And she’s off!
Louisette is officially moving – so much so that the gate at the top of our stairs is now actually a necessity. And so the thrill ride begins.
Her mode of transport at the moment is highly experimental – a mixture of bum-shuffling, commando crawling, rolling, and directed face-planting. It was almost exactly a month ago that she began to lift herself onto hands and knees.
She soon realised that if she lifted herself up and then dived forward, she would end up slightly forward of her original position (usually; it often backfired and sent her backwards). Her attitude to toys just out of reach instantly changed: they weren’t out of reach any more. Not if she could help it.
Soon after that she began doing peculiar things with her legs and feet – pushing against the ground in an upward fashion when she wanted to go forward. This sometimes helped her, but mostly it just meant she was making a triangle, with straight legs forming one side.
This experiment had an unexpected result: she can now get herself into a sitting position (and often does so). Her sitting up, incidentally, is now very impressive. She generally chooses to move from a sitting position (after happily playing for several minutes) rather than falling over. Sometimes, she doesn’t even land on her face. If she slouches in her high chair, it’s because she’s bored or annoyed, not because she’s lost her balance.
The day I was in Melbourne – two weeks ago yesterday – she began shuffling her knees in a new attempt at moving forward. This was extremely exciting, of course. (Some babies skip crawling and go straight to walking, but apparently crawling is very good for coordination, so I’ve been very carefully NOT encouraging her to walk yet.) About a week ago she began demonstrating three-wheel drive: holding a toy in one hand while still on hands and knees. Then she began pawing the ground like an impatient horse – just about the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.
Then last Saturday, with CJ and I in delighted attendance, she took her first full (knees + hands) crawling step – and promptly (yet triumphantly, clutching the toy she was aiming for) collapsed on her face.
Since then she has repeated this move several times. Soon she’ll leave less efficient modes of movement behind, and we’ll REALLY be in trouble.
Still nothing interesting to say
But you can hang around and gaze at the gorgeousness for a bit if you like.
Pregnancy: The monster is not dead
A few weeks ago I had a pregnancy scare. It even sort of made it to the blog – I wrote on a Wednesday that I’d had lots of weird aches and pains, and was walking with a limp. At the same time I was very ill with a stomach bug (or was it something more?) I even managed to be four days late (very unusual for me) – but I’m not pregnant. Thank goodness. Although I look forward to meeting our future second child, this is *NOT* a good time!
And yet, the pain continues.
Pregnancy hormones can take a LONG time to leach out of one’s system – and given that my body is so fond of pregnancy hormones (the more the better) it’s little wonder that they’re still around in big enough quantities to be causing significant problems. Even when it’s been well over six months since I de-pregnantified.
I mentioned a limp. After vacillating for a while, it decided to dig in and get worse and worse. It became very difficult to walk, or pick up Louisette (which I do dozens of times a day) or walk up or down stairs (we have stairs between the bedroom/bathroom and the kitchen/living area – so again, dozens of times a day). The combination of baby plus walking plus stairs was very painful.
Last Friday I saw a physio and found out that the back pain was all referred pain from my left hip joint, which had separated due to – guess what! – pregnancy hormones (specifically my old friend relaxin, who causes muscles to flollop about in preparation for birth). She helped a bit (and I ruined it within hours due to looking after Louisette) and gave me exercises to do.
On Saturday and Sunday I didn’t lift Louisette once. On Monday and Tuesday I camped out downstairs as much as possible, keeping Louisette on my bed where I fed her, changed her, put her to sleep, and entertained her by any means necessary:
I *am* improving despite the impossibility of true rest, and I even managed to get a job (at a house with a ridiculous number of stairs). It’s horrifying but encouraging to know that hormones really are to blame for my startlingly still-pregnant-looking belly. . . at least there’s still hope for the distant future. All I can really do is lump this in with all the rest of the pregnancy horrors I thought I was done with, and say what I’ve always said about the horrors of pregnancy: It’s totally worth it.
My job is minding two young and adorable girls who live very close by. I started yesterday, and it is not merely survivable but highly enjoyable. Louisette is more than welcome – the girls chose me partly because they wanted to play with her – and she loves having new people to admire her.
Speaking of Louisette, she’s become very fond of blowing slobbery raspberries to express either disapproval or delight. That’s a lot of raspberries.
Getting “The Call”
I mentioned last week that I’d just received some Rather Good News. Here’s how it happened:
The sun didn’t rise – just clouds and rain, rain, rain on yesterday’s washing. The forecast was for more rain tomorrow, and the day after that. A grey day.
Louisette was sick, and woke me before dawn. I thought I’d recovered from several days of illness, but I was sick twice before I reached her room. Woke CJ to take care of her while I was unable to move from the bathroom. A day of cramps and stench, and an unhappy child left to cry on the floor more than once while mummy was sick.
Nappy after stinking nappy needed to be taken directly to the outside bin, and the rain kept falling. Louisette had nappy rash that made her cry, and I gave up on one product and tried another. I SMSed family members one by one, seeing if anyone could come over and help – to hold Louisette’s bottle while I was sick; stroke her hair when she cried in pain. A day of moving my one pathetic hour of paid work to another day, and crossing my fingers hoping that day was better.
Her feet and hands were cold, and so were mine. Had to leave the bathroom window and door open despite the cold and the danger of our jealous cat expressing herself on the bathroom floor (again). I picked “Fahrenheit 451” from the bookshelf to read while putting Louisette to bed, having just finished the last of the Terry Pratchetts. I thought, “If only I could write this well.” I wondered if I’d eat dinner, and knew I wasn’t healthy enough to run errands. SMSed CJ to pick up some groceries on his way home. A day of going back to bed the instant Louisette closed her eyes, and then waking up to her cries and another urgent series of trips to the loo.
I checked the mail in the pouring rain, because today might just be the day I get a letter from a publisher saying they want to publish one of my books.
It wasn’t the day.
My first attempt at a lunch I could stomach tasted of raw flour (the pack also split when I picked it up and I left slippery white footprints all over the kitchen floor), and by the time the second was ready Louisette was crying for an early feed. I changed her and calmed her and held her while I finished the cold remnants of my food. Her nappy leaked and I put that outfit in the “spray it first” pile. Then I changed her again, and she wet herself, her clothes, her wrap, and the change table right at that perfect, naked moment. A day of doing the washing despite the endless rain, and putting every bit of it in the dryer until the laundry walls were slick with moisture.
A tradesman arrived unannounced – our flat is being sold, and there is a seemingly endless series of jobs that are happening to our home whether we want them or not. He glanced at the flour on the kitchen floor and didn’t say a word. A day of pretending my PJs were regular clothes, and hoping the man whose name I couldn’t remember didn’t notice I wasn’t wearing a bra.
I sat on the floor and cuddled the baby. I put on more nappy cream, washed my hands extra carefully, and gave her medicine to ease the pain of teething. It’s been more than a week without a break, and she still has no teeth. A day of seemingly endless, seemingly pointless pain.
The phone rang, and I thought it was my sister-in-law calling to say she wasn’t able to come over. It was somebody in Victoria – the number started with “03”. As always, I thought, “Is it a publisher?” Except this time it was.
A surprising day!
When she said she was from Text publishing, I knew at once – with the same eerie calm I feel when a motorbike under me slides out of control and I’m going to crash – that I’d done well. Sure enough, I was shortlisted.
An excellent day!
Out of 250 entries, I am in the top three. The winner gets a $10,000 advance and publication. Second and third places get. . . . a warm glowy feeling and a pat on the back. But a 1 in 3 chance is a whole lot better than the usual 1 in 10,000.
A hopeful day!
The details are here.
The winner is announced at the party tonight (Tuesday 17th) – and yes, I’ll be there. (I feel much better now, thank you :P)
The lady speaks
Louisette has said her first word – Mum. She’s also said Dad, and will presumably continue to use them interchangeably for a while until she gets her primary carers sorted out.
This is her, dressed as the very hungry caterpillar (it’s on the label and everything) while eating “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. Talk about product placement.
How to serve vegetables
Fry them.
*ahem*
I’m not big on vegetables, as a rule – although I like potatoes and avocado. I also like butter, garlic, and cheese. Combine all those things and you get an awesomely unhealthy two-vegetable side dish:
Work it, baby
I mentioned on Monday that I’m suddenly looking for full-time work. I figure that with my recent jump in sanity + a return to medication, I should function really well.
I looked at several public service jobs, which reminded me just how unpleasant it is to write applications for a job that is clearly being described by someone who doesn’t know what it is either. But there were a couple that I could probably bluff my way into (skills mental illness teaches: how to fake confidence like a champion). The prospect of actually DOING any of those jobs was a little scary, but I pushed the fear to one side.
Then, for old times’ sake, I searched for babysitting jobs – and suddenly found myself smiling. These were jobs that I’d just enjoy rather than fear – jobs that fit the headspace I was already occupying – jobs where I might even be able to take Louisette with me. . . . which would be cheaper, and so much nicer for my heart and hers.
So I applied for a few. I had an interview yesterday which went really well, and I have another interview in less than an hour. Wish me luck!
In the meantime, Louisette is, suddenly and terrifyingly, on the move. Dangerous objects are mostly safe if they’re at least a metre away in any direction – but not for long. She is fully aware of her ability to reach toys in front of her, and has a good grasp on the first step (pushing herself up on hands and knees) and a tenuous grasp on the second step (diving forward – rather than just flopping back down in the same position or accidentally pushing with her hands and thus going backwards). She generally gets there eventually (unless there’s something shiny nearby).
She is also much better at sitting up, completely unsupported. This is a VERY useful skill for eating (not quite reliable enough to actually be useful yet, but it’s only a matter of time). It also instantly changes her range of non-assisted positions from two to three, which has got to help relieve the tedium of being a baby (like many times in life, it’s simultaneously super exciting and super boring for the participant). As adults, we know sitting up is super useful. All she really knows so far is that she’s generally impressive.
Beating Bad Hair: The Hattification
The one genius thing about Winter is the excuse to cover a bad hair day in seconds AND NO-ONE SUSPECTS A THING. It is even better when your house is infested with hair-pulling midgets who (a) can’t reach hair when it’s under a beanie, and (b) can pull/chew on the plaits instead (because babies are pretty much like cats, let’s face it).
We’ve already begun teaching beanie-wearing skills to the next generation:
PS I received some Rather Good News today that may change everything – or nothing. I’ll blog about it fully within the month.
Sick Day
When you’re a parent and you and the kid/s get sick at the same time, you’re pretty much screwed. Luckily I have a mum and sister in town who have swooped in to save the day, taking Louisette to their place so I can loll about as pathetically as I like.
This is Louisette and I “playing” at 8:30 this morning, before the troops arrived:
PS We received some more bad news yesterday (admittedly, bad news that we were pretty sure was coming) and we definitely won’t be buying a house this year.
Borrow a Robot
Last week our ceiling was removed and replaced, so CJ and I avoided home as much as possible. We had an extremely delicious lamb roast at the home of an ex of mine, who happened to have a house-cleaning robot buzzing around in the hall. Based on his blasé offer to lend it to us* and the fact that plaster dust takes days to settle, we borrowed it for several days and had enormous fun watching it disappear under the couch, terrify our cats, and fumble about dizzily when its low battery prompted it to plug itself back in (at one stage we had a dinner party and the poor robot had half a dozen people shouting directions at it and trying to herd it back to its dock).
Oh! And my ex also lend us a clever little device about the size of a computer mouse which shoots out a line of laser light that the robot refuses to cross (we placed it at the top of the stairs for fairly obvious reasons).
I promised you lasers, as I recall.
*I now suspect that this was all some kind of cunning revenge plan, since the robot always gravitated towards my ankles, plaintively bumping into me and whirring frantically as its under-whiskers tickled my bare skin. SUSPICIOUS.
Felicity Banks 