Terrarium and Garlic
The relief that comes with looking after Just One Kid when you are used to constantly wrangling two? It is great. Small Z went out for the day with M to Phillip Island. Small DB and I noodled. I sensibly abandoned plans to deconstruct our food cupboard and instead napped when she napped (O Joy!)…
We went op-shopping, read books, played on the trampoline, stewed apples, rolled lemons down the slide, discovered that the garlic cloves that Small Z and I planted long ago had, um, garlicked!! M had told me that they hadn’t worked and I was so dumb that I didn’t even check…until today. Woo!
For ages there has been a big jar lying in our garden where I threw it one day because its base is tippy. Today Small DB and I collected pebbles and laid the jar on its side, put a layer of pebbles, a layer of compost and then some little succulents donated by our lovely neighbour…
Today was like a deep breath – much needed after yesterday’s meltdown fest. Having Small DB to myself was very nice – she has just started putting words together, such as ‘bear book’ and ‘mama shoe’. It’s too cute… However, she has also developed ‘STOP!’ even when her ever-doting mother is singing to her – which can be a trifle disconcerting. I think she enjoyed being an only child today, and why not!?
Lost your love of life. Too much apple pie.
Today I walked out the back door and all the way to the bottom of the garden. I was tempted to howl at the sky, but instead stuck my fingers in my ears and lay on the lawn, feet to the fence. I could still hear them screaming from the house. I breathed in and out slowly and counted until I felt that I was not going to combust into a thousand shards of frustration. And went back inside.
Things feel harder than they should be. I am frustrated, tired by the latest teething sleep deprivation, guilty about not writing, not swimming, not stretching. I am stifled by all I feel that I cannot say in these pages – and puzzled as to how those bloggers I love to follow, the ones that let it all hang out, don’t have the same issues or self-censorship…
Today was too hard. I got two hours of work done having already invoiced for six. Thus, I will be trying to squash in ten to twelve hours on Saturday when M is on kid-duty. Fatigue is fragmenting my brain and I am almost incapable of concentrating for more than a few minutes at a time. I did not feel that I would emerge from my pity-party tonight, but M came home while the Smalls were still awake. Did the stories, took the other for walks and got it to sleep. And told me that my favourite mid-1990′s band from Leeds – The Wedding Present – were touring here in April for the first time ever. “You have to go,” he said.
I cast the impenetrable logistics from my head and bought a ticket. I will go. I am going. And today is suddenly brilliantly better.
Eye to Eye
A few weeks ago I took Small Z to the local optometrist. She’s been squishing up her face to read and it was starting to worry us. He examined her eyes and said she should probably have glasses just for reading and that her problem was with the right eye.
He said the situation would right itself with time and the glasses would help her. He then got his assistant to show me their range of kid spectacles – the cheapest frames began at $200. Lenses to go in the frames began at $90.
It seemed a little too slick and easy to me. They stood to make too much money in too little time for me to feel comfortable. Time for a second opinion. I flapped around this morning trying to get the slow cooker underway before leaving for our appointment. Dashed out to the car, got Small Z in there, was about to put Small DB in when I realised that, frankly, she stank.
Raced back inside. Changed her. Stuffed her back in the car. Buckled myself in. Turned the key. The battery was dead. I allowed myself five minutes of deep breathing, inward cursing and outward musing. I called the optometrist and they said if I could make it by around 10am they would fit us in. I called my lovely neighbour, J, in the next street. Yes, she said, I could borrow her car.
I pushed the Smalls in the double pram through rain and hail around the block to her house. Small DB started to scream as I tried to buckle her into the unfamiliar seat (just as she does when I buckle her into her own seat). J raced inside and made her a bottle of milk, and armed with that and some kid-music in the stereo, I drove at a fast clip to Somerville.
The optometrist place was a dream. They were so lovely to us. The optometrist himself saw us almost straightaway. He was older, not very talkative, and appeared very thorough.
He concluded that Small Z’s vision is pretty much fine. Her problem is some irritation under her eyelids from some sort of allergen. He said that it would hopefully improve of its own volition and to put a cold compress over her eyes if it was really bothering her. He added that if it got worse or I continued to be worried about it, they would happily lend me some glasses for her to see if they helped, although he doubted that they would.
I was so comforted by this. Small Z was excellent and loves being asked questions about what she was looking at. She was very cute, sitting up in the big chair with her not-so-little dinosaur. I hope that this guy is right. I have a bit more confidence in him as he regularly tests schoolchildren en masse.
I am still tempted to get her checked out by an ophthalmologist. It’s just that her squished up little face as she reads is heartbreaking – it’s getting more frequent. It’s also worse the longer she reads. He said that was common as kids forget to blink when they are immersed in a story and this aggravates the symptoms further. We shall see what transpires… (Yes – that pun was intentional.)
Giving
I’ve tried this a few times over the past year and caused immediate screaming. Today, with Small Z newly four, I tried again;
“Small Z – look at that toybox. It is totally full of soft toys. So. Many. Toys. You can’t possibly play with everything in there…”
“Yes I can.”
I changed my approach. “Small Z, do you know that there are kids out there that don’t have money to buy lots of STUFF? Lots of toys? Don’t you think it would be so amazing to give them some of the toys that you don’t play with very often so they could have some too?”
I could see the cogs turning in her brain, but was still surprised when she said, “OK, I’ll find some for those kids who need stuff…”
Together we filled a plastic shopping bag with things she was happy to pass on to “kids that don’t have enough stuff”… She was so gracious – I was so thrilled! I told her that we would give the bag to her Nana on Thursday and she would take it to the special op-shops where those kids will go… (It was the best I could come up with at the time.) Yay Small Z – you’re evolving so beautifully!
Small Z is F-O-U-R
I suppose that every birthday of Small Z will come as a particular shock to me. It shouldn’t. Time passes, right? But, oh dear, a four-year-old? It somehow sounds so much bigger…
We – and most importantly she, had a lovely day. We were going to go to the beach, but the weather was too windy and cool so we stayed home. I’m so glad – because it was easier for everyone.
Small Z did not want a big party – she had her two small friends from playgroup. Both girls have little sisters, so they came along as well. There was strawberry raspberry jellies, mango icy-poles, pikelets, party-bags, trampolining, billy-carting, big high swings and playdough. It was kind of like playgroup on steroids.
My mum and T came along. We missed SWWNBB and Small Brother. I cracked a bottle of champagne, and we ate some Balnarring bangers, potato salad and cupcakes. It was a good day. Happy Birthday Small Z – big love to you.
(I can already hear her a few years into the future, looking at this, saying, “So what did I get that year? What were my presents? What did you and Dadda give me? I don’t remember…”
Well, future Small Z. From me and your Dad you got a really great bicycle helmet that should last a few years – a Humber of a bicycle helmet – you also got The Incredible Book Eating Boy and The Way Back Home, both by the amazing Oliver Jeffers. You should dig out those books Small Z, they’re gorgeous…)
Before the Four
Back to the Crib Point Pool this morning. M came along and wrangled Smalls while I did my laps. What is WRONG with the people around here? There were about six other people and that was it. Which is all very good for me – I had a lane to myself; but surely there are other people who adore old-school outdoor pools?
My excursion there on my own the other day has given me some confidence to start taking the Smalls to the beach on my own. The beach doesn’t have that diabolical habit of having an edge that a baby can climb over and fall in – it’s a more gradual descent into deep water. I just have to make friends with the new beach tent (having unintentionally – ha – killed the old one) and buy some serious sunscreen… (I keep using the dregs of various languishing tubes).
I sit here thinking – in two days time I’m going to have a FOUR YEAR OLD. WTF? My little tiny Boo? Four? I began school when I was still four. I have proper MEMORIES of being four, so…um…I suppose I should start being more polite to her 
There is no party or any big thing. We are going with her Nana and her two small friends from playgroup to the playground at the beach for two hours. There will be cake and song. And that’s about it for our big production. The pressure, of course, is on M – who keeps upping his cake decorating skills each year. See turning one, two and three…
So far we have had a pussycat and two trains (that train phase was a loooong one). Now there is a request for a dinosaur – but the type of dinosaur seems to change each day. I think M is seriously contemplating actually MAKING a cake this time, rather than buying sponge cakes to decorate. P-r-e-s-s-u-r-e
Meanwhile, I look at my little (still little) almost four-year-old PartyPie and try to hang on to her tight. Four years have been whispered away – some days are long, but the years? They gallop 
Radiolab. My favourite podcast.
This is the kind of thing I like to listen to on Radiolab…
I don’t know why I have an addiction to popular science, but I do. I love the Radiolab podcast – for some reason I can’t just sit and listen (and when would I get to do that anyway?) but I listen sometimes when I can’t sleep or as I walk to the library if I’m working there for the day or if I’m on a *gasp* solo jaunt in the car…
Pooling
Today I fulfilled a long held goal and took the Smalls to the Crib Point Pool – one of the more awesome outdoor pools that I’ve been to. Haven’t been there for a year, but it was just the same. One of the lifeguards there was apologetic…duck had held a party in the toddler pool overnight…
We didn’t care. I had thought Small DB might balk at going in – she slipped in the paddle pool at home and has been wary of the water ever since. However, she loved it. Small Z asked at the office if she could borrow a pool noodle and I dragged her around on that. But oh – Small DB! It’s like having a Jack Russell Terrier. I have to have her by the arm at ALL times, or she runs off and tries to get in the pool herself, or tries to scale brick walls… Small Z finds this hilarious – which is comforting, as she could easily resent that so much of my time is spent trying to stop Small DB from annihilating herself…
Next time I’ll take pictures. The weather here hasn’t broken, but it may do tonight. The heat is on the wane – THANK GOODNESS. And me? My stamina is not great – I need to return to the pool. It’s been a long fortnight away!
