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May 2005
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July 2005

Books and music

Part of Nora's frumpiness is currently the rejection of 99.9% of all of her books as suitable reading matter in the evenings. I have some sympathy, given that well, i wouldn't exactly find re-reading "Slinky Malinki" for the 74th time that exciting.

The only real difficulty being that she's supposed to learn through repetition. She's so bored with everything, she seems to need more and more different stimulation almost constantly.

Hmph. It's a difficult one. Not only from a trying-to-keep-up position, but also knowing that setting up a solution which is "buying Nora more things to do stuff with" isn't really going to work in the long term. So perhaps taking some of her more well loved books away for a while so she can't see them and be reminded of them (ie: "Oh blimey, not The Gruffalo AGAIN good god can't you givev me something else to read?") is a good idea? this does seem to work with toys. It does mean giving her less choice to begin with though, which might cause problems.

Perhaps another trip to the library is in order. "Bedtime Mimi" has definitely run its course now, and it looks like "Farmyard Peepers" and "Splash" are also being rejected.

Meanwhile, the teeny electric piano is hit du jour. this is *fantastic*. she doesn't bash it, but in common with her messing about with my Mum's electric piano a while back, she picks out individual notes very carefully. She's also obsessed with a small book called "How to play the recorder", from which we sing songs whilst pointing out the notes rather than the words. Blowing in to the recorder and laughing her head off is also occurring :)

Yeah yeah, I know. Proud parent type bullshit, but she really enjoys this stuff and crucially... she doesn't appear to be bored by it. Yet! So, I think bringing more musical instrumentation in to the house could be the next mission.

Info porn

Holy moley. simply *shouldn't be allowed*.

I have spent the last two hours searching for things, and I just know I'm taking my laptop home, and cross referencing Libyan Roman ruins sites with the real locations. Damn!!!

I think my brain started to explode before I'd even downloaded the bloody app.

Yes, yes, yes...

The gym worked well enough and good GOD could I tell I hadn't been able to go for 2 1/2 weeks. Quite alot of water in my clothes after 40 minutes cross training (on level 2! how lame, but I thought I'm bump it down to give myself an easier ride back in).

That's quite enough vacuous waffle about gyms. Back to the subject at hand:

Nora didn't eat her tea *again* last night. I think she's temporarily gone off her nicey pasta what I do her every Friday (there was some left over) which is a darned nuisance, frankly. I'm wondering whether to try a completely different tack this Friday and give her a very different meal altogether.

We'll have to see. Lunchtimes are a riot of cheese, tomatoes, serrano / parma ham - she's even been known to eat the odd olive. She's getting in to green beans, she seems to like hoummous in small quantities...

I'll be so glad when she can use a knife and fork and she's a bit older (and we can use our fucking kitchen again). We can all eat together, and she can eat what she's given!

Teeth pain seems to have subsided somewhat, but toddlerdom flumps are definitely here to stay.

...and on a personal note

I don't really talk about my inner life on this diary that much other than in the sense of my experiencing Nora's life vicariously, and those delicious feelings of love that one gets, even after dealing with a flumped out, crying wreck on the floor. (note to non-parents: she's usually laughing again within approx 2 minutes. It's an age thing. No child deprivation going on in this household).

Anyway. Prevarication aside.

I'm a bit too tired and a bit too not-on-top of things, and a bit too depressed at the moment. It's peculiar to deal with, because whilst you don't put on a front, exactly, at home, for Nora, you do have to compartmentalise feelings which are entirely self oriented, and put a bloody big lid on them while dealing with her. She's just a tad too young to deal with "Look, Mummy's having a pretty bad day today". I mean, she can obviously tell when you're not yourself, but there's no point inflicting your general malaise on a small person- who is going through some pretty miserable stuff herself at the moment.

I'm generally speaking pretty good at the storefront bullshit when it comes to dealing with everyone else too, but I can feel it at work. Becoming a tad too disorganised for my own good, really. Buck up, Hurley!

On top of which, I just ate a really horrible sandwich because I forgot my lovely lunch that McK had made me for the 2nd day running. I am officially a bad wife.

As you were! Move on! Nothing to see here!

I may or may not post similarly oblique references to depression in future. Probably not, unless it starts really cocking things up. Having coped with depression since my early teens, I am equipped with an amazing array of personal coping tools. These mostly revolve around: keep yourself really fucking busy, and give yourself lots of small tasks you know you can achieve easily since they boost your ego.

And talking of which, I go to the gym tonight for the first time in a couple of weeks (couldn't go because of McK's marking of exams for ungrateful teenagers), which will do me a lot of good in that a) I get to play with my silly, glammy new gadget (an MP3 player with one of those highly stupid sports armbands - but hey! I deserved a present!) b) I get to do something which will take my mind off everything and make my back feel better and c) I get to pamper myself with a lovely shower, a lovely scratchy pair of exfoliation gloves and a glorious smooth over with delicious smelling "Green People" body lotion. If THAT little lot doesn't give me a boost, then hand me the hard drugs and I'll wave goodbye to sanity.

There you are. Naval gazing and trivial. That's me!

The kid watched TV

In a vain attempt to get her to eat any supper at all, I ended up switching on CBeebies yesterday. With the sound down.


But no eating.


We left it on for a very, very short time but she absolutely loved it. Moving pictures of spiders. *Enormous* spiders. Spiders so big and hairy they competely covered their handler's hand. And for some bizarre reason, a fluffy dog looking at them. Then the dog running away whilst it's human mummy ran after it!

Can you imagine? This is like crack to a baby. also had a lady doing sign language in the corner. Did she learn anything? My arse, she did.

No TV for another 5 months, young lady - supper or no supper!

I will sit on the floor, and I will cry

It doesn't appear to be a virus. It appears to be canine teeth, which are ripping through all of a sudden and very, very miserably.

Sooooo. We've had not eating properly since last Wednesday (oh joy. Why is it always the food that goes first with Noo?) and, in common with other teething episodes, we've had a sea change in actions / personality / self control / you name it. I remember thinking that teething was somethign akin to puberty the fist time it happened, and each new set of gnashers has not changed my opinion since.

Toddlerdom has loomed large, and yesterday Nora was in an absolutely frightful mood, all day. Only made better briefly by the purchase of a mini keyboard from Woolworths for £2.50.

Two pounds and fifty pence. Can you believe it? That's less than a packet of fags for a piece of consumer electronics. Bonkers.

the point being though that poor Nora, who never could be bothered with signing (I tried, and I tried) spent a large part of yesterday getting to the point every so often of flumping down on the floor and bursting in to tears when she couldn't make herself understood. So we went outside and did painting in the garden for an hour in the afternoon, which gave her enough to distract her from feeling miserable. She's got a real frump on about having her nappy changed these days. *Hates* it becuse she's not in control of the situation. It seems a bit too early to start with the infamous potty training but maybe we should start to make moves in that direction. Try and help her to begin to put on her own nappies? God knows.

So. After this lot has died down, it's only the molars to go. Oh blimey.

...worse than feeling hot feeling off colour and hot. And I mean super bloody hot.
It's been well in to the 30's in the UK for several days now, and Nora has been decidely not coping. And at some point yesterday it became obvious she had some kind of virus knocking around.

Tonight just after going to bed, she had a massive coughing fit, and we heard her begin to cry in choked up, stuffed up, gooey sobs. Given that she's had very light sleep and at this point is more or less exhausted with the heat (and not really eating much for the last 3 days) I'm hoping that the calpol will allow her to get through the night. Administered to one very hot, high temperatured little girly.

I wish I could just suck all her virus nastiness out and endure it myself. I don't really care about me in circs like this. She had such a lovely good run of not being sick, and now she gets sick bang in the middle of a humid heatwave.

no fair. No bloody fair.

Pa Da Tu! Pa Da Tu!

Nora has been to the local paddling pool (pa-da-tu) every day since Friday. She went twice yesterday.

I bought her a big beach ball because every time she goes, she sees a kid with a big ball and it's "Ball! Ball!" even though she's got her own small one.

She laughs, and laughs and laughs.

...and holds on to your hand like a vice.