A fleeting break from the tradition with this life update, because I’m mainly talking about myself. My favorite subject. (Joke: I hate talking about myself if I did not drink too much wine, in fact, I tend to keep people from asking what I do for a living – I usually tell them that I work with computers and they are too bored to ask for more!)
I’m mainly talking about myself because I feel like I’m at a weird old point in my life wondering who the hell I am and what kind of earth I’m going to do next. I think that shopping for Angelica’s school uniform made everything happen, that feeling of being a bit lost and wondering what the future holds, but in fact it’s a strange feeling that is bubbling under the surface since we have taken the big step forward Somerset.
I think it’s the kind of person that always has to be do somethingI’m planning the next big thing, working on a project and being so busy that I live in a state of incessant chaos and stress. It was the most intense time to have two babies (18 months apart, so not planned!) That you can imagine, especially if the work was as busy as ever, and I think I’m worried if The school starts in September, and Ted starts a few mornings in the nursery, I’m not sure what to do about the extension.
Actually, that’s a lie. To be perfectly honest, my problem with September and the new beginnings is that I am forced to evaluate the era that is just coming to an end. The baby era. I’m asking myself for now how was I? Could I have done better? In those rare moments of silence where I just sit and think about things, I wonder if I have worked too much or more should have worked, if I should have used more help to save my sanity, or refuse more jobs to be a full-time mother. I tick the things I did not do: I did not even bring them to swim. I did not make gingerbread with them and got everything on the ground. I did not get enough pictures of me with babies on my hip, or I sleep in an intricate nest of sheets with a newborn spread out on my chest. I wonder if I was ever really present because I can not remember much at all.
I could make a huge list of the things we have to have including almost daily trips to the zoo and adventure park, walks with the dog, holidays in the car to Cornwall and Devon and London and Dorset, every afternoon crazy chases around the house (it’s a great house to run and hide), nightclubs , Picnics, dressing, board games, hotel games, vet games, hospital games, waking up early every morning, sleeping hours every night, cuddling in the middle of the night, countless drops of Calpol over the sheets, endless exchanges between adults about where the in-ear Thermometer is located and who had it last …
I was away from home less than 2.5 percent of the time when I was a mother, but I’m still angry that I could have done better and that I was would Make it better if I do it again. Maybe that’s why some people have another baby (I’m not excited!) Because it always feels like it is Next time you will finally get it right,
Well. That was limitless depressing, right? I’m sorry! I do not regret any part of what I did during the baby phase, I’m just sad it’s almost over. It’s like a Klaxon has been listening to tell me that my time has run out.
“FNARRRRRRR! Put the flour away, mothers! You are in the process of preparing home-made play dough or baking cookies for the first time, but it is too BLOODY LATE! They want to go for a walk with them instead of putting them out Peppa Pig So you can print, sign, and scan the mortgage documents at your leisure? TOO LATE! They are old enough to have fun anyway! They do not need you anymore and would not walk with you anyway if you do not bribe them with sweets! FNARRRRRRR! “
Speaking of bribery: Angelica has spiced up the whole system of scraping-on-the-back-I-scratching-in a remarkably good way. Maybe she will become the negotiator. Or a politician. (God.) Anyway, she knows the value of their collaboration, especially when Ted starts by not cutting his apple in the right way (ie: not cut at all, he likes it all, but he carries the blood one Hour and the dog almost always gets it off, so I usually try to get him to eat it in a bowl and he hates it) and there are two things she’s firmly set on her requirements list: games on the iPhone and candy from daddy’s retro candy store.
Mr. AMR got a huge box of sweets for his birthday last month. They are all retro chewy candies and sherbet dips, etc. from the seventies and eighties – Angelica is obsessed. It’s like another world where Pom Bears and dried organic apple rings do not exist. The games on the iPhone thing had to be throttled for the moment because it really started Toca Boca Apps that allow you to play as a vet, train driver or doctor. They are a bit like ledge But for toddlers, she literally dives in, carries supplies through the hospital, visits the patients, and feeds them with lunch. She woke up early just so she could ask to play on my phone, so that’s nipped in the bud. The phone games started lazily because I was able to fall asleep for half an hour and she was in the process of going to the doctor’s office, presumably to administer morphine, to give birth to tricky babies, and to amputate gangrene legs with a selection of power tools. But the games are not anymore. It is too early. Both during the day and in life.
I say that officially, in case Mr. AMR reads, but unofficially I had them play last night to look after the Toca Boca horses as I tried to tuck Ted into his back Gro bag and keep him from doing so to throw out his mattress of the cot.
Ted has become Hulk Ted Smash over the last month. Not only does he whirl around in his sleep, he knocks on the bars of the bed, making it sound as if a Minotaur is trying to ride through the wall of the house, but keeps breaking his sleep arrangements between the hours of 7 and 9 pm , He used to undress, hang around on the mattress and then call for help, but now he’s trapped in his sleeping bag (thanks for that tip, reader!) And can not unpack him. He enjoys himself by removing the sheets and fold the mattress in half (actually a phenomenally difficult thing) and then put both legs through the lower slats. Before you call for help.
Woe, bedtime is still the hardest time of the day. I think (still) that it’s because you really feel that you finally owe a bloody break, thank you, and your brain sees 7pm (or whatever time, 5pm would be an idea, hohoho) as the cut-up. and-dry deadline for all child-related games. The other night, when Ted was at 9:15 pm with his mattress on, I yelled This is mom’s time now! I am not available!
He stared at me blankly and said, “Ham?”
Ted says a lot of “ham” right now. I have no idea why, otherwise he really likes ham. But the more he says it, especially in answering completely independent questions, the more we all laugh and the more he finds it funny. He chats like a jerk, and when I read a story to him, he copies every single word. That’s cute, but at the same time makes it very hard to read – it’s like having an echo that does not make sense.
In other news, Ted recently did something that was both extremely practical and potentially catastrophic. I knew something was going on because it was quiet in the living room, and when I called him, he said, “Come on Mom!” And arrived with his (very full) diaper between forefinger and thumb in the kitchen. He had puked, carefully pulled off the diaper pants and gone into the kitchen without dropping some of the droppings on the floor. To be honest, it’s almost more than I that can and I’m thirty-six years older than him. Not that I’m wearing diaper pants, do you understand?
Oh God, I have to go! Angelica had her taster morning at school and I just realized that the time they’re supposed to pick up is actually the time they’ll be out of the gates! Unlike in the nursery, when you just stroll between x and y and everyone is relaxed and “here is a painting with a few twigs and dirty feathers, it’s a duck, yes, that’s an acorn that represents one eye”. I have a drawer full of these paintings. Ah, those agonizingly happy days that are so worried that time always goes by too fast! Why is parenting such a bloody roller coaster ride?