Joining My little Drummer Boys for Wordless Wednesday.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
The Night Before...
This time two years ago, I was laying on my eldest son's fire engine bed. Hyperventilating. Scream-crying. I don't know how I got to laying there. I just have this vivid memory of lying there.
"Just check my left breast!" I wailed to my husband.
I felt tingling, almost pain sensations in my left breast. I was convinced I had breast cancer.
The panic sent electrical pulses through my body.
My heart started to gallop harder, faster.
A metallic taste built in my mouth.. the taste of fear.
"I don't want to die", I pleaded with my husband.
"You are not going to die Yeran".
The look in his eyes was of confusion. Confused by what he was seeing in his wife...
And I was confused too. Why was I feeling like this? Why wasn't I thinking about the real issue at hand?
I should've been scream-crying about what was to happen the next day.
I should've been panicking about whether it would all go smoothly.
I should've been freaking out at the idea that my little baby boy was about to have his chest bone broken open, have his heart stopped, let big hands pry into his chest and cut away at heart muscle and patch up a large hole, all the while on a bypass machine.
I should've shed tears for all those things.
But instead my mind and my body had other ideas... a strange form of self preservation I gather. Instead of focussing on the actual matter at hand I was creating drama and fear somewhere completely different. Somewhere so unexpected. And I felt worse because the focus was on myself and my well-being. How selfish of a mother was I? I had never imagined that this is how I would feel or react.
I was inconsolable.
I had some good friends offer me valium.
They offered me an artificial zen. A zoned out calm.
I didn't take it.
I rode this horrendous wave.
And I woke up in the morning with no more tears. I was oddly refreshed. I was calm. I was a little nervous, but it was like the previous night's episode had cleansed me. It had literally scrubbed at my mind, at my insides and at my soul.
I was prepared for anything and I was wearing my WonderWoman t-shirt to prove it.
I don't know whether anyone else has ever reacted like I did in a similar situation.
But then again, anxiety, grief, trauma, all affect people in different ways. I guess there is no right and wrong in reactions... although having said that, there is society's unspoken laws on how to behave or react to situations. I try my hardest not to judge people on how they deal with situations. It is an entirely individual thing. As long as it doesn't harm anyone, I don't see why it should be deemed as wrong.
I would be interested to know how people have reacted/dealt/behaved in traumatic situations. And whether anybody has done the same as me....
"Just check my left breast!" I wailed to my husband.
I felt tingling, almost pain sensations in my left breast. I was convinced I had breast cancer.
The panic sent electrical pulses through my body.
My heart started to gallop harder, faster.
A metallic taste built in my mouth.. the taste of fear.
"I don't want to die", I pleaded with my husband.
"You are not going to die Yeran".
The look in his eyes was of confusion. Confused by what he was seeing in his wife...
And I was confused too. Why was I feeling like this? Why wasn't I thinking about the real issue at hand?
I should've been scream-crying about what was to happen the next day.
I should've been panicking about whether it would all go smoothly.
I should've been freaking out at the idea that my little baby boy was about to have his chest bone broken open, have his heart stopped, let big hands pry into his chest and cut away at heart muscle and patch up a large hole, all the while on a bypass machine.
I should've shed tears for all those things.
But instead my mind and my body had other ideas... a strange form of self preservation I gather. Instead of focussing on the actual matter at hand I was creating drama and fear somewhere completely different. Somewhere so unexpected. And I felt worse because the focus was on myself and my well-being. How selfish of a mother was I? I had never imagined that this is how I would feel or react.
I was inconsolable.
I had some good friends offer me valium.
They offered me an artificial zen. A zoned out calm.
I didn't take it.
I rode this horrendous wave.
And I woke up in the morning with no more tears. I was oddly refreshed. I was calm. I was a little nervous, but it was like the previous night's episode had cleansed me. It had literally scrubbed at my mind, at my insides and at my soul.
I was prepared for anything and I was wearing my WonderWoman t-shirt to prove it.
I don't know whether anyone else has ever reacted like I did in a similar situation.
But then again, anxiety, grief, trauma, all affect people in different ways. I guess there is no right and wrong in reactions... although having said that, there is society's unspoken laws on how to behave or react to situations. I try my hardest not to judge people on how they deal with situations. It is an entirely individual thing. As long as it doesn't harm anyone, I don't see why it should be deemed as wrong.
I would be interested to know how people have reacted/dealt/behaved in traumatic situations. And whether anybody has done the same as me....
Sunday, 28 August 2011
Cherishing Your Cherubs Project Monday Link Up: Remember...
This is the 2nd part of Naomi from Seven Cherubs Cherishing Your Cherubs Project Link Up.
In this post we are to write about something we REMEMBER about our children. It could be their birth story/ies, or a moment you shared with each one, or a major achievement they accomplished.
I have decided to do three different forms of rememberance and chose one for each of my muskateers.
For Liam I will recount when he came home from the hospital and I was a first time mum.
For Jack it will be when he was recovering in hospital from his Open Heart Surgery.
For Evangeline it will be a moment that I found defining in regards to all three of my cherubs yesterday.
Liam
It had been ten days. Ten days of pain, fear, worry. We nearly lost you. I still don't think I fully understood that. I was in a daze.
And here we were on day 10 arriving home. I was nervous, but most of all beyond excited. I was a mum and I had my precious little bundle with me. You were so snug in my arms. Such a bubble of cuteness, all rounded and soft and smooth.
The most vivid memory I have of those first few days at home were the fact I couldn't nap, even though everyone advised me to: "Make sure you sleep when baby does". But I just couldn't. I was bursting with sheer delight. I just wanted to watch you as your chest rose and fell. As you snored, your little baby snore. My eyes were fixed on your little body, your cherubic face. I didn't want to miss a beat. I seriously had to pinch myself. My whole life I dreamed of being a mummy and here I was holding my very own babe.
You were and still are the perfect blend of your daddy and myself. Of course you have my cheeks, the ones that need their own postcode. Bulbous beyond compare. Although I think your sister can now give them a run for their money.
Your hair was as white and pure as the cliched snow. I had never seen a newborn with white as can be hair. And here you were my little Norse god.
At that point we had no idea what lay ahead of you or us. We were just intoxicated by the love we felt for you and so the past and the future didn't even factor into our mind.
Those first few days at home were magic. I am glad we did not know anything at this point. We got to enjoy you for just you Liam. There was no Cerebral Palsy, no Special Needs. Not that those are bad things, but they are extra 'things' that will always be apart of you now, just as my diabetes and my depression will always be apart of me. Baby Liam. The most beautiful baby to have ever existed.
Jack
It was day three post op. You had made such great progress after your Open Heart Surgery. Most of the tubes and wires had been removed as your recovery was steaming long. Daddy had to stay at home with your big brother Liam, whilst you and I were sleeping next to eachother in the Heart Ward.
For a 5 month old you were so placid, so very calm.
I sat next to your cot and would lean my head next to yours on the mattress.
I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but your relaxed demeanour soothed me, and encouraged me to let go of the stress. It was as if you were comforting me! I was the baby and you were the adult.
I dressed you in some super bright onesies. They had to have the feet cut out so a monitor could be attached to your toe, testing for heart rate, blood pressure etc. I wish I had kept at least one of them. But I did take lots of photos of you in them Jack. I took lots of photos of you and your chest. You even managed to smile for a few of these shots. What a champ.
I even made sure to take photos of your chest before your surgery, because that was going to be the last time you would be scar free.
While other children sobbed, whinged, screamed through out the ward, you just laid there as cool as a cucumber. The coolest customer. I cannot thank you enough for making the experience for me much less painful than it could've been.
Now you can say not only do you have a wicked scar, but you have the coolest attitude any human could have in that situation. You. Are. One. Cool. Dude.
Evangeline
Every morning at breakfast time I line all three of you up. Evangeline, you are in your high chair. Jack is in his booster chair. Liam is in his wheelchair.
There is a mountain of toast. A vegemite explosion. Or at least that's what appears to have happened if one was to look at the aftermath.
As we all stuff our faces I take the opportunity to perform for my captive audience. You are always the most attentive. Hanging off my every word. Your big brown eyes with eye lashes for days, study me, work their way over my face and follow my waving wildly arms and hands. You are not yet a year old. But you are already doing so much at this age. Doing more than your big brothers did at the same age.
On this particular day I started to sing "Old McDonald Had a Farm", as we do at least once a day. It seems to be everyone's favourite song in this house and I love to keep you kiddies happy, thus I will sing Old Mac until the proverbial cows come home. When it came to the line: ".. and on that farm he had a..", I looked at Liam and Jack, waiting for some sort of sound or movement. I mean I had been working on both their speech therapy using this song, so I was hopeful for a miracle response.
"DUCK!" you chimed.
My jaw dropped. I quickly picked it back up.
"Yes, good work Evy, he had a duck", I beamed. I was blown away and so proud of you. But this was the moment I knew would stick in my mind like honey, so sweet yet so messy. You see this was the moment you 'over took' your brothers. This was the moment that their 'diffability' became glaringly obvious in our sheltered little bubble of home. Yet it showed me what a clever little baby girl you are and that is what I know we will always focus on from here on in, rather than comparing where each of you were at that same age.
Each one of you are clever and amazing in your own way. And I want you to all know how proud I am of you.
In this post we are to write about something we REMEMBER about our children. It could be their birth story/ies, or a moment you shared with each one, or a major achievement they accomplished.
I have decided to do three different forms of rememberance and chose one for each of my muskateers.
For Liam I will recount when he came home from the hospital and I was a first time mum.
For Jack it will be when he was recovering in hospital from his Open Heart Surgery.
For Evangeline it will be a moment that I found defining in regards to all three of my cherubs yesterday.
Liam
It had been ten days. Ten days of pain, fear, worry. We nearly lost you. I still don't think I fully understood that. I was in a daze.
And here we were on day 10 arriving home. I was nervous, but most of all beyond excited. I was a mum and I had my precious little bundle with me. You were so snug in my arms. Such a bubble of cuteness, all rounded and soft and smooth.
The most vivid memory I have of those first few days at home were the fact I couldn't nap, even though everyone advised me to: "Make sure you sleep when baby does". But I just couldn't. I was bursting with sheer delight. I just wanted to watch you as your chest rose and fell. As you snored, your little baby snore. My eyes were fixed on your little body, your cherubic face. I didn't want to miss a beat. I seriously had to pinch myself. My whole life I dreamed of being a mummy and here I was holding my very own babe.
You were and still are the perfect blend of your daddy and myself. Of course you have my cheeks, the ones that need their own postcode. Bulbous beyond compare. Although I think your sister can now give them a run for their money.
Your hair was as white and pure as the cliched snow. I had never seen a newborn with white as can be hair. And here you were my little Norse god.
At that point we had no idea what lay ahead of you or us. We were just intoxicated by the love we felt for you and so the past and the future didn't even factor into our mind.
Those first few days at home were magic. I am glad we did not know anything at this point. We got to enjoy you for just you Liam. There was no Cerebral Palsy, no Special Needs. Not that those are bad things, but they are extra 'things' that will always be apart of you now, just as my diabetes and my depression will always be apart of me. Baby Liam. The most beautiful baby to have ever existed.
Jack
It was day three post op. You had made such great progress after your Open Heart Surgery. Most of the tubes and wires had been removed as your recovery was steaming long. Daddy had to stay at home with your big brother Liam, whilst you and I were sleeping next to eachother in the Heart Ward.
For a 5 month old you were so placid, so very calm.
I sat next to your cot and would lean my head next to yours on the mattress.
I was exhausted, both emotionally and physically, but your relaxed demeanour soothed me, and encouraged me to let go of the stress. It was as if you were comforting me! I was the baby and you were the adult.
I dressed you in some super bright onesies. They had to have the feet cut out so a monitor could be attached to your toe, testing for heart rate, blood pressure etc. I wish I had kept at least one of them. But I did take lots of photos of you in them Jack. I took lots of photos of you and your chest. You even managed to smile for a few of these shots. What a champ.
I even made sure to take photos of your chest before your surgery, because that was going to be the last time you would be scar free.
While other children sobbed, whinged, screamed through out the ward, you just laid there as cool as a cucumber. The coolest customer. I cannot thank you enough for making the experience for me much less painful than it could've been.
Now you can say not only do you have a wicked scar, but you have the coolest attitude any human could have in that situation. You. Are. One. Cool. Dude.
Evangeline
Every morning at breakfast time I line all three of you up. Evangeline, you are in your high chair. Jack is in his booster chair. Liam is in his wheelchair.
There is a mountain of toast. A vegemite explosion. Or at least that's what appears to have happened if one was to look at the aftermath.
As we all stuff our faces I take the opportunity to perform for my captive audience. You are always the most attentive. Hanging off my every word. Your big brown eyes with eye lashes for days, study me, work their way over my face and follow my waving wildly arms and hands. You are not yet a year old. But you are already doing so much at this age. Doing more than your big brothers did at the same age.
On this particular day I started to sing "Old McDonald Had a Farm", as we do at least once a day. It seems to be everyone's favourite song in this house and I love to keep you kiddies happy, thus I will sing Old Mac until the proverbial cows come home. When it came to the line: ".. and on that farm he had a..", I looked at Liam and Jack, waiting for some sort of sound or movement. I mean I had been working on both their speech therapy using this song, so I was hopeful for a miracle response.
"DUCK!" you chimed.
My jaw dropped. I quickly picked it back up.
"Yes, good work Evy, he had a duck", I beamed. I was blown away and so proud of you. But this was the moment I knew would stick in my mind like honey, so sweet yet so messy. You see this was the moment you 'over took' your brothers. This was the moment that their 'diffability' became glaringly obvious in our sheltered little bubble of home. Yet it showed me what a clever little baby girl you are and that is what I know we will always focus on from here on in, rather than comparing where each of you were at that same age.
Each one of you are clever and amazing in your own way. And I want you to all know how proud I am of you.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Thankful Thursday blended with Things I Know... The Knight in Shining Armour Edition..
I am joining Kate from Kate Says Stuff for Thankful Thursday and Shae from Yay For Home for Things I Know... I just hope this isn't against blogging laws *shifty eyes*
And this Thursday I am ever so thankful for my husband... I Know This.
Well I am grateful EVERYDAY for him being in my life. But today I thought I'd shout it from the rooftops! Ok this isn't a rooftop, but damn it has more reach *insert winky and nodding face*.
My Knight in Shining Armour, he...
So I thought I would add some photographs of this amazing man that I am Thankful for and that I Know...
And this Thursday I am ever so thankful for my husband... I Know This.
Well I am grateful EVERYDAY for him being in my life. But today I thought I'd shout it from the rooftops! Ok this isn't a rooftop, but damn it has more reach *insert winky and nodding face*.
My Knight in Shining Armour, he...
- is always helping out with the children at the 'witching hour'. We tag team the bathing of the muskateers, the feeding, the putting to bed
- gives me the most passionate embraces... they're not just hugs, they go to a whole new level
- gets up in the night to Liam, and the other two are my allocated night 'buddies'
- cracks the most corniest, crappiest jokes when I'm not in the mood for them.. then I realise my mouth is breaking into a grin.. sly bugger
- listens to me and I mean really listens to me (or at least he's good at the facial expressions for it..)
- encourages me in whatever dreams or pursuits I desire
- has been through so much with me and has kept my head above water so many times
- never puts me down.. well not unless he's literally picked me up *snort*
- understands what my day entails and doesn't expect a spotless house, with all the chores done and dinner on the table.. lucky because otherwise I'd disappoint him *even louder snort*
- is 6 years younger than me, but he can be mature beyond his years.. sometimes...
So I thought I would add some photographs of this amazing man that I am Thankful for and that I Know...
Yep so loving, so caring and so mature...
But no, really, he is an adoring daddy..
And a very loving husband..
The one thing I definately know is...
I am so damn lucky to have him *cue corny sigh*
But no, really I am.
Wednesday, 24 August 2011
The Name Game...
My name is Yeran.
Pronounced like Erin with a 'y' (as in y-oghurt).
I hated, hated, hated that name for a long time.
Obviously my parents loved it to bits.
They were huge fans of unusual names and my sister and I were never going to be Sarah or Amanda or Lisa... you catch my drift.
Yeran..
I don't mind it so much now...
But at school. It was hell to have my name.
Across the playground they would yell: "Urine!" and I would cringe, hang my head as I felt my cheeks start to burn and my eyes well up with tears. Yeah I know, what a sensitive little princess I was to let that get to me. But it did. I mean if they had teased me about my hair, I could change that. I couldn't change my name.
Yeran.
It does fit me though.
It always did.
It's unusual. I am unusual.
I guess it just exacerbated my uniqueness. Which was not cool back in the Eighties. Hey maybe it's still not cool. Being different still seems to rub people up the wrong way, make them feel uncomfortable and 'induce' judgement.
With age and experience I have embraced my original, individual, madcap, crazy-ass self. And I've noticed so have a lot of people in the blogging world; they don't mind letting their 'freak flag fly', they're not afraid to 'go there' and I love it!!!
Anyways I'm off track as usual. Seriously this is what a conversation with me is like. It is certainly not linear, just like my blog.. I like to think I'm an iPod on random.
Back to names...
So even though I hated my name and I hated being different, I always wanted to name my children something unusual. I just didn't counter in the fact that the father of my children might not...
When I was first pregnant with Liam, I had been discussing names with Knight in Shining Armour. First I suggested 'River', he gave me a look of "WTF?", and I responded: "You know, as in the actor River Phoenix". He paused. "Hmm I don't mind Phoenix-". "Done!" I quickly pounced on the opportunity for hubby to agree with an unusual name.
A few weeks prior to the 20 week ultrasound, the Knight says: "I don't think I can name my son that. Phoenix. Nah too weird. Couldn't do it to him. How about William?"
"Hell no!". I was not having a boring name (*disclaimer: I really don't think William is a boring name.. I kind of like it, but I had my head filled with the ideas of my children being as weird as me and well William ain't on the weird side).
"How about we compromise?" I offered him: "How about we have the end of William? As in Liam?"
"Done!" I think hubby pounced on it so fast because it was normal enough for him to live with and I wasn't going to be given the chance to come up with some other fandangled f***ed up names (*disclaimer: I am not saying any names are f***ed up, my husband is, so get upset with him if you named your child Phoenix).
Funnily enough I am glad my husband is conservative. Otherwise we would have some names that we might very much regret naming our children.
I think my mum and dad only regreted naming me Yeran whenever I said "I hate my name!".
"But we love it Yeran"
"You don't get called urine. I do!"
Then my mum proceeded to tell me all the names she got called at school due to her surname.
Kids will pick on anything.
But I am hoping by choosing the names I did for my children, that their chances of being picked on might be slightly reduced. Maybe.
Knight in Shining Armour and I have tested the names out. Although I feel Jack has already copped it all from us. We titter when we say "When I dropped Jack off...haha Jack off haha", yep because we are mature like that. I guess we are getting him prepared for school in that respect. He would have heard it all before and it would be water off a duck's back.. or not. Either way, it's giving us a giggle.
I don't know whether Evangeline's name can be bastardised. I am sure some smart arse kid will come up with something. Evy will learn karate...
Who knew names could be so important to mull over! But they are important. A name is for life. It will be on your headstone. It will be screamed at a disobedient child. It will be screamed out in a hot and sweaty bed. We all want a name worthy of that now don't we?!?
Pronounced like Erin with a 'y' (as in y-oghurt).
I hated, hated, hated that name for a long time.
Obviously my parents loved it to bits.
They were huge fans of unusual names and my sister and I were never going to be Sarah or Amanda or Lisa... you catch my drift.
Yeran..
I don't mind it so much now...
But at school. It was hell to have my name.
Across the playground they would yell: "Urine!" and I would cringe, hang my head as I felt my cheeks start to burn and my eyes well up with tears. Yeah I know, what a sensitive little princess I was to let that get to me. But it did. I mean if they had teased me about my hair, I could change that. I couldn't change my name.
Yeran.
It does fit me though.
It always did.
It's unusual. I am unusual.
I guess it just exacerbated my uniqueness. Which was not cool back in the Eighties. Hey maybe it's still not cool. Being different still seems to rub people up the wrong way, make them feel uncomfortable and 'induce' judgement.
With age and experience I have embraced my original, individual, madcap, crazy-ass self. And I've noticed so have a lot of people in the blogging world; they don't mind letting their 'freak flag fly', they're not afraid to 'go there' and I love it!!!
Anyways I'm off track as usual. Seriously this is what a conversation with me is like. It is certainly not linear, just like my blog.. I like to think I'm an iPod on random.
Back to names...
When I was first pregnant with Liam, I had been discussing names with Knight in Shining Armour. First I suggested 'River', he gave me a look of "WTF?", and I responded: "You know, as in the actor River Phoenix". He paused. "Hmm I don't mind Phoenix-". "Done!" I quickly pounced on the opportunity for hubby to agree with an unusual name.
A few weeks prior to the 20 week ultrasound, the Knight says: "I don't think I can name my son that. Phoenix. Nah too weird. Couldn't do it to him. How about William?"
"Hell no!". I was not having a boring name (*disclaimer: I really don't think William is a boring name.. I kind of like it, but I had my head filled with the ideas of my children being as weird as me and well William ain't on the weird side).
"How about we compromise?" I offered him: "How about we have the end of William? As in Liam?"
"Done!" I think hubby pounced on it so fast because it was normal enough for him to live with and I wasn't going to be given the chance to come up with some other fandangled f***ed up names (*disclaimer: I am not saying any names are f***ed up, my husband is, so get upset with him if you named your child Phoenix).
Funnily enough I am glad my husband is conservative. Otherwise we would have some names that we might very much regret naming our children.
I think my mum and dad only regreted naming me Yeran whenever I said "I hate my name!".
"But we love it Yeran"
"You don't get called urine. I do!"
Then my mum proceeded to tell me all the names she got called at school due to her surname.
Kids will pick on anything.
But I am hoping by choosing the names I did for my children, that their chances of being picked on might be slightly reduced. Maybe.
Knight in Shining Armour and I have tested the names out. Although I feel Jack has already copped it all from us. We titter when we say "When I dropped Jack off...haha Jack off haha", yep because we are mature like that. I guess we are getting him prepared for school in that respect. He would have heard it all before and it would be water off a duck's back.. or not. Either way, it's giving us a giggle.
I don't know whether Evangeline's name can be bastardised. I am sure some smart arse kid will come up with something. Evy will learn karate...
Who knew names could be so important to mull over! But they are important. A name is for life. It will be on your headstone. It will be screamed at a disobedient child. It will be screamed out in a hot and sweaty bed. We all want a name worthy of that now don't we?!?
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Wordless Wednesday.... Taking off the 'Mummy hat' and going all rockstar on that..
Join in with My Little Drummer Boys for Wordless Wednesday, it's a lot of fun *insert a big smiley face*
Sunday, 21 August 2011
Cherishing Your Cherubs Project Monday Link Up: Record...
The last few days I've been in a funk word wise.
I just can't seem to gather up my 'blojo' (that's blogging mojo to those not familiar with the term). But I always have photographs and they speak volumes.
So in today's blog post which is part of a link up (The Cherishing Your Cherubs Project) with the gorgeous Naomi from Seven Cherubs, I decided I will place a display of my cherubs in all their glories... laughing, crying, sleeping. I think if you don't have time to make a record of your children via the written word or scrapbooking, there is always the 'quick pic': using your mobile phone to snap random acts of your child/ren being themselves... not posed, not a 'professional' photo shoot... just pure, honest, raw images that show nothing but truth and thus their beauty.
So there you have my first part of the Seven Cherubs Project. Please join in on this special little assignment, you won't regret it *insert winky face*
I just can't seem to gather up my 'blojo' (that's blogging mojo to those not familiar with the term). But I always have photographs and they speak volumes.
So in today's blog post which is part of a link up (The Cherishing Your Cherubs Project) with the gorgeous Naomi from Seven Cherubs, I decided I will place a display of my cherubs in all their glories... laughing, crying, sleeping. I think if you don't have time to make a record of your children via the written word or scrapbooking, there is always the 'quick pic': using your mobile phone to snap random acts of your child/ren being themselves... not posed, not a 'professional' photo shoot... just pure, honest, raw images that show nothing but truth and thus their beauty.
Liam, my five year old, just finished the last morsel of his favourite delight: cheesecake. And was told "there is no more".. He is quite passionate about it. If only there was an endless supply hey mate?!?
I added a photo of Liam crying and angry because everyone who knows Liam will not know this face. His 'public face' is always so bright, with a look of blissful happiness. Although I do know the face in this picture well, as it is one of his forms of communication... I mean how else is he going to say: "But mum I want more, I bloody love this stuff".
Evangeline adores her food. She is such a good eater and it shows in her deliciously fleshy belly, thighs and cheeks, which I love to no end (and I like to nom nom nom on). She is quite independant too and gets somewhat upset if I don't let her hold the spoon or explore the bowl. Meal times are always messy with my soon to be one year old. And as she gets cheekier, the room gets messier. Luckily she's uber cute, other wise I would not let her get away with 'painting the walls' with bolognese.
Jack enjoys 'fitting' into tight spaces. All part of his sensory needs. I think it's one of his cutest traits. It is always fun seeing what cramped little area he can fit his 2 year old body into. He also loves to rub textures against his bare skin, especially on his round little belly. My favourite thing that Jack does at the moment is grab a hold of my hand and drag me into my bedroom to jump up and down on my bed. He insists I have to be there. I insist I join in. Cheeky monkeys jumping on the bed...
So there you have my first part of the Seven Cherubs Project. Please join in on this special little assignment, you won't regret it *insert winky face*
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