Wednesday, May 21, 2008

May this month be over


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What a month its been. I'm not sure where to begin explaining all the goings-on, so might just draw a few vignettes for you.

the day from hell
Keith spent 2 weeks in the States while Ivy has been pitched in a battle of wills with me over a number of issues, like eating only blueberries, for example. Ivy's capacity for drama is high. The solo parenting has been a challenge.

Last Friday I took Ivy to music where she threw a number of tantrums because the sultana dealer (me) eventually cut her off. Hollywood-style, head-banging, mummy-humiliating tantrums. She refused to walk and made me carry her around the room for the dancing numbers. Lots of fun for the sciatica. Came out to find that somebody had backed into my car and scraped the side. Almost regretted that they had kindly left their number because it forced me to deal with it. Took Ivy to day care for her afternoon, and came home to write for a looming deadline, using a computer infected with an evil virus that shut down Word every 10 minutes (and also flashed porny vag pictures suddenly at me). Went to pick Ivy up - she was very unhappy and had spent all afternoon taking her bag to the door and crying. Decided that she's not ready for day-care...better all round, but there go my Friday afternoons. Home for dinner (battle of the blueberries) and put her in the bath where I vented to Sam and had to hang up when Ivy did a huge crap and I cried. A few attempts to go to bed later, she finally went down about 10. At 4am she woke with a coughing fit, and I put her in my bed, where she perked up and decided it was party time. As I lay, cold, lonely, sore-of-back and leached-of-lifeforce, she kicked, gabbled and bounced away beside me. At last I moaned out loud 'Oh, God.''Gaw!' cried Ivy. 'Gaw! Gaw! Gaw! Gaw!'

chaos at the baby hilton
During an intensive week at the Turramurra Baby Hilton, Ivy and Isabelle both got sick. For days, they took it in turn to wail all day and night, while Mum, Sam and I tried to cook, clean and comfort them and each other. Sam and I vied for martyr rights that awarded the winner brief, baby-free moments of sleep or shower (me - second trimester; bigger belly VS. Sam - first trimester; tired and queasy). One night Sam and I put the babies in the bath. They cried. While I put toothpaste on their brushes, Sam managed to fall in the bath, fully clothed. Baby screaming intensified. Sam and I tried to call Mum for help but couldn't get the words out through the (just this side of madness) laughter.

misery on the M5
Keith got home (oh happy day!) , and we all went to Canberra this week after spending so much time apart. I caught some vicious gastro bug the night before and spent the trip down bent over a bowl in the passenger seat, and regurgitating last nights dinner somewhere around Sutton Forest. Ivy was in a bad mood, and cried in the back unless Keith sang songs to her, so he drove with one hand and gestured with the other while he went through all his repertoire. He'd finish one number and she'd start the wail. 'Quick, a new one,' he'd urge and I'd drone miserably 'Three little ducks went out one day...' Repeat for three hours.

In the pics attached, Ivy is a bit grumpy at the zoo, and a bit grumpy in Canberra. In the dancing movie (taken a couple of months and a few-hundred waist-centimetres ago), she is grumpy in the middle, but happy the rest of the time.

Apologies for the length of this post (during which I've burned the bottom out of the potato saucepan - what is up with my karma this month? ) but I think it's been necessary therapy. Thanks for listening, and send the bill direct.