It’s the start of something beautiful…

Okay, you know my last post about Tess’s milestones and how they’re hard to define, or maybe I’m a terrible mother and I just forgot to write them down? Well today a genuine, fantastic, definite milestone: pointing.

It’s hard to explain precisely how my heart exploded when I saw her chubby little fingers form the emphatic gesture I know and love so well. Pointing is awesome.

Milestones

I recently bought Tess’s baby book. I know, only 6 months late. Anyway, I’ve started to fill out all the sections and pages and milestones. For some reason it’s been harder to remember her milestones. Part of it is ‘second child syndrome’, for sure. I was the second child and my parents can’t remember my first word or the time of the day I was born. Whereas even I know that my brother Mark was born during Get Smart (which was on at 5pm in New Zealand in 1969) and that his first word was “light”. But I want to point out that second child syndrome doesn’t mean you care any less, it’s just that it’s all happened once before (Woah! She just rolled! Is that normal?) and life is a lot busier and messier with two small people in the house, and you’re much less systematic about life in general.

(As an aside, I actually think it’s easier being the second one for this reason. You’re not surrounded by people with stop watches and developmental progress charts. Surely all that attention could be interpreted as pressure to a small, young, narrowly-focused mind?)

But back to Tess. And her mutable milestones. She started comando crawling when she was 10 months old, but didn’t really get the hang of proper classic crawling until much later – around 13 months. But that’s not too complicated to write down in the book.

However, walking is going to be a longer story. She technically took her first step on Good Friday (also, her sister’s birthday). She was busy cruising around the coffee table, and she turned and looked at me, and stepped out. Woo-hoo! I didn’t write it down or write about in the blog, but I was assuming that it would be followed up by some more extensive walking in the next few days. But she didn’t do it again until a few days later, and then she only took another step. It’s been like that since, her taking the odd step, but still, firmly, preferring crawling. With Rose she just started walking one day and within a couple of weeks she didn’t crawl.

But on Monday she took 15 steps. She actually walked across the room. Since then, back to crawling, with the odd longish stretch of walking. So 15 steps? That’s walking, right?

I’ve realised it’s her way. She’s cautious about new physical skills. She tries it out, then goes back to her usual mode, then tries it out again when she’s feeling comfortable. She’s a real mix of personality traits. Such a cautious, careful person in some ways, and at the same time a complete fireworks display.

Feeding the monster

A few days ago Rose and her friends Joe and Phoebe were sitting in a huddle the long grass at Camperdown Memorial Park.

“Shhhh, I hope the monsters don’t get us!”

“Look, there’s a monster! A Tessie monster.”

“Ooooooooooooooooooooo, go away Tessie monster!”

Tess was just toddling about in her usual away, oblivious to the fact that she’d just been called a monster. A few minutes later I saw Joe stand up, go and pick a flower and walk over and give it to Tess, then walk back to his friends.

Me: “Look Tara! Joe just gave Tess a flower! Your son is so sweet.”

Joe, to Rose and Phoebe: “I JUST FED THE MONSTER!”

Hospital visit

Just got back from hospital with Tess. All went well. The procedure was very minor – Tess’s ophtalmologist really just needed to examine her eyes properly – and being a feisty toddler he needed an anaesthic to do it. Tess took it all pretty well. She was given some sort of short-acting happy meds before she was wheeled into the theatre and she went from being hungry, cranky and annoyed (she had to fast and so didn’t get any breakfast) to smiley and wobbly. She found everything delightful and hilarious, until the anaesthetist put the gas mask over her head, and she rapidly turned into a drunk who’d lost one too many bets. Then she went to sleep.

I only had to wait 15 minutes in the waiting room, and it was all over. I could tell that she’d woken up because I could HEAR HER SCREAMING FROM NEXT DOOR. Apparently they only used gas (not a proper general anaesthetic), which makes children really upset. Poor Tess couldn’t be consoled for the next 40 minutes – she just kept arching her back and screaming.

Doc says her eyes look good and that the prescription has changed to +20 or +19, which is 10 diopters different to her current prescription! He’s contacting the optometrist with her new script, and hopefully we’ll get that in a week.

Tess goes back to hospital on the 4th May for a nuclear scan of her kidneys. We’re all starting to get very familiar with the hospital. I used to get upset about the cheery decor (case in point: I noticed a giant fried egg on the side of a building today) and the attempts at rallying the spirits of sick kids. Where once I saw poignance, which led me to sadness, I now smile. I guess it’s working.

New House

We just got back from exchanging contracts for our first house. So excited! It’s been a heck of a week. I only just got Rose’s birthday party pictures up online! It’s hard to explain the rollercoaster we’ve been on this week. Hoping, hoping, hoping, all the while half-expecting not to get it. (In Australia your offer can be accepted, but you can get gazumped until right at the last minute.) In the end we lucked out with an honourable and honest real estate agent. I don’t have any photos of the house to share, but I do have a couple of us signing the contract.

Chris signing the contract

Just exchanged!

The great lockout incident of ’10

Rose locked me out of the house yesterday. I was out in the back yard picking up the toys that her and Percy had been playing with when I heard the distinctive ‘click’ of the back door and deadbolt, followed by a giggle. I had a two-second moment of absolute freak out when I realised that not only was there no way in, but that there was a pot of water boiling on the stove (I was going to make noodles for our lunch). And our burners are gas, so a naked flame. I ran down the laneway and out onto the street in bare feet to come around the front of the house. As I was sprinting up our street I saw Kirsty, my lovely neighbour. I think I said something like, “OHMYGOD. KIRSTY! I’MLOCKEDOUTANDTESSANDROSEAREINSIDE!”

Fortunately, Kirsty, being a social worker, was a picture of calmness. She told me that she was used to serving search warrants and would walk around with me to see if there was an obvious way in. The front door looked useless. Not only was it big and heavy, it would be a major pain to repair. (I wasn’t thinking like this, but Kirsty was!) She told me it was better to break in through the back door – much easier to secure afterwards. We went round the  back and I could see through the kitchen window. Rose running back and forth, confused. I told her to go and stand next to the TV. Kirsty wanted to break the back bathroom window but I wanted to call the fire and police first. I didn’t want either of us to get cut up badly by breaking a window. Also, I could see Rose and she was generally obeying what I said (mainly, “Go into the living room. Stay away from the kitchen.”)

The police arrived first, possibly 5 minutes after my phone call. Super fast. One of the benefits to having a police station on your street, I guess. There were at least 4 cops, 2 came around the back and 2 in the front. I went back around to the front door and I could hear the cop saying to Rose through the letter slot, “Can you reach the handle, Rose?”

Rose said, “I’m a fairy! Fairy! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

I told the police officer that we only use the top lock and there was no way Rose would reach it. By that point a fire engine pulled up with maybe 8 firemen. They climbed into our front garden and started looking at the windows.

It was scary how quickly they broke into our house. With a pocket knife.

When the fireman broke in through our bedroom window Rose was standing in the hall waving a DVD in one hand, shouting, “I want to watch The Polar Express!”

There was, of course, much laughing and relief on everyone’s part. The cop seemed especially amused when I asked him whether there was a call-out fee for incidents involving naughty toddlers. I laughed about that afterwards when I realised what I’d said!

And what was Tess doing with 4 cops and 8 firemen in the house, right outside her door?

Sleeping.

Patching torture

We have been going through a lot of pain and anguish lately about Tess’s patching. About two weeks ago Tess had a review with her ophalmologist, who said that her prescription had probably changed dramatically, probably down +5 or so diopters to +25 (she’s currently +30). Most of this is due to the fact that her eye is growing, rather than her sight improving. But still, good news. He said he couldn’t be sure because she’s so mobile these days. He said he would need to examine her under anathestic, at the children’s hospital. The appointment we have for that admission is on the 19th April.

But the bad news, and the thing we’ve all been struggling with, is the fact that it’s obvious that she can’t really see while she’s being patched because she’s still wearing the +30 lenses. Your average person with poor eyesight usually has lenses of about +2 -+5, and if you’ve ever put a poor-sighted persons glasses on you’ll get a sense of what Tess is seeing while patched. Horribly blurring and swimming images, and instant headaches. This isn’t just supposition. I’ve observed her banging into walls and other objects. And her mood. When the patch is on she cries all the time. Sad, angry, lonely, frustrated cries. She swings her arms around, flailing. In the last few days she’s started biting us, and worst of all, herself. She’s so upset that’s she’s biting herself.

I knew that patching time was starting to make me feel really stressed. I knew that on my work days I would mentally sigh with the relief that I wouldn’t have to face the reality of my daughter’s distress for hours. But today, when Chris took Tess to the emergency room of the hospital because her eye was red and inflamed, and they told us it probably wasn’t serious but we should not put her contact in for a few days and no patching, I felt my body deflate and relax in a way that made me realise how tense I’d been.

Tomorrow is a great day. Tomorrow we don’t torture our daughter.

Spotted

Two embarrased kids:

Happy Easter, everyone!

Happy 3rd Birthday Rose!

It was Rose’s birthday yesterday – we had such a lovely day! Opening presents in the morning and the Zoo in the afternoon. Then on to Balmoral Beach for a fish-and-chip dinner, and home for birthday cake. Such a lovely day.

I took a whole bunch of photos which can be viewed here.

But really, all you need to know about Rose’s birthday can be discovered by watching this video, which I started shooting shortly after she woke up at about 7.20am (not bad!).

Chris and I are particularly taken by the list of things that she needs “in case I need it for my party” (note: her “dummy” is a set of Tess’s teething rings that she has taken a shine to, Patch is her rabbit, and Whinny is her soft toy horse that I bought years ago in a little shop in Harvard Square for a girlfriend’s baby, but couldn’t bear to part with it.)

We’re having her birthday party next weekend so that Granny Anne and Pap can join us for the celebrations. She’s celebrating her birthday with her friend Joe and his mum Tara.