Long Overdue on Memories

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That is Sweetpea’s contribution to this entry- and a mighty fine contribution it is. My only snarl at her is that she was doing it whilst I was out of the room. I will tear her limb from limb if she breaks my new computer, cheeky little bugger. She knows she isn’t allowed to touch the computer but she couldn’t help herself. Note to self: if you have another child, do not teach them to open doors to get into rooms by themselves, in fact, do not teach them anything. Let them lie quietly in a corner and only move when I move them! (How Fraudian is this, I typed “l”ove instead of “m”ove?)


The past week I had a stomach bug from hell, and better yet, the Matriach and my aunt had it at the same time. Seriously, as I hugged my big green bucket and hurled yet again, I thought that the pain in my gut I felt in labour was easier than what I was going through; the throwing up continued for 12 hours – a very long time, and I never throw up. I can be nauseated to all hell, but I never throw up. I started throwing up at 5am and I couldn’t hold water down until around 10:45pm. Now I’ve been sick and still had to look after Sweetpea before, but Tuesday was one out of the box. I lay in bed and hoped that I would die. I didn’t even really know what Sweetpea was getting up to – but I found out the day after. Whilst I was wishing my life away, Sweetpea was pulling out every item of clothing from her drawers, she was opening tubes of shoe polish and squeezing them over everything, she was pulling books apart, she was a nightmare. Lordy, I wanted to die on Tuesday, but I'm pretty sure it was Sweetpea who wanted to die on Wednesday, each and every time I discovered a new mess to clear up. Now I was still pretty iffy with my tummy on Wednesday, but the Matriarch and aunt were chowing down on KFC Wednesday night. I could hardly keep an apple down, and they were hoeing into burgers and wraps and chips and gaaaaag. Just the smell was enough to send me scurrying back to my big green bucket! It wasn’t until Saturday that I woke up and thought ‘Hey! I think I feel better!” Trust me when I tell you that you DONT want to catch the tummy bug that is going around. If you hear people saying anything about it, run away- fast!


But in the midst of dying on Tuesday something pretty amazing happened. Sweetpea was lying next to me and pointed to a photo I have of her on the wall. Then she pointed to herself and said “Seetpea”. She has started saying her name. OK. This might not sound like a big deal to you, but to me, it was magical. Its not that she doesn’t know her own name, but to hear her say it, “Seetpea” sent sighs of happiness all over me. She is starting to give me three word sentences now, her favourites being “I got it!” and “Mummy do it!” and the good old standby of “Me do!” can be heard all over the house still. She climbs into the bathtub and she can clamber up on the toilet to do peescor all by herself. I'm pretty sure that by summer she is going to be out of nappies.... yippie! She still snuggled up against me as she falls asleep at night and in the morning she will wiggle into my arms and suck on a bottle of milk contentedly. Yes, I know I should have broken her of the bottle by now, but she just loves it so, and I swear that if I take the bottles away she refuses to drink for the day. If I have the bottles around, she will drink out of cups, but take the bottles away, and wham! No drinkies for missy. And I figure that soon enough she will make the connection herself (like she has with the whole toilet training deal) that she doesn’t want to drink out of a bottle and that will be it. No more baby.


And speaking of no more baby, as Sweetpea sits on the toilet she has had ample time to really study my pink stripe of hair, to the point she was asking constantly “Pink please” as she pointed to her hair. So now guess whose child has her own stripe of pink? Of course,(leave out the O and you get curse) my mother was outraged and said that I was mad and a bad mother and that for someone who was so afraid of having her child snatched at the mall I was making her a prime target. By having pink hair? Yes, because that proves that I don’t take notice of my child and keep my eyes on her. I'm too worried about pink hair. “Yeah right, bullshite mother. “

Sweetpea, for the record, is very proud of her pink hair. And no, there was no bleach involved, what do you take me for? A bad mother?