Yawn
I have a pretty bad cold, so here’s a picture of Louisette yawning.
She turns ten months old tomorrow, so next week is a picture week.
Monday Morning
Depressed? Scared? All the goodness of your weekend ruined?
Here’s a picture of Louisette and two of her cousins:
Oops!
I forgot which day it was. Here’s a plaintive picture by way of apology for the lack of anything substantial:
Learning Curves
One of the great joys of parenthood is all the teaching that you do – babies learn way faster than anyone else (remember when Louisette didn’t even know her arms were attached? And how she can now flip pages and examine small objects and terrorise the cats? That’s all happened this year, as well as so much more). But sometimes you have moments where you think, “Do I really want her to know this?” As she gets more and more mobile (and fast), that question comes up more and more. Sadly, the answer always has to be yes, because she’s going to find out one day….
how to climb stairs
how to open doors
how to open drawers
how to climb down stairs
how to operate zippers
how to push buttons
how to interact with cats
how to sit on chairs all by herself
how to wipe down a table (with something other than her own drool and spew-cloth)
how to climb trees
how to use a boltcutter
. . . . . .
oh dear. . .
Barefoot with Boltcutters
A few days ago I decided to throw away our old, dodgy, rusty clothes horse. It’s easier said than done: the thing is made of heavy duty metal rods so although it’s very light there was no way it was going to fit into a bin. What to do, what to do?
If only there was some kind of device that could cut it into bits. . .
And so it was that CJ and I dropped by CJ’s parents’ place (genuinely without warning, on our way home from swimming) and asked if we could possibly borrow a cup of bolt cutter. Neither of us doubted for a moment that (a) My father in law would own a bolt cutter, and (b) He would know exactly where it was.
As we drove home and I found myself holding what amounts to a limb-length, awesome pair of I-might-just-turn-on-you-and-kill-you scissors, I said to CJ, “Bolt cutters huh? I’m sure they have other uses, but what they’re truly designed for is cutting bolts – chain-link fences and padlocks. When I look at these and ponder their possible versatility, the only image in my head is your dad breaking into some kind of secret government installation.”
“Oh, these are just his MEDIUM bolt cutters.”
“. . . Go on.”
“Well, he has small ones.”
“Like a handbag version? Well, naturally.”
“And then there’s the OTHER end of the scale. . .”
“Your dad has an enormous pair of bolt cutters? Much, much bigger than these?”
“Oh yes.”
I spent the rest of the drive in happy imagination of what a man with my father-in-law’s talents might do with his enormous pair of bolt cutters. Break into REALLY BIG secret government installations, presumably.
Then we were home – showering, cooking dinner, doing washing, etc etc – it was all a bit frantic so I threw the ye olde clothes horse down the stairs (shedding ancient pieces of rusted white rubberised paint every which way), grabbed the rest of the rubbish to take downstairs and then to the curb, and hoped dinner didn’t burn while I hastily chopped up the clothes horse to send it away forever (and good riddance, too). Oh! And I was in my pyjamas. (CJ had his hands full dealing with Louisette’s arsenic hour while also showering himself, her, and helping with dinner.)
I don’t mind telling you, it was AWESOME. My father-in-law keeps his tools in great condition* and it was like cutting through butter with massive scissors. The metal rods fell to bits in seconds, I chucked them in the bin, and the bolt cutters worked exactly like a superpower. I’ve never felt so manly.
Thanks again, CJ’s Dad.
*presumably in case of a last-minute international and/or extraterrestrial issue that needs a size twelve spanner with defibrillation arm and optional rotating flibotnium.
The most important job in the world
Quite a few feminists (ie those who believe women and men are equally important, deserve equal pay, equal work opportunities and equal respect) really hate it when anyone describes motherhood as the most important job in the world. I myself cringe when I meet a mother who has no interest in the world outside of her own home.
Motherhood is something that only became a possibility for me after I met CJ – just a few years ago. Having a purpose in life that actually has an impact (unlike writing unpublished books) has changed everything for me. Suddenly life is mostly good instead of mostly bad, and I am largely satisfied with who I am. In some ways I’m in uber-mum mode, since I will shortly be working full-time as a babysitter while also minding Louisette 24-7. I have love and affection and exasperation to spare, and taking Louisette with me to work gives me a unique angle on “having it all” as a mum – a very literal interpretation of filling both the employee and the “mum” role at the same time.
It is abundantly clear to me that raising Louisette is the most important thing I’ve ever done – and I’m a little bewildered that anyone would think that my life is anything less than an expression of freedom and femininity (and I assure you that, ironically, it is very hard for women to choose to stay at home with their kids these days).
Interestingly, my attitude is (apparently; my sources are indirect) similar to the attitude of African American mothers: motherhood is an act of defiance and hope rather than (as many white Western mothers seem to think) a 1950s-esque trap that women fall into.
I’m so glad to be here.
Gravity
Louisette still thinks the best way to get to the ground from the couch is to crawl off, thus landing face-first. On the up side, she has grasped the idea that it’s good to have some control when she’s shifting from a standing to a sitting position. Sometimes she will simply cry when she wants to sit, but as she grow in confidence, she practises and gets better.
With a certain amount of trepidation, CJ and I decided that since Louisette is climbing anyway, we should teach her to crawl up stairs (our stairs have walls on both sides and are carpeted with no sharp edges, so as far as stairs go they’re an ideal learning environment).
“Water conditioning” is when you teach a very young child to hold their breath underwater by having a specific phrase that you say every bathtime just before pouring water over their face. In time, a baby learns to shut their eyes and hold their breath, and then you can begin teaching them to put their head under the water (without them inhaling too much and going into a pre-drowning state). We’ve been doing this every bathtime and swim time for month, and at first we were pleased that Louisette didn’t mind having water poured over her. Unfortunately her attitude these days seems to be, “Hurrah! A drink!” – an attitude which applies even when she accidentally crawls into deeper water at the pool.
And yes, if you’re wondering, we give her plenty of water to drink during the rest of the day! Ah well.
When pride and fear collide
Guess who’s climbing now?
….and falling off headfirst every darn time.
Yep, at a time when most babies her age are thinking, “Gee I sure wish there was some way to get to that toy that’s over a metre away” Louisette is not just crawling, but walking across a room (with her hands held). In fact she’s not just walking across a room with her hands held, she’s cruising – walking along and around furniture while holding on to it (no parental intervention necessary!). And, as I may have mentioned, she can now climb stuff. Her idea, not mine.
To be fair to all those other (patently inferior) babies out there, Louisette also excels in a Frodo-esque lack of self-preservation instincts. One of my best friends has a two-year old that has only just started walking independently. . . because that is a child that understood gravity and the potential for pain almost completely WITHOUT the usual lengthy experimentation/spinal injury period. Louisette is. . . at the other end of the scale. It’s the dangerous end, but it’s also the awesome end, and I wouldn’t have it any other way*.
She continues to love adventure and excitement, which is a good thing because I just got ANOTHER job! Between my two jobs (plus a little tutoring) I’ll be working full-time (and earning considerably more than I’ve ever earned before) from the end of October – probably for about a year. This will make a big difference when we buy a house next year**.
Louisette is presently for absolutely all of my work hours. And so the adventure continues.
*until my second child. They can learn to crawl when they’re four.
**fingers crossed. . .
Our weekend
On Saturday we took Louisette swimming at a public pool – and she loved it.
On Sunday we took her to the flower festival called Floriade via the castle playground in Commonwealth Park with various family and friends. I always love taking photos of Louisette and any of her cousins.
As a parent, any time I leave the house I win 🙂
Felicity Banks 