It occurred to me recently that the negative stuff is all too easy to blog about. It’s therapeutic to release a rant isn’t it? To share in despair? To moan about our offsprings latest antics and to, well, let off a little steam? Tonight’s post was going to be about the trouble we’re having potty training Grace at the moment (and don’t get me wrong, I will be addressing this on the blog very shortly). One of the nice things about venting our struggles on-line is the unconditional and instant support and advice we get form an army of lovely on-line Mums and Dads . Sometimes, it’s a total stranger that will understand the most exactly how you feel, or know just the right thing to say. BUT! As I hovered over my key-pad ready to let rip about the potty fiascoe, a wave of guilt flooded over me and I had a re-think.
Part of the reason I blog is that I hope one day, Grace will really enjoy reading it herself. I don’t want it to be all moans and misery: all the crappy stuff. Tonight, I feel the need to write about some of the truly heart warming/amazing/hilarious things that are coming out of that little mouth before she’s grown again that bit more and I forget it all. It seems to me that the “terrible two’s” are in fact something of a Jekyll and Hyde affair. Yes – the bad times are bad, the tantrums are awful, and it’s bloody hard work. However – the flip side to that coin is that I am currently sharing my life with the most endearing, funny, loving and clever little thing I have ever had the privilege of knowing. Here, for the record, are a few of the things I never want to forget:
Big girl knickers (or Knick-knicks as we are calling them) are a new wonder to Grace. Every morning when we all get dressed she revels in pointing out whose underwear belongs to who.
“Yes Grace. Mummy’s knick-knicks.”
“Clever girl Grace, yes. They are your knick-knicks.”
“Daddy’s knick-knicks! Look Winnie!” (the cat) “Daddy’s knick-knicks!”
“YEAH GRACE!” Pipes up Daddy “DADDY’S KNICK-KNICKS!” and twangs his elastic. (I would like to stress at this point that as far as I am aware, my other half does not parade around in my frillies, it’s just that she hasn’t learnt the word for underpants yet.)
“OH WOW DADDY! NIIIICE!” Grace nods her head approvingly at her father’s choice of underwear. This did in fact happen verbatim this morning and I’m still chuckling. On top of which, on picking her up after work, the child-minder informed me with a wry smile and a raised eyebrow how Grace had really enjoyed telling everyone at play group all about her Daddy’s nice knick-knicks. Brilliant.
Now the other day, I banged my head. It wasn’t anything epic. It did not leave me concussed. It did however, make my eyes water, and cause me to crouch down and rub my head frantically.
“Oh Mummy!” Here comes nurse Giblet. She has abandoned playing with dolly instantly to tend to her patient. In all honesty, her reaction is so sweet in quite takes my breath away. “S’alright Mummy. S’alright. Awwwwwww, poor Mummy.” and she tenderly cups my face with her hands before giving my head a gentle rub and stroking my cheek. I could just burst. She looks up at me with big concerned eyes. “Ok Mummy? All better?”
“Thank you Grace, yes. Mummy’s all better now.”
And I watch in awe as she toddles back off to dolly. (Admittedly, the effect is slightly marred as she stops to cup her hands around the plate on the coffee table now containing her cold toast crusts from breakfast. “S’alright toast. S’alright. AAaaaaw, poor toast.”)
Another conversation that had me giggling was between Grace and daddy, and took place recently at the dinner table. It involved eating peach slices. Daddy offered daughter a chunk on the end of a fork. “No TANK you Daddy, no TANK you” and she shakes her head vehemently.
“Ok then, Daddy have it.” and Daddy eats the peach slice instead. Grace’s mouth literally drops open and she gasps in shock and spins her head to look at me with a kind of ‘can-you-belive-he-just-did-that? expression.
“NAUGHTY DADDY! GRACIE’S!”
“Oh, sorry Grace.” Says Daddy, and looks appropriately guilty. He offers her another piece.
“No TANK you Daddy, no TANK you.”
and so the whole process repeated itself more times than I could keep count of, and it just got funnier. No-one makes me giggle like that little Giblet!
Oh Grace, you drive me nuts and you make me laugh. You are the hardest conundrum, the ultimate tester of patience, and the funniest little comedian. Your tantrums are big but your heart is bigger. You are feisty and fiercely independent – long may you be so (although I’d like to at least put your socks on for you without world war 3 kicking off.) Your manners are wonderful and every “TANK you Mummy” is said in such earnest that it never fails to make me smile.
You are fearless. Frighteningly so. You jump into the swimming pool with glee, and bounce on the sofa with vigour. You laugh at the biggest bolshiest dogs when we’re out on a walk, and you tell us all off regularly. You are bossy and beautiful, and you share your toys willingly with your friends. You are a monkey for pinching things out of the fridge/freezer.
When we are in the car and I point something out to you that I think you’d like, you say “Oh WOW Mummy, well done!” like I’m personally responsible for the view, or the sheep in the field.
You love to sing. Sometimes, you get cross with me if I try to sing along with you which I find hilarious. One of my favourite things ever is to hear you making your own little songs up – usually to the tune of “I hear Thunder.”
I hope one day you read this Grace and it makes you smile. Perhaps it’s a bit of a self-indulgent post. Perhaps it’s a bit boring for other readers. But sometimes it’s not about how much traffic you generate, or saying anything profound/witty/provocative. Sometimes, it should just be about preserving the memories, because these little things can be soon forgotten and you’re growing up so very fast.
Love you . . . ya nutter! xxx