Dear Audrey,
It's your 2nd birthday today, and I'm writing this while watching you sleep, waiting for you to wake up and have breakfast and presents and all of the fun things we have planned.
This time two years ago, I was also waiting. I was sat in a hospital waiting room and I knew I'd be meeting you that day. I was very scared, so scared I felt sick and my hands were shaking when I tried to write you a letter. I knitted instead, a little green dress for you. I couldn't imagine you wearing it. I couldn't yet imagine you at all, even when they scanned you and I saw your beautiful squished up face pressing into my rib cage.
You were born at 10.20am and I'll never forget that moment as long as I live. It didn't feel like the moment I became a mother - I had already felt like a mother for months as I struggled through a very difficult pregnancy and felt every movement you made inside my swollen body. But it did feel like an entirely new kind of love, an entirely new kind of emotion all together.
I had been worried that I wouldn't get that, that bonding rush. That instant flood of love. I really needn't have worried. It took a few moments before I could see you, as I was lying down on the operating table unable to move, and the nurses had you behind me. I kept pleading with your dad "can you see her? can you see her?" It must only have been a minute or two but it felt like forever before the midwives handed you to your dad, and he showed you to me. He held you against my chest, close to my face while I struggled to be able to support you.
I had thought you would have fair hair, or no hair, as both your dad and I had really blonde hair when we were little. But you had a shock of very dark brown hair and eyes the colour of mushrooms when you blinked up at me, unfocused and amazed.
The moment of your birth is such a sacred time for me now. A time when those moments when I touched your impossibly tiny hands and cried and told you over and over how much I loved you in front of your dad and that theatre full of strangers are vivid in my mind. The moments when you made me a mother.
Our bond was instant and beautiful and has only grown since then. Now you're big enough to fling your arms round me for a hug, to sit on my knee and read stories, to hold my hand while we walk outside. It's hard to believe sometimes that my big girl was that tiny baby with the mushroom coloured eyes and tiny, grasping starfish hands. The one I felt move inside me all those months.
And it's funny, but as long as I keep hold of those moments - as long as I remember how much I love you - parenting becomes so much more straightforward than it can sometimes seem. I love you. We're in this together.
And now you're waking up, so it's time to go.
Have a wonderful day, birthday girl!
I love you forever and ever.
Mum x
Saturday, 13 April 2013
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Birthdays
I have yet another horrid cold just now, boo. So to cheer myself up, here is a post with pics from my birthday last month!
Ros was here, and we went to Butterfly World during the day, always a favourite with Audrey because of all the butterflies and caterpillars (not to mention the reptiles and spiders and other insects), and a favourite with me because it is SO nice and warm.
We had lunch at the garden centre, and bought Audrey some books (I can't help it, I have a COMPULSION when it comes to buying children's books!) and she also chose a glittery purple dragon, who sat next to her on the bus home and who now goes everywhere with her in her rucksack.
In the evening we went out for dinner and Audrey drank a lot of chocolate milkshake and then fell asleep on her chair. Bless her.
It's Audrey Bea's birthday on Saturday and we're all looking forward to it, in a very relaxed sort of way. It will be a wonderful weekend.
Ros was here, and we went to Butterfly World during the day, always a favourite with Audrey because of all the butterflies and caterpillars (not to mention the reptiles and spiders and other insects), and a favourite with me because it is SO nice and warm.
We had lunch at the garden centre, and bought Audrey some books (I can't help it, I have a COMPULSION when it comes to buying children's books!) and she also chose a glittery purple dragon, who sat next to her on the bus home and who now goes everywhere with her in her rucksack.
In the evening we went out for dinner and Audrey drank a lot of chocolate milkshake and then fell asleep on her chair. Bless her.
It's Audrey Bea's birthday on Saturday and we're all looking forward to it, in a very relaxed sort of way. It will be a wonderful weekend.
Friday, 29 March 2013
Gold fish, silver fish, big blue pond
Yesterday Audrey picked up a piece of paper. It was a leaflet with a picture of a fish on it. "Oh no!" she said. "Got to put it in the pond!" We were supposed to be heading out. I'd struggled to get her dressed, struggled to get myself dressed, struggled to get her to put her welly boots on and keep them on. We had things to do, Important Things by boring, grown up standards. I was tired, we were late. I was boring and grown up and fed up. "I don't think we've got a pond, darling," I sighed.
"The pond!" she insisted. And I had a quick and slightly stern mental chat with myself about exactly what is really important, about the kind of parent I want to be and the kind of life I want to live and... well, long story short, we've spent the last 24 hours constructing one freaking awesome pond in our living room, guys.
We did still go out. We did still get things done. But in between those boring, grown up things we dyed rice blue with food colouring. We cut big pieces of sugar paper and taped them together. We've ripped up tissue paper, we've spread glue around with a little plastic red glue stick, and we've stuck fish shaped stickers onto paper fish.
What's the point of all the grown up have-to-do stuff? It's this, isn't it? Paper ponds and fancy fish. Mess and creativity and pretend, crammed into the spaces between all the ordinary brickwork of our ordinary lives.
This morning Audrey is adding some finishing touches to the pond while wearing nothing but a rocket ship pyjama top and a pair of sunglasses. She accidentally hit me in the face with a plastic red glue stick, and when I flinched she laughed. "No," I said, let her hearing how sad and hurt I was that she found my pain funny. I tried to use her own language. "That hurt me. Big bump, ow."
I saw her face change. "Poor Mama," she said. "Oh Mama. Make it better." She stroked my face where she'd hit it, the same way I do for her when she walks into the rocking chair or trips on a toy. She kissed the top of my head. "There. 's that better? Big hug." She folded herself into my arms. "Thank you, baby," I murmured.
"You're WELCOME, Mama. Now come on - hide!"
"The pond!" she insisted. And I had a quick and slightly stern mental chat with myself about exactly what is really important, about the kind of parent I want to be and the kind of life I want to live and... well, long story short, we've spent the last 24 hours constructing one freaking awesome pond in our living room, guys.
We did still go out. We did still get things done. But in between those boring, grown up things we dyed rice blue with food colouring. We cut big pieces of sugar paper and taped them together. We've ripped up tissue paper, we've spread glue around with a little plastic red glue stick, and we've stuck fish shaped stickers onto paper fish.
What's the point of all the grown up have-to-do stuff? It's this, isn't it? Paper ponds and fancy fish. Mess and creativity and pretend, crammed into the spaces between all the ordinary brickwork of our ordinary lives.
This morning Audrey is adding some finishing touches to the pond while wearing nothing but a rocket ship pyjama top and a pair of sunglasses. She accidentally hit me in the face with a plastic red glue stick, and when I flinched she laughed. "No," I said, let her hearing how sad and hurt I was that she found my pain funny. I tried to use her own language. "That hurt me. Big bump, ow."
I saw her face change. "Poor Mama," she said. "Oh Mama. Make it better." She stroked my face where she'd hit it, the same way I do for her when she walks into the rocking chair or trips on a toy. She kissed the top of my head. "There. 's that better? Big hug." She folded herself into my arms. "Thank you, baby," I murmured.
"You're WELCOME, Mama. Now come on - hide!"
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
Nearly Two
Audrey will be two years old next month. It's amazing. As I'm writing this she's dancing with her toy dinosaur, laughing and singing. Audrey at nearly-two LOVES to sing. Incy Wincy Spider, Wind the Bobbin Up, Wheels on the Bus, Bob the Builder. She does all the actions.
Audrey at nearly-two is learning how to read. She has a couple of sight words (cat, dog, hat) and is working on more. She knows some but not all of the phonics sounds. She understands she has to sound out the letters to make the word. She sees the word cat and says "c-a-t... cat!" We play a lot of letter games.
Audrey at nearly-two is great at counting to ten, although she often misses out the numbers 2 and 4. This is getting better with practice - and there is nothing Audrey loves more than practicing her counting! She counts EVERYTHING she sees. We play a lot of number games.
Audrey at nearly-two watches possibly too much television. She has dvds of Charlie and Lola, Bob the Builder, Peppa Pig, the Aristocats. She likes the Wiggles and Pocoyo, which she watches on youtube. She still loves the French cartoon Trotro. She introduces herself to characters on the screen: "Hello Ellie! I'm Audrey."
Audrey at nearly-two loves to "read" books. She sits and looks at the pictures and describes everything that's happening, telling you (or, more often, the cats) the whole story. She especially likes to tell you if anyone is feeling sad. Thinking and talking about emotions is quite a new thing for her, although we've been encouraging it since she was a baby with our emotions flashcards. My feeling is that if we can give her the words to express her emotions and to learn about ours, it will help her to feel understood and to understand where we're coming from. The beginnings of empathy, basically.
Audrey at nearly-two doesn't like eating vegetables, but she does like eating curry. Her favourite food is probably chicken and rice, closely followed by chips. She likes apple slices and apple biscuits, she likes shepherd's pie and pizza, she loves popcorn although she calls it cauliflower. She very determinedly feeds herself, using a knife and fork. Any attempts to help are met with a lot of upset. She is fiercely independent in some ways, shy and clingy in others. I love both sides of her so much.
Audrey at nearly-two loves hugs and kisses. After her nap she likes to lie in her bed next to me and chat and cuddle for a while. She says "And now... kisses!" and kisses my cheeks. She waves goodbye to Ian from the window as he goes to work and, not understanding that he can't hear her, she says "Love you, Dada! See you soon!" every morning. When she hears his key in the door at the end of the day she yells "Dada's here!" and RUNS to meet him and talk to him and tell him and show him everything she's done that day.
Audrey at nearly-two loves the regular museum more than the museum of childhood. She loves the swimming pool. She loves kindergym, but not as much as she loves the play park outside kindergym. She likes going to the shops and helping me carry the basket, then helping me carrying the bag of shopping home by holding one of the handles while I hold the other. She loves her friends, whether they're little like her or grown up like Ally, Cori, Graham, Ros, David, Michael or her many uncles and aunts. She asks for these people by name almost every day. She wants to "see friends, play together!"
Audrey at nearly-two loves dinosaurs, building blocks, cars and motorbikes and regular bikes, diggers and tractors, cranes. She loves all kinds of animals, but especially cats, horses, birds, fish, dogs and guinea pigs. She wants to make friends with every dog we see at the park. She says she loves the snow, but doesn't actually want to go out in it too much. She loves teddy bears, and feeds them raisins.
Audrey at nearly-two is the most brilliant person I think I've ever met.
Audrey at nearly-two is learning how to read. She has a couple of sight words (cat, dog, hat) and is working on more. She knows some but not all of the phonics sounds. She understands she has to sound out the letters to make the word. She sees the word cat and says "c-a-t... cat!" We play a lot of letter games.
Audrey at nearly-two is great at counting to ten, although she often misses out the numbers 2 and 4. This is getting better with practice - and there is nothing Audrey loves more than practicing her counting! She counts EVERYTHING she sees. We play a lot of number games.
Audrey at nearly-two watches possibly too much television. She has dvds of Charlie and Lola, Bob the Builder, Peppa Pig, the Aristocats. She likes the Wiggles and Pocoyo, which she watches on youtube. She still loves the French cartoon Trotro. She introduces herself to characters on the screen: "Hello Ellie! I'm Audrey."
Audrey at nearly-two loves to "read" books. She sits and looks at the pictures and describes everything that's happening, telling you (or, more often, the cats) the whole story. She especially likes to tell you if anyone is feeling sad. Thinking and talking about emotions is quite a new thing for her, although we've been encouraging it since she was a baby with our emotions flashcards. My feeling is that if we can give her the words to express her emotions and to learn about ours, it will help her to feel understood and to understand where we're coming from. The beginnings of empathy, basically.
Audrey at nearly-two doesn't like eating vegetables, but she does like eating curry. Her favourite food is probably chicken and rice, closely followed by chips. She likes apple slices and apple biscuits, she likes shepherd's pie and pizza, she loves popcorn although she calls it cauliflower. She very determinedly feeds herself, using a knife and fork. Any attempts to help are met with a lot of upset. She is fiercely independent in some ways, shy and clingy in others. I love both sides of her so much.
Audrey at nearly-two loves hugs and kisses. After her nap she likes to lie in her bed next to me and chat and cuddle for a while. She says "And now... kisses!" and kisses my cheeks. She waves goodbye to Ian from the window as he goes to work and, not understanding that he can't hear her, she says "Love you, Dada! See you soon!" every morning. When she hears his key in the door at the end of the day she yells "Dada's here!" and RUNS to meet him and talk to him and tell him and show him everything she's done that day.
Audrey at nearly-two loves the regular museum more than the museum of childhood. She loves the swimming pool. She loves kindergym, but not as much as she loves the play park outside kindergym. She likes going to the shops and helping me carry the basket, then helping me carrying the bag of shopping home by holding one of the handles while I hold the other. She loves her friends, whether they're little like her or grown up like Ally, Cori, Graham, Ros, David, Michael or her many uncles and aunts. She asks for these people by name almost every day. She wants to "see friends, play together!"
Audrey at nearly-two loves dinosaurs, building blocks, cars and motorbikes and regular bikes, diggers and tractors, cranes. She loves all kinds of animals, but especially cats, horses, birds, fish, dogs and guinea pigs. She wants to make friends with every dog we see at the park. She says she loves the snow, but doesn't actually want to go out in it too much. She loves teddy bears, and feeds them raisins.
Audrey at nearly-two is the most brilliant person I think I've ever met.
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