The melting mind

Every two weeks I think yeah I really have to write that down before I forget it. And then every time I get to the computer I think what the heck did I want to write again? I'm still hoping my mind will re-form once Roz is about two.

My iPhone present has been terrible because I now use it to check the web constantly and post pictures like mad and so keep thinking I've blogged about something the children have done. But the keyboard on the iPhone is terrible, even for my relatively small hands and fingers, and the stupid predictive text sometimes comes up with the most idiotic options. Someone should compile a 'literate' dictionary for it. So I usually find, a few weeks later that actually I didn't write down what I meant to.

...

Nope still can't remember what it was I was dying to blog about a week ago. O well.

Roz is on the verge of crawling. Except that once she starts doing it, she usually realises it's quite a faff and then looks up at you desperately and just wails to be carried. The other day Izzy and I tried to cheer her on and although she was startled and then pleased after the first round of applause, after three or four attempts at moving forward she just squalled.

She's also enjoying standing up with her knees locked. I frequently let her hold on to my hands and push herself up, then support her with my knees.

I left her and Izzy with Alex today and went into work after being out of the office for two days, thanks to the nursery being closed because of the snow. Stupid snow.

Alex said he had to do his usual tour of the house to convince her I wasn't hiding somewhere, ignoring her. When she's calling for me 'muh-muh, muuh-muuuh!' he'll take her into each room in turn and point out 'See? Mummy's not here. No mummy.' She wails at each empty room but once they've been round the house and she realises I am not home, she usually accepts the fact. And wails a bit more resignedly before giving up.

She does the same when we've finished eating something particularly nice that she wants more of. Yesterday it was my rice pudding. Fortunately she accepted microwaved mashed banana, which I figure tastes reasonably similar and has about the same texture.

It's funny but in the last month or so something's clicked between us and I think both Roz and I have realised she can communicate. I suddenly realised that although she doesn't say as much as I seem to think Izzy used to say, she definitely understands me.

Once or twice I've ticked her off for dropping things on the floor on purpose - yes she's at that stage when she'll throw off everything within reach to see what happens - and the look on her face after each time was unmistakably surprise and hurt.

And sometimes when I've guessed what it is she actually wants from her indiscriminate wailing, she's looked surprised and then pleased too.

She's still teething. It feels like she's been teething for months now. But she's constantly chewing on her fingers, and poking them into the space right next to her visible teeth. Not helping with the sleep, I can tell you, but at least we know what it is that's making her grumpy.

Izzy's been going through a tricky patch as well these last few weeks. When ticked off for things she sometimes takes it out on Roz - little pinches, purposely leaning on her, that sort of thing. And when told off yet again for that she'll insist she was only hugging her, or patting her, or whatever.

And when she's being nice to Roz, she's sometimes so over-enthusiastic, Roz gets upset. She still will rush right up to her, shrieking 'Roz, Roz!' and put her face right up against Roz's. Roz will then understandably push Izzy's face away, her nails probably scratching her in the process. And then I get Izzy looking hurt and bewildered, as I explain for about the tenth time that she has to be gentle and slow when talking to Roz, because Roz is like a little animal that doesn't like noise and surprise. But does she ever remember?

'Pur-leease, mummy.'

Izz is also really, really pushing my buttons these days. Maybe it's just been because we've been snow-bound and I haven't had much adult company. But she seems to have cottoned on to pester power.

She'll ask for something while I'm in the middle of doing something else, like getting dinner ready, or changing Roz's nappy, and unable to think to answer her question. She'll just ask it again. And again. And again. And again. Usually until I snap and either give in or completely forbid it because she's annoyed the heck out of me.

An answer like 'let's see after lunch, OK?' usually only results in the question being asked a minute later. And these last one or two days, when forbidden something, she just goes 'But oh per-leease, mummy. Pur-leeease.' The sound of that pur-leease really makes me see red. And although I've told Izzy saying 'pur-leease' doesn't change anything, she hasn't yet dropped any attempt at using it. Urgh.

Occasionally she's outright defied me, such as when I told her not to touch any more sweets for the day, and she's gone and put one straight into her mouth anyway, looking me in the eye all the time. What do you do then? Part of me wants to shout and send her straight to bed.

And when I resort to raising my voice, and taking away some privilege as a result, I then get her all weepy and sobbing and 'sorry, mummy, sorry for not listening to you' and then further rending of garments and sackcloth and ashes over the lost privilege. So much so that I am then dying to reinstate it, if only she would shut up!

Because this sort of thing usually happens at the end of the day, when I am trying to feed Roz dinner, or get her to sleep, and once Izzy gets weepy, she will then come and throw herself all over me. And part of me feels guilty that I cannot cuddle her and point out the rights and wrongs of what she's done patiently, because she's now annoying the hell out of a sleepy Roz. And part of me wants to shout some more because I suspect she's disturbing Roz on purpose, for the attention.

And oh the damned TV. She gets to watch some when we come home from nursery, while I cook dinner. Then we either switch the TV to the news or cookery channel or turn it off while we eat. Lately she's taken to hiding the remote control once I bring out her dinner and return to the kitchen to get mine.

Her first attempts failed miserably because she would announce 'Mummy, don't look under the sofa', before I even realised what she'd done. Then she would hide it in places and tell me she had no idea where the remote control was. And when threatened with having the TV given away, she'd huff and make snarky remarks all through dinner ('Your show is silly, I don't like your show.').

I can live with snarky. But oh my when she whines, how the red mist descends. 'But you've watched loads of your show, I only had three shows.' And when I point out that, no actually I've only had 10 minutes of my show and she's had 40 minutes of hers, she goes into outright fantasy 'But I never get to watch my shows, you always watch your shows, it's not fair.' And then I have to restrain myself from shouting again. I'm really contemplating giving the TV away.

That's what you get for not having a routine and activities ready for the monkey, I suppose. And that's what happens when I sleep at 2am because I'm on the internet all night. Well it's the only time no one's trying to climb into my lap.