Wednesday, 7 July 2010

Grace and Daisy

So Grace is just over two and a half, Daisy boo is almost a month old, and I am very tired.

It's so tiring, for example, to remember both girls, car seats, sun cream, change bags, sunhats, nappies, food and drinks for Grace, keys, phone, wipes and wallet when I go out, that I end up forgetting things like the bags of Tesco shopping I have just bought.

I was so absorbed with the generation conveyor belt going round my head (girls, two = check, wallet = check, car keys = check) that I did not even hear the shop assistant shouting at me and waving my groceries.

It's so tiring, for example, to dress Grace, then Daisy, then Grace again because she has taken all her clothes off and done a poo on the floor....then Daisy again because she has done a poo too and it's gone everywhere... then Grace again because she has taken her clothes off again and is sitting in the paddling pool.... then get Daisy in her car seat........then chase Grace round the garden to get her in her car seat.......get halfway to nursery, realise I have forgotten Grace's lunch.

I often forget to get dressed and arrive places with no shoes on, or one of Grace's hairclips in and no breast pads ("nickle pants" as Grace calls them) in so I am leaking all over the place.

Grace helps where she can. She tries to feed Daisy for me, which is lovely except babies can't eat skips.

She tucks her in when she sees she has no cover on, which is lovely but she puts it over Daisy's face. She gives her kisses and cuddles when Daisy looks sad, which is lovely but she leans on her very heavily whilst doing so and makes her cry even more. She pushes Daisy in the buggy when we go out, which is lovely but means Daisy gets wheeled into bins and benches and piles of dog poo alot.

Luckily Daisy is the sweetest, calmest, most contented baby in the whole world ever and so never makes a fuss. She has not even cried yet. She just sleeps and feeds and looks at me intently with her serious little face. She is so quiet we almost forget we have her, and we forgot her name alot to start with too. Grace kept calling her "the little girl" and James and I called her "um, the lovely baby".

Grace has turned into a comic however. In the last week she has come out with the following:

"Dad, babies are a bit boring aren't they"

" I am not (kicking the table, drawing on the wall, trying to catch the fish in the fish tank, stamping in a puddle of wee), I am just flapping my fairy wings"

"Knock knock, who is there? Daddy, Daddy who? Daddy is a silly goose"

It's slightly more peaceful on the days Grace is at nursery and it's just Daisy and me. We go to a mum and baby morning in the village which is lovely but full of first time mums who fret too much. I see them wrestling with a thermos of hot water to heat up organic fruit and veg they have spent hours peeling and steaming and pureeing and freezing and I think "Just buy an Ella squeezie and let them suck it out the packet".

After the group we all sit under a tree in Kipling gardens and have lunch together and tut at how forward the seagulls are whilst secretly checking out one another's buggies and post-baby weight.

Daisy and I sometimes go to the local cafe for a cup of tea (and depending on how stressful the nursery run was, a slice of lemon cake).

I like to go when the women from the church meet for coffee and listen to them say very uncharitable things about the other women from the church who are not there. I don't know who poor old Beryl is, but she got a right slagging off last week. Everything from her flower arranging to her shoes got discussed. What I love about old people is that inbetween the disecting and dissing of Beryl one of them was always telling the rest how old they were "I'm 81 you know, I'm 81. "

I got Grace's old baby clothes out for Daisy to wear. Grace fell upon them at once and tried to put them on, then had a tantrum when they did not fit. Then I got Grace's old soft toys down from the loft for Daisy to play with and Grace collected them all up and put them in her bedroom "to keep them safe".

I keep trying, and failing to fit into my pre-pregnancy clothes and then I have a tantrum - Grace style. I know I only gave birth three and a half weeks ago, but I want to be back to normal now please. I am going to start swimming next week, but before doing so I need to get a new costume. The mere thought of looking at myself in tight lycra under the glare of changing room spotlights appeals to me about as much as giving birth again does.

I am going to smuggle Daisy into the cinema to see the latest Twilight film, Eclipse next week. She is so quiet no one will ever hear her over all the screams and (animated) wolf whistles.

I am so excited. James is disgusted and has gone back to doing internet research on R-Patz to try and put me off him. He will HATE that I just referred to him at R-Patz too.

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