Total Pageviews

Pages

Monday 18 July 2011

Mini me

The other day I came downstairs to find Isla lying on the floor with a blanket over her, sucking her thumb and cuddling monkey.
'Oh hello, what are you doing? Are you tired?'
'I don't feel very well, mummy'
'Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?'
'I have spots all over my face. Doctor Brown Bear says I must stay in bed all day.' Just thirty minutes earlier Peppa Pig was having the same conversation with Mummy Pig and Isla was re-enacting the scene almost word for word.

I love watching her make-believe world. Hours are spent carrying around Baby, cuddling her, changing her nappy, giving her milk, putting her to bed, etc. And we are all told very sternly when we have to whisper because, 'baby's sleeping'. The flipside of this is seeing a reflection of myself through her eyes. Entire conversations we have are repeated with Isla in the role of mummy and baby in the role of Isla. Seeing a two year old getting so cross and saying, 'Baby, go to bed NOW!' and 'No, you MUST NOT do that!' sound disporportionately harsh. And I think, how terrifying it must be for such a small person to be on the receiving end of a tired, stressed out parent who hasn't always got the time or energy to try distraction, reward or bribery to get the deed done. And even though she has forgotten the incident two minutes later the guilt of those cross words stay with me all the way to Charing Cross, following me around like a shadow at the office until I enter the door at nursery at the end of the day, hear her squeal of delight and see her smiling face, 'its my mummy!' And I promise myself, I must try harder.

Wednesday 6 July 2011

Our first family camping trip

Tent - check. Food stuffs - check. Camping chairs - check. Bedding - oh, I forgot the bedding.


I think it is true to say that my mind never really recovered from pregna-brain and so I frequently forget quite important things but forgetting the bedding for camping is impressive even by my standards.


So, after the tent was up with nothing to go in it, instead of spending the afternoon exploring the site we were off to Millets and the half price sale. Then on to Tesco to get the matches, cutlery and dinner which I'd also forgotten. The first drops of rain appeared just as we left the car park and by the time we got back to the site, the wood we'd left out for the fire and the chairs strategically placed around it were all suitably soggy. But a bit of rain wasn't going to deter us hardy campers. Out came the firelighters, on came the rain macs (except for the 'Dad' - something that he forgot instead of me) and soon we were eating flame grilled sausages and drinking vino under a canopy of trees at our idyllic spot next to the river.


We virtually had the place to ourselves and it was beautifully unspoilt with a few yurts hidden among the trees and some low-hanging swings which Isla practised launching herself off. The eco-loo on the other hand was a bit too rustic even by my standards and I had to block from my mind the vision of maggots crawling around under the loo seat rim.

It didn't take long for the novelty of 'damping' to wear off and we decamped to the nearest pub. Isla was in her element, not only had she been able to stay up late running around the forest and eating sausages, now she was going to the pub at night and being introduced to the delights of Connect 4!

Her riotous singing did get us later evicted and I suspect the few other campers didn't appreciate her shouting 'wakey wakey' when we returned, but snuggling down in our sleeping bags, listening to the rain falling on the tent roof and Isla's gentle breathing next to me, made me feel like the luckiest mum in the world.

Monday 4 July 2011

It wasn't me, I swear!

The first time Isla swore, we were carrying out one of our favourite past times - hunt for Monkey. I was rummaging through yet another bag and said, 'well he must be somewhere' to which she replied, 'oh for f**k's sake!'
'What did you just say?'
'F**'s sake mummy, say 'f**'s sake', she said very matter of factly.
I told her she should never say that word and was straight on the phone to her Dad to lecture him about curbing his language in front of her. Not surprisingly, he sniggered like a naughty school boy while I had visions of her being the first kid in nursery with an Asbo.

A few weeks later, again having spent a day with Daddy, Isla was getting frustrated trying to do some colouring and out it came again. Same phrase, exactly the right context, perfect intonation. Me back on the phone to Daddy rapidly losing my humour.

Several months passed and that was one chapter in our lives that I hoped was well behind us when just the other day Isla dropped some food on the floor. 'F**k it', she said. Oh my God, will this man never learn? I thought.
'Where did you here that darling?'
'You said it mummy!'
And then I remembered, a few days earlier, I'd locked myself out the house and as we stood outside in the rain with me peering through the letterbox at my handbag and all my worldly possessions inside, just about every possible expletive known to man tumbled from my mouth. Isla kept on saying, 'Mummy sad' and I didn't think anything more of it. Little did I know that her little sponge brain was rapidly soaking up all the words to save for a special occasion. So now I live in fear of the diary entry from nursery - "Isla has been using some colourful language today which she said Mummy taught her and which she is now teaching her friends". I'm thinking maybe I could get away with telling them that her great, great grandfather suffered from Tourettes.

Saturday 2 July 2011

Bobo's brother.

We are now on Monkey Two.

Monkey One was lost somewhere on Holt beach when he was just eighteen months old. I'd like to think he was found and taken to a loving home but rather suspect he is swirling around in the North Sea, lost in a gigantic, salty washing machine.

It took a few days for Isla to come to terms with the new monkey but 'Bobo' is now her firm favourite, and Monkey Three is already in situ as Bobo's brother, should Bobo meet the same fate as his predecessor. We have had a few near misses but he is definitely the monkey who has nine lives.

There was the time when Isla dropped him out of her pushchair while out shopping. We retraced our steps from the previous hour and found him perched on top of the railings outside the library patiently waiting for our return. On another shopping trip he again disappeared to be found an hour later perched up against a sandwich board. His most adventurous trip was when we left him on the train. I immediately phoned Southeastern and an extremely kind operator got in touch with Ashford International where the train was terminating. Two minutes later she was on the phone telling me that a man was bringing monkey back on the train to Tonbridge and could I meet him on the 8.01 pm. And sure enough, out of his breast pocket came Monkey - if only they always offered such good customer service. And his closest shave was just recently at Longleat Safari Park where he was left to the lions until a safari jeep came racing up behind us asking if we were missing a monkey.

Today we searched the whole house for him but he was nowhere to be found (later discovered buried in the washing basket) and Isla was quite happy to leave home without him, taking Bobo's brother as a compliant substitute who was swiftly forgotten about once we arrived at Livi's party. Could it be that now 3 years is approaching that Monkey is slowly being abandoned? I'm not sure who will feel the greater loss, me or Isla, so I have had his photo taken and emblazoned on a t-shirt for her (me) to keep forever. For surely the surrender of a comfort toy is yet another chapter passed. The bottles have gone, the rubber band hands, the nappies and soon the most beloved creature of her first two years as my little girl gets bigger.