Thursday, March 29, 2007
stella in the shire
Here I sit, in my new Stella McCartney (for Target) jeans, while Ivy sleeps in her new Wondersuit. Bad (I'm supposed to be learning how to Froogle) yet good (4 hours in the Jewel and only a weeny burst of consumerism). Good shopping trip...but exhausting. Wrangling 2 babies is hard work. We were getting our boobs out more often than Paris Hilton at Mass, and Ivy is not a discreet feeder. She fights and struggles, and is so easily distracted now, she just wants to pull off and look around. Often she pulls her head back, looks up at me and comments loudly in her own language. What? I want to ask. Is it that you feel undignified? Do you want it strawberry flavoured? Do you have a comment about Howard and Kyoto?
The trick with public breastfeeding is the swift, discreet transfer of baby to nipple . Nobody cares how much side-boob is showing; but nipple is a no no. I'll get it into Ivy's mouth and then she'll arch back, leaving me cupping my bare breast and trying to pull her head back onto it, hissing 'Ivy! Please! Back on Mummys boob!' as passing shoppers avoid my eye (and nipple).
Sooo good to see Mum, Sam and Isabelle. Isabelle is looking really well after her bad start. She has such a serene, beautiful little face, with strawberry-cream skin, big old wise eyes and a deep, goofy voice. I love to see her.
Babies have the most amazing skin - it's almost upsetting. When I sing Ivy's 'baby in the mirror' song to her and glance at my own face next to hers I look like a wreck - like Kath and Kim walking through Fountaingate after their acid peel. Motherhood is a good way to lose your vanity. I still love clothes - but for Ivy. I walk around in trackies with hairy legs and bad hair but love to dress up the baby.
I bought a cheap fleecey blanket to make into baby wipes for Ivy. When we got home I sat on the floor with her and started to cut it up. Each time I ripped a section Ivy cracked up, the most I've ever heard her laugh. I rang Keith so he could hear, and he made me leave some blanket so he could rip it up when he got home. He told the other scientists in the tea-room and then said excitedly 'OK, see you, I'm going home to rip material'. Then I rang Sam so she could listen and she wondered if the noise of anything ripping was just hilarious. I started tearing some paper up then - Ivy collapsed into hysterics.
This morning we tried ripping material again but it seems the joke is over. Ivy just looked at us like we were fools.