Friday, 16 September 2011

Grace three years nine months, Daisy fifteen months

So this is the last blog I will write about 'just' Grace and Daisy. I am due number three in six days, but we all know the drill by now. I am still going to be pregnant going into October, of this I am sure. Life towards the end of pregnancy is consumed by:
a: Worrying about going into labour
b: Thinking I am going into labour
c: Being very annoyed because I am not/did not go into labour

I am so big that James has to put my pants on for me (and it's SO funny when he picks my old tiny thongs, honest!). So very big that I spend most of my time tripping over shoes, toys and other booby traps the girls leave round the house for me. I am so big, infact, that when I approach James' car it beeps at him to warn him a "wide load" is approaching. Lovely. I spent my 3oth birthday in a size 22 ASDA t-shirt (it was in the sale).

It's a hard time to be so physically disabled - what with Daisy the hound dog. I thought I would be taking it easy at home for the final stretch. Impossible when you have a child whose favourite things to do are:

Empty all the things out the kitchen cupboards
Demand juice which she then sprinkles all over the floor for us both to slip over in
Steal and run off with the wet wipes (to eat)
Change the programme on the washing machine (So charlie cloth is out sooner. She sits in front of the machine for hours saying "dat dat dat dat" and pointing in dismay as her beloved cloth spins round and round before her eyes)
Change the tv programme Grace is watching by pressing all the buttons on the sky console then laughing when it makes Grace cry

The only thing which distracts Daisy is food. Raisins are literally her raison d'etre. She is obsessed with them. There is nothing she would not do for some. All I need to do is sling some out the kitchen when she is driving me mad and for the next five minutes enjoy the peace and quiet (occasionally interrupted by the sound of Daisy joyously discovering a bonus raisin which she squashed under her foot).

Grace was never like this. Grace is just not interested in food. She does love a tic tac however, or 'toe nails' which is her name for polo mints. I never embark on a car journey without dried fruit and mints now. It would be foolhardy to do so.

Of course, all the extra food Daisy consumes means if she is not putting something in one end, she is pushing it out the other. My girl loves doing a poo, then making sure you know she has done one, before running away so you can't catch her...

When I finally manage to get hold of her (after tripping over hairbrushes, toys, charlie cloths, my fat swollen clown feet squashing raisins DEEP into the rug as I do so) she waits until she knows her nappy is half off, and one of my hands is desperately trying to get more than one wipe out at a time... and then she tries to grab the nappy, poo and all and smear it everywhere - and while she does it she has a HUGE daft grin on her face.

How could I have produced such a filthy child? That said Grace is not much better... Excellent at going to the toilet, but thinks life is far too short to wipe bums or flush chains. James and I spend too much time cleaning little girly poo off toilets, floors and fingers.. and soon there will be even more!

Daisy's behaviour does not help my plight to display her as the pretty girl she is. Everywhere I go people comment on my lovely little lad. One of James' colleagues told me (after saying "hello son" to Daisy) that is was my fault she looked like a boy due to the haircut I had given him.
Daisy is sporting every hair she has ever managed to grow. I don't wash her hair so much as pat it with shampoo, in case god forbid any of comes out!!

The thing is, if I do dress her up like a girl - it only serves to make her look more boyish. When we took her to get her feet measured for her first shoes, the lady in the shop bought out a lovely selection of pink sandals with straps and flowers on. We ended up with a brown and white pair, in the style of bowling shoes. They were the only ones which did not make her look ridiculous. How can a 15 month old girl look like a cross-dresser? It makes no sense?!

Grace needed her feet measured too. It did not go quite as smoothly. Ever since we took her to get her jabs done, she has developed a massive phobia of being approached or touched by anyone in a professional setting, especially if they are holding some kind of 'instrument'. In this case, it was the board with a strap, used for measuring feet.. pretty inoffensive one might think,
but Grace was having none of it.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUMMY, NOT THE PINCHERS ( her name for needles) !!" she screamed as James and I tried to cajole her into submission. We finally managed to cram her foot into the measuring strap. (James pinned her down whilst I tossed tic tacs down her throat to silence the screaming.. ) Then, of course, we had the battle over which shoes Grace was allowed. She wanted Lelli Kelly.... no chance. We finally came out with some purple Velcro vans.. a compromise between the three of us. Was all a complete waste of time anyway, as we lost one of them a week later at the swimming pool.

(The most annoying thing about the whole episode was that my lovely friend Fleur gave Grace some blue converse trainers which I loved ... and Grace did not mind wearing either UNTIL, my equally lovely friend Michelle came down with her 80+ nan and Grace noticed she was sporting the same blue converse. Needless to say she point blank refused to be seen in them again!!)

Grace and Daisy are thick as thieves now. Grace drags Daisy round in a headlock, and pushes her off the sofa, onto 'beanbag mountain', both of them giggling in glee. In the mornings Daisy tries to help get Grace ready for nursery by hitting her on the head with a hairbrush and trying to put her shoes on for her. So sweet. When we go upstairs to make the beds, Daisy crawls into Grace's, gets hold of her books and pretends to be her. I am sure if she could talk she would say "Look mummy, who am I, who am I?!"

Sadly, Daisy can only say two things "hiya" (to mean hello OR as a request to be pushed higher when on a swing") or "here you are" but she runs it together to make "heya" (This is used when she passes you a raisin, before snatching it back, eating it herself and then laughing)
She just points and says"dit" or "dat" if she wants anything else. It's very annoying, and a trait Grace has decided to pick up as well... just to annoy me more.

Daisy's favourite book is a horrid book called Not Now Bernard by David Mkee. It's about a poor little boy called Bernard who desperately wants his parents attention and gets completely ignored. For some reason, Daisy LOVES it. You only have to show her the cover and she rolls round giggling, and if you actually say to her (the more or less only line in the book) "Not now Bernard" she gets so beside herself and has to go and find Charlie Cloth for a lie down.

She spends a lot of time (in between posting Grace's toys and James' letters out the cap flap, climbing up the bookcase, getting stuck under the sofa, ripping up my magazines or getting all the tea towels out) laying down on one of the beanbags with her beloved cellular blanket over her head making a noise which goes a bit like "mMMMMMMmmmmMMMmmmm"

Anyway, I think when I go back into employment I am going to be a workman. It seems to involve going to the bakers alot, sitting in a van alot (eating goods from aforementioned bakers), reading the paper and chatting on the phone alot, oh - and changing people's radio stations to BBC Radio 2 and then singing Peter Sarstedt's "Where do you go to my lovely, HA HA HA" VERY loudly when babies and pregnant women are trying to nap.

Poor James would get home from work and have to listen to me ranting about various workmen for hours on end. Of course if James was around it was all very different. They would be all industrious and hard working, but as soon as James left for work it was all "Right said Fred, have a cup of tea : (

But it was all worth it. We finally have a back garden safe for the whole family.. just in time for winter! James is determined to have a BBQ or two first though. He spent most of last night trying to put it together actually... amongst lots of shouting and swearing and claiming it defied logic (Whilst I laughed. He had the last laugh in the end however, and said in the glow of the gorgeous candle Sarah had bought me I looked like a babapappa nightlight - see below pic)

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