Mopping up

Life in the last 24 hours has been like something out of the exorcist for me. Last night I fed Ivy dinner, popped her in the bath, gave her a bottle and got her into her sleeping bag ready for bed. Just as I was about to lift her into the cot she gave a dainty little cough and then projectile vomited a pungent mix of fermented formula, cheese and carrot into my hair, all over my arms, my top, my pants, my socks, her pajamas, sleeping bag, down the doors of her chest of drawers, the floor and even onto the head of her teddy bear. It took five towels, 40 minutes, a shower and at least half a bottle of red wine for me to bounce back from that one.

This morning everything was hunky dory until I put Ivy on her change table to get her dressed so we could go out. In a flash she squirmed away from me, flipped over and smacked her face on the table edge. She looked up at me and did a fairly good impersonation of dracula complete with scary face, fangs hanging out and blood dripping from her mouth. I rush her to the bathroom as she screams and try and make my way through the pools of blood to see what the damage is - in the end nothing too drastic just a split on the inside and the outside but the bathroom looked like a crime scene. The colleteral damage from this little escapade? Two facewashers, her top, singlet, my top and cardigan (all covered in blood) not to mention me having a great urge to lie down on the floor with that other half bottle of red wine. Only thing that stopped me was the fact it was 9am.

Now scuse me, I have to go and put another load of washing on. (And consider lining the house in plastic for future escapades..)

What's in a name?

At a party last weekend some girls were admiring Ivy and asked Ed what her name was. They then asked what his surname was and he said "Holmes". "Ah" nodded the girls "Ivy Holmes". "No" said Ed, "it's Ivy Browne". The girls looked confused and then horrified as he explained "she has Kate's surname".

It's amazing how in 2008 you can shock by something as simple as a name. When Ed and I found out we were going to be parents we discussed names, and then surnames. We aren't married (not that, that would make any difference) and in the interests of fairness we agreed that if we had a boy, he would have Ed's name and if it was a girl she would have mine. I was inspired by the example of my lovely friend Hanna whose parents had done a similar thing, and then diplomatically produced a girl followed by a boy so each name could get a run. In our case we had a girl so she got my name.

Older people we told were perplexed, some claimed that it wasn't "fair" to Ed while others said it would be "confusing" for Ivy. What I don't understand is that hundreds of women keep their name but dutifully give their baby their male partners name and no-one seems to think that's unfair or confusing. I kind of expected this attitude from older people but I'm amazed how many people my age or younger think it's so strange. To me it seems a total case of double standards.

In other countries it doesn't seem to be such a big deal. My German friends made the decision to choose a single family name and then decided to take Dot's surname. Apparently it's quite common to take the woman's name, other couples I've heard of have ditched their names and chosen a new name for everyone, others go down the path of double barrelled names (which personally scares me a little) but here in Sydney 99.9 percent of the parents I know tread the traditional route of naming their kids after their husband or partner.

While I'm quite proud that Ivy shares my name, I do have to wonder somedays why I bothered. Recently my brother had a new baby and there was great excitement from my family that the "Family name would now continue" despite the fact both Ivy and her cousin Jospehine already have this surname. The reason? This new baby is a boy. It seems despite claims that today there is equality between the sexes the name thing implies that, at the end of the day, boys are still more important than girls.

Rumours of my blog's death have been greatly exaggerated

Okay...how long did I last? Not even a week. After a small hissy fit about the state of my life and that there was nothing to write about of late I killed off T & T in a fit of pique. I blame a combination of being sick for weeks, a shockingly bad holiday and a small baby who thinks it's reasonable to start her day at 4.45 every single morning caused me to temporarily lose my mojo and my will to blog.

But after both scolding and kind words from a few folks I have to concede it was a rather rash thing to do. So I now announce that I will do my best to resurrect T&T, however in my sleep deprived state I can't guarantee it will have anything interesting in it. Cheers to Tiff, Jan, Hanna, Morkle and Jackie for setting me straight (and for reading..: )

X

So long and thanks for all the fish

There comes a time when all good (and bad) blogs must die. Rather than let mine die an uncertain death from neglect I've decided to take the humane approach and put it to sleep sooner than later. It's been fun, thanks for reading. X K