Jaca-macca-randas and alexanders
Why regret? Because a lot of it we wished away. Babies are hard work - and even though Poppy was a very good and easy baby we couldn't wait for the narrow world that those with babies inhabit to pass.
When Poppy hit 18 months an entirely new child emerged. A fearless, fiesty, hitting, kicking and raging child wrapped up in the package of delicious brown eyed, fair haired cuteness. Despite the cuteness, the misprounciations, the funny jokes, the cuddles and her sweet smell there were tantrums that lasted over an hour, screaming until vomiting (or weeing) and in one spectacular move in front of my mum screaming and weeing and vomiting all at the same time. (You certainly were never like that - says my Mum unhelpfully. Thanks Mum - nothing like using me against....well....myself!)
But time has ticked on an I realise in my exhaustion of dealing with her - I abandoned my blog and as a result I've also lost some many of the funny, special little things about my little girl for the last 2 years.
It's not unlike the number of photos, even birth cards that mark the difference between your first born and the subsequent kids.
But here I'm keen to capture the last days and months of my Pop's pre-schooler years.
The words and understanding are flowing fast and furious - and the behaviour at long, long last is improving too (though she's still pretty free and easy with her fists) but yet there are still missteps. While Ed is keen to correct her on the path to growing up I cannot help myself as I try and cling to my baby and do no such thing.
A couple of favourites that have made their way into our families language are:
"I'm so cross OF you" - uttered daily.
"I hate you" - not mispronounced but delivered in a creepy sing song friendly tone.
"It's taking FOR Ages" which I have adopted wholeheartedly.
A mermaid was declared the other night to be "just a fish with hair"
"That's what you get" delivered in a stern voice after delivering a punch or a kick. Delivered with an air of defiance and arms folded for extra impact.
Last year when our street errupted into a riot of vibrant purple-ness my little Popl was very excited to see what she called Jacca - macca-randas. Even this year I accidentally call them macca randas, which is quite at home with the family but a bit tragic when you are out and being an adult.
This year little Pops called the tree Alexanders - I thought this was pretty cute and hilarious and even better than the jacca maccas. Trouble is when I told Ed - he set me straight.
"She's actually taking the piss out of you. She knows you will think it's funny"
And he's right. Time has passed again and now the joke is on me. But I'm still determined to hang on to my last year of little kindy girl before she morphs into little school girl and I will no longer be a mother with young children but rather a mother with school age children. Reckon I'll need a year to get used to that.