Babies O: December 2007

2 ys, 3mths

So we've moved...
The new place is good so far, it's all quiet and there's a decent amount of space (especially since we have a massive garage in which to store stuff). But it's still taking a while to decide what furniture to buy (though all Ikea at moment) so we are still living out of a lot of boxes.

Izzy seems to have taken to it. Though initially traumatised by the lack of television, after we unpacked the TV and bought a DVD player she has only occasionally asked to go to 'the 'nother house'. Each time I've explained we live here now and she seems to accept that. I've stopped short of offering to go back to visit although I feel rather guilty we never said goodbye to our nice neighbours.

The new neighbourhood
But being here is also nice because we've had the instant community of my work colleagues to fall in with, and Izzy can finally have the company of her closest friends on weekends too. The first weekend we were here there was a colleague's Christmas party, the weekend after there was a nurserymate's baptism and, this weekend, just to show we 'ain't prejudiced against the old neighbourhood, we attended Baby Arif's first birthday party in East London.

It's nice. Just don't ask poor Alex about the commute! I think he plans on working at home a bit more.

Speaking of Arif's birthday, one of the great joys I had there was patting his poor daddy's shoulder consolingly as they unwrapped a massive heap of toys. I got this before Izzy was born - this gleam in other parents' eyes which is mostly shared happiness for you over the sheer joy of having a kid. And then there is this bit that is partly 'A-hahaha, you sucker, join the club.' Wait till they see the toys at two.

Back to the community - it's not just people. This week we are also pet-sitting a hamster, Gloria, while her mistress is in Norway for Christmas. Izzy likes and fears her at the same time, which may be a good thing because Gloria gave me quite a nip this morning when I cleaned out her cage. To be fair it was my fault because I wasn't looking at her properly when I was trying to get her out. But Izz loves it when we put Gloria into her hamster ball so Gloria gets to move round the living room. She alternately chases and runs away from Gloria, no thanks to Daddy who takes evil delight in telling her things like 'Ooh she wants to nibble your toes!'

What's funniest though is when she addresses Gloria as she does the rest of us - like a subject who should obey. First it's 'Loria... 'LORIA! GERBIL!' And, after correcting, 'Hamster... 'Loria! HAMSTER! I'm talkin' to you!'

Which brings me to the subject of Izzy and being two. Man I thought I'd seen her tantrum before... but since we moved here she's had two serious meltdowns like never before. The first time involved me getting fed up of telling her to come upstairs to sleep and to stop watching her DVD. 'After it's finished,' she kept saying.

So I picked her up and began carrying her towards the stairs. Amid the beginnings of squeals of outrage and much twisting of her self I heard a plea to walk upstairs 'myself!' (which is a big thing with Izz nowadays). But I ignored it and when we got to the top of the stairs and I dropped her on the mattress all hell broke loose.

SCREAMS of anger, and much kicking of her feet against the wall. I can't even remember what she was saying now - except that there were plentiful 'No!'s - because in my memory it is a solid wall of sound with Izzy's voice being a sort of high-pitch version of Linda Blair speaking in the Exorcist (that's not demon possessionla, that's a two-year-old tantrumming).

After trying to reason with her for a minute I decided it was pointless and left the room with Alex. As we were snickering in the bathroom down the corridor, the screaming suddenly stopped. After a pause there was a desperate thump of little feet running our way, and Izzy thrust herself into our sight again, heaving and short of breath, before throwing herself on the floor to pick up where she left off. Seriously, it's impossible not to laugh.

The second tantrum she had was a few days after. Someone had given her a chocolate at nursery. One second we are in nursery and she is all sunshine and delight, clutching the choc in her hot little hand. Next thing I know she has thrown herself down on her knees on the muddy, wet asphalt, and is crying.

'Whaaat?' I ask. ' What is the matter?'
'Don't want to open it, want to clooooose it,' she is wailing.
'What?'
She proffers the chocolate, which is covered in foil. She's scraped a little part of it open.
'Haiyaaaaaa like that also want to cry.' (She brings out the heartfelt Manglish in me.)
After making her stand up, I show her the chocolate and say 'OK look, it's really easy, OK? I'll close it back for you.' And then I make the foolish mistake of lifting up the foil in order to smooth it close again.
'NOOOOOOOOOO! DON'T OPEN IT! NO, MUMMY! NO! NO!'
She throws her head back in despair, and then starts smacking my leg in anger.
'OK, young lady, that is enough.'

And I bundle her into her car seat - it's like putting a cat into a boiling pot - and then show her the chocolate again.

'Look! I'm closing it for you, you monkey! Just wa-'

But the sight of me pulling up the foil again is more than she can bear and she reaches out, snatches the choc away from me and throws it out of the car.

At which point I lose my temper so I go 'Fine.' And slam the door shut, pick up the choc without her seeing and get in the front seat. 'If you don't want the chocolate Izzy, that's fine, alright? Don't have the chocolate then.'

And in the back seat, the young miss is practically puce and is rendering herself hoarse screaming , 'DON'T OPEN IT, CLOSE IT! CLOSE IT!' And when the car starts moving, there are new fits as she screams 'STOP, STOP, MUMMY! MY CHOCYATE! MYYYYYY CHOCYAAAAATE.'

I'm really quite mad at her at this point but I am also killing myself trying not to laugh.

And so all the way to Little Sam's house (for whom I have cake to thank him for being Izzy's big brother at the Chrismas party I missed) she is a shrieking, heaving mess of tears and snot; she manages to kick off her shoes and one sock, so furious is her angry leg waving and I figure it's probably easier if I just let her get it all out before trying to talk to her.

And then finally, after about 15 minutes of serious hard-core screaming (man I think people should try it instead of exercise to burn calories, it looks serious hard work), she can scream no more and she is just about able to carry out a conversation without being interrupted by too many sobs.

Then I bring out the chocolate. Which I have put into an empty Smarties box. Which has a cap that snaps shut. So there is no ambiguity about whether the damn chocolate is open or close. And I make her say sorry about four times, because I am still quite mad. And then I give her the damn chocolate. And she falls asleep in about 10 minutes.

Tantrums. Not all bad.