Monday, April 28, 2008

Where’s your Fred at?

Well I don’t know about any of you, by my little Fred is on the verge of walking. At the tender age of 7 years old it looks like we will soon be able to answer that oft-asked question ‘is he walking yet?’ in the affirmative. Which is a ridiculously cute sight to behold seeing as Fred is the smallest 16 month old in the world. Ever. To see this tiny, skinny little man take unsteady strides across the room whilst dribbling excitedly is right up there in my top 5 ‘don’t eat the cute baby’ moments.

He’s quite a vocal little chap with his first word being ‘ball’ followed closely by ‘stairs’, ‘toast’, ‘duck’, ‘moon, ‘panda’ and ‘otter’. Blame Baby Einstein for those last two. These animals have been introduced to him on the ‘Neighbourhood Animals’ DVD… and I often wonder the devastation that will be inflicted when it dawns on him that Pandas and Otters will never be a part of our neighbourhood. But then I don’t worry too much as it no doubt pales in comparison to the emotional damage caused by a mother who begs him to ‘EAAAAT, Please Eat’ three times a day and a father who is unable to talk to him with out reducing every work into ridiculous babble (e.g. ‘Monkey-Munk, lets go-sie change-sie a nappy-nap and put you in the bath-ie? Yes? Yes?).

In the past month there has been a serious challenger to throwing the ball as ‘most beloved recreational pastime’. And that be in the form of books. Which (besides the stubbornness and quick-temper) is probably the first sign my personality coming out in Fred*. There is nothing that will quell Fred’s bleating like a good book; there is very little cuter than seeing him try to drag a book larger than himself, across the room, to throw demandingly at the closest adult. And if you caught him in those quiet times when he is flicking through one on his lonesome, happily babbling away as he ‘reads’, I’m sure your heart would bleed like mine. It’s a killer.

(*Yes, Yes – we are aware that Ball vs. Books = Dad vs. Mum …AND that this could be a ‘phase’ and he will probably be smoking a crack pipe by 5 and never open a book again).

Well, that’s enough about Fred. More about ME (it being my blog and all). I’m doing well. I have officially entered the third trimester and can see the end in sight…. which is causing me no end of stress!! And no, not for the obvious reason (ie. The world of pain I will enter) but rather because there is absolutely no stability, no certainty in our lives at the moment. We are desperately trying to sell out house in the middle of a ‘Credit Crunch’ and move into a rental property in a extremely competitive market where anything viable is snapped up in seconds…. All the while the clock ticks and Number Two gets closer and closer to introducing him/herself. I have drawn a line in the sand and told Dave that we must have moved by the end of the first week of June. I am so large and so exhausted already that I don’t feel like I can handle the stairs on this house much longer or the rigorous cleaning required to put your house on show … let alone having the strength to move house when the time comes. I have aches and pains I cannot remember in my last pregnancy and the added demand of ‘Monkey-Munk’. So Dave and I find ourselves touring the prospective new neighborhoods all weekend and I spend my days online looking at property or talking to agents. No doubt it will all come together – it has to – but right now I just can’t help but bite my nails.

It of course does not help that Dave and I do not see eye-to-eye in what sort place we want to move into (surprise, surprise). I seem unable to understand the value of an extra few thousand pounds a year and he seems unable to understand my terror at spending a London winter stuck in a room that is 3.5m x 4.2m with two children, manky carpet and stenciled wallpaper.

Watch this space.

This is me being a proper Aussie cooking ANZAC biscuits this past weekend. I burnt them slightly and made them too thin, but it’s the first time I have ever made biscuits and that fact that Fred enjoyed them has to say something.










3 comments:

Beth said...

Panda??!?!??!?!
OTTER?!?!??!???!??!
Make sure he saves me a cookie...

Anonymous said...

Fred is outrageously cute here, especially when I can picture him reading a huge book and saying "otter", with cookie dough all over his face. Awesome.

Anonymous said...

Hez, i had almost forgotten your blog but i am back and reading it again...just have a bit of backreading to do now, but hey that does compliment my new life working in the civil service...