Vingt-troisieme Mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

Eloise -

Man, on your bad days you push me to limits of patience I have never been pushed to before, by far the most challenged I have ever been is during one of your tantrums, but on your good days? There is no one else in this world I would rather hang out with.

Your language is INSANE. All of the sudden you are speaking in sentences, bossy slightly caveman-esque sentences, but sentences none the less. Sit DOWN mummy. Daddy, no sing. Eloise singing. Eloise no like it. Mummy dance. Mummy running. Shhhh,Rabbit sleeping. Thank you Mummy!

And then of course there is the ultimate: I love you!!! ( I loff OOOO)

As these tantrums get more intense, you find a corner and just loose your shit - throwing whatever you can get your hands on, banging whatever surface is within reach, producing strange frustrated sobs, I am becoming aware that while the hard bits get harder, the good bits get AWESOME. To hear you tell your father and I that you love us? Makes the tantrums worth it. Ok, maybe not worth it, but tolerable. Really completely tolerable.

You are becoming less and less Eloise, my baby, and more and more Eloise the Person. Eloise, the half French Amercian born in England. Eloise the little girl who asks for cereal in the morning and ham at night. Eloise who loves Snow White and owls and cats and dogs and Nancy Sinatra's Sugar Town.

And yes, there are moments when I miss Eloise the baby, the little being so dependant on me, but that is eclipsed entirely by the pure elated joy I feel every day at meeting a little bit more of Eloise the person.

You amaze me. Je t'aime.

Mummy, Mommy, Mama, Maman,

Vingt-deuxieme mois avec Mademoiselle Eloise

(Photos to come soon(ish) - still working on this whole job/home/blog balance)

Thank you Eloise. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You have made this transition between stay-at-home mom to “working mom” (starting to hate that term - like what I did with you the past 21 months wasn’t work?) (incredible work by the way - best job ever) so much easier than I thought it would be. And sure it hasn’t been entirely smooth, but I was expecting far worse. I should have given you a bit more credit, for being the adaptable and curious child that you are.

So far you haven’t cried when either your father or I have dropped you off at your nursery (By the way BIG UPS to your Daddy for doing more than his fair share in getting us all to our new jobs on time and back home in one piece each night). You’ve been clingy, which is fine, because let’s face it, I’ve been clingy too. But after you’ve stayed in my arms for a while, wrapping your arms tight around my neck, you take a look around, and I talk about how good the breakfast is going to be and how much fun it looks like your friends are having, and oh! Did you see those jungle animals hanging out and being awesome over there? And then you slowly release your grip and get swallowed up by different loving arms.

You have however had a handful of more difficult nights. It’s like you bottle up all your frustrations at having to deal with this change and save it for when you get home and you can unleash it on the two people you’re closest to. I guess we all do that. But to see you so angry with me was a hard pill to swallow. We’d finally wrestle you into your pyjamas (some nights literally wrestle - 2 against 1 and even then it would take your father and I 10 minutes to get you dressed, you got some moves kid) and then after reading 8 stories I’d turn out the light and hold you while you finished your glass of milk. You would pull my face close to yours, so that our cheeks were pressed up together, and then you’d keep pulling and pulling. Trying to get me even closer. I mean, I would have had to swallow you whole to get any closer. And then you got mad. Mad that we weren’t more together. And you started clawing at my face and hitting me - things I would normally scold you for doing, but this time I just let you do it. Let you get the frustration out of your little body and into the scratches on my face. And then you called out for Daddy and he came to finish putting you to bed while I went into my room and cried.

Luckily we’ve only had a few nights like this. On the whole you’ve been an absolute star and I can see in your social skills and language skills what a great effect nursery is having on you. And I’m really enjoying my new job, it is interesting and challenging and creative and I love that I am pushing myself in different directions. But make no mistake Eloise, the worst fucking part of this job is being away from you.

Je t’aime. Super hard kid.

Mummy

Then these things happened

The in-laws came over for a quick visit and we dyed easter eggs and then went searching for them in the garden wearing a colonial inspired dress from Grandma and Grandpa's trip to Mississippi.

Then Eloise and I had a little day out together in Nottingham, visiting the Contemporary Museum and having a picnic on the market square.

Then we somehow managed to secure a patriotic hat and flag and watched much more of the Royal Wedding than we planned on. But there were horses, and cars, and pretty! So we waved our flag and wished the happy couple all the best.

Then we went to a nearby pub which had chicken and ducks in the garden and were giving away free! tiaras and we ate sausages and "royal" mushy peas with mint sauce.

Two ladies in waiting...

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)