Vingt-et-unième mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise

I have recently been reminded of how precious and fragile this life is, and it makes me all the more thankful for you, and for the chance I have to write these letters to you. You have been a wonderful distraction while I mourn a friend, wiping away my tears and helping me to laugh again.

You seem to have shot up in size once more, I just noticed today how your legs seem to dangle from your highchair as if they should belong to a much older child. I could spend my whole life (and indeed I plan to) studying the different expressions your face can make. Every once in a while I catch you making a face that gives me a glimpse of the young woman you will become and it makes me equal parts ecstatic and scared poopless.

You are starting to build proper relationships with your little friends - calling them by name, shouting No! No! No! at them when they don’t play the way you want to, giving them unprompted hugs to say goodbye. At the moment I can safely say you run with a good crowd. I’m sure all parents worry about their children’s choice in friends - I know first hand how much damage a manipulative friend can cause - but if your early choices in mates is anything to go by, your Father and I will have nothing to worry about (ha!).

Some changes are going to happen around here soon, and it breaks my heart that I can’t sit you down and explain it all to you, that instead one day you’ll just see less of me and you’ll wonder why. To make the most of our time together before I become a full-time working mother, I took you out on a date, just me and you. You were an absolute star and I couldn’t have had a better time. In homage to your namesake we spent the night at the (Park) Plaza in Nottingham (the Presidential Suite Daaahling). We rode up and down the elevators and ordered roomservice with giant linen napkins wrapped around our necks. We went shopping and went out for lunch where all the grandparents sitting around us commented on how well behaved you were. We walked around the castle grounds, chasing squirrels with security guards and playing with little boys in school uniforms. In the morning we had coffee and milk in bed while reading the paper, then went down stairs for breakfast where the hotel staff fawned all over you. We went to the Museum of Nottingham Life and had the whole museum to ourselves, playing with dolls, opening kitchen drawers and walking through caves. I think my favorite moment was buying a copy of Vanity Fair for me and a jug of milk for you and watching you walk down Maid Marion Way carrying your milk and weaving in and out of the people trying to get home from work.

I feel so fortunate to bear such close witness to the person you are becoming, to see you stand taller and taller as you make your own path through the crowds.

Je t'aime.

Maman (Mummy) (Mama)

Mothering style in 1000 words

This picture perfectly demonstrates my parenting style. There's clutter. There's a "cubby" where I apparently think it is appropriate to store bubbles and booze. There's a pile of recycling that only needs to be taken a few feet outside but still hasn't made it out there. My kid is wearing a cardigan with her name tag on from a song class she had been to a few days prior. Her hair looks like Pebbles from the Flintstones because some days I feel like making her (and me) look spruced up but I'm not actually that good at it (though far better than her Father). She has apricot jam on her face but she's also eating homemade spelt bread and local honey. And the person taking this picture is a little bit tired and a lot happy.

Mummy Eloise

Ah, remember the early days of being a mother to an infant?

Having to carry your baby with you everywhere.

You could barely find time to feed yourself, let alone keep your eyes open while doing it.

Having to constantly help prop their heads up.

And don't get me started on how old and tired it made you feel.

Vingtieme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise -

20 months old. In 4 months you will be 2. T-W-O. Today for the first time you demonstrated an understanding of counting. One. Two. Three. Four. You said. I followed with five and we were able to confirm that you did indeed have five fingers on your right hand and five toes on your left foot. You need to slow this growing up thing right down.

You are certainly a mummy's girl at the moment. Calling for me in the night when you wake.

Smothering me in the morning when we drag you into bed with us, letting your father sleep peacefully as you jam your elbow into my clavicle and fingers into my eye saying “awww, Mummy, Cuddle”. Though we have discovered that you would probably be more affectionate with your father if he didn’t have that prickly beard. You’ll very happily kiss him through the shower door, or kiss his hand when he covers his mouth. But every once in awhile you plant one on your daddy despite the beard, and it is an adorable sight to see.

You know it is going to hurt, but you’ve gone too long without kissing him and pain or no pain, you’re going to give your daddy a bisous. Then you touch your mouth, say ça pique and laugh. Ah the sacrifices we make in order to love the men in our lives.

We had parents night at your nursery a few weeks ago (which made me feel insanely old) and we’re pleasantly surprised by the feedback about you. The reserved, observant little girl who clings to her mother for twenty minutes before deciding she wants to join in is the girl who immediately makes friends with the new kid. The child who makes her parents run around the kitchen trying to find something she’ll actually eat has 2 helpings of lunch. The girl who will often make her mother spend over an hour trying to get you to take a nap is known as the best napper in the nursery.

The other day I dropped you off at nursery and we were greeted by three of your little friends, running over to see you shouting Ewoweeze! Weeze! Weeze! Ewoweeze! I am becoming increasingly aware that you are your own person, a real individual. And nothing brings that idea home more than seeing a room full of your cohorts call out your name.

You are more accurate, more deliberate than last month. Your dance moves are more precise. You can pick out songs on the radio and sing along. Your vocabulary is ever expanding. Some of your recent additions that I’ve really enjoyed are “pretty” (especially when said about me) “honey” “knock knock” and “jackass”. You can blame Grandma for that last one.

After you're in bed for the night, your father and I can catch up on our day, immerse ourselves in various time-sucks on the tinternet, cuddle on the couch with a glass of wine and a film. And for a brief moment, if feels like it's just the two of us, back to the early days of our relationship. And then I walk upstairs and see your bedroom door, hear the faint snores coming from your room and my heart swells with the knowledge that we are not alone. That our daughter is lying in her bed, surrounded by stuffed bunnies and dreams of stray cats and cuddles and messy adventures to be had. And in those moments I am reminded that becoming your mother was the best damn thing that ever happened to me.

Je t'aime.

Maman (Mummy)

Dix-neuvieme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise -

These letters to you all read a little more saccharine than our lives are in reality. This is mainly due to the fact that I write these letters when you are asleep and all I can remember when I look back on the last month is what an incredible, fascinating, curious, loving and clever little child you are. But certainly there are moments when we test each other. I can’t say it’s all roses. You are trying to be more and more independent, which I applaud, but sometimes your independent streaks are either ill timed, inconvenient or down right dangerous. So we disagree on many subjects throughout the day. You insist on drinking from your cup without the lid on it. Which normally I let you do (hey practice makes perfect, and I love the way you say “gentle gentle” before taking a sip) but when we’re already on outfit number 5 due to you forgetting that your cup doesn’t have a lid, I’m a little less patient. Or you insist on walking instead of riding in your pushchair - which again, I usually let you do, but when we’ve got 20 minutes to get to where we need to be and not an entire hour, I need to just strap you in and do my best to explain and then ignore your complaints. Or most of all when we are walking and you decide you are just too cool to be seen holding mummy’s hand and I have to explain for the 10th time in as many minutes that you either hold mummy’s hand or you get in the pushchair because there are cars and it’s dangerous and you are too young to realise that holding your mother’s hand is lame.

But your independence has also been a wonderful thing to witness. Brushing your teeth on your own. Attempting to carry the heavy wooden foot stool you stand on to reach the sink back to its place on the bathroom cupboard every night. Having a say in what you want to wear that day (some days you are quite picky I have to say - but I always love your final decision).





While pregnant I remember sitting in the pub (drinking apple juice and soda water - looks just like lager!) and talking with your Father and Godfather about what type of personality we hoped you’d have. I was thinking a confident and loud little girl would be great, mainly because I was an overly sensitive child and I remember how painful it could be some times and perhaps with a extroverted child some of that pain could be avoided. Your father and Godfather said they pictured you being quiet and reserved, which in the presence of strangers you very much are. It took some adjustment on my part to accept that anyone who meets you for the first time will not see the affectionate, smart, funny little toddler you are at home, but now I love that reserved quality in you. I love to watch you sit back and observe your new surroundings and then see you slowly show a bit more of your self as you start to trust the people around you. It may take you a while for you to let them into your world, but as your Grandmother said, man is it worth the wait when you do.

I count my lucky stars every single day that I am one of them.

Je t’aime

Maman




PS. These letters are getting harder and harder to post on time, thanks to you my deliciously adorable time suck.

And we're the three best friends...

Now that Eloise can hug and kiss back, as opposed to the first months of her life where she had to politely tolerate daily overdoses of parental love, I am amazed at how intimate the relationship between parent and child is. How affectionate and loving. A lot of times The Frenchman and I will ask for a kiss or a cuddle from Eloise, and half of the time she will very happily oblige, the other half she is far too busy discovering a congregation of dust bunnies or getting her head stuck in kitchen cupboards to bother with silly things like hugs. And then there are the few moments that Eloise will show affection unprompted, and oh goodness me! I am tearing up just thinking about it. These moments, make up for every sleepless night and every sleepless night to come. When she sits on my lap, listening to a story and in the middle turns her head and kisses my cheek, smiles, then goes back to listening to the story it takes a mountain of strength to not break into a million cherished little pieces at the blessings that kiss brings me.

We are a much more cuddly family than I expected. The Frenchman and I are not a very affectionate couple - I wouldn't say we're unaffectionate but we're certainly not the constant hand holding butt grabbing types. But Eloise certainly brings it out in us. Many a night after Eloise's bath, we go through our little ritual of putting cream on her skin and holding her close and getting her pyjamas on. And on most nights the three of us will somehow end in a three way embrace, smooshing each other close, kissing each other's cheeks, Eloise making sure Mummy and Daddy are kissing enough by pushing our heads together. And yes, some nights we even find ourselves bouncing up and down in embrace, singing that little song from The Hangover.

And we're the three best friends that anyone could ever have...

Hair Cut

We trimmed Eloise's bangs/fringe for the first time. She sat in my lap while the Frenchman snipped away. And no I didn't cry, but yes, I thought about it. She's turning into a little girl!

Here we are showing off our hair cuts. Or is that hair Cutes...? Oh YEAH!