Judging a book by its cover

Forgot to say! The most exciting thing happened the other day – Rose pointed to the cover of my book about cows and said ‘moo’! She did! Not totally surprising given that I’ve been reading it to her on a daily basis since birth. But still! She can almost read!

Also, yesterday I did a ‘Red Indian’ war cry, the one where you pat your mouth with the palm of your hand while going oooooo. She is now whooping around the place, the cats are literally shitting themselves.

This morning I had a really weird funny turn when I got into work. It was connected with period pains, heat, stress and not enough tea, and I had to lie down in the medical room for half an hour. Everyone looked concerned and asked if I was alright when I got back to the office, you could almost read their thought bubbles ‘funny turn = pregnant’. I was forced to email my (male) boss with details of my menses I’m sure he didn’t want to know. If only I’d known the medical room was there when I was pregnant I would have had my little naps there every afternoon instead of nodding off on the toilet.

Lovely weather today

The other day our cleaner cleaned the Cupboard of Fear in twenty minutes flat. This is the kitchen cupboard where all the oil and soya sauce bottles are kept – they drip and the drippings all get together and harden over time into a sticky cement. I haven’t cleaned it for over a year and was afraid of it. S is a lovely girl although she only speaks Bulgarian and about twenty words of English including ‘Oh my god’ – but I am good at miming various cleaning techniques (as my family will tell you) so language isn’t a problem.

She won’t use the kitchen bleach spray in the bathroom though because it says KITCHEN on it and will only use the BATHROOM non-bleach spray. She clearly sees me as a bit thick because I fail to see the distinction, and privately thinks I am endangering my family by using cleaning products in the wrong rooms. The alternatives are: standing over her when she is cleaning the bathroom to make sure she uses some bleach spray, or buy some proper BATHROOM bleach.

After the rain last night the garden is lovely and damp, and I think I can get away without watering my courgettes tonight. Some of them actually look like they might turn out ok if I carry on loving them with tomato feed.

Rose is absolutely obsessed by getting her hands into soil and compost: it’s partly the tactile fun of course but mainly the way I leap up and race over shouting, to dust my tiny seedlings off her pudgy mitts yet again. It’s not altogether relaxing hanging out in the garden with Rose because she has defined each area in terms of its physical and behavioural boundaries. So she will spend a certain amount of time happily playing around with her push-along plastic lorry, visit the sandpit and then plunge her hands into my busy lizzies. Or she might cuddle a cat, bring us books to read her, and then go speedily back to the spot where the irrigation hose is buried just next to the shed, grab one end and crack it like a whip. These are things which she honestly does know she’s not supposed to do. I know she doesn’t speak yet but she responds to speech and obviously understands the meaning of ‘no’.

Sometimes it’s incredibly obvious that it’s a game for her, and she enjoys seeing us jump around and make loud noises and silly faces. She tips the water out of the cats’ bowl, waits for us to react, laughs and scampers off, thrilled that she’s made us chase her. I can’t wait until she can talk. No more violent pointing followed by frustrated tears when she can’t explain what she wants. In those situations I am pretty sure she is usually asking for the dangerous knife/breakable crockery/alcholic beverage. So no would be the answer in any case. I do love the fact that she is developing her own personality and wanting to show us she is an individual.

She is getting very good at posting little plastic shapes through the appropriately shaped holes in her educational toy. She’s one, do you hear me, one.

Teething trouble

The nice girl from the nursery called Jason at work to tell him that Rose was a bit poorly, but was vague about how ill. Should we ring an ambulance? Did I have time to finish my cup of tea? I went off work early to get her and when she set eyes on me she perked up so much that the nursery girl was a bit embarrassed. Rose was quite hot but then the under twos room is just boiling – on a warm day like today it’s totally stifling. She was lying around like a cherub who’s fallen off her cloud, in nothing but a nappy. Very very very cute. I love all the other babies in the under twos unit, often they rush up to you and demand a hug or give you a piece of Duplo. Sooooooo gorgeous.

I was surprised how non-freaked out I was by getting ‘The Call’ from the nursery for the first time, but it really sounded just like teething and that’s what it probably was. They were just so amazed to see Rose not her usual bright and bouncy self that they felt they had to call us. It’s nice to feel they panic a bit when Rose stops smiling – I know I do!

Anyhow Rose had a nap, then ate an entire peach and quarter of a breadstick for supper (I did offer her a nutritionally balanced meal but she kept crying and pointing at the fruit bowl). I foolishly gave her milk in the front room and she kept standing up to drink when I told her to sit. I eventually took the sippy cup off her because she was tossing milk all over the sofa, and she had a proper, lying down, doing backstroke on the carpet, beating the floor with her fists tantrum. For one minute, then she fetched over a book of baby animals and we had a peaceful read until Jason got home.

This morning AFTER I’D GONE TO WORK, Jason asked Rose to get her shoes. And she did. Gutted.

The sharp end

The routine seems to be when I pick up Rose from nursery, she is playing happily and waves her arms and beams when I appear. When she goes in her buggy her eyes immediately glaze over and she switches on the thousand yard stare. At home she often starts wailing the second I put her down. And then it carries on like that til bedtime, except for moments when she has just eaten, or is eating, or is acquiring a magnificent moustache by snogging the cat with a runny nose. Sometimes she is so tired I can’t give her dinner – at least not without major distractions and cunning ploys. Otherwise she just slumps sideways in her high chair, wailing.

Basically but the end of the day shes is totally partied out. I have been encouraging the nursery to get her to sleep more but she doesn’t want to miss a single thing going on with her chums, and waits til I show up to go into grouchy mode. Can’t say I blame her, she didn’t ask to go to nursery right?

She had her MMR and booster jabs yesterday. It wasn’t like the earlier jabs when she was still clueless and weak. This time she clearly recognised the needle but couldn’t quite place it. There was just a vague look of disquiet on her face. After the first jab, the light went on. The second needle loomed and she wasn’t having any of it. The nurse was hovering and mid-plunge, Rose did a massive twist and wrenched herself out of my grasp. She still got her injection after I increased my grip enough to restrain the Incredible Hulk. She went off to nursery with a two inch scratch on one shoulder and a chocolate beard where I had successfully stopped her screaming by posting chocolate buttons into her mouth. All the blood and tears is def worth it to prevent nasty diseases.

Monday Monday

Spent the weekend flat out – yesterday the in-laws popped round on their way from Lowestoft and we had a lovely time hanging out in the garden and eating, playing with Rose and chatting. Rose has suddenly got shyness- when someone turns up who she doesn’t recognise immediately, she hides her face on your trousers, or buries her head in your neck. Rose now has a hand knitted bolero of many colours, the handiwork of Grand-aunty V. She looks not only cool but also funky in it.

Rose came up trumps for father’s day, making a special breakfast for her daddy and leaving the sports section and a can of beer on his plate. He didn’t actually drink the beer. The girls at the nursery made fabulous father’s day cards with the children, so each child had one to take home which they had painted/glittered/glued themselves. Totally gorgeous.

I went to a funny little optician in the city on Saturday because they do super cheap glasses. Handed over 300 quid and praying they don’t go bust before my specs are ready. NB 300 quid is cheap for the lenses I normally get, if I didn’t have thin glass my eyes would look like tiny tadpoles swimming under thick ice. I chose frames with bendy-out hinges to make them a bit more Rose-safe.

Ele-fantastic

What a bloody horrible week. I won’t go into details. Horrible though. Like a real nightmare.

I was cheered up by spotting Joris Bohnson this morning (don’t want anyone googling his name and accidentally finding this blog again, as it isn’t actually for people to read). He was at London Bridge station and he looked very grateful to be noticed. We saw Ken on the tube a few years ago, so my mayor spotters notebook is full.

What’s Rose been up to – well she made her first trip to Scotland to cheer on her dad running his last ever marathon. It was also his first, but he’s promised he won’t do it again. He ran a staggeringly good time, it was better than Gordon Ramsay I believe. Just over four hours, on the hottest day in Sottish history this century. It was really hot, I got a bit of sunburn, and Jason forgot to put sun cream on his lower shoulder blades and now has large crimson quote marks on his back. I am forced to put moisturiser on it each night, bleurghh.

The train journey was long and boring especially for those aged 1. She very cutely fell asleep on a chair. We gave her the fluffy elephant she is addicted to, and she fell face first onto it floomp, and went straight to sleep. Before we set off I was full of dread about the journey. I sat down on the train with Rose on my lap and remarked to her that it was going to be a long five hours, five hours of baby hell, I may have said, and the woman opposite, who had piled up her glossy magazines and snacks on the table in front of her ready for a relaxing trip, picked up all her stuff and moved off silently to an airline seat. Actually Rose was so wonderful on the way there and back, she waved at the other people and threw crayons at them, she slept and ate and squawked a tiny bit but overall was totally awesome considering how frustrating it must have been for her not being able to crawl and walk around.

We had a lovely time in Edinburgh – I met up with an old school friend who came with me and Rose to support Jason. On Sunday evening we visited some old friends of Jason’s, who live in Morningside. They have 3 small girls and Rose had a fantastic time. She zoomed in, poked the smallest one in the eye, hurled herself on the adults, and jumped right into the toybox. She kicked out all the toys and was a bit sick on the mini keyboard, because of the excitement. She went to sleep in her buggy and when it was time to go home, we carried her down the stairs in the buggy, pushed her back to the b+b and then put her into the cot. Very exciting as we haven’t tried this strategy before and it seems to work. The elephant is the key.

Pick me up

When I went to pick Rose up from the nursery today, she was standing in the middle of the long room. When she saw me, she walked all the way across the room right into my arms. That is the biggest number of steps she’s done all in one go, and I nearly cried but scared of looking mushy in front of the nursery staff. I saved that for when Jason got home and she repeated the trick for him, tottering into his arms when he opened the door to the front room. What an amazing feeling.

Happy birthday Rose!

This time last year I was having my epidural topped up to the max and Jason was telling me when to push. Now here we are, sitting around after a nice day celebrating Rose’s birthday with all the other families in the ante natal group. Six babies and six sets of parents, so quite a big gathering. We had cake made to my secret family recipe which was scarily chocolatey. All the babies had some but then crawled around mobbing whoever hadn’t finished theirs until every scrap was gone. Rose licked her plate in a frenzy and then cried until I got her some more. She also had Doritos, most of a banana, about five strawberries, several grapes, and that was just her afternoon snack.

Rose took some more steps today. They are running a book on her beating another baby at nursery to being the first to walk.

Blooming Rose

Rose was the only child at nursery for a while this morning so chatted with the manager and staff member. The manager S started saying ‘Rose is very intuitive! When she sees another child upset she’ and here she paused to adjust her hold on Rose while I filled in, in my mind …comforts them? offers them a toy? buys them a drink? but S finished ‘… slaps them’. I reeled a bit but everyone was smiling. S went on to say something about how Rose was trying to understand how other children work, but obviously being under a year old, lacks the skills such as speech for the subtler kinds of interaction. The other woman there said fondly ‘She had a tantrum yesterday!’, but in a sort of ‘isn’t she sweet’ sort of way. So hopefully they all see Rose in the same way me and Jason do, as totally wonderful, funny and delightful.

They write lovely accounts of Rose’s day in a little yellow book, do the nursery. They only do it a few times a week but I fall on it like a copy of Heat found on the tube. They always list what she has eaten which usually sounds like the Very Hungry Caterpillar’s Saturday lunch, with endless food items taking up nearly three lines on the page. No wonder she didn’t want her chickpea stew last night, it must pall after all the delicious bagels and dips, home made bread and cakes, freshly made hot food and lovingly cut up fruit she gets at nursery. I’ve come to terms with the sausage rolls but I will declare on corned beef at some future date.

Summaries of Rose’s developing talents:

Giving you things (and taking them back)
Getting you to blow on her windmill by holding it out (before she breaks it)
Bringing you books to read to her
Bringing another book to read to her before you have finished reading the first book
Turning the pages of two books at once
And only this morning, the cleverest thing ever – I was reading from a Bookstart book and said the line ‘there’s a baby who’s very shy’ and she started waving before I got to the line ‘and there’s a baby who’s waving bye bye’. This was even more clever because I had actually said the line when I was on the wrong page, so shows she is developing her language and listening and memory skills like nothing else.

I’ve been exchanging emails with the Korean publisher, and discovered that although they do in fact exist despite my theory that they were some kind of elaborate spam emailers, they are offering v little money in return for world wide rights to books with no royalties. So thinking hard about how to proceed. I’ve also been in touch with an agent who was very helpful via email. I’ve sent her a bunch of stuff to look at this morning. So it could all go either way.

Mostly about cats

When I came home this afternoon I wondered why the cats were sort of rattling when they moved, and had drunk all the water in their bowl. Following a trail of cat biscuits back to the upside down catfood barrel on top of a big pile of cat biscuits, I began to suspect that foul play had been afoot. After their massive and larcenous blowout the cats lay around all evening groaning and burping. But then that’s how they normally spend their time.

I’m a bit worried by the quantities of water they are drinking. It puts me in mind of what I think was a Hornblower story, about a ship with a cargo of rice which springs a leak and subsequently bursts due to the expansion of the rice. If the cats do explode overnight it won’t be the first time they have left a mess for me to clear up before work. They certainly do create a lot of dirt, cats. The domestic cat has clearly employed a really excellent advertising agency to purvey the image of its kind as dainty, houseproud and self cleaning. Lies lies lies.

Rose has taken to chewing people’s knees and objecting to baths. As Jason says, that’s no way to find a husband. She has also become very confident about standing up. It’s great when I go to pick her up for instance, I can stand her up on her own two feet for just long enough to put the buggy up. We’ve set up a mini sandpit in a plastic box in the back garden (full of lovely soft sand) and Rose climbs into it and swims around with great joy. The cats circle the sandpit making feints while I shoo them. Then when I put the lid on and retire indoors with child, the cats remain outside, staring at the sandpit in a depressed way, because basically I’ve created the most luxurious cat’s toilet in the whole world, and they aren’t allowed to use it.

Oh, and not only have I taught Rose to burp and bite people and throw her spoon, I have also taught her to climb off things safely! Every time she tried to hurl herself off a sofa or stair face first, I captured her and turned her round and showed her how to slide down backwards. And suddenly, there she was the other day, doing it just right, like she’d always known how. So that sort of makes up for the farting in public and all the rest of the bad stuff I’m responsible for. I’m putting this on record so she will have something to thank me for when she is a grown up.