Tuesday, July 29, 2008

a good meal and a boogie: what more is there to life?

A couple of videos taken in the last week: here Ivy, all rugged up for winter, does her happy dance to Thomas the Tank Engine; and finds her yoghurt fingerpaints too tasty to waste on the page.

Monday, July 21, 2008

3 weeks to go!

The second coming creeps ever closer - 3 weeks today until we look upon the face of our little Banana. I've been buying wool nappies online; begging and borrowing loads of other stuff, sewing together all the beautiful squares knitted by his many aunties, farting terribly, and watching Keith's eyes glaze over as I make him discuss storage solutions. Again.

The big Daddy himself has been building bookshelves and cabinets, and trying to get as much work don as he can before he takes a Banana break. He has to squeeze jobs in around Ivy, who is so passionate about her Dad that she can barely let him leave the room. Often her first words when she opens her eyes in the morning are 'Dada?' and she kisses and hugs him (shouting 'Ug!') with pure adoration.

We've had some lovely visits lately from both the Mogan and the McIntosh clans. Pics to follow.

Ivy has lots of new tricks. She talks non-stop, commentating on her own performance through life. 'Tanding!' she announces with pride whenever she stands on a new surface - chair, table, pillow, person. She also likes walking backwards and announces that too. 'Backers!' The problem is when she combines the two sports - once she's climbed the coffee table, 'Backers!' is not what I want to hear.

She's into crayons now too; and I don't know whats going on in her head, but the last couple of days, shes been scrawling over every surface she can find and muttering 'Eyes, eyes, eyes...'

We're getting her ready for toilet training with lots of commentating of our own. 'Look, Daddy's going to the toilet! That's where we poo!' Today I had to wee in a jar for the obstetrician, so I took Ivy along for the show. 'Look Ivy! I said brightly. 'Mummy's weeing in a bottle!'. She wasn't that interested until I showed her the specimen jar. Then her eyes lit up. 'Juice!' she cried.

Right now a steady rain is filling the tanks, Ivy is fast asleep with Warm Tiger in her arms, the eggplant is bubbling in the oven, Keith is on his way home and Banana has shifted off my sciatic nerve.

All is well.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

my BiLo shame

Some of my most humiliating moments happen in BiLo. This week we were shopping. I was frazzled, achey, in a hurry and like a wily animal, Ivy could smell my need for her to behave. Things started badly when I didn't have a $2 coin for the trolley, and had to put her in one of those tiny-baby bucket seats. Halfway through the list She Who Must Be Obeyed started begging for milk, so I grabbed a chocolate Moove to buy some love, but made the rookie mistake of letting her hold the bottle. Fool! Fool!

Only moments passed before she up-ended the whole thing. Filled the bucket seat. Overflowed onto the floor. The shopping. My handbag. Much wailing followed, Ivy's ear-piercing; mine just as loud, but inside my own head, like all the other voices. I pulled her out, transferring chocolate milk in great sloppy gushes onto my white top.

Ivy already had a welfare-baby look about her. Last weekend she threw a sudden, inexplicable tantrum playing in the car and headbanged the steering wheel so hard she honked the horn and left a bruise on her forehead. The brown stains, wet pants and screaming just completed the picture really.

Shopping over. To the till, to compound the humiliation. My card bounced and I had to ring Keith to get him to transfer cash into my account. 'Help at register 4 please,' called the the checkout girl. 'This customers gotta ring her husband to get enough money to pay.'

'He's not my husband,' I wanted to add. I don't think it would have helped.

Friday, July 4, 2008

adorable ivy

Ivy is so funny. This week she is enjoying lying in bed and crooning 'Bruce' (her favourie word), pushing the garlic crusher around the house in a toy stroller, dropping her shoe down the composting toilet, walking with one foot in a saucepan and begging us to play 'Horse', where we put her dog Dodo on our laps and make him gallop until he flies across the room. When she's happy, she stamps her right foot, and when she's had enough of any conversation she's not central to - the doctor, a neighbour, a shop-keeper; she interupts by waving pointedly and loudly saying 'Bye!'

After having a bath with her friend Gabe last week she discovered- shall we say - her feminine side... Now her favourite words are 'Bruce' and 'vagina'.

The malaise of the last season is over, and now she laughs all day long.

In these pics she's eating 'nice' - her name for the box of food that lives in Mummys handbag. It took me a while to work out why she kept asking for 'nice' - because I'd give it to her and then ask 'Is that nice?' And now thats what it's called.

A Mogantosh Wedding

Romantic news!

7 years, 2 kids and 2 mortgages after we first pashed in the Kangaroo Valley, Keith and I are getting hitched. We went out for a fabulous birthday date on the weekend and then Keith popped the question in the backyard. He even got down on one knee, which complicated things because of the giant belly in his face.

Ladies... the bling. I can't stop admiring its Victorian onyx-and-diamond glamour, and neither can Ivy, who strokes it and says 'Wow..'.

Wedding next year sometime, once the bride stops breastfeeding.

Love, love, love, love, love.