This time last year...

9.30pm  28/7/10

My little one is maybe coming. I’ve had strong Braxton Hicks for the last few hours. They’re very nearly constant. I'm feeling unsettled. Sleepy. Listening to music, lighting candles. Had a lovely night walk, with all the family - husband, sister in law, mother in law, cousin in law.  The Sprocket fell asleep quickly and is sprawled out on the bed now, exhausted. 
I do hope this is my little one coming. My mother-in-law has to leave the country on Monday and its Thursday now and she does so want to see her before she has to go back to PNG. Besides which – I’m just so big and cumbersome… and I want to meet my daughter!

Everything is ready now – we’ve moved into the granny flat and it’s very perfect! 4 rooms instead of one makes a big difference! The rooms are all ready – the moses basket is all made up and my bags are packed and by the door.

Hmmm – a tightening. It seems stronger. I hope so. I really hope so! My daughter.

I love my son – more than anything in the world –but I do want a daughter. Of course I’ll be all set to do girly stuff and she’ll want to wear jeans and play with trucks, but that’s okay,  I’ll have a few months before she learns to say no.I've spent so long imagining her… 
I hope we’re up to two…

I should be sleeping now… resting, preparing… but I’m too unsettled…

I hope all goes well. I can’t help but be scared after the Sprocket’s birth. If we’d lived in the past the Sprocket and I would have died – my husband thought he was going to lose us both – but I’m sure this time will be different – my body knows what’s happening and I haven’t put on as much weight.

But if anything does happen I hope people make sure my Sprocket knows his mummy loved him more than the world twice over – that he brought joy and delight and wonder – and that my daughter knows we loved her from before conception.

So peaceful – restful… A quiet house and soft music... the night outside. I remember the night the Sprocket was born, a different season and state, but the same detached sort of feeling. I hope it starts raining soon. I love the sound of the rain, the smell of the rain. The name we have chosen for our daughter means rain at night.

Oh – lots of kicking.

I know when it’s over I’ll miss having the little one within me – the kicks and pulls and strange distortions – but so eager now to meet her – will she be like my husband or I? Or like the Sprocket?  It's so hard not to want a little female Sprocket. We know that we’ll love her for her own darling self – but the Sprocket is the centre of our world at the moment.

Our own little rose is on the way… I wish I knew if this were true or false! Is tonight the night? Or at least the beginning?

I told my husband it’s about a 1 in 10 chance of being tomorrow – he was going on the 1 in 20, but I pointed out that the early dates had all been ruled out – so the odds have gone up!

He’s gone to pick up his phone from his cousins and I gave him dire warnings about what would happen if things sped up and he wasn’t here!

What will she look like? How will she behave? I'm so excited – but still unbelieving...

I can feel movement down by my thighs, little fingers searching.

I think everything’s nearly ready… a few little bits and pieces… but nothing that can’t  be done while I’m in hospital.

O little one – we love you so – and are so anxious to meet you. At night I lie awake feeling you inside the round bulge of my tummy and imagining your tiny toes and fingers, your little nose and tiny mouth…

Do come, come soon, we all so want to meet you! 

An Old Fashioned Poppet

She Reminds Me

There's so much to do. 

There are dishes in the sink and I optimistically put washing on the line and now its raining and there's another three loads to do and someone has smeared mandarin pieces all over the floor and the Poppet has pulled all the books off the bookshelf again and -

And the Poppet reaches up her arms and when I pick her up she just hugs me. She puts her cheek to mine and she puts her arms around me and nestles her head onto my shoulder and just holds. She holds for a long time. 

And I realise that none of the other stuff matters. 

The stuff that matters is that my little nearly-one-year-old girl hugs me. 

She has another tooth now. Seven in total. She learnt to say 'dog' this morning. She loves crawling into the laundry basket when I put it on its side. 

This is the stuff that matters. I'll do the dishes. Get on top of the washing. The books will be put away. It's not a big deal. It'll be done sometime. 

My Poppet's cheek against mine, her happy gurgle giggle. 

That's a big deal. 

She reminds me.

Me and Bobby McGhee (Bobby needs Milk)

So I offload the kids on my husband and tell them to go to the park.

Winner.

They come back a short time later and the Sprocket is drenched through. It appears he found a large puddle and decided to go for a swim.

"Cold Daddy. Help!" Were the words used I am told. So my husband helped him out.

And of course he jumped right back in again.

So the kids return with the Sprocket soaked through and I take them under my wing and hustle them into the bath, emptying the water from the Sprocket's shoes, and the Sprocket starts playing. And he picks up his Builder Bob toy and he holds him to his little naked chest and he says "Milk for Bobby."

And I swallow and try not to giggle. "It's lovely to see you looking after Bob so well, darling."

"Ghee Milk for Bobby." Ghee is what the Sprocket calls himself. It is nothing like his real name and we do not know where he found it, but it is the way he always refers to himself.

My little Sprocket is starting to pretend. Starting to care. Starting to share. Starting to model himself on us.

Sniff.Sigh.Giggle!

"More!"

‘More!’

My Sprocket, in his own time, has discovered the wonder of ‘again’, or in his case ‘more.’

I suppose it's only fair as I've been reliably informed that I forced loving parents and aunties to go through Bambi again and again and yep, again. 

We're now going through ‘How do Dinosaurs Eat their Food’ again and again and yep, again.

In songs the Sprocket is declaring ‘No more star!’ (Twinkle Twinkle little star) and ‘No more ducks!’ (Five little ducks) instead he wants more and more of 'Ging Gang Gooli' and 'What Shall we Do with the Drunken Sailor.'

Repetition is good for toddlers. The more they read a book the more things they pick up and observe. It is supposed to help them build vocabulary. I am assuming hearing the same songs repeatedly works in the same way.

I'm just a little unsure of how hearing 'Ging Gang Gooli' for solid hours at a time (I am starting to alternate whispering and shouting verses just to entertain myself) can help his vocabulary when… there are no proper words. I am hoping it helps his musical ability. They are definitely distinctive songs.

I'm just waiting until he tells someone ‘More Drunk!’ ('What shall we Do with the Drunken Sailor')