Ivy seems to be almost ready to graduate to wearing undies full-time.
This morning she wore undies to playgroup, and she did her first extra-mural wee. I had thought to bring along our toilet-seat with Sesame Street characters on it, and she was really happy to use it to do a wee on the toilet while we were there. Put her undies back on, and she stayed dry all morning. Wow!
We all went out to dinner tonight to a Vietnamese cafe around the corner (aren't we daring). Been there a few times now and the girls feel quite at home, so they are now making pests of themselves. Halfway through dinner Ivy said POO POO so I whipped out my dunny-bag (contains our little toilet-seat!) and we went off to the loo, where she uncoiled an enormous poo. Where does she store it all? It's like something a huge truckie might make! Why do I imagine a truckie might make a huge poo? It's a mystery.
Five minutes later Hazel did poo face, so Trudi took the dunny-bag and they went off for Hazel to stink out their toilet. By now Ivy was running around in her socks saying POO! POO! Luckily her speech is not very clear yet so most people would not get what she was saying (well I was telling myself that).
We will be going somewhere else for dinner next time. I think the staff might need a little while to get over us.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Dry Ivy
This morning Ivy wore undies, not a nappy, when we went out. I think we were out for nearly 2 hours, and she stayed dry. We did it again in the afternoon, and still she was dry!
This is a big thing for me. I think Ivy is quietly happy with herself too.
She is also practising putting on her own pants and undies. Any stray PJ pants or undies left lying around get the treatment. The outcome is not always satisfactory, but she is getting there.
This is a big thing for me. I think Ivy is quietly happy with herself too.
She is also practising putting on her own pants and undies. Any stray PJ pants or undies left lying around get the treatment. The outcome is not always satisfactory, but she is getting there.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Clarifying which things are dead
During lunch today I talked to the girls about the mice again. Hazel had been looking at a book with mice in it, and kept returning to the mouse pictures, and saying Mouse Mouse Mouse.
Then she started with the Mouse Mouse Mouse during lunch, so I said "The mice are dead because the cats ate them. We won't see the mice any more. They are gone and they can't come back."
That seemed to go down OK, then Ivy said "Bats. Gone."
Now that was interesting, because we've been talking a lot about bats. The bats that sleep by the Yarra used to fly over our garden every evening, and we'd all troop out there in our PJs to watch them fly, just before we put the girls to bed. The bats have not been around lately, though - perhaps they have eaten everything in Preston and are now pillaging other suburbs. They are supposed to migrate north during winter, but I am pretty sure that they no longer do this.
Every evening we talk about the bats, and their absence. We go out and look, if it's not raining. No bats.
Ivy mentioned the bats because they also have gone, and perhaps they can't come back, and maybe we will never see them again.
So I found myself trying to explain the differences between death and prolonged absence to a pair of 19-month-old girls who were eating lunch. Having toddlers is constantly and gently blowing my mind.
Then she started with the Mouse Mouse Mouse during lunch, so I said "The mice are dead because the cats ate them. We won't see the mice any more. They are gone and they can't come back."
That seemed to go down OK, then Ivy said "Bats. Gone."
Now that was interesting, because we've been talking a lot about bats. The bats that sleep by the Yarra used to fly over our garden every evening, and we'd all troop out there in our PJs to watch them fly, just before we put the girls to bed. The bats have not been around lately, though - perhaps they have eaten everything in Preston and are now pillaging other suburbs. They are supposed to migrate north during winter, but I am pretty sure that they no longer do this.
Every evening we talk about the bats, and their absence. We go out and look, if it's not raining. No bats.
Ivy mentioned the bats because they also have gone, and perhaps they can't come back, and maybe we will never see them again.
So I found myself trying to explain the differences between death and prolonged absence to a pair of 19-month-old girls who were eating lunch. Having toddlers is constantly and gently blowing my mind.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Ex-mice
Our mice are no more.
When we got home from the awesome tiny trains on Sunday, Trudi remembered that she'd left the box o' mice on the windowsill. When we got home the box was broken on the floor, lid ajar, and there was no sign of the mice at all. Trudi checked everywhere (under furniture, in the heat vent, behind the bookshelf, etc). Not even a foot or tail.
As T said last night, the cats are just like twins - they must have egged each other on. Maybe Minke got up on the windowsill first, to pat the mouse-box, then Selby would have barged up there too and tipped the box onto the floor. Then they would have both jumped in fright, then one would have noticed a mouse moving, and so on.
The poor lil mice were just learning to walk. However, they were also getting very thin. Not sure how much longer they would have survived anyway, but STILL! Must have a chat with the cats about We Do Not Eat Our Co-Pets.
I have been talking to Hazel about We Do Not Whack People Or Animals. She likes to whack things (and people, but not yet animals, thankfully) with the hoop. Also she gets a Whacking Look in her eye when she finds a long stick.
We've told the girls that the mice are dead because the cats ate them, so we won't see the mice any more. I wonder how they have assimilated that information.
When we got home from the awesome tiny trains on Sunday, Trudi remembered that she'd left the box o' mice on the windowsill. When we got home the box was broken on the floor, lid ajar, and there was no sign of the mice at all. Trudi checked everywhere (under furniture, in the heat vent, behind the bookshelf, etc). Not even a foot or tail.
As T said last night, the cats are just like twins - they must have egged each other on. Maybe Minke got up on the windowsill first, to pat the mouse-box, then Selby would have barged up there too and tipped the box onto the floor. Then they would have both jumped in fright, then one would have noticed a mouse moving, and so on.
The poor lil mice were just learning to walk. However, they were also getting very thin. Not sure how much longer they would have survived anyway, but STILL! Must have a chat with the cats about We Do Not Eat Our Co-Pets.
I have been talking to Hazel about We Do Not Whack People Or Animals. She likes to whack things (and people, but not yet animals, thankfully) with the hoop. Also she gets a Whacking Look in her eye when she finds a long stick.
We've told the girls that the mice are dead because the cats ate them, so we won't see the mice any more. I wonder how they have assimilated that information.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Popcorn tea-party
We had a big weekend (that's "big" on our post-kids scale).
Can't remember Saturday; will write that up if I recall anything interesting.
This morning the girls slept until 7am, but Trudi had been awake since 4:30, and I awoke at 5:15. We went to the pool at 8:30 am, and toodled around in the toddler section. Hazel fell under the water a few times, but she only inhaled water once. Ivy trundled around the pool, throwing a ball I stole from the basket used by the swimming teachers. We all got cold, and vowed that next time, the girls will have their wetsuits on.
We got home in time for Trudi to collect her cousin Liv and her daughter Shanti, who are visiting from Cairns. Shanti is 9.5 months old, and she is walking confidently... amazing. She is almost as big as Ivy! So the three girls played together, bopping each other and yanking on shirts.
Because Ivy and Hazel enjoy their plastic tea-set, I've been planning to give them some real tea in tiny china teacups. I used our visitors as an excuse to have a popcorn tea-party on the lounge-room floor. We had a big nappy as a picnic rug, and all three tiny girls had a little tea-cup. Shanti had water and the Ersvaer girls had milky weak Rooibos tea, plus they were all digging in a big bowl of popcorn. It was as much of a mess as you might imagine. The girls all entered into the spirit of Tea Party - tipping tea from cup to cup, stuffing handfuls of popcorn down their throats, drinking tea, putting popcorn into tea cups, and the like.
At lunchtime, Hazel touched Shanti's arm and said "SHANTI!!" and laughed, then she did it again fifty times.
By the time Trudi took Liv and Shanti to the train station, it was nearly an hour past their usual nap time. I put them to bed while Trudi was out, and they slept for two hours.
When they got up, we all went to the Diamond Valley Miniature Railway. I'd heard from other mums on the AMBA forum (other families with twins, triplets, or more) that it was good, but nothing prepared me for the geekiness and attention to detail. The trains and rails are 1/6 the size of real trains, and there are signals and points and dinging bells at crossings. There are two tunnels, and the girls had a blast. They were still and focussed the whole time, just drinking it all in.
Here's the embarrassing bit (there had to be one of these). I must be at a vulnerable point in my cycle, because the evident dedication of the railway dudes (and they did all seem to be blokes) touched me so profoundly that I got weepy and wavery. I confessed this to Trudi in the car on the way home, and she said that she'd noticed I looked weepy, plus my voice went squeaky. So. Great. I get publicly weepy over a miniature railway. This is not as bad as a time when I was pregnant, and really really very hormonal and vulnerable. I was in the car, listening to the local radio station report on a new roundabout somewhere in Melbourne, and that made me weepy. All those dedicated municipal workers SHAKY INHALE toiling for the safety SOB of the rate-payers INHHHHHALE and their chiiiiildrennnnnnnn HOWL SOB WAIL. I had to stop the car. I am not that bad any more. Really I am not.
Today Hazel has perfected the word HAVE-IT. She points to a book, and says "Have it", which means "I want to have it: give me that book". In the car on the way home from the railway, She kept saying "Cup. Have it. Cup. Have it," so Trudi stopped the car and I went around to the boot and got the bloody cup of water, and Hazel drank half of it in a few powerful slurps.
Just in case you thought I would not mention poo, POO. And also WEE. Ivy stays dry during her naps these days, so she wears undies. Hazel is often dry, and today she was not happy about having a nappy on, so I asked her if she wanted undies. She did. They were both dry after their 2-hour sleep.
Can't remember Saturday; will write that up if I recall anything interesting.
This morning the girls slept until 7am, but Trudi had been awake since 4:30, and I awoke at 5:15. We went to the pool at 8:30 am, and toodled around in the toddler section. Hazel fell under the water a few times, but she only inhaled water once. Ivy trundled around the pool, throwing a ball I stole from the basket used by the swimming teachers. We all got cold, and vowed that next time, the girls will have their wetsuits on.
We got home in time for Trudi to collect her cousin Liv and her daughter Shanti, who are visiting from Cairns. Shanti is 9.5 months old, and she is walking confidently... amazing. She is almost as big as Ivy! So the three girls played together, bopping each other and yanking on shirts.
Because Ivy and Hazel enjoy their plastic tea-set, I've been planning to give them some real tea in tiny china teacups. I used our visitors as an excuse to have a popcorn tea-party on the lounge-room floor. We had a big nappy as a picnic rug, and all three tiny girls had a little tea-cup. Shanti had water and the Ersvaer girls had milky weak Rooibos tea, plus they were all digging in a big bowl of popcorn. It was as much of a mess as you might imagine. The girls all entered into the spirit of Tea Party - tipping tea from cup to cup, stuffing handfuls of popcorn down their throats, drinking tea, putting popcorn into tea cups, and the like.
At lunchtime, Hazel touched Shanti's arm and said "SHANTI!!" and laughed, then she did it again fifty times.
By the time Trudi took Liv and Shanti to the train station, it was nearly an hour past their usual nap time. I put them to bed while Trudi was out, and they slept for two hours.
When they got up, we all went to the Diamond Valley Miniature Railway. I'd heard from other mums on the AMBA forum (other families with twins, triplets, or more) that it was good, but nothing prepared me for the geekiness and attention to detail. The trains and rails are 1/6 the size of real trains, and there are signals and points and dinging bells at crossings. There are two tunnels, and the girls had a blast. They were still and focussed the whole time, just drinking it all in.
Here's the embarrassing bit (there had to be one of these). I must be at a vulnerable point in my cycle, because the evident dedication of the railway dudes (and they did all seem to be blokes) touched me so profoundly that I got weepy and wavery. I confessed this to Trudi in the car on the way home, and she said that she'd noticed I looked weepy, plus my voice went squeaky. So. Great. I get publicly weepy over a miniature railway. This is not as bad as a time when I was pregnant, and really really very hormonal and vulnerable. I was in the car, listening to the local radio station report on a new roundabout somewhere in Melbourne, and that made me weepy. All those dedicated municipal workers SHAKY INHALE toiling for the safety SOB of the rate-payers INHHHHHALE and their chiiiiildrennnnnnnn HOWL SOB WAIL. I had to stop the car. I am not that bad any more. Really I am not.
Today Hazel has perfected the word HAVE-IT. She points to a book, and says "Have it", which means "I want to have it: give me that book". In the car on the way home from the railway, She kept saying "Cup. Have it. Cup. Have it," so Trudi stopped the car and I went around to the boot and got the bloody cup of water, and Hazel drank half of it in a few powerful slurps.
Just in case you thought I would not mention poo, POO. And also WEE. Ivy stays dry during her naps these days, so she wears undies. Hazel is often dry, and today she was not happy about having a nappy on, so I asked her if she wanted undies. She did. They were both dry after their 2-hour sleep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)