Brazenmom

I had to feel sorry for poor Broccoli the other night. My daughter (twenty months old) ate cauliflower-broccoli-pancetta mac ‘n’ cheese for dinner; she gobbled it down but not so haphazardly that she failed to delicately remove delicious Broccoli and place Him on the side of her plate.

It was not the first time my little lovely has eaten Broccoli but probably the first time that He has been so… obvious in her meal. I found it highly amusing that she pretty much has no idea what Broccoli tastes like but found Him suspicious anyway. Cauliflower did not receive the same treatment, most likely because He blended quite nicely into the cheesy macaroni sauce, but poor Broccoli was pronounced guilty with no trial. Not very democratic.

Amused as I was, I expect my child to eat her vegetables and the ‘no biscuit unless you finish your dinner’ worked a charm. Broccoli was gobbled and swallowed Read the rest of this entry »

My little girl doesn’t like Mondays. After a weekend full of daddy time, and undivided mommy attention, Monday just sucks – daddy cycles off to work and mommy’s eyes are glued to her writing tasks.

Poor Amelia… poor mommy.

Grumpy Mondays are composed of various antics aimed at drawing my attention away from my work. When Amelia’s look-at-me-mommy shrieks and now-mommy-now wails are ignored, my person becomes a jungle gym and my lap a springboard – it’s sort of hard to ignore the human chimp that is my daughter. Read the rest of this entry »

My little girl can say please. Well… ‘peas’, if we’re going to get technical. Amelia’s daddy and I, with the help of Persistent Repetition, have taught my 18-month-old sweetheart that if she would like something, “please” is the word. She also ‘signs’ please by bringing her little hands up to her chest in a beautiful gesture of all things polite.

We started by asking her to say “please” when she gets a treat after lunch or dinner. And after a couple of days she had cottoned on to the concept… almost too well. I am now faced with the Beast of Please also known as ‘Peas’, whose best friend is Unparalleled Sweetness. Read the rest of this entry »

A children’s book for grown-ups

Let’s not kid; sleep deprivation is hellish. One of the sacrifices demanded by parenthood is the pleasure of a good night’s sleep. Whether it’s midnight feedings, distressed cries or the worry of late night escapades, our children plan on keeping us awake for a good 18 years, and probably long after.

With this in mind, California Book Award-winning author Adam Mansbach has written a foul-mouthed, tongue-in-cheek bedtime book for parents who live in the real world. Go the Fuck to Sleep tells it like it is; that a few snoozing kitties and cutesy rhymes don’t always send a toddler sailing blissfully off to dreamland. Read the rest of this entry »

My little girl enjoys chewing on toothpaste tubes. I indulge her fetish as long as she keeps the lid on – a mouthful of white paste, although delicious to a child (I used to eat toothpaste back in the day) and probably good for the teeth, can’t be good for the tummy.

However, today I found Amelia dunking her precious tube into the toilet bowl. Luckily we are healthy flushers. But still… I guess she may as well ingest toothpaste if pee and poo are par for the culinary course of taste intrigue.

Keeping the seat down is no longer a sufficient deterrent. My little lovely can pry it open with the force of toddler on a mission. Read the rest of this entry »

No one tells you that this whole learning to walk thing is going to be murder on your back. My daughter has reached the age where crawling is no longer enough of a challenge and cruising along the furniture provides a limited experience. So I now spend a large part of each day hunched over, holding Angelique’s hands as she explores our flat.

We’ve chosen not to buy a walking ring; partly because there’s really no space for it here, but also because I read one too many articles about possible damage to little feet. Perhaps I’m also against walking rings as a result of my own bad experience as a baby. Apparently, like Angelique, I imagined myself as a mini-stuntwoman. So I raced headfirst for a step. No prizes for guessing what happened next. Read the rest of this entry »

Motherhood is not for sissies.

Forget about labour and the actual birth, it’s what comes afterwards that really tests your strength. Poopy nappies, snotty noses, projectile vomit … being a parent is not for the faint-hearted, that’s for sure.

I have learned, in a mere eight months of being a mom, that it is a good idea to keep a burp cloth in every room of the house, as well as in each car, an extra one in the nappy bag, and one or two at the grandparents’ houses. One of the side-effects of teething is extra up-chucking, and regurgitated chicken, peas and milk are one of the many things I look forward to each day. Read the rest of this entry »

My 16-month-old daughter loves digging in the dustbin. I am raising a pleb.

The smelling pit of putridness that wallows in my kitchen, basking in the deceptive glamour of stainless steel, is like honey to a bee for Amelia-the-peasant. Manky sponges and rotting straws are her most valued discoveries. She is also partial to the occasional yoghurt carton. Read the rest of this entry »

So, today I found my daughter happily dunking her cup of milk into the toilet. I have no idea if she had had a swig after dunking said cup. I’m thinking more along the lines of she did.

On a recent trip to the playground Amelia scooped a half eaten, rotten looking, biscuit off of the floor and shoved it into her mouth before I could whisk it away. Yum. Read the rest of this entry »

One of the “highlights” of the Baby Expo I attended last year was the appearance of a certain purple reptile who, despite being the most annoying thing on the planet, continues to avoid extinction.  Children screamed in delight and parents groaned in agony every time He Who Shall Not Be Named took the stage and danced to his theme music.  There was no escape. It was traumatic, and cemented my decision to ban the creature from our house.

I promptly let all friends, family and acquaintances know that should any toy, book or DVD related to the monster be given to my baby, it would continue its journey to the nearest charity shop.  (I’m all for recycling, you see.)  The reaction from most people was something like, “Oh, we’d never do that to you!”

I’ve been happily telling people that I grew up just fine without the purple beast, so my child will do equally well on a diet of Smurfs and Gummi Bears. Read the rest of this entry »