It starts out like a sane conversation

Any given day, we start a normal to and fro, Steve and I. Bit of banter, sharing facts, the usual.

And then it just gets silly.

He: Did your friend'sß book turn up? (referring to the book I won on Ebay)
Me: Yeah.
He: She's got that slightly ....
Me: Staring-eyed crazed look?
He: *ignoring* ... "I have a butterfly on my shoulder" look.
Me: Oh. That. (then defensively) Not everybody is morbidly fearful of moths and butterflies you know.
He: Seriously, what will you do if you turn up to do the front cover of your book and they say to you *mock airy-pompous stylist voice* "Ok, now we want you to stand .. in this field .. with the wind blowing your hair and .. just let the butterflies flutter around and one will land on your shoulder..." You'll freak out won't you?
Me: You mock.
He: In jest!

I like his faith that we're talking book cover photography already.



ß we have code, Steve and I. A "friend" could be anything from chocolate to Gloria to anything I am either remotely addictive about, have a current fetish for, talk about a lot or immerse myself in. I have cheese friends, wine friends, iced coffee friends... you get the picture.

Deirdre Chambers.... what a coincidence

Today I went to collect the LGBB from occasional care (where the "KIDS!" are, she looooves the kids... and the singing, so she tells me). Two carers told me separately that Lolly had made a new friend. Rather, she had made Lolly her friend.

When I asked a bit more of Judy, she explained that this little girl (let's call her Molly) went up to the LGBB and was stroking her face and gently rubbing her back. Really intently staring at her and all. I asked if Lolly seemed okay with that and Judy, aware that Lol isn't really a kid who enjoys having anyone so close and "all up in her personal space", said "No, she did really well, she sat there smiling at her and let her treat her like a bit of a dolly." That's nice, I thought.

Apparently, Molly is a known eye gouger. She doesn't do it with any malice but she does hate kids and others touching her. For all intents and purposes, it sounds like she gets one in before anyone else gets a chance first. So the story goes, she endured heart surgeries as a baby and it is believed this is a by-product of being so poked and prodded. Fair enough.

I was already pretty gobsmacked by this point. Both that she was so gentle with Lolly (and apparently they've not seen her behave as caringly like this with any of the other kids) and also that she had heart surgery. Then Judy dropped the clanger.

"She looks so much like Lolly!" she said. "They could pass for sisters, you should see her." I wished I could have, but Molly had already gone home.

And I don't know, it just sent little positive shivers up my back. Not that this was any "sign" or anything from Ella as such (apart from the obvious parallels, like the similarity in age and features.... and heart defect... ok, so there were a few things), but more that they both just sort of apparently connected with each other and were 'allowing' the other to be in their personal space. I don't know Molly and whether this is usual for her - it sounds as if it's not, not yet - but I do know my girl and she ain't too keen with people getting all on top of her like that. Not at all.

I think they gave each other something positive. As if it was a way of them sort of both saying, unspoken, that not everybody (or every baby or child) is out to hurt and not everybody is necessarily going to push you around. Topping it all off, of course, is that this little girl has a congenital heart defect in common with our family, though most likely not the same one (that's not what I'm saying). And this is something I did used to wonder and still do sometimes, imagining what life would be like with our busy 4 year old here, watching her nearing the time when it was apparent she needed to get her artery replaced again because she'd outgrown it, how all of that would have affected the LGBB and how different she would be as a person now, with her sister's influence here in the flesh - had Ella lived and had to keep going back for more surgeries as she grew older (for they would be required life-long, we were warned). All this is not even to mention the alleged family likeness of this little Molly. That was just the icing on the freaky cake.

It's all very oooh! Wow-ish, to me. I feel blessed for the little reminder, almost like a pick-me-up.

I think an intervention is required

I just did one of those things you do when you think nobody's looking. Uh... except usually, people don't then divulge what they say or do in private on their blogs. Or maybe they do. Which is why some are so damn popular (hey, look at Perez).

Anywho, I interrupted myself.

I have waited all morning for the 'right' moment to boil the kettle and grab a coffee. After two nappy changes, organising all the assorted pills and pain-killers for the two dogs, drawing with the LGBB, attempting to ignore her drawing on the table, wrestling her 15 legs and 28 arms into some clothes, doing the dishes, throwing ball to the dogs, tidying (fat chance that'll stay like that, what was I thinking at 8 o'clock in the morning! tut tut), managing a shower and partially drying my hair, finally I siezed the moment to make the coffee.

The sound of that top sliiiiiiding its way to the bottom of the thermal plunger - a present from Steve for my 30th and quite possibly one of only about four inanimate objects I would take from this house if it were on fire - is one of the most joyous in life, to me. Alongside the LGBB cackling gleefully. Grabbing a mug and going to fridge is the next step. I put a dash of milk in and then top up with the coffee.

But *gasp!* there was no milk. I was supposed to go and get some today, I knew that last night as I was going to sleep. 'Don't make your coffee in the morning, you need to take Lol and get the milk first'. I'd forgotten. NOOOOO!!!

Not wanting to let the coffee or the moment go to waste, I frantically searched the shelves. And then, my eyes landed on the can of whipped cream. Dare I? Hell yeah!

It's delicious. It's possibly my entire intake of calories for the day. But it is delish. I think once Steve sees this post, he will have no option but arrange a meeting with my closest friends and a trained professional to take me away to Camp Decaffeinated for some cold turkey treatment.

Steam-blow #359

Why is it, when you don't want the toy attached by suction caps to fall from the tiled bath wall surface, it does? No matter which trick you try to get it to stay there. But when you want to take the toy off, the caps stick like freaking superglue and you end up wrestling with it because it looks like it's going to give at any moment but then you have to pry your fingernail under there to release the suction?

That is all.

As you were.

We're tap-tap-tap-tap-tapping ... along

Time for an update on Miss Bliss Bomb.

It seems the LGBB has a song stuck in her head this week. But, as often happens - most annoyingly for the person in whose head the said song is stuck - she only sings the first and last lines. Over and over, during the course of her day.

Since the weekend, we've most often heard this little sing-song voice going "Tap-tap-tapping ... ayong" and if we're doing a bit of assisted hand-held walking, we get "I'm walking in tha citee". It's a song from one of her Play School cd's (and various ep's on the show itself) and apparently, right now she's loving it. Either that, or she's hating it but just cannot get it out of her head.

I am also getting the question, "What happened?" a lot. Like... to everything slightly amiss. A noise outside: "Uh oh... what happened?" I turn the tv off: "What happened?" Or I don't turn it on fast enough: "Uh oh.... whoops.... What happened?"

Yesterday, she crawled over the section of floor where we're up to laying the floorboards (and I say "we" like I helped...) and there's an angled groove down to the subfloor. She's been over it, back and forth, obviously for weeks now. But all of a sudden, she wants to know - "What happened? Uh oh... what happened?" Perhaps it's a precursor to the inevitable "Why?" which I am bound to get someday as well.

We are also entertained daily by a recital of One to Ten, Lolly-style. This involves her racing from one through to eight, then dragging out the niiiiiiine, before a pause for suspenseful effect (cue us stopping what we're doing and turning around to see if she's actually going to say ten and being met with an impish grin) and then a celebratory "TIN!" She then announces she's cheeky ("I cheee-keeee"), applauds herself and starts counting again.

From somewhere, she has also begun to recite the alphabet. Every fourth or fifth letter. The tune could not be easier, for it is Twinkle Twinkle, Baa Baa (whatever the PC colour is these days) Sheep and probably a few others. Speaking of, the LGBB loves banging out a rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star "hah I won-ter wha' oo ahhhh, upp-a buh tha world so hiiiiigh, li-ttle di-mond in her skyyyy". To which Mummy and/or Daddy become puddles of mush on the floor.

At bath time, she has begun to simulate washing hands under a tap. Except she does this in a little bath bucket of water, repeating that she is washing her hands over and over, really working on getting the word "washing" right. "Wah-tsing hands? Wah-shing hants?" Did I mention she does it over and over? And ... OVER?? Then every so often she slips in a "Thass what you do." Who knows where she gets that from, because I sure as heck don't think I say "Washing hands, that's what you do." Must listen to Play School more carefully because she doesn't watch anything else (and barely watches that anymore, just too much to do and so little time for a busy little girl to be watching static telly).

High on her current agenda is also naming her "friends". Right now, these include her Nanna and Pa, her uncle ("Timmeeee!"), her cousin Mia - whom she only really knows by way of a skilfully put together dvd by my brother, of his two girls and the family on their visit out to Aust. last year - and the "kids" (nameless, apparently, except one called "Tiggy" - Teagan) at occasional care. Jazz and "Puh-pah" the dogs are also right up there, worthy of a mention.

So. There you have it. The LGBB, a sample of the good bits, aged 19 months. Which reminds me.... anyone got any sure-fire "Understanding Toddlers and Why They Sometimes Come Undone So Explosively You Think They May Have Just Combusted" books? The more humourous and encouraging one to stay sane the better. Thanks ever so.

Ummm...

I was just wondering, does anyone else see the resemblance between this Idol finalist and "Mista Dudley" from Little Britain? I can't separate the two in this performance and it's kind of freaking me out...

I don't care if it sounds nutty

I am taking this as ..... a sign .... *oogidy-boogidy hands aka spirit fingers*

Mr H moved after almost two days of perching in the same corner, past my shoulder as I typed pages of really nitty gritty difficult painful memory-inducing stuff about my labour and birth experience with Ellanor. I wrote like I was back there in the moment. The things I said, what I was looking at, how close I felt to her, it was all very real. I was almost too present in some respects.

Then, in the middle of the afternoon, I had called one of my teachers at Peace Space. I had teed up with one of the others to send my manuscript-so-far to Jen, just for her input, insight and overseeing to this point (something I've not asked her to do in the time, just shy of a year, I have now been slogging at this, but thought it was high time I just requested she glance an eye over from the initial whoa to go, a request to which she had adamantly said "Yes, good timing, send it my way, whatever you've done!"). And knowing that her eyesight is not all that fabbo, I wondered if my 60 pages of 8 point Helvetica was going to really rob the bank on the eyestrain front.

Jen never answers the phone. To my surprise, on Friday afternoon, she actually did. So we had an awesome chat, very affirming of everything I was doing so far - nice to get an impromptu tracking check! - and I mentioned the huntsman who had been overseeing my work since Tuesday (or was it Wed? I can't remember now). She laughed and said he'd stay there til my job for now was done. And I had to dubiously, silently wonder just how long that would be.

Turns out, he decided to move that very night. After the LGBB and I took the manuscript to the post office and sent it on its way to Peace Space (the font size confirmed to be acceptable!), Steve came home and I mentioned in passing that "the thing" was still in the corner and had been watching me again. You have to understand.... this is an arachnaphobe talking here!.... hence the 3587 posts about it.... So, suitably impressed and with the joy of a weekend ahead of him, Steve announced the challenge of addressing the spider issue and said he would usher him out. I surprised myself by saying, "No it's ok, he can stay if you want". But, I guess kind of thankfully in a way (for by this stage I sort of did want it outside where it belonged), Steve insisted on getting The Cup and Paper and doing his magic 'pidy-remover trick.

Well. The H-man defied him at every turn. Actually, he was on the move before Steve even made moves to go towards him. Honestly, it was as if he'd overheard the plan and thought "Alright, fine, I'm going, but on my terms." In the end, Steve said with a thinly-veiled impressed tone, "I can't get it. It's hanging onto the curtain rod now." We have a bare curtain rod in the living room (I took down the curtains the first day we took possession of this house) and apparently, Mr H had taken a liking to it. After about five minutes of shenanegans, Steve made moves to give up. But, turning back and not wanting to be defeated, he went to try again. But the spider had gone. Vanished.

So there you have it. He's still MIA. I don't know if we'll see a reappearance of him, he could well have gone out the window, through the air conditioner vent, into the back of the curtain rod.... behind the couch.... (I still haven't sat on it since Friday, I'm not quite that brave).

But I reckon, it's pretty damn coincidental that he decided to get out and move - after he could have moved for nigh on four days - the very afternoon that I post off my story as it stands so far to the person I am hoping to receive a bit of direction and feedback from. It's like the next step. At least, that's how it reads to me.