankie NOW
19) Sing Jedward song
20) Tell Mammy I'm singing Jedward song
21) Tell Mammy that Daddy is lawffee (lovely)
22) Tell Mammy that Daddy is assileeeeep
23) Give Mammy another Giss
24) Go to sileeeeep