Friday, September 19, 2008

nipples and negotiations





Things are busy. Teddy is a beautiful child and Ivy gets funnier with every day, but nothing much gets done. I'm feeding every three hours and the house is strewn from bumhole to breakfast-time with toys, books, unfolded washing, things the baby has thrown up on and whatever pieces of food Ivy is saving for later. Life has a whole new kind of magic as we get used to the new shape of our family.

Yesterday morning Ivy woke early so Keith got her out of her cot and delivered her into the big bed, where Teddy was tucked next to me. We all tried to get back to sleep while Ivy muttered and sighed to herself. (A sample conversation: 'Igglepiggle. Pants. Down. Flying! Boys, park, cheese, dummy. Row row, baa baa, one, two, eight. Cool, man.' She leaned over my shoulder and breathed into my face: 'Teddy. Sleeping.' 'Yes, sleeping,' I said. 'Shhh. You go to sleep too.' She lay back down for a moment then popped up next to my ear again. 'Nipple,' she whispered gravely.

Taking the two of them out at once is a complex logistical exercise, the successful completion of which is still beyond me. I tried to 'pop down' to the post office yesterday. It took me an hour to get out of the house (feed the baby, pack bags, slings, Ivys leash, box of nice for the car, change babys spew-strewn top, change mine too, find Ivys shoes, calm a tantrum, liberate the keys from where Ivy has helped them 'hide', pack everything into the car, stop, breathe deeply, imagine a cool, flowing river.)

Once at the post office, Ivy wanted to play a game where she opened the fridge door, touched all the milk and shut it again. When I suggested she stop, she threw herself on the floor and wailed with abandon, before trying to run out the door and being stopped abruptly by her leash, just like a wilful puppy on a choke chain. Unfortunately this sent her sideways where her head stopped the momentum by connecting with the lolly counter.

So that left me crouched on the floor, Teddy in one arm, trying to comfort her with the other while she wept 'Head! Bang! Up? Up?' "Mummy can't lift you up at the minute,' I repeated weakly, until finally, I crumbled. 'But would you like some chocolate?'

Immediately the crying stopped.

'Chokit?' she gulped, through the tears. All was well. She's definitely her mothers daughter.

2 comments:

  1. Oh, thank you - Ivy's Big Bed Banter has made me realise that we're not alone. We get the adjective-plus-noun game at the crack of dawn. For example, "really fast... BOAT! really fast... YELLOW! really fast... CAKE!"

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  2. too too too funny mumma bear.... I am glad I exercised my pelvic floor - tears are streaming down my face. Man I am into Homeopathics... Rescue remedy - not double not even triple in fact I am not sure what the exponential number is for 5 times the dose. But it makes for a lovely caring mummy who sees the joy in everthing her indigo firmly attached kids do.
    xx MWAH

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Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.