My 13 month old daughter has taken to kissing. In fact it’s safe to say she’s taken to it in such a big way I’d say it’s her main activity.
She kisses her mama. She kisses her Daddy and her big brother (a lot) . She kisses books, especially books with cats or dogs in them. She kisses teddy and cat and even the remote control. She blows kisses out the window of the car to traffic lights, buses, clouds and anyone walking by. And today she blew kisses to the two builders at our house, solidly, for about 20 minutes.
And while she was doing this I realised that this is a bit of magic going on here. You see these builders were in a foul mood. Their lousy boss had just told them they weren’t getting paid today. Without going into detail of all this nasty boss stuff it’s safe to say they were grumpy, broke builders.
Now, here’s the magic. By the end of their full quota of 20 minutes of kisses blown by the sweetie pie herself they were happy, jolly, joking builders. They had forgotten about their lack of pay packets totally. Instead they were blowing kisses back to her.
She was very pleased with herself and so she did them the honour of showing them her new shoes.
Once I was at a traffic light in the car and the pedestrian light had just turned red. A young man, school uniform but shaving already so about 15/16 already stepped out just as I started to accelerate.screwup led rather abruptly and wound down the window at speed to begin my usual ranting but he got there first. He started getting all cross and fuming and turning a lovely shade of beetroot. So I stopped my own rant and watched him for a bit.
When he paused I made a kissy face at him. Who knows what I was thinking but I did and then I laughed. He went even redder and stalked off with his chin in the air. Then I looked across at the next car and they were laughing hysterically.
So maybe next time someone is getting all life-rage, blow them a kiss. You never know what will happen. You might even make them laugh.
Is it just mine or does everyone else have a mad family too?
Once, after I’d been away for a summer working and my family came to meet me at the airport they brought a home made “welcome home” banner. I was so embarrassed I almost turned around and went back to baggage hall.
We used to own a beat up Mazda estate, with different colour panels to the front and string to hold the boot shut (yea, Ireland, not that unusual pre MOT days) and I was always dreading if anyone from school would see us driving through our local town. 5 kids plus 2 dogs, complete mad house on wheels, so my mum used to get all the kids to shout “we know Sadbh (me)” , with all the windows rolled down, as we drove through.
We used to have geese (proper country we are talking here) and to arrive or leave out house you had to take the broom with you so they wouldn’t attack. We used to have a broom at the top of our road for visitors in the know. Those not in the know we used to enjoy watching them being chased back up the road by the mad geese, as you do.
My youngest sister went through a phase of only wearing floaty nighties all the time, with her pink princess wellies. No one ever stopped her or even commented.
Once my brother and a friend went to find our goat who had run away (yes goats too) but they stole a little bottle of whiskey from a neighbours window on the way. Two hours later we saw two 11 year old boys hurtling down the road holding on the the rope of a very fast moving and somewhat, no doubt shocked, goat! They were both completely drunk. My poor mum spent the whole evening rubbing their backs as they puked and puked, and giggled.
When I was 7 my younger brother and sister decided we were going to sleep in the garden in a den we made. We lasted till the middle of the night , (about 9 o’ clock) when we got so freaked out by the cat mewing outside and anyway it was a bit cold and wet with just the washing line and a sheet for a tent.
So did everyone else have a normal, non mad childhood and a regular family ? Am I scarred for life? Will i need therapy? Tell you what though, can’t wait to get embarrassing my own kids.
I think it’s safe to say I am having a particularly busy few weeks. In just 9 days we are moving home. We are not moving very far, just a couple of miles down the road but it may as well be to outer Russia for the amount of organising I’m having to do.
And it is exiting. A new chapter, a new home. But first we have to leave this one.
We moved into a bit of a shell of a house but it was ours. It had more than one bedroom and a garden! It even had a funny little square void that was apparently a fireplace. We felt very grown up. Six and a half years later it has seen one marriage, shed loads of painting and drilling, scraping and filling, one beard (not me, him), 2 babies , and an ever changing life.
When we moved in I was a professional career woman. I careered by day, shopped through my lunchtimes, dined out on a very regular basis. My husband (then boyfriend) and I used to meet for fancy lunches almost every week….imagine?
At weekends we used to sleep, paint, go on weekends away to exotic cities (by plane, we’re not talking Brighton here).
Now I’m a full time carer for my children. I think a trip to lidl is exiting. I think a trip to Sainsbury’s is a treat! I get exited about having a cup of coffee on my own and if I wake up and it’s sunny my first thought isn’t “oh lovely, which beer garden shall we go to after work?” it’s “oh quick, wash in now so I can hang it out early and get it dry”.
I may whinge about my life but really I wouldn’t change it for anything right now. And all this is just a new chapter and things always change. My friends will always be my friends wherever I am.
So moving on and moving out. It’s a bit scary but will work out in the end.
Now, let’s get back to the boxes…..
Now I know it’s perfectly obvious and completely reasonable but it still comes as a shock to me how different my kids are. I mean you’d think because they are both made up of the same ingredients, same parents, same everything , that they would somehow be the same. But they are not. They are completely different people to each other as they should be. What’s unreasonable is that I’m ever surprised.
My little man is blonde, mostly quiet and well behaved (in public anyway), likes reading books and spending ages putting together his train set. He is also a total mama’s boy. In fact he will only accept someone other than me in the past year or so, including his daddy!
My daughter is dark, short, loud, mad to the core. If you try and read her a book she grabs it off you and bashes you repeatedly on the head with it. If we make a train set we have to do it on a raised surface as she can create a tornado effect in 30 seconds flat. We haven’t ever baby proofed our house as it wasn’t needed. My son never broke anything! Her nibs has so far broken 4 plates in one go. She just pulled the entire stack out of the cupboard in one movement! She is a social being, and it’s not just her age. She is like one of those dogs on the beach that wants to go home with whoever gives them crisps.
My son was stomping around the furniture at 8 months. He didn’t crawl for more than a day as thought cruising was far more efficient.
Her ladyship was less physical in that respect. She does crawl but like to spend more time learning words! Words? Little man didn’t say anything other than “dadadadadadada” till he was over a year. She has a whole dictionary and she is 10 months old.
I know it’s not right to compare any children but I love the differences between my two. Keeps me in my toes and keeps everyone entertained. The best thing about them both though, and this they do have in common; They are mad about each other. If he is at nursery she is constantly looking over your shoulder for him and when we do pick him up they are truly delighted to see one another.
Little parenting bonus.
I thought I was doing a great job. I thought i was so right on. I put my career on hold for a few years so I could take care of the kids. Not that it was very hard. I had quite a stressful job. Loads of responsibilities, everything done at speed, working lunches etc. I thought yea, look after the kids, get them a good start in life, go to the park, drink coffee……
And then the little man says
“I don’t want to be hairy and a man when I’m a grown up, I’m going to be a lady”
Now there’s a statement to stop me in my nappy changing tracks. And why would he have come to this conclusion?
“ladies don’t have to go to work. They just stay home and clean up the breakfast things”!!!
So, it starts already. I can hear myself whinging,
“no one appreciates what I do all day. I’m not the maid”
Seems I am. So, so much for a great start. My son thinks men are hairy and cycle to work, ladies just put away the breakfast things and make dessert and he thinks you can choose to be either!
So we, rather I, (I could see him drifting off to the Lego in his mind already), had this big long monologue about all the ladies we know who have (real) jobs, about how I used to have a job in an office and cycle to work, about how men can stay home and mind the kids too…..he turns to me all serious and says
“is Iggle piggle bigger than me?”
The thing about hanging out with a 3 year old is you can no longer have secrets. They don’t believe in them.
Try making a secret birthday cake for Dad.
Recipe for madness;
1.Spend ages researching recipes that suit everyone, birthday dad, helpful and keen 3 yr old cook, somewhat inept mother and also-keen-to-be-involved baby.
2. Squeeze in secret shopping of ingredients for (now looking more complex) cake between already hectic life and rain.
3. Somehow manage to clean (ish) house, get washing and nappy wash done, wash-up, get dinner going before 11 in the morning.
4. Collect hungry toddler from nursery.
5. Eat lunch. (well, they eat/throw/shout. You just run back and forth trying to anticipate next request).
7.Get baby to bed
8. Finally start cake. Follow instructions. Try very carefully to encourage and praise little man while at the same time trying to keep mixture in bowl, read I instructions (again, why does nothing stick these days), chase eggs (where are the eggs?), and finally….
9. Tadaaaaa, eggs located, mixture in tin in oven, toddlers hands washed of all the mixture (” just went there mummy”) and phew.
10. Once it’s done, iced and decorated and then very carefully hidden for tomorrow sit and have a cup of coffee.
I’m feeling quite pleased with the logistical mayhem I managed to negotiate today. We have just talked about how daddy will get such a lovely surprise tomorrow when he sees his cake. We are all exited and pleased with ourselves.
Then half an hour later himself gets home and little man runs straight out. Before Hubby even manages a hello he hears this…
“and today daddy we made a secret cake for your birthday and we hided it in the cupboard in the kitchen and we are going to give it to you tomorrow and mummy said a very naughty thing because she couldnt find the eggs and they were in the fridge but she didn’t see them and I licked the cake before it was in the oven but it’s ok because I washed my tongue and missy moo pulled my hair and did a poo in her nappy and Ann doesn’t have a key for the rubbish truck men and mummy lost her hat and missy moo’d hat and I like secrets…..”
I think I’d like to be a secret shopper.
Lots of such random thought going on here at the moment as I would like some financial independence (just some please) and still mind my monkeys . So far I’ve come up with Avon lady (I don’t wear
Makeup very much so probably a no go)
Cleaning product sales (I don’t clean so no)
Cake taster (this would work but I don’t see this advertised much)
Coffee taster (I do this, a lot. I pay)
Yes. As you can see I’m not getting far. I think I might start to review the places I drink coffee…..hmmmmmm. Hence my secret shopper thoughts. I’d still have to pay though. Hubby darling wouldn’t be too happy if I spent all the weeks grocery shopping on latte’s.
I’m still thinking…..