My little sprite, currently demonstrating an ineffable joy for jumping – not exclusively in a hazardous manner – from any height she deems suitable.
PB wasn't completely comfortable with this outfit, a demonstration of all things he believes his daughter not to be.
(That's apple juice, not wee).
Unbeknownst to me, while I was recently hailing the OSG's they were silently sending a couple more gems my way. This post is – in part – to brag but more so to document. Because if I didn't see it with my own eyes I would not believe that a trifector like this could be had in one week.
Exhibit A: Acupulco cup. A cup I was coveting many months ago on this fine ladies shop however due to exorbitant shipping costs and low bank balance I decided to let it go. My dear friend Jill, op-shopper extraordinaire said not to worry, the Universe will bring me one eventually. And lo and behold it bloody did. 9 dollars at my new favourite local.
Exhibit B: Rug. This mornings' walk back from my coffee with BB I went past a bells-and-whistles garage sale. Balloons and signs and people everywhere. Little tyke was too wriggly for an activity of this calibre so we headed home to rouse PB up from bed and to the park. Upon leaving the house I mentioned the the garage sale and to my sheer shock PB was willing to go. This good-as-new and of decent size Kilim was the first thing I saw as I turned the corner and why it was still there at 9.30am remains a mystery to me. I had to do everything humanly possible to constrain my excitement when the lady told me it was 20 bucks. Definitely only one zero on the end of that two. Oh dear lord.
If I never get anything rad at an op-shop again I will be ok with that.
But now, back to some pretty-pretty.
This year the Op Shop Gods have been kind to me. Thank you OSG's. Last weekend I spotted this in the window of my new local and set a reminder to go in first thing Monday and check the price. I was hoping for 40, prepared for 60, ready to beg husband at 80 and walking away at 100. (100 seems steep but Op Shops aren't cheap these days, and it is a whole set – plates, bowls, mugs, milk jugs, everything – of vintage Noritake.) Ready for it? 35 clams. Later when PB drove to pick it up the nice lady told him she gave me a good price because she likes me and was very happy that I got it. Aaaww shucks.
Speaking of Op Shops I have – finally – gotten around to enlisting my mother-in-law (hi Jane!) for some weekly sewing lessons to put to use mine and Jill's joint vintage fabric collection. This collection spans over 10 decades of heart stopping back-pocket-change purchases and must not sit in a dusty box any longer. Week one I begun a cushion, week two was interrupted with an emergency duvet cover for BB from two sheets (photo a few posts below) and week three saw me complete said cushion, zip and all.
Wikstenmade dress with a 6 dollar duvet cover that is just a little bit too 1986 to actually go on a bed.
* The blue cushion is the one I made. The other one my mother-in-law made earlier in the year. It's a MIL sweat-shop, cups of tea included.
As much as I expected to be getting up during the night, I was definitely not prepared for the exhaustion that follows such shenanigans. After her initial chunk of solid sleep (2-3 hours) little BB stirs continuously for the remainder of the night, every hour almost to the dot. The first two nights are still a blur, as are the days that ensued with me at my possible worst form of parenting. Shout. Cry. Repeat. Perhaps it was bad timing to start this out during the middle of a freelance job (me) canines almost through (her) a demanding work schedule (PB) and gallons of snot (everyone).
So we adjusted our little plan to accommodate the first part of her sleep in her bed and the remainder back in ours. Win/win for everyone and a much gentler way forward.
*For anyone looking closely, photos above are pre chipped teeth.
Tonight – for the first time since her birth – BB is sleeping in her own bed. Although definitely time to make this transition, my heart feels broken. Unfortunately so does my back and since last week, breasts.* A fall resulting in two chipped front teeth has made night time co-sleeping resemble a small vacuum cleaner attached to a cheese grater on my chest.
We have been talking about doing this for months, but it wasn't until this incident gave us a kick up the bum that we finally heaved everything out of the study/junk-room to transform it into her bedroom. It is without a doubt my favourite room in the house, especially considering all the crap that used to be in there is now floating around like a giant obstacle course in the rest of our small apartment.
This photo was actually taken from her daytime nap. I wasn't going to start sleeping her in there until the weekend, but she responded really well to having her own space (Yeoshie!!! Yeoshie!!)** so I thought best not to confuse her why she has her own bed yet she can't use it.
I feel sad that her warm little body won't be snuggled into me, and even sadder that I'm likely to have to get up numerous times in the night – something I've never had to do. Let's see how we go. This is Night Number One.
* I asked PB whether it was appropriate to say breasts on the blog. He suggested I should say titties instead. Not sure about that one.
** It's how she pronounces her name, in regards to her possesions. Mummy's cup. Daddy's cup. Yeoshie's cup!
Recently great attempts have been made in our kitchen. Unfortunately I'm yet to produce any photographic evidence of this claim.
But in all seriousness – I'm trying to make more of an effort with cooking rather than just steaming whatever at the last minute. The above example is an adaptation of Jill's Raspberry and Buckwheat pancakes, which were created like this with the ingredients I had on hand:
1 egg (beaten)
A bit of apple juice (we ran out of milk)
Put it all in a bowl and mix around with a potato masher and whisk. (One utensil for mama and one for toddler).
It may look like scrambled eggs with berries, but in fact it was highly edible. Just remember to season to taste with your own snot.
One morning this week I hopped on a bus into town for a few hours. The eve of my solo adventure saw me experience a mini-meltdown on what activity to select for the next day. Amongst other things it had to be suitable to do early in the morning and avoid peak hour traffic, so many of my top choices were struck out.
PB: Don't make such a big deal of it. Just do something, anything! Enjoy yourself!
Me: Okay I'm going to check out the new Zara.
For the people that shared my bus I must have looked like a deranged lunatic who fell on a box of crayons on the way out the door. In a sea of black suits and tired eyes I stood grinning like the Cheshire Cat and smiling at anyone that caught my eye. Oh look! There's the Opera House! And a big boat!
For the salesgirl at Zara it must have been a similar experience:
Me: How good is Zara?!?!?!
Salesgirl: (polite laugh) Um, yup.
Me: Is it the same stock in Australia as it is overseas?
Me: Wow! Because when I lived in London I never found anything in Zara, but this is like, unreeeeaaaal!
SG: (nervous laugh) Oookay.
Clearly, I don't get out alone much.
Top image: My loot from Zara – beige knit, 2 polkadot tees (25 a pop people!) and rad panda socks.
Bottom image: Socks in-situ and new-to-me pink tsubi jeans. Not a sought after item but for a tenner at Vinnies I couldn't pass them up.
We've been waiting so long to do this – yet it came as no surprise that the excitement lasted for about 10 minutes before she scurried towards a nearby bush to explore.
PB and I have been going gangbusters reading How To Raise Your Spirited Child, as recommended by Em. It's made a huge impact on us and not only shifted our attitude regarding parenting but also our own relationship. If ever a Spirited Child grew into a Spirited Adult, my dear husband is the prime example of one, which – as he suggested to me earlier – explains his ability to manage BB's intense energy with calmness and understanding (and very little of the frustration that I seem to harbor).
But 150 pages into it and I'm feeling a lot more confident in channeling her energy and a lot less shouty in doing it. In addition to the day-to-day (which currently involves a lot of physical wrangling and reprimanding) we are – as the book reminds us – building a relationship. And that's a pretty unreal thing to be doing.