We have been busy doing some rather mundane (in my eyes) but seemingly exciting tasks over the last few weeks, which has brought about some 'firsts'.
Last Saturday I took Mabel on a little trip out, just the two of us, for some quality time. It was her first time on a bus (well technically it wasn't but she doesn't remember the previous times) taking a short journey up the road to a cafe for a hot chocolate. Now I thought the hot chocolate was the treat but turns out it was all about the bus.
No need for Alton Towers, she thought it was brilliant. And it was nice and quiet meaning we swapped seats at least 3 times. Just for fun.
Throughout her hot chocolate in a 'big girls cup' she just kept trying to get down and saying, "time to go home now". Dam that bus.
Secondly, since she likes helping me to make a cup of tea in the morning, I set her up an activity with real cups, tea bags and water for her to continue the theme. No need for toys, it kept her occupied for ages. She ripped them open and sprinkled, she watched them turn the water brown, she poured and poured again. Seriously, ages. I admit that I had fully lost interest by the end and was hoping she might wrap it up and move on. Rarely I say that since her attention span is normally about a minute.
Then as a family we went on a train for the first time. I found an appropriate length journey, we popped them into their carriers and off we went. I did have to keep reminding G Kisby that the train was the trip as he asked where we were going and when we were eating (all about the food man). This trip was slightly less successful due to overtiredness and she certainly ruined the rest of the passengers' journey on the way home as she demonstrated how not to sit nicely.
And lastly, on Friday she had her hair cut for the first time. Fee took us to the salon she goes to, which was full of vintage loveliness - check out those gowns.
After an initial bottom lip moment (to be fair being asked to close your eyes whilst someone comes towards you with a pair of scissors is pretty daunting) she was really good and now sports a very cute bob.
Less cute are the tantrums we are currently having on a daily basis. Man are they hard to deal with, she has sooo much stamina. This morning whilst trying to feed Wilf I had to dive across the room to save the ipad from being thrown, sacrificing a nipple in the process. I find the whole thing really tricky. I know they come from so many things - being tired, frustrated, confused, and most of the time we do manage to steer her round the potential for a meltdown. But it is a constant challenge at the moment. Seemingly they don't happen at nursery or indeed for anyone else.
And I've not even had one on my own in public yet.
Looking forward to that!
Two belated tales today, both of which should have been posted a couple of weeks ago.
Firstly, Wilf turning three months old. He rolled for the first time this week. Unfortunately his play mat was on the kitchen floor so he came down with a bit of a bump, not sure he will be doing that again for a while. He has found his hands and now sits with them together looking like he is plotting things (maybe like his escape, or how he is going to get rid of those post Christmas pounds). He doesn't hide his feelings and has two main faces - a major frown or a big smile. Unfortunately the frown tends to come out now for anyone he doesn't know which I think may be unnerving for the friendly lady in the local shop.
Here is his monthly picture with Pierre Duck, now firmly in his grip and heading for the mouth:
Secondly, a story which may make you avoid public tables in future.
When G Kisby was off work recently we took a trip to Trafford Centre for a spot of lunch and a shop (apparently G Kisby needed yet more new shoes and a "new smart wool coat with nice detailing which won't be cheap but 'will be an investment'" - what the hell).
Anyway as we were leaving decided it would be worth giving Wilf a quick feed before the drive home. There is a large communal 'food court like' area in Trafford so G Kisby grabbed me a nice coffee and I set up at a quiet table where I could get my boobs out discretely. The car wasn't parked particularly close so G Kisby set out to go and put the bags and pram away whilst I did the feed, with strict instructions not to move because I had no battery on my phone so wouldn't know where he was. To save me carrying I gave him my full nappy bag (minus one nappy and a pack of wipes) to take back.
After his feed, realising that the nearest toilets weren't that close, I decided to do my usual nappy change on the knee. I took the old one off as quick as possible, gave him a wipe and...dropped the new nappy on the floor. My usual swift swap over went wrong and as I ducked under the table to retrieve said nappy he did a huge, 'just been fed', wee.
I admit I panicked. I used the new nappy as a shield, trying to stop the flow but actually just diverting it down my own leg. It kept on coming, I've never seen so much wee.
When it finished I literally just sat there looking at him, smiling lay over my knee, and at my leg, soaking wet. I had no phone. I had no change of clothes for him or me. And I definitely had no clean nappy. And I was sat in an area for eating food surrounded now by a growing collection of grannies here for a tea dance (don't ask, something Trafford Centre do on a weekly basis).
I had no choice but to remove all his clothes and swaddle him in my cardigan and scarf (luckily it was a chunky knit). I looked down, there was a puddle of wee under my chair. I looked around, no one was watching. I head for the exit.
I'm not proud but there was nothing I could do.
G Kisby said he looked up to see some sort of wild woman (think Kate Bush Withering Heights, or indeed just Kate Bush generally) eyes wide, running with nothing but a vest on (it was the snow week needless to say) towards the car with what looked like a stolen baby. We then had yet another or our stressful conversations where I demanded, "can you help, I have had a bit of an incident" to which he replies, "what do you need me to do..." and so on it goes.
Here he is, naked outside the Trafford Centre. Really hope that is the only time I write that.
Don't laugh at his shelf, he is starting to get a complex.
His caring sister saw a baby in the bath on the television this week and said,
"There's a fat baby"
Paused. Looked round at Wilf and pointed,
"That's a fat baby"
Brutal man.
Last week our little girl turned two years old. I have got no idea where the time has gone and worryingly I fear that it only gets faster, a reminder if one was needed to enjoy every second of their childhood.
We asked her what she would like to do for her birthday, to which she replied, "go for walk in the pram...with baby Wilf". Ah if only all birthdays were so easy. She was slightly confused with Christmas since kept asking about Santa coming down the chimney every time we mentioned presents. And her only other request was for chocolate cake.
On her actual birthday the weather was still snowy so not great for a pram walk. Instead we went to Eureka! in Halifax, a lovely interactive children's museum which she really liked. We then spent the afternoon baking ready for family visits at the weekend. The kitchen has honestly never seen so much mess. Flour everywhere. But we loved every second.
She got some really lovely presents including a till which both G Kisby and I have enjoyed playing with a little bit too much (it has a tannoy man). Every morning she comes downstairs and comments with excitement,
"Ooooooh a till" like she is completely surprised to see it there, before springing into action with some pretend shopping.
So what does our favourite girl do at two years old?
Well she talks. In fact she never shuts up. Some of the sweetest things she says are,
"hang on there a minute" and "eh up, that's heavy" (could she sound any more Yorkshire?)
She knows most basic colours, counts to ten and loves to read. Her current favourites are, 'Tiger that came to tea', 'Penguin' and anything Maisy.
She never sits still, not even for a second. She loves to climb and jump - I think she might be a gymnast in the making.
Days are filled with negotiation, she is very strong willed and self assured. This means things can be hard but I wouldn't change it - it shows that she is secure and confident (that's what we are telling ourselves). And there is a hint of the drama queen about her, faux injuries are common and when she can't do something first time her frustration is shown in quite a big way.
But overall she is just ace, incredibly kind and gentle. She shares pretty well and shows lots of empathy, most regularly with Wilf whom she just loves. The minute he cries she runs over to "check baby Wilf o.k" and often finds him toys without any prompting from us.
And great fun. A really happy and smiley little girl. We have a little chat as a family in our bedroom before bed, discussing the day that has been and making plans for the next. It is just the best when she says, "love you" before snuggling down with grey rabbit.
So happy birthday gorgeous girl!
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