You know, I’m in one of those places at the moment where I’m quite besotted with my children. Where I feel like I’m calling the shots in terms of the type of parent I am, rather than just ‘getting by’ and having that sense of a life half lived and every aspect of it half-baked or worse, half-arsed.
But this one, the latest recruit, soon(ish) to become part of a gang created by obi-wan called ‘the middle boys’. This one is taking my breath away. Filling my heart with light and laughter. Jasper = absolute pure joy.
Don’t get me wrong, obi-wan and oscar are doing likewise (they’re playing together at the moment is surreally divine) but I guess it is the infectious newness of the youngest that is getting to me.
In the last two days he has started calling me ‘mama’ consistently. It’s happened on occasion in the past, but for weeks, everything in the whole wide world has been labelled ‘dadda’.
So ‘words’ we’re getting:
uss – for Puss and for fish
The key obsession has kicked in.
As has the penchant for carrying around a bag.
Nothing is more enjoyable than a hand dabble in the toilet bowl.
Even better – dropping things in there such as bars of soap and various toys.
Outside is THE best – it didn’t take too long either to work out how to climb up on to and (almost) off the trampoline.
The dog water is THE best water to drink in the world.
The dog bowls and food must be tipped out all over the back deck at all times.
Getting naked is AWESOME.
This thing between my legs? Weird but fantastic to pull on WHENEVER the opportunity presents itself, even worth a try when fully clothed.
Hippo must be on self or in line of sight at all times.
These normal dinners, and the feeding myself? FANTASTIC. Must.copy.everything.these.two.big.boys.who.are.always.here.do.
The best game? A tie between pulling those CDs off the shelves and scraping CDs on wooden floors and finding an unlocked cupboard and turfing its entire contents.
Sleeping and nigh nigh is great. (can you believe it! one who does what those babies in Huggies ads do – you know, the freakish babies you see being put into a cot with a kiss and then left to go off to sleep, and do so with nary a whimper or screaming fit for hours and hours and hours)
This water thing we keep doing? Where there’s lots of sand or at Nana and Grandpa’s? I’m not so sure, except those.two.big.boys. seem to LOVE it, so it can’t be that bad.
The pottering around. The shoving dogs out of the way. The obsession with the cat. The clearly understanding what we’re saying to him. The signing finished. The climbing.
It is just an absolute blinding ray of sunshine in my world.
I must say, this is actually infectious in terms of the incubating of #4 (who I think is going to be a girl version of Felix) and I am now well and trully leaving the shock, fear and trepidation behind, to look on 2007 as the momentous – and wondrous – year in which our family of five becomes one of six, and that of a little person entering our world to fill it with love and wonder.
Current status: 16 weeks, 24 (or so) to go.
That said, I am currently the size of a backyard shed, which at only 16 weeks is even alarming for myself. The carcass I will be dragging around closer to eta is even beyond my comprehension.
* I must clarify that I’m not one of “those” mothers who uses signing because of its fad status, but because we use it with Oscar and it just flows across all the kids now as is part of our household language.