I realise we are the worst bloggers in the world. We promised photos and video and neither have been forthcoming. Ho hum!
Three cute stories in the meantime:
Emma has been the lucky recipient of a white t-shirt with a red fire engine on the front. It's her new favourite t-shirt. When she's wearing it, she refuses to wear a jacket because it covers up the picture. And she gets very grumpy about her car seat, because the buckle covers up the picture.
She's taken to lying on one of our wooden stairs (going down into the living room) and putting a blanket over her. It's her favourite place. Looks pretty uncomfortable to us,a nd when she moves, she falls off. But who are we to say what's comfy and what's not?
She's starting to take care of her stuffed animals, feeding them milk and tucking them into bed under a blanket. It's very sweet.
A
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
18 months old (The Mums)
Emmy is 18 months old today. A year and a half. This is the first installment of a few days' worth of celebrations that might even include photos and video. .
50 things we love about you, little 18 month old:
you have the most wonderful giggle in the world, totally infectious
the way you pull us both in simultaneously for a kiss, guiding our cheeks in so we both kiss you on the cheek at the same time
the way you need your blanket, your bunny AND your teddy tucked in with you at night...the cast seems to be growing weekly
the fact that you are the worst co-sleeper in the world - would it kill you to sleep vertically instead of horizontally across our pillows?
the way you push the stool up to the counter so you can get to anything you want to
The way we say "Emma, are you wreaking havoc?" and you say, with a small grin, "yeah!"
the way you fill in the "beeps" and the "hoorays" in Little Blue Truck Leads the Way
the way you proudly present your shoes when we go out
the way you label all the parts of the body
your nuzzles and schnuggles
the way you ask for "cheeries" (cheerios)
your beautiufl soft kisses
your focus and concentration when you're playing and determined to do something
the way you pour water on your belly in the bath and take a deep breathe in when it's cold
the way you hold your arms up and say "up!"
the way you fold yourself into our arms for a close cuddle
the way you studiously try to ignore us when we pick you up at day care (but then can't help checking to make sure we're watching as you show off your new tricks)
the fact that you have mastered the difference between 'mumma' and 'mummy' in time for your 18 month celebrations
the way you have "hungry days" when every meal is six courses long. Your favourite foods are edamame, avocado and yoghurt (your obsession with green foods continues, although brocolli has fallen out of favour)
the pasion and devotion with which you eat your blueberries
Emma walks. We love being lead.
the way you scavenge on the floor for bits of cereal or fallen blueberries, and how happy you are when you find something (a single semi-sweet chocolate chip that has fallen off the bench is your idea of the perfect hunt)
the way you insist on carrying your lunch box out of day care - it drags on he ground because it's a little too heavy for you but you don't give up
you constaantly amaze us with what you can do and the words you know
the way you open the bedroom door and head off on an adventure, before returning to the bed for a cuddle
the way you sit on the bench when we're cooking and watch what's going on
the way you wriggle backwards onto our laps for a cuddle and a book
your delight when you see a bus. or an aeroplane. or a puppy.
your delight when you see us. When we come in the front door, you race over to us to greet us and yell "Mumma/Mummy!"
the way you take yourself off with a favourite toy and sit in your cardboard box/car/boat/aeroplane for some peace and quiet
the way you giggle at the playground. You love climbing, swining and sliding. You're not a huge fan of sand.
the way you plant yourself between us when we're hugging
the conversations you have with us with a combination of our language and yours
the way you walk down the stairs, step by step. You are far too old to shuffle on your bum
your ability to find a dummy anywhere, even when we can't find one
your affectionate nature
your sense of humour. You love to initiate a game or a joke and you love it when we giggle along with you
the way you shriek with glee
the way you play your musical caterpillar (pressing blue for "Happy Birthday" while saying "birfday"
your fascination with balls continues
the way you touch the guitar and like to pluck the strings
the way you run now, faster and faster every day
the way you stomp your feet up and down and wiggle
your curiosity
the way you love being swung upside down and round and round
the way you know what you want and won't put up with second best
the way you try to make other kids laugh
the way you'll play by yourself, pottering around the room
the way you sit on our belly and demand "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" (you add the scream in the crocodile verse)
the way you like to push things in front of you and crash them into the wall
the pride with which you place your water cup in your stroller holder
the love you have for your stroller and how you need to show it off to your friends
the way you figure things out really quickly
the way you bounce up and down and dance
the way you tap us on the shoulder when you're happy
your toothy grin
your goofiness
your stubborness
the way you always rise to the occasion. You're very sociable but also seem to need time to yourself.
Your cuddles, your kisses, your affection, your love.
Your "you"-iness.
Well, that's way more than 50, and we could go on and on.
Emmy, we love you so much. Happy 1 1/2 birthday , little one.
Love,
The Mums
50 things we love about you, little 18 month old:
you have the most wonderful giggle in the world, totally infectious
the way you pull us both in simultaneously for a kiss, guiding our cheeks in so we both kiss you on the cheek at the same time
the way you need your blanket, your bunny AND your teddy tucked in with you at night...the cast seems to be growing weekly
the fact that you are the worst co-sleeper in the world - would it kill you to sleep vertically instead of horizontally across our pillows?
the way you push the stool up to the counter so you can get to anything you want to
The way we say "Emma, are you wreaking havoc?" and you say, with a small grin, "yeah!"
the way you fill in the "beeps" and the "hoorays" in Little Blue Truck Leads the Way
the way you proudly present your shoes when we go out
the way you label all the parts of the body
your nuzzles and schnuggles
the way you ask for "cheeries" (cheerios)
your beautiufl soft kisses
your focus and concentration when you're playing and determined to do something
the way you pour water on your belly in the bath and take a deep breathe in when it's cold
the way you hold your arms up and say "up!"
the way you fold yourself into our arms for a close cuddle
the way you studiously try to ignore us when we pick you up at day care (but then can't help checking to make sure we're watching as you show off your new tricks)
the fact that you have mastered the difference between 'mumma' and 'mummy' in time for your 18 month celebrations
the way you have "hungry days" when every meal is six courses long. Your favourite foods are edamame, avocado and yoghurt (your obsession with green foods continues, although brocolli has fallen out of favour)
the pasion and devotion with which you eat your blueberries
Emma walks. We love being lead.
the way you scavenge on the floor for bits of cereal or fallen blueberries, and how happy you are when you find something (a single semi-sweet chocolate chip that has fallen off the bench is your idea of the perfect hunt)
the way you insist on carrying your lunch box out of day care - it drags on he ground because it's a little too heavy for you but you don't give up
you constaantly amaze us with what you can do and the words you know
the way you open the bedroom door and head off on an adventure, before returning to the bed for a cuddle
the way you sit on the bench when we're cooking and watch what's going on
the way you wriggle backwards onto our laps for a cuddle and a book
your delight when you see a bus. or an aeroplane. or a puppy.
your delight when you see us. When we come in the front door, you race over to us to greet us and yell "Mumma/Mummy!"
the way you take yourself off with a favourite toy and sit in your cardboard box/car/boat/aeroplane for some peace and quiet
the way you giggle at the playground. You love climbing, swining and sliding. You're not a huge fan of sand.
the way you plant yourself between us when we're hugging
the conversations you have with us with a combination of our language and yours
the way you walk down the stairs, step by step. You are far too old to shuffle on your bum
your ability to find a dummy anywhere, even when we can't find one
your affectionate nature
your sense of humour. You love to initiate a game or a joke and you love it when we giggle along with you
the way you shriek with glee
the way you play your musical caterpillar (pressing blue for "Happy Birthday" while saying "birfday"
your fascination with balls continues
the way you touch the guitar and like to pluck the strings
the way you run now, faster and faster every day
the way you stomp your feet up and down and wiggle
your curiosity
the way you love being swung upside down and round and round
the way you know what you want and won't put up with second best
the way you try to make other kids laugh
the way you'll play by yourself, pottering around the room
the way you sit on our belly and demand "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" (you add the scream in the crocodile verse)
the way you like to push things in front of you and crash them into the wall
the pride with which you place your water cup in your stroller holder
the love you have for your stroller and how you need to show it off to your friends
the way you figure things out really quickly
the way you bounce up and down and dance
the way you tap us on the shoulder when you're happy
your toothy grin
your goofiness
your stubborness
the way you always rise to the occasion. You're very sociable but also seem to need time to yourself.
Your cuddles, your kisses, your affection, your love.
Your "you"-iness.
Well, that's way more than 50, and we could go on and on.
Emmy, we love you so much. Happy 1 1/2 birthday , little one.
Love,
The Mums
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Glasses (Anna)
Emma sat on my glasses tonight, and now they're all wonky on my nose. Rrrr. What makes it worse is that it was entirely my own fault.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Domesticity
Yesterday evening, Caroline was curled up on one end of the couch reading, keeping an eye on the meal cooking in the kitchen. I was curled up on the the other end, working on a creative project. Something classical was playing in the background. Emma was pottering around playing, coming in periodically for a snuggle or a book. It was really nice.
Then, like a puppy, Emma suddenly went and found her sandals and delivered them to me. I said, "We're not going out, but you can wear them if you want to" and put them on for her. Then she went and got her hat (she's been well-trained - it was actually overcast outside), and then her jacket. It was all very matter-of-fact, with no whining or crying or even "pliz". So, genius that I am, I intuited that she was asking to go out, so I agreed we'd go for a walk, leaving Caroline to finish dinner. I had to find my own jacket and shoes, during which Emma was almost literally scratching at the front door. I said, "I know you're impatient. You just want to go outside and here I am, messing around looking for my fleece." And she said, "Yeah!"
So eventually we left and the minute we were outside, Emma gave me a huge grin and put her hand in mine.
We went for an "Emma walk" - a popular choice when we're not actually needing to get anywhere in particular. On an Emma walk, we go whereever Emma wants to go. She chooses the direction, when to turn a corner, when to cross a road and what she looks at on the way. If she wants to walk all around the neighbourhood, that's fine. If she wants to stop and play with a single leaf for 15 minutes, that's fine, too. As long as she holds our hand crossing roads, she's in control. She's usually very calm after an Emma walk.
So yesterday, even though we live within a few blocks of four parks, we walked just down the road and spent a long time picking up rocks and moving them to the other side of the footpath. And then we watched in fascination as some teenagers played on their skateboards. Perhaps we made them self-conscious, staring at them for so long - at least, I think that might be why they kept falling off :)
It started to get cold and windy - it was one of those blustery, brooding fall evenings (that I, personally, love as long as I'm tucked inside a good fleece). We headed home, Emma happily trotting along the street. When we walked through the door, we were greeted with warmth and the amazing smell of a roast chicken and veggies. Caroline came to greet us and gave us both a big hug. Not a bad way to come home at all.
And we sat down to an amazing meal while the wind picked up outside. We turned off the lights and ate by candle light. Emma was mesmerized by the flickering flame and kept proclaiming "Pretty!!" - another word we didn't know she knew.
It was a very domestic, cosy kind of evening, and we put Emma to bed very content.
Then, like a puppy, Emma suddenly went and found her sandals and delivered them to me. I said, "We're not going out, but you can wear them if you want to" and put them on for her. Then she went and got her hat (she's been well-trained - it was actually overcast outside), and then her jacket. It was all very matter-of-fact, with no whining or crying or even "pliz". So, genius that I am, I intuited that she was asking to go out, so I agreed we'd go for a walk, leaving Caroline to finish dinner. I had to find my own jacket and shoes, during which Emma was almost literally scratching at the front door. I said, "I know you're impatient. You just want to go outside and here I am, messing around looking for my fleece." And she said, "Yeah!"
So eventually we left and the minute we were outside, Emma gave me a huge grin and put her hand in mine.
We went for an "Emma walk" - a popular choice when we're not actually needing to get anywhere in particular. On an Emma walk, we go whereever Emma wants to go. She chooses the direction, when to turn a corner, when to cross a road and what she looks at on the way. If she wants to walk all around the neighbourhood, that's fine. If she wants to stop and play with a single leaf for 15 minutes, that's fine, too. As long as she holds our hand crossing roads, she's in control. She's usually very calm after an Emma walk.
So yesterday, even though we live within a few blocks of four parks, we walked just down the road and spent a long time picking up rocks and moving them to the other side of the footpath. And then we watched in fascination as some teenagers played on their skateboards. Perhaps we made them self-conscious, staring at them for so long - at least, I think that might be why they kept falling off :)
It started to get cold and windy - it was one of those blustery, brooding fall evenings (that I, personally, love as long as I'm tucked inside a good fleece). We headed home, Emma happily trotting along the street. When we walked through the door, we were greeted with warmth and the amazing smell of a roast chicken and veggies. Caroline came to greet us and gave us both a big hug. Not a bad way to come home at all.
And we sat down to an amazing meal while the wind picked up outside. We turned off the lights and ate by candle light. Emma was mesmerized by the flickering flame and kept proclaiming "Pretty!!" - another word we didn't know she knew.
It was a very domestic, cosy kind of evening, and we put Emma to bed very content.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Ahhhh! (Anna)
We just had a date. Yes. As in two adults; no kid. We went out to dinner and talked. And then went out for dessert and talked some more. Neither of us required a bib or a high chair. We are feeling much more human as a result.
And Emma had a fabulous evening, with two terrific kids who live on our street (both of whom we're very fond of). They're a little older than her - old enough to feel protective of the "baby" in the group and treat her like some kind of foreign curiosity, (e.g. "Mummy! Emma just said a word! Ooooh!"), and old enough to provide hours of wide-eyed awe for Emma, who can't quite manage a lot of the things they can do. The three-year-old host did a terrific job of looking after her guests. And her parents chipped in a little, too :)
From what we can gather, the three little ones spent a lot of the evening jumping on a mattress and rolling around on the floor tickling each other. Apparently, there was much giggling. When we did a phone check-in, we were told that all three of them were snuggled up in bed watching Tinkerbell and eating bunny crackers. Awww!
Life is good.
And Emma had a fabulous evening, with two terrific kids who live on our street (both of whom we're very fond of). They're a little older than her - old enough to feel protective of the "baby" in the group and treat her like some kind of foreign curiosity, (e.g. "Mummy! Emma just said a word! Ooooh!"), and old enough to provide hours of wide-eyed awe for Emma, who can't quite manage a lot of the things they can do. The three-year-old host did a terrific job of looking after her guests. And her parents chipped in a little, too :)
From what we can gather, the three little ones spent a lot of the evening jumping on a mattress and rolling around on the floor tickling each other. Apparently, there was much giggling. When we did a phone check-in, we were told that all three of them were snuggled up in bed watching Tinkerbell and eating bunny crackers. Awww!
Life is good.
Emma's subconscious (Anna)
Emma has learnt to say "no" recently. She doesn't use it randomly or just to be contrary, but, when she needs to she will shake her head and say "nooooo", or "no, no, no, no".
Last night, she started sleep-talking. As she tossed and turned, she moaned "Nooo, noo, nooo, nooo, nooo."
I'd love to know what sparked it. Did some mean parent take her pink shoes off?
Last night, she started sleep-talking. As she tossed and turned, she moaned "Nooo, noo, nooo, nooo, nooo."
I'd love to know what sparked it. Did some mean parent take her pink shoes off?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
More toddler fury (Anna)
Emma is beautiful when she's furious, even if her fury is also exasperating and exhausting. Which probably sounds very patronizing about her very considerable anger, but there you go.
This morning, we heard the rubbish truck outside so I picked Emma up to look out of the back window. We watched it (the truck, not the window)pick up 3 or 4 bins and turn them upside down , and we listened to its chomping sounds, and we talked about what it was doing.
And then it drove out of sight.
"More!" Emma demanded.
"But it's gone," I told her, and then corrected that to, "It's out of sight. Look. It's around the corner. We can't see it any more."
"More!" she said. "More! More!"
But her terrible, horrible, nasty cruel mother wouldn't make the rubbish truck come back into view, and so there was no more to be had.
She was furious with me, sobbing and crying and screaming, "More!" at me and sinking to the ground in torment. Nothing I could do or say appeased her or distracted her. If she had the language, she would have said, "How can you expect me to be distracted with a cuddle, a book or a saucepan when the rubbish truck has gone!!"
This lasted for a good five minutes, which is a considerable time to be listening to that awful toddler shriek. By the end of it, I was quite inclined to show her the INSIDE of the rubbish truck.
And eventually, I did something that wasn't quite as mean, or she got bored, or something, and peace reigned again.
Sorry, Emmy. I didn't mean to ruin your day.
This morning, we heard the rubbish truck outside so I picked Emma up to look out of the back window. We watched it (the truck, not the window)pick up 3 or 4 bins and turn them upside down , and we listened to its chomping sounds, and we talked about what it was doing.
And then it drove out of sight.
"More!" Emma demanded.
"But it's gone," I told her, and then corrected that to, "It's out of sight. Look. It's around the corner. We can't see it any more."
"More!" she said. "More! More!"
But her terrible, horrible, nasty cruel mother wouldn't make the rubbish truck come back into view, and so there was no more to be had.
She was furious with me, sobbing and crying and screaming, "More!" at me and sinking to the ground in torment. Nothing I could do or say appeased her or distracted her. If she had the language, she would have said, "How can you expect me to be distracted with a cuddle, a book or a saucepan when the rubbish truck has gone!!"
This lasted for a good five minutes, which is a considerable time to be listening to that awful toddler shriek. By the end of it, I was quite inclined to show her the INSIDE of the rubbish truck.
And eventually, I did something that wasn't quite as mean, or she got bored, or something, and peace reigned again.
Sorry, Emmy. I didn't mean to ruin your day.
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