THIS is a post from the archives. However, it’s a question Princess Ella still asks now, so I thought it might give you all a giggle.
‘’MUM, can we take Holly back and get a boy one?’’
When Princess Ella uttered these words last week, my body went stiff, like someone had jabbed me with the oxytocin needle again to expel the placenta.
My answer? No way.
It’s not because of all the months of chasing my husband around the bedroom like a cheetah chases a limping gazelle (yes, remember that scene from the Mum’s The Word column?).
Nor because of the spewing in those early months of being up the duff, that reminds me of how I used to spend New Year’s Eve.
It also has nothing to do with feeling like an ant pushing out an elephant at the final hurdle. OK, so maybe it has just a little something to do with that last bit.
No, the real reason is I’m quite partial to pink. Or, more correctly, I’ve got no idea how you go about dealing with boy bits. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’ve been preggers twice, so I must have some idea.
Princess Ella, on the other hand, seems to have a real fascination with ‘’scoody doodies’’ – her term, not ours. Apparently her friend Harry at child care has a scoody doodie.
‘’But he’s only got a little scoody doodie,’’ she says. Note: Harry is not his real name in fear of bruising the pride of his father.
For the record, girls, it’s been determined, have ‘’front bottoms’’. Oh, how boring. We’ve already got one bottom. No wonder she wants a brother.
So, what about you? Are you more partial to pink or blue? And what names have your children given their (usually not so) private bits?
ALTHOUGH I posted about having a faeces of a week, I actually do have a few things to be grateful for:
Unicorn birthday wishes: Yet another inspiring conversation with Princess Ella this week: Ella: “Mum, can I have a unicorn for my birthday?’’ Me: “And where would we buy one of those?’’ Ella: “From a unicorn shop, silly. They have lots of different sorts of unicorns there.’’ Me: “ Thanks. That’s good to know.’’ I am now on the hunt for the unicorn shop. If you have directions, please pass them on.
111 people are talking about my Facebook page: I’ll admit, I had no idea what “111 people are talking about this’’ meant when I saw it tucked under my Facebook profile banner. Exactly what is the “this’’ they’re talking about? I thought I should ask someone. That “someone’’ was Facebook people. And they had an answer. Apparently they’re not ALL talking about me, some are just clicking the “share’’ or “like’’ button – lazy, I say, darn lazy – but none-the-less, I’m in 111 people’s minds this week. Scary.
Birthday presents: Holly doesn’t fully understand that while it was her first birthday on Monday, it was Ella who opened all her presents. I’m sure this will be a different scenario in 12 months time. But let’s not go there just yet. For now, let her bask in the glory of her li’l mountain of wrapping paper. Which was actually Christmas paper, but let’s not go there either.
I’m joining with Maxabella Loves to share what I’m grateful for.
Having control over my own uterus: This is the conversation I had with Ella this week: Ella: “Mum, can we have a brother?’’. Me: “No, darling, you struggle to look after your sister, let alone having a brother.’’ Ella: “Pleeeeeease, I’ll look after Holly more. I promise.’’ Me: “No darling, unfortunately we can’t’’. Ella: “Ooooohhhh, but I waaaant a brother. I will be very sad.’’ She then starts crying. Real tears. As I said. I’m grateful I have control over my own uterus. We are not getting a brother. (PS. A long conversation ensued after this).
Going to Melbourne: After deciding we wouldn’t have any more trips to the big island this year, a bloggy trip for me, cheap flights and constant pestering from Princess Ella to see her uncle somehow swayed us. Within 10 minutes of the idea. So… woohoo! Any suggestions on what to do are most welcome.
Dora: Did I really just say Dora? Yes, I believe I did. She entertained Princess Ella for an hour and a half this afternoon, with all her over-sized friends, extremely daggy backdrops and irritatingly high-pitched singing voice. And I’m grateful for “who I know’’ not “what I know’’. Having booked tickets so late Ella and I weren’t even meant to be sitting in the same row, because of my past as a music journo we got the entire VIP row near the front of the theatre BY OURSELVES. Although, I might add, the downside of being up front is choking on the contents of the smoke machine.
“Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooo,’’ she said. I know you haven’t lived as a father until you have been booed relentlessly by your own three-year-old daughter.
She wasn’t mucking around either. “Boooooooooooooooooooo,’’ said Princess Ella in the back seat of the car. The boos were loud and continuous and in fact lasted from the time I picked her up from childcare till the time we went up the driveway at home. I’m not even exactly sure where she learned to boo.
Okay, explanation. Ella had been looking forward to her little sister, Baby Holly, spending some time with her at childcare. You see, as Holly’s nearly one, we’re slowly introducing her to childcare with an eventual view to her spending at least one day a week there.
Doing my bit, I dropped Ella off at childcare in the morning and travelled to my workplace in another city, while Princess Kel was to take Holly in later. Hours later I got a call from a frantic Kel, who’d been searching the house high and low for her car keys, only to then discover I’d taken both sets with me inadvertently.
A decision was made and due to my work commitments, Holly would not be going into childcare that day and was housebound. Needless to say, Ella was less than impressed when I explained to her what had happened on picking her up from childcare. “Booooooooooooooooooooooo,’’ she said. Yep, dad was in the poo with both mother and daughter.
Ella is immensely proud of her sister and loves to show her off to her friends at childcare and she was clearly upset dad had ruined her chance at gloating. Therefore, I know I deserved the “boooooooooooooooooo’’. Oh well, I know it probably won’t be the last time I deserve it.
Have you ever been booed by your children? Or worse?
IF YOU stalk me on Twitter or Facebook you will know Baby Holly did something pretty special on Sunday night. I’m talking Bruce McAvaney “speeeeecial’’. Sorry, but it is AFL grand final week. Baby Holly managed to sleep an entire 10 hours. Ten.straight.hours. If you were here right now I’d be going the full-on chest bump. Although, beware: the two girls do leak.
The one downside was at 3.30am when she stirred slightly, I remained awake until she finally rose at 4.50am. I know, not exactly my idea of a good time to start the day but, after 10 hours straight, I’m not complaining… yet.
At 3.30am, I got up and did a whizzer, had a drink and then snuggled back up to The Bloke in The Shed. Sure, his loud breathing and occasional snort didn’t help, but I just couldn’t escape back into that dream where George Clooney and his pig move in. Yes, highly unrealistic. His pig’s dead.
Sleep eventually returned after Princess Ella finally learnt that midnight disco parties aren’t fun after a year of them, so I know it won’t be forever. I just can’t remember how long it took or whether there were any tips to fast-track my way to sleep.
If you know the answer, please do tell.
PS. I’m writing this last night, so I have my fingers crossed I haven’t just jinxed myself and get up to her three times during the night – as per usual.
PPS. Daylight savings starts this weekend, so now is a good time to start getting the kids to bed 15 minutes earlier each night. Then, by the weekend, they’ll be well adjusted. And 4.50am will be a more respectable 5.50am!
THE O’Briens decided to make the most of the beautiful spring weather yesterday and headed out for a picnic and bike ride. To be honest, when it rains nine months of the year and drips off the trees the other three, it doesn’t take much to convince Taswegians it’s shorts and t-shirt weather.
We headed off to the Bluff (a playground and sheltered family beach area). Princess Ella held my hand, while The Bloke in The Shed cuddled Baby Holly as we searched for a spot to throw down our fetching brown and yellow picnic rug. We’re relishing these moments, knowing in the future they’ll much prefer to walk five feet in front of us and wouldn’t dare sit on “that ugly thing’’.
Mmm, nice shot of me!
Once we’d all filled our tummies – that included the seagulls Ella decided to feed half her sandwich to – we set off for a bike ride to the lighthouse. Ella walked up to the door and knocked on it, in the hope someone might come and answer.
She was impressed to hear I’d climbed “100 stairs’’ to reach its top. OK, so I made it sound rather romantic, when in reality it was hot and claustrophobic up there. We then walked, hand in hand, around the base of the lighthouse so she could see how wide it was.
Walking around the lighthouse with Ella
No bike ride is complete without a little crash, which thankfully this time only required a bit of patting on the knee and a kiss. The rest of the trek was fairly uneventful, if you don’t count Ella making us stop at the soundshell so she could perform a concert. If it wasn’t for the hair, you would have sworn she was Dolly Parton. Well, sort of.
We ended the day with Holly’s first swim at a private pool. After seeing her earlier with that face – the one of full concentration – there was some trepidation about the swim on my part. I had fears the pool would end up featuring more than just the floaties that were attached to her arms.
Baby Holly and I swimming… ah, I mean, posing.
Snuggled up to her, we were barely five minutes into our swim when I lost my footing in the deep end and dunked her under, resulting in her drinking half the pool. At 150cms tall, it’s not hard for me to be in the deep end. She then held onto me with a vice-like grip – and me to her. Or maybe it was just the fact she missed out on her usual afternoon top up from the milk tankers. Although, there was no way she was getting a pre-swim drink. Apparently, regurgitated boobie juice is like confetti in a pool.
Half an hour later, she gained a little more confidence and was happy to go to The Bloke in The Shed for cuddles and a swim, while Ella showered me in kisses while inadvertently pulling me under. Holly’s scared shivers and little frown were replaced with laughter and splashing as they trailed along behind Ella and I who, I might add, kept leaving bright green patches for her sister to swim through.
A more confident Baby Holly and The Bloke in The Shed
After the usual cuddles andbedtime kisses after their big day, the day ended just as I was about to finish this post last night with Ella experiencing a night terror for the first time since that last episode. Thankfully, some soothing words, stroking of her hair and kiss on her forehead she was back in the land of nod.
What little acts of affection have you shown your cherubs today?
Linking up with Naomi from Seven Cherubs for the final in the Cherish Your Cherubs series.
