I have in my possession 1 x exceptionally broken husband. As in, can't even hardly walk. Back gone ping. Very blimming unhelpful of him (nevermind his pain and suffering). I thought was ok ... ish ... until I went out on Sunday morning, and rang him at about lunch time to say I was on my way home and he was stranded as a stranded thing in bed unable to move. Woops. Probably best not to mention to him that after that phone call I still went on a wee shopping detour (for snuggly trackies for the ever-elongating not so little dude). Ahem.
Anyway, thankfully a Grannie was able to be flown to Auckland at very short notice for an extra set of hands to help with the little dude, who, incidentally, thought that 3am was a marvellous time to wake up on Saturday morning after my post celebrating the sleeping through. I was vowing never to post anything celebratory in relation to him ever again in future because it always seems to come completely undone when I do happy dances about something, but lucky for you lot, he went through last night happy as a clam, so you will continue to hear about his awesomeness when he does something awesome. Like taking a bottle ... I've started Grannie working on it. Watch this space.
We have our next osteo appointment tomorrow and I can't wait - Cuinn is a different kid since last week. As different as a kid gets. I think. Unless he gets even more different after tomorrow and the next one. Either way, life is changing and it's awesome. I just need to find my new feet and routine I think, because today was completely bizarre. Where he'd normally only be able to do an hour awake and then be smashed and grizzly and nightmarish but not wanting to sleep, today he spent 3 hours doing all sorts, including, among other things, sitting in his high chair smashing all manner of things up and down on the kitchen table. Love it! Actually did I get pictures ...?
I may have pictures ...
Hang on ...
Theeeeere we go!
Ooooh and PAFT came today, but I might take a rain-check on telling you about it, other than the vaguely embarrassing moment when our educator told us there's a fire station visit this week, and I got all excited, and she had to gently break it to me that Cuinn was a little bit little yet and maybe next time? Apparently 2 is a more appropriate age for fire station visits. Yeesh. Bollocks to that.
And on that note, I'm smashed into a million tired little pieces and that's about all I can manage tonight (can't even be arsed proofing - apologies for any lack of sense), so I'll leave you with spectacularly fab shot. He spent about 5 minutes playing with his toys with the carrot hanging out his gob. Love it. Love him.
6 comments:
Ooo good on getting Grannie in to help, esp with the bottle thing. I found my mum was really helpful with that (and they do take a bottle better off people that don't have milk coming out of their boobies anyway) - she figured out that M preferred to be sitting upright when he is given the bottle so he can see what's happening in the room lol. Because I went back to uni part-time too, I relaxed after the first half-day in care, as I realised that M wasn't going to starve/dehydrate in the time he was with the carer, and that he could always have a bigger feed off me in the afternoon/evening (which is how it has panned out. He also went thru phases with her, sometimes drinking a full bottle, and sometimes only a little bit. We have our first full day in care tomorrow, so i'll let you know how that goes...
super cute photos, and i bet grannIE is beside herself with all the bonus cuinn time.
excellent idea re bottle. go grannIE!!! andrew managed that with ms A, and she is PERFECT when me and boobs are not in range. i swear, these kids can smell milk at a hundred paces. daycare is the same - piece of CAKE until the mobile boobs turn up.
and yeah, fire stations are perfect for (nearly) two year olds as we discovered in sydney last week . . . trouble is, you can't stay there FOREVER, which is rather tiringly problematic, and much screaming ensued as we dragged her away dwon the street . . . now we have noo na noo na fire fire vroom vroom rattling in our ears on a daily basis.
he looks so gorgeous, really grown up. much older than he actually is!
give al a high five (or a 'fin' and 'noggin' a la nemo) from us. hope he gets unbroken real soon. altho, said grannIE could be carting him meals in bed for a few days, so he should make the most of it.
At least you can't blame Stuie and his Ken-annegans for the broken hubbie this time. Well, you can if you like. Mental image of the wee ginger at the fire station brought a grin to my dial - make sure you keep him close at hand, because with all that red camo he's sporting up top he'll blend in with the trucks and you'll have a helluva job finding him again. I'm just saying...
a word from the WISE:
amelia loves REAL trucks and TOY trucks, as no doubt does cuinn . . . however, we have decided on reflection that we will NEVER EVER EVER LET HER HAVE ONE, and we think that you and al' should also avoid them at all costs - seeing as how they are the kinda kids they are . . .
http://www.stuff.co.nz/world/americas/2596431/Toddler-floats-down-river-on-toy-truck
Hi, I've been popping in for ages, found you through your pal Nikki. I think it's bollocks about being too young for the fire station. We've been going to Playcentre for 15 years. It's for children birth to 6 years and the same oppourtunities are offered to children of all ages. We have found Playcentre of benifit to all our children, offering oppourtunities for learning through play in a mixed age session, messy play, dramatic play and all sorts of different experiences such as trips to the the fire staition, beach, indoor pool, local river, mountain and Marae. Playcentre is a parent run co -operative and offers fantastic oppourtunites for parents and children alike. Xx. Love reading your story.
Post a Comment