Playing Hooky

I’m feeling like I’m playing hooky. At least I think I am. Never having played hooky. This is probably a lot more comfortable. Curled up in lush hotel bed in delicious hotel robe in the soft and ambient light of the tastefully arranged lamps. Drowsy and content.

But of course missing the Poppet and the Sprocket who are with their ever-loving nana and pa.

Feel like I’m playing at being a big person. Out on the loose without little hands clinging to my legs.

The poppets first night away from me. And my first night away from her. Such a strange feeling.

Wake in the night feeling full and tight and sore and no searching little mouth to start guzzling the milk.

Instead have to go and have a bath and express a bottle. Which I had not realized is a very laborious and not particularly comfortable thing to do, even while luxuriating in a delectably hot bath in a marble bathroom…

Have I mentioned how much I really, really. really love hotels?

Thank you Ingrid and Ron for looking after the Poppet and Sprocket. (And Bec!)

Thank you Kate and Ben for being fun and entertaining companions!

Thank you Ian and Lucy for deciding to get married and have this lovely pre-wedding big smoke get together!

Funness. 

Baby Brain vs. Nursing Noggin

My Beloved told me that a large study found that there is no such thing as baby brain. Huh. 
Based on a qualitative study (me) I'm here to say that's nonsense. 
I can almost pin-point the precise instance my brain started (sadly true, only started,) wistfully looking up to the light of Clear Headed Thinking to return after each baby. 
However I am willing to say that maybe it's not 'baby brain' per se - maybe it is linked to having the life milk sucked out of me by little milkers. I can almost feel the squishy stuff in my brain being converted into milk as they latch on and suck.
Experiment one: Feeding toddler. Trying to think. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz. I know there's a thought in there somewhere. But my brain just can't hold onto it. Fuzz. Fuzz. Fuzz. 
Experiment two: Feeding baby. Someone talks to me. "Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah." Aw... isn't she adorable. "Blah Blah Blah." 
Um. What did you say? 
Seeing that a vast amount of my day is spent with the Poppet or the Sprocket latched on, a lot of my time is spent in the land of fuzz fuzz fuzz blah blah blah. (Aw, isn't baby adorable) 
Up until now I  haven't really minded living in the land of Fuzz Fuzz Fuzz Blah Blah Blah (aw... isn't she adorable) but I am beginning to long for the country of coherent thoughts, ideas and verve. 
If anyone knows where I can buy a ticket to the land of coherent thought I would be very, very grateful. 
Oh mind of mine, I miss you. I can hardly remember you, but what I do remember I think of fondly. 
Uh oh. Hungry baby. Fuzz fuzz fuzz...

Who's your favourite Princess?

Still a republican.
But sigh.  
I did enjoy the royal wedding. 
Catherine and William seemed so happy and the service was so elegant and graceful. Loved the music, loved the trees in Westminster. And now the fact that they've hied themselves away to a cottage by the sea?  
Perfect.  
It's almost like a fairy story. 
Which of course has me thinking of my favourite Princesses. To be honest, most real ones just do not make the cut. Inbred and snooty and just too too dull. 
Which leaves the made up ones to consider. 
At present I'm plumping for Princess Amy of M.M Kaye's The Ordinary Princess as my favourite. Princess Amy (Real name Amethyst Augusta etc etc etc etc) is blessed with Ordinariness by a contrary fairy at her birth, and on reaching her majority runs away to the forest to prevent her courtiers schemes of hiring in a dragon to find her a Prince. Sweet and funny The Ordinary Princess is aimed at maybe 7 years and over. M.M Kaye also created Anjuli in The Far Pavillions which is a 800 odd page historical novel set in India in the time of the Raj. Romantic, fascinating, tragic - for historical novels M.M Kaye is definitely a favourite. 


So top ten Princesses...


1 Princess Amy  The Ordinary Princess   M.M Kaye
2 Anjuli   The Far Pavilions        M.M Kaye
3 Princess Ce'Nedra   The Belgariad                        
David Eddings (I am Very grateful to Ce'Nedra for enlightening my husband to the fact that perfect woman are supposed to be bossy, vain, stubborn and Always Right!) 
4 Princess Lea   Star Wars      George Lucas
5 Aerrin   The Hero and the Crown     Robin McKinley (She kills the dragon, battles the evil sorcerer, brilliant!) 
6 Sarah  The Little Princess   Frances Hodgson Burnett (Not technically a princess, but really should be!) 
7 The Long Nosed Princess  The Book of Princesses   Can't Remember the Author
8 Ella   Ella Enchanted    Gail Carson Levine
9 The Apple Pip Princess     The Apple Pip Princess   Doherty and Jane Ray (Mainly for the illustrations which are stunning) 
10 Princess William Arthur etc   (Hey - they went away to live in a cottage by the sea...) 


And still there are sooo many more that should get into the list... I'm sure I've forgotten some. 


So which ones are your favourites? 

Princess Poppet

Princess Poppet, you're 9 months old today, which means that you've now been on the outside as long as you were cooking on the inside. 
You seem to enjoy it. 
You have many grins and many giggles, cheeky, adoring, sweet, reflective, amazed and awed.
You love crawling and pulling yourself up to standing. If we hold your hands you take little tottering steps. You think blowing raspberries is the cleverest thing in the world. Clapping is good, but blowing raspberries is way better. You think your big brother is amazing. You have learnt to be a little wary, but in general you believe he is very entertaining. The two of you sit blowing raspberries at each other or clapping or just giggling. You've had to become a tough little Poppet though, as he has a habit of rolling on top of you or giving you a push when you're sitting up. 
You love you bath and having your neck tickled. Many things make you giggle and smile. We have to stop you from pulling the puppies tail. Also from eating everything. You love apples and cinnamon, pumpkin, porridge (with apples from our tree and cinnamon in it!) You have just started eating pasta and slurp up fettucine.
World events recently? The royal wedding of the century - Princess William and Catherine Middleton - very elegant and they seemed very happy - and the death of Osama Bin Laden. 
You love books with mirrors and things that you can touch. You hate wearing hats. You pull them off with scorn, despite how adorable they look. 
Right now you are lying in my lap feeding, while the laptop rests on my knees. You're little eyes are nearly closed, your breathing is deep. 
You are so much yourself now, my little Poppet, and yet so much still the tiny little baby who slept and fed and fed and slept who came into the world nine moons ago.

The Wiggles (Soundtrack to our lives)

If anyone had told me a year ago that I would go all gooey in the tummy about four guys in skivvies I would have laughed in their face. Or at least chortled.
But so it is. 
If you haven't come across The Wiggles they're four guys who sing for kids. They're also the top entertainers in Australia and among toddlers have a fan group equal to the Beatles at their height. (That may be an exaggeration.)

Until recently they had slipped under my radar, despite my being a children's librarian and being around toddlers frequently. Now the Wiggles are good family friends we meet daily.

Shortly before the Poppet was born his Nana brought the Sprocket one of those plastic music tables and one of the tunes that it played was Frog Goes Walking - which I hadn't heard since Primary School and that Grandpa also hadn't heard since Primary School. We couldn't quite remember the words so obviously we Youtubed it. And the only Youtube that came up was - The Wiggles. 
The Sprocket was in love. 
We watched it again. 
And again. 
Yep. And Again. 
Until then the Sprocket had shown zilch interest in television. And I had been somewhat smug. Less smug on the 24 hour flight to the UK when he showed no interest in television. Despite much pleading. Begging. Bribing. But generally entirely happy that he was not sitting in front of the TV but running around climbing stuff. (Read destroying stuff) 
We watched more Wiggles youtubes. All winners. 
Just before the Poppet was born we invested in a DVD. 
The Wiggles Go Bananas. The one with Kylie Minogue being a (very small) Pink Wiggle. 
The Sprocket was entranced. 
And my memories of the last few days before the Poppet was born and the first few weeks of her life are inextricably tangled up with Monkey Man and The Chicken Walk. 
I only have to hear that Aiaiai at the beginning of Monkey Man to recall again her tiny fingers and the snuffles she made as she fed, the warm, perfect feel of her in my arms. 
Sigh.