Sunday, 30 May 2010

She'll be here all night ladies and gentlemen

Occasionally the Frenchman and I worry about Eloise's development - as I'm sure all parents do. She's not able to get into a sitting position on her own, she mews like a kitten with a sprained ankle when in crawling position instead of actually going anywhere, and she needs to be bribed to attempt cruising.

This picture has nothing to do with this post. But oh the cuteness!

But then she'll surprise us. Like the other day she did the sign for milk and home. In context. Like "Hi Mama. Whip that boob out cause I need to get my milk on" context. Or today. She was eating dinner while skyping with her French grandparents. She was drinking out of her sippy cup when the force of her sucking combined with her removing her mouth from the spout caused the cup to squirt her in the eye. We all laughed. Then she laughed. Then she worked out how to make the cup squirt her again so we would all continue laughing at her.

Friday, 21 May 2010

Passing on my fear of spiders? Check.

Wanna make a 10-month old laugh hysterically? Find a giant hairy spider in the bottom of the laundry basket and do the "MotherCRAP that thing is HUGE and FAST and the Man is in the shower and OHMYGOD is it on me? Is it on me? Throw it out the window without it touching me EEEEEK" Dance and you will have a squealing little baby sadistically laughing at her mother's totally RATIONAL fear. Seriously that thing was massive. And MEAN. I could hear it laughing along with Eloise as it fell out the window.

Up until now I've tried to be really calm about spiders in front of Eloise - no need to turn her into an arachnophobe - plus, if I didn't pass on this fear then when she got older I could ask her to dispose of giant house spiders. Damn thing attacked me before I could remember to keep my cool in front of her.

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

Dixeme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise -

This past month you are on the cusp of so many things. You say ‘yeah’ and ‘hi’ and ‘mama’ and ‘dada’ but not yet on purpose. I can see the little cogs in your brain trying to make the connection to this milk jug woman who keeps referring to herself as Mama and the Mamamaaamaaamaaa sound that comes out of your mouth.

You’re thinking about crawling, but not yet convinced it’s necessary. You can scoot backwards, roll this way and that, pull yourself around on whatever clutter is lying around the house (you’re welcome) – so basically you can get to where you need to be without the crawling.

Tooth number 3 reared its ugly head the other week and you were not a happy bunny.
It’s your first top tooth, second or third next to the middle. The same tooth on the left side is almost about to break the skin, so you’ll be rocking the fang look soon. Which will suit you perfectly because you’ve turned into a rabid animal. When I attempt to put you to bed you often try and eat my face, gnawing on my chin or sucking my entire cheek into your mouth. It’s like you’re trying to consume me. And I tell you kid, as much I want you to go to sleep, it’s really hard not to laugh when you press your little face next to mine, your eyes and mouth wide open trying to get whatever piece of me you can.

I love how we’re able to joke around with you. Your sense of humor is expanding every day. Daddy wearing one of your hats, Daddy making your stuffed dog attack you, Mama playing hide and seek behind the drying laundry – even your little baby friends make you laugh with their silly noises and movements.

When your teeth aren’t bothering you, you are an absolute delight to be with. You laugh and clap and wave and dance. I have to fight the urge to constantly cup you little face in my hands, squish your cheeks together and smother you with kisses. When your teeth are bothering you though, you sit and scrunch up your face and complain and grizzle – giving me a great glimpse of the surly teenager you will become.

You got personality kid. When you’re not happy you let us know. You know what you like and you’re not afraid to do what it takes to get it. And I might be eating my words when this determined personality meets puberty, but I couldn’t be happier at the opinionated little madame you are turning into.

Your father on the other hand has got his work cut out for him with the two of us around.

Je t’aime


Wednesday, 12 May 2010

Eloise learns to write - by whatever means necessary.

Lordy. Where I have been? I guess teething, sleepless nights, work stuff, highly enjoyable visits from friends, sinus infections, stomach bugs, more teething have all kept me from having the energy at the end of the day when Eloise is asleep to do anything other than cook dinner and turn into a zombie with The Frenchman in front of the telly.

Eloise is getting more and more mobile. Not quite crawling - a bit of a backwards shuffle - but she climbs on people and pulls herself up. Of course with this new mobility comes more accidents. She hits her head on all sorts of things these days. Kid has a got a very high pain threshold though, and rarely cries. It wasn't until this morning that I realized that this high pain threshold can have negative consequences.

As is our usual routine in the morning, if Eloise wakes up before 7am (which is always), we bring her into bed with us (if she's not there already) and I let her nurse while we sleep a little more. When she's done, I sit her up, give a book or toy, and try and sleep a little longer. This morning while The Frenchman was taking a shower, Eloise was sitting up, reading Handa's Surprise with a stuffed squirrel next to her while I tried to get a little more shut-eye. Periodically I would open one eye and help her turn a page or make the squirrel dance and then quickly fall back asleep. She happily babbles away looking at the pictures of Handa and the animals in Africa eating fruit. The next time I open one eye I notice something red on her hands and the book. I quickly sit up and I see that Eloise has a rather large paper cut on her finger and is smearing blood all over the book and her face as she tries to turn the page herself. She didn't cry at all. How am I supposed to keep her in one piece if she won't even let me know when she's bleeding?

After I took her to the nurse to make sure the cut was ok (it bled for quite awhile) and dropped her off at school I went back home to clean up the carnage. This is her book:

Just in case there was any confusion as to who this copy of Handa's Surprise belongs to, my daughter has signed her name in blood.

While I was sleeping next to her.